11. Cirri
Chapter 11
Cirri
F or the first few moments after waking, I wondered why I was so stiff and sore—and why wasn’t Sister Aletha in the womens’ quarters, bellowing at us to get off our lazy asses as she did every morning? The cool light of the sun, filtered through mist, was still a blaze of red against my closed eyelids. I had overslept by hours.
And then I realized I was sitting, slumped forward with my head pillowed on my arm. Not in my lumpy cot; certainly not anywhere near the indentured womens’ quarters of the Silver Cathedral.
I opened my eyes a crack, peering at the wide desk I’d used as a bed, the journal open before me, dangerously close to the puddle of wax spread from the long burned-out candle I’d used last night.
Sitting up with a groan, I carefully moved my precious journal away from the wax, and looked down at the pages, filled with tight, even lines of writing. Somewhere near the end my careful letters had begun to wobble and drift from their straight lines… that was where exhaustion had finally won. I wrinkled my nose at the imperfections marring the page.
Well, that’s what I got for writing into the late hours of the night instead of doing my marital duty. I put the cap back on my pen, closed the book, and looked down at myself.
I was still in the wedding dress, the three droplets of blood standing out like a scream against the white expanse.
Somewhere in my incessant spilling of words, I had apologized to Bane. Told him that I was merely human—that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to overcome the centuries of terror of his kind that had been inscribed into every fiber of my being.
I wondered now if I should remove that page… but I couldn’t bring myself to slice so much as a single paper from the beautiful thing he’d given me.
Some wife you are, Cirri , I told myself mockingly as I dragged myself from the desk and set to digging about in a wardrobe. He gives you things you couldn’t afford in a thousand years, and you run from him.
No—not from him.
From his teeth . From the terror that my throat would be torn loose by those heavy jaws.
Never mind that he had been gentle with me… and had let me go.
With a heavy sigh, I pulled out a fresh, unworn gown—clearly newly-made, designed for Antonetta’s measurements. And it was certainly not the rough, itchy wool I was used to, nor the simple undyed cotton the Sisters’ maids wore in summer.
No, of course it was emerald green velvet, with heavy, gold embroidery at the cuffs, collar, and hem.
I stared at the dress, which would have been the finest thing I’d ever worn in my life if not for the wedding silk wrapped around me now, and finally committed myself to peeling the silk away without damaging it.
I carefully folded it into a neat package, the three red spots showing on top, and then, on some impulse I didn’t quite understand, I chose one of the empty desk drawers in which to store it. I also hid my journal in there; until I could find a bag to carry it around, I didn’t want to risk losing or damaging it. I could stand to be unheard for another day if it ensured my journal’s safety.
I would ask the maids not to go near the desk. That was my territory now; the dress would be safe from prying hands in there.
Sliding into the velvet gown, I told myself I didn’t know why I was worried about someone touching the wedding dress—all I knew was that I didn’t want them to.
While I was dragging a brush through my hair, I had an unpleasant start when something moved in the mirror behind me, and I whipped around to find Ellena emerging from a wooden door. She still wore her maid uniform, dark hair tucked under the wimple I was used to.
She yawned widely, making a face when she realized I’d already dressed.
“My apologies, my Lady.” There was a curious flatness to her tone as she came to me, taking the brush from my hands. “Let me do that, or the she-leech will be all over me about failing in my duties. The Light knows I’ve heard enough of it already.”
I wanted to sign to her that no, I didn’t expect her to wait on me—after all, I had been in those same shoes only a day ago.
And to call Wyn a she-leech, when she had shown us nothing but kindness… well, kindness with a tart edge, but nonetheless.
But Ellena wouldn’t understand me, and I wasn’t going to waste paper on arguments. I mentally added ‘find a slate’ to my list of things to accomplish as Ellena braided my hair and pinned it into a neat crown around my head.
Thank you , I signed. I’m going to see if I can find something to eat. You’re welcome to join me.
Ellena dropped the brush on the dressing table, giving my hands the slightest disinterested glance. “Will you be wanting breakfast then, my Lady?”
This time there was the slightest pugnaciousness to her tone, a curl of the lip.
I didn’t ask for this , I told her, jabbing the air with irritation. Don’t mock me. I’m not about to lord it over you.
She stared at me. I sighed as silently as possible, then went to the door. She could wallow in here if she liked, then. I wanted to fill my empty stomach with something other than wine and cake, and then find what needed to be done in Ravenscry that someone like me could accomplish. Sitting in here was only going to make me broody and miserable, a state of being I found tedious at best.
Perhaps Wyn could use a scribe… I pushed the door open, lost in my own thoughts, and nearly walked into someone.
My first thought was Bane , and even more surprisingly, the first thing I felt upon thinking of him was relief.
And then I realized this was a stranger. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in black, and perhaps that was why I had thought of my husband first, enormous and shrouded in dark colors.
But this was a human. I stared up at him, still frozen by the surprise of finding a stranger outside my door, noting in an absent way that he was handsome, with the green eyes of a Veladari and the dark hair and tanned skin of a Forian.
The stranger looked me up and down in a way that made me bristle, like a man examining a horse for sale. “So you’re Lady Cirrien? They said you were a beauty, but it appears the rumors understated things.”
He grinned, showing white, blunt human teeth. Behind me, Ellena sighed.
Yes, I’m Cirri , I signed, irritated by his frank and lingering assessment of everything below my neck. And right now I’m more interested in breakfast than flattery, so thanks, but no thanks.
His smile began to look a little pasted-on as he watched my hands move. Ah, well.
Ellena sidled around me, peering up at this stranger from under her lashes. “She’s a mute, my Lord. We were just heading to breakfast, if you’d like to join us…?”
He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m no lord, no sort of nobility at all. Miro Kyril, at your service. Your husband’s apparently grown tired of my indolence and I’m to put my artistic talents to use. That is, to paint your portrait.”
I gazed at him in confusion. Paint my portrait? What could anyone want with such a thing? With constant fortifications going on, weren’t there more important tasks?
“You’re the Lady of the Rift,” he said, reading my bemusement accurately. “All the lords and ladies are painted for the historical record.”
Oh, yes. Lady of the Rift. A title that felt like it belonged in a dream, or to someone else… but certainly not to me.
If you say so. But breakfast still comes first, and if Wyn has more important tasks for me, your painting will have to wait . I signed a little more exuberantly than I normally would have, but really, I wanted him to move out of the way. He loomed in the doorway, leaning on the jamb as though he expected me to invite him in.
He either took the hint, or he didn’t want to be inadvertently slapped in the face, because he did finally shift aside, leaving enough room for me to slip through the door, past the vampire guards stationed outside. I recognized Koryek, nodding to him and feeling vaguely apologetic for not listening to a word he’d said when he walked me back to my tower last night.
I had no idea where the kitchens were, or if we were expected to eat elsewhere—did nobility eat at tables together? In the Cathedral, most of the maids ate at a communal table in the kitchen, but the Sisters had their own dining room. I found myself hoping I could just find a nice, warm corner of the kitchen—that would be one familiar thing I was used to.
Something brushed my sleeve, and I realized Miro had caught up to me. He walked close, enough that our arms touched with every other step. I surreptitiously veered away.
“This way,” he said, tipping his head down a hall I was about to walk past. “Your husband isn’t much for formality. Almost everyone eats in the kitchen, except the soldiers—their food is brought out to the barracks, so they don’t have to leave the wall.”
I nodded, relieved that I wouldn’t be expected to sit alone at a long, formal dining table.
“So you’re a lai