AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Everyone. Not just the guards. I want the names of everyone, from the guards down to the person who scrubs the floors. Do it.” Draven paused, waiting for the man to comply. “Now.”
The man scurried away.
Draven surveyed the wrecked lab. He could placate himself with the knowledge that he had another. He had plenty of space. Even had enough pieces of broken equipment that he could have a tantrum daily and it wouldn’t make a difference. He needed to deal with the prisoner. Containing it in a cryo unit had worked far longer than it had any right to. Sedating the prisoner was temporary. He needed to address the prisoner’s underlying issues and stop wasting his time with broken tech. And, of course, he still had Charlotte to manage.
On his way out, he spotted an answer to at least one of his problems. Despite being surrounded by garbage, perhaps there was some magic left in the Aerie after all.
Charlotte
The Aerie
Charlotte’s Bedroom
In the days and weeks following, they fell into a comfortable pattern. Orianne escorted Charlotte to and from the library and other locations as needed, but the library was all she required. The guard resisted Charlotte’s efforts to befriend her. Draven’s lecture about duty had left a lasting impression; Orianne was now all business.
Evenings were spent with Draven. Often they met in the library, sometimes in the dining room or her rooms, and once in his sitting room. She had yet to see his bedroom. Charlotte got the impression that he did not require much sleep and seldom used the bedroom at the top of his tower.
She pushed away any speculation that he held himself back. When he was with her, she only ever had the impression that he was with her completely in that moment. Did she know every detail of his long life? No. She’d be foolish to expect that when they had only known each other for what, considering that long life of his, must seem like a blink of an eye. He spent his nights in her company and had not vanished for days on end. Charlotte was untroubled.
They worked their way down her list of questions. For every item crossed off, Charlotte replaced it with a new one. He skipped a fair few questions. That was fine. She had other ways to get answers. She spent her days in the library researching the very same questions Draven declined to answer. That wasn’t snooping. She was a historian. It was research.
Perhaps she was a little troubled, but she told herself that everyone had secrets. He had lived lifetimes. Her handful of years, nearly thirty, paled in comparison. Of course he had secrets. She had secrets. Draven likely had forgotten more secrets than the Founding scandal sheets could even hope to publish. It was natural that she should feel some distance between them.
It was just one room, and she had the key to unlock the door in her pocket. If she really wanted to see what was so special about the room, she could take a look for herself. Any time. Any day. She chose not to because she understood privacy and boundaries, and, most importantly, she was not a snoop.
To demonstrate how much she was not a snoop, she never once tried to pry open the locked drawers of Draven’s desk in the library with an envelope opener, even though the lock appeared insubstantial, and she felt fairly certain she could force it open. Not that she’d ever entertained such ideas. She was a gentleman’s daughter and a scholar.
Besides, Charlotte felt confident that Orianne would snitch on her in a heartbeat.
Around the time the sunlight dimmed, and she needed to light the lanterns in the library, she received a note that Draven would meet her in her rooms that evening. She closed the book she had been reading and packed her notes into her satchel, ready to return to her rooms with enough time to scrub the ink from her fingers and tidy up her appearance.
Orianne entered the room first, and Charlotte followed close behind. They found the room in near darkness. The fire had gone out, and a lone lantern cast a pale light. The air was wrong. Too still. Too cold. Light from the corridor spilled in, but it could not banish the deep shadows.
The guard held up a hand, silently asking Charlotte to remain quiet.
A pricking of awareness that they were not alone came over her. Something was here. Something dangerous.
A figure stirred in the dark.
Instinct, that animal part of her mind that acted before reason could have its say, made her gasp and throw her satchel across the room at the intruder.
Draven caught the bag. Notebooks and quills tumbled to the floor. “Calm yourself.”
Charlotte pressed a hand to her chest. “What are you doing lurking about in the dark like…like—”
“Like a vampire?”
“Like an intruder,” she finished, although yes. Exactly like a vampire.
“My apologies,” he said.
Orianne stood to attention. “Lord Draven.”
“That is all,” he said, dismissing Orianne.
The chair creaked as he rose. A moment later, there was the scent of a match and candle lighting. The candlelight cast half his features in warm light. “I thought I would share a relic with you.”
“In the dark?”
