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She gives me this ‘really? Are you serious’ stare. “Aren’t you a vampire?”
“Technically, yes.”
“Don’t you guys have like servants and thralls and stuff? Isn’t it weird for a vampire to be awkward at the idea of having power over someone else, even pretend power?” She grins, about to laugh.
I sigh. “It’s not weird for me but I suppose the majority of blood vamps would find it strange… and probably tease me about it.”
I don’t go into it, but the truth is, controlling people empowered and emboldened Elizabeth. Not to mention, controlling people made me feel like a monster. Back in the day, I’d done all I could to live as normal a life as possible, treating vampirism as a disease... and not letting it get its hooks in me.
Fat lot of good that did. Danny still saw me as a monster.
Big picture, Sam. You single-handedly kept Elizabeth contained for all those years. And when she did break out, you were in a better position to stop her. So yeah, there’s that.
Meanwhile, Lindsey fusses at her outfit. “Well, if I’m going to hang out with a vampire, I’d much rather it be one who’s too nice to turn people into mind-slaves. And, this outfit doesn’t look rich enough for me to be your relative.”
I look her over. She’s got dark brown hair like mine, hazel eyes… and looks nothing like me. No one would buy it if we claimed to be relatives, even cousins. “We’ll have you be my assistant.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
The door opens. A woman in her early thirties with light brown hair stares at us like we’re a pair of blood-soaked clowns brandishing machetes while mooing at her like cows. Her expression is a weird combination of terror and absolute confusion. It’s enough to where I have to look down at myself to make sure I’m not suffering any sort of wound that should’ve been fatal to a mortal. Nope, intact. Not even a drop of blood on me. No bugs. Fully clothed. I look perfectly normal.
Which makes this woman’s reaction to our presence here bizarre.
“Good day,” says Lindsey. “Lady Kingsley is here to meet with Lord Teredwyn.”
I raise both eyebrows ever so slightly, not at all hating the whole ‘Lady Kingsley’ thing. Though, I do think Lindsey misunderstood him and thinks Kingsley is his surname. Of course, Lady Moon sounds pretty darn snazzy too.
The woman seems hesitant until I lean forward like I’m about to walk right over her. “Do be a dear and let him know I am here?”
She nods hesitantly, then rushes off into the hallway, peering back at us so much she walks right into a small table. I’m not normally prone to being this pushy. Only did it because Lindsey suggested it would work here. Nielf Teredwyn is described as being weak willed and a bit of a coward. That gets me thinking he’s probably not Nesanth. Yeah, it would be a good disguise to pretend to be a wimp… but there are some lines dark masters cannot cross. Their egos won’t allow it. The sort of people who are successful in their pursuit of the kind of power necessary to even become a dark master do not do ‘weak’ well. Most would rather be destroyed than beg for their lives or even surrender, so the idea that Nesanth is pretending to be a cowardly nobleman seems off to me.
Of course, there’s always the possibility the coward is sending assassins all by himself and it has nothing to do with Nesanth.
After twenty seconds of looking down an empty hallway, I decide to play the part of an impatient and bold noblewoman and walk in unescorted, drawn toward the muffled voices of a conversation coming from ahead. Lindsey follows me through a foyer so big it’s basically a room unto itself and into the hall where the servant scurried. Her reaction is confusing to me. I get that Quentin wrote the Teredwyn family to pretty much all be easily intimidated chickens; however, it’s weird the trait extends to the hired help. Did they choose to hire someone of similar mannerisms to their own, or has that woman ‘seen things’ here?
The sound of people talking leads me to a door near the end of the hall on the left. Running with my ‘character,’ I decide to be far bolder than Samantha Moon usually is and barge right in. Okay, so I can be bold. I’m no shrinking violet. Bold isn’t the right word here. This is straight up rude. Were I not pretending to be a noble from another kingdom, I’d have knocked. Or heck, I’d still be waiting by the door for the servant woman to return.
Here’s hoping one theater class in high school helps me out. Actually, being a mom helps me out more. In the split second between me grabbing the doorknob and stepping into the room beyond, I put myself in the frame of mind of a mother catching her kids up to no good.
I startle two women and a man who are standing around a long table in what appears to be a small personal library. One of the women is the servant who answered the door. She isn’t doing much of the talking. The other woman is a bit older than the servant, somewhere in her forties, though she’s aging quite well. If modern cosmetics existed here, she could easily pass for thirty. Her long, straight black hair spills over the shoulders of a voluminous grey gown. Teardrop sapphire earrings match the dark blue color of her eyes. She’s clearly not a servant. The woman’s giving off a mild ‘strict schoolteacher’ vibe, though it’s reserved… like she wants to yell at her students to behave themselves but lacks the nerve to raise her voice in public.
The man she’d been engaged in a hurried conversation with, I recognize as Nielf. And yeah, Anthony’s right. He really does resemble that guy from Star Wars. I don’t remember the character’s name, only that Peter Cushing played the role. Nielf’s older, past fifty with short grey hair and a long, narrow face. Sunken cheeks and a square jaw give him a foreboding sternness. This is a guy who thinks ‘fun’ is a four-letter word, I bet.
His outfit is also dark grey, fine looking but not as fancy as some of the other men I’ve seen here, nothing frilly at the neck or cuffs. The black brocade vest with silver trim is a nice touch. A dagger hangs from his belt in entirely the wrong position. It’s on his right hip, more in front of him than on his side. Even if the dude is left-handed, it would be awkward to draw the blade. I get the feeling he’s wearing it for show.
All three of them stare at me, seeming unsure what to say.
Apparently, my ‘mom catching the kids misbehaving’ attitude worked. I’m not being shouted at like someone who broke into the house. Deciding to ignore the social impropriety of my presence, I move around the corner of the table toward Nielf.
“Ahh, you must be Lord Teredwyn.” I offer a hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
He shifts his gaze to my outstretched hand for a second, then lifts it back to eye level. “You are… who?”
“Lady Kingsley,” I say in a silky-smooth tone that totally fits the title.
“Cannot say I’ve… Oh, yes.” He gently grasps my hand and places a polite kiss on my fingers before letting go. “Word has gone around of some… nobility visiting from Stonnebrin.”
Something in his eyes tells me he wanted to make a wisecrack about being surprised that Stonnebrin even had nobility. From what I gather, high society here thinks of the place as being full of savages. There isn’t much trade or travel between the two kingdoms, which I suspect is mostly due to Quentin keeping all the action of his series set in this kingdom and not talking much about anywhere else beyond vague comments about werewolves or ice demons.
