I shook my head, more than a little eager to see what was beyond those doors. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. It’s Arthur I’m worried about.”
I smiled. “He’ll be fine, too. I have way too much respect for him to become…tempestuous.”
“Hm, yes, he does command a certain amount of respect, doesn’t he?”
I watched the memories of moments passed warm her eyes, then linked arms with her. “Come on, let’s go see him.”
The second floor landing continued into the Great Hall, opening to a grand staircase, like the one in the front entrance, while mahogany panelled walls and gold-framed mirrors made the huge space look majestic, like a palace. But all else in the world faded when my eyes travelled past the paintings and stopped on the west side of the room, where a grand piano sat proudly in the square of light coming through the giant window. “No one told me there was a piano.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s been there for years. David learned to play on that, you know.”
“Really?”
“Mm-hm.” She nodded. “Arietta taught him.”
“Here. At Loslilian?”
She nodded and started down the stairs.
“Did you ever meet them—as boys?”
She laughed. “Yes. Many times.”
“Gross. Didn’t that make it kind of weird dating David, then?”
“Not really. I hadn’t seen him for about twenty years before I dated him.”
“Oh, okay. That’s not so bad.”
“So—” She pointed to the middle of the room. “That table there is where we dine formally each night.”
“Right.” I cringed at the length of it—enough to seat about forty people. “I was going to ask if that’s where we sacrificed lambs, but, thanks for pointing out the obvious.”
She groaned, her hand sliding over the railing as she continued down the stairs ahead of me. “You might wanna get that ogre in check, Majesty.”
“Sorry. Didn’t realise sarcasm was against the rules here.”
“Amara. Stop it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
She just shook her head then tilted it so her voice projected further. “Arthur.”
I hadn’t noticed him there, standing by the fireplace, looking up at a giant painting of a woman; he turned, taking his eyes off her brush-stroked face only as we approached. “Morgaine.” He took her hands and leaned down to kiss both her cheeks. “Lovely to see you again.”
“And you, Arthur.” She stood back, keeping hold of his hand for a second more. “May I present Princess Amara?”
“A pleasure, my lady.” Arthur bowed.
“Hello, Arthur.” I walked the gap and took both his hands; it felt natural, normal, as if we’d been friends our whole lives.
“How have you been?” he asked, his mysterious blue eyes seeming to search my soul—maybe for the sadness of supposedly losing my husband, or maybe for happiness to see him, I wasn’t sure, but I suddenly felt very naked.
“I’m…coping.” I looked at Morgaine; shadows crept into the room, sneaking under the walls and roof as the sun retreated, making her eyes glow, a bit like a cat’s eyes at night, and it wasn’t until I looked closer that I realised she was holding back tears. Arthur looked too.
“Oh, look at me. I’ve gone and gotten myself all worked-up,” she said, quickly wiping them away.
I did the same, though I didn’t actually have any tears.
“My girls,” Arthur said, touching both our shoulders. “There is little joy to be found when grieving. But David would not wish you to cry for him.” He especially looked at Morgaine. “You know this.”
We both nodded.
“Amara?” He tucked my wrist into the crook of his elbow. “Walk with me—in the gardens?”
“I’d love to,” I said, and we walked away, arm in arm. I caught a flash of Morgaine’s grin as we turned, leaving her behind.
“It brings me great pleasure to be by your side again, Princess,” Arthur said.
I patted his forearm with my other hand. “Me too. I always looked forward to your letters.”
He smiled softly to himself. “I know. And that fact not only gave me pleasure in writing them, but also made my days of waiting for this moment much brighter.”
As we stepped through the tall glass doors, daylight spread around us, hidden by the walls of the Great Hall but still very much alive out here. The rounded balcony’s marble railing opened out to stone steps, sitting grandly above a grassy, split-level path to the hedge maze. The sweet, sharp scent of lilies and cherry blossoms filtered summer perfume into the warm evening. “I know you told me not to,” I said, having thought about it for a second. “But I kept one of your letters.”
His hand tightened over mine. “Why?”
“It sounded so genuine.”
I expected an objection, but he only offered silence as we took the steps and a left turn to a small courtyard just in front of the staffs’ ground floor bedroom windows.
“May I enquire as to which letter it was?” he said finally.
“The one about days being brighter—pretty much what you just said before, but in writing.” I grinned up at him, feeling the pinch of the small dimple by my lip.
He nodded and presented the bench-like garden swing nearby. “Would you like to sit?”
“Thank you,” I said, sweeping my skirt under my legs as I sat down carefully, trying not to rock it too much so I didn’t tip over and land on my butt like a clumsy ox.
“I wonder—” Arthur sat beside me “—if David ever told you he spent nearly every second summer of his human life at this manor. That he sat here, on this very bench.”
“Really?” I said and looked forward, imagining young David running through the hedge maze. “I haven’t really been told much about this place at all—or about David.”
“You will learn. In time.”
We sat silently for a while, a comfortable silence, and all I could think of was how great dinner smelled and how nice it would feel, all hot and solid in my belly. When the setting sun reached the greens of summer on this side of the manor, turning them orange and pink as it creeped closer and closer to the ocean behind the trees, I turned to Arthur, a question on my lips I knew I shouldn’t ask; “Arthur?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“I’m trying to get all the laws of the vampires straight in my head and figure out how things were before Drake took over—”
He scoffed loudly. “Drake never took over, Princess. He merely took back the throne.”
“Well, which ever way you want to look at it.”
“No, my dear, that is a fact. Drake built the monarchy. He designed the Sets, the rules—he is the reason the human race was not wiped out centuries ago.”
“Why would we have been wiped out?”
“War among your kind, greed among vampires—blood lust. He has stepped in many times to save humans from themselves. And from vampires.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Everything we stand for, everything the community is today, is a result of Drake’s empire.”
“Why? If he’s so evil, why would he do that?”
Arthur seemed to sigh internally. “You know, as well as I do, that good and bad is not black and white. Drake, by human standards, may seem evil, but he is still a good man.”
I nodded. “I’ll buy that.”
“Anyway, back to your original question.”
“Oh, um, I was going to ask why Lilithians weren’t allowed to mix with vampires, and how David got away with dating Morgaine if it was illegal.”
Arthur smiled. “It wasn’t always that way. For a time, Lilithians and vampires lived in peace. But Drake quickly realised that the control we had gained over the population of vampires was based mainly on the fear they had of punishment—punishment carried out by Lilithians. In order to maintain that fear, we had to create a divide between the species.”
“Why a divide?”
“Understanding, my dear. When you understand something, there is little reason to fear it. If that happened, we could have lost control over the nation. So, Drake was none too concerned if council leaders wished to mingle with Lilithians, because they knew the importance of maintaining that divide, but average vampires were not permitted. He particularly had little issue with Morgaine, given that she was of high authority among her kind—employed, rather than enslaved by Drake.”
“Employed?”
“Yes. She was…” He let out a slow breath. “Good at her job. Not to mention she was, at one point, rather close with Drake—spent many nights in his company.”
I covered my mouth.
“Consensual, of course,” Arthur added. “So, David and Morgaine being together was accepted—here at Loslilian. This place—” he looked around fondly, “—it’s like living in another time—a separate world. But outside these walls, the rules of the Sets were always enforced. Vampires associating with Lilithians is…was illegal and frowned upon.”
“Why was it so different at the manor?”
“Loslilian was always a very human place. Drake did not care much for the preservation of vampire customs here.”
“Why?”
Arthur considered for a second. “Perhaps it was because Lilith was always so human. Many of her servants and staff were human, and throughout history, even after Lilith died, this manor remained that way. Vampires brought their human mates here until they were ready for transformation, and—”
“Why didn’t David do that with me?” I sprung forward, raising my voice. “Before he knew I couldn’t be a vampire. We could have run away here until I was ready.”
He rubbed his chin. “I know. And I offered him this, but he refused.”
I swallowed a hard lump. “Why?”
“David…well, he had some inner truths he wished to keep from you. He told me once that you were a very moralistic girl—that you challenged and questioned everything that was right and wrong, basing your friendships and feelings on how you measured a person.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
He smiled. “In the vampire community, that is a luxury we cannot afford. There are no exceptions. We have all committed unspeakable acts of cruelty. A council member, however, is known too well for their ability to separate themselves from the unpleasant—disregarding compassion in order to instil fear as a means of maintaining control. David was afraid if you ever learned of the things he’d done, you would not have the heart to love him.”
“But…I know what he’s done. I know all about him. I’d always have loved him.”
Arthur laughed. “I’m sure you would, my dear, but I can tell you, right now, you know not even one percent of the things my nephew did in his time on the council—and you never will. Not as long as I live.”
“Why?”
“I will not see my words tarnish his memory or cause you to despise him.”
I folded my arms. “Wouldn’t that be a good a thing? Then I could move on in my heart.”
“Is that what you would want?” He leaned forward and looked around at my face. “So soon after losing him—you wish to forget, to hate?”
I shrunk a little. “Sometimes I wish I did hate him. I can handle hate easier than heartache.”
“Heartache,” he said to himself, nodding.
I wondered what he expected me to feel. Heartache seemed pretty natural, given that David was apparently dead.
“I’ve worried for you these past weeks,” he said, keeping his eyes forward, even when I looked up at him; his jaw was stiff, slightly covered in stubble, a bit like David’s, and he’d obviously not taken too much care to cut or tidy his hair in this time we’d been apart. I kind of laughed a little. He looked…messy.
“I’m fine, Arthur. Really. I…I guess I’m used to losing people I love.”
He looked at my smile, then down at his hands, frowning. “I’m not sure what to make of that, my lady.”
I shook my head and pulled my dress down over my knees where it rose up. “Don’t think into it at all. No one has ever figured me out, Arthur, and I guarantee you won’t be the one to do it.” When the silence lasted uncomfortably long, I turned my head, reluctantly, as I could feel his glittering grin in my direction. “What?” I said.
“Do not be so sure, Princess, that I cannot figure you out.” He looked away again. “I believe I may be closer to your inner truths than you would allow.”
Yikes. “And what makes you so sure?”
His lip quirked; he looked so young, like the thirty years his face portrayed, not the hundreds his mannerisms did. “I’ve been around a while. You’re not the first moody, complicated young girl I’ve had the pleasure of befriending.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” He laughed, still not looking at me.
The orange glow all around us made his skin look tan and his eyes sparkle with a mix of blue and sunshine, looking almost green. I let myself picture David there, in his place, for just a second. “And you think that gives you greater insight into who I am and how I work?”
He turned to me then and took my hand delicately, the stiff, guarded Arthur gone, replaced by a guy with boyish charm. “You remind me very much of David’s aunt. Did he speak much of her?”
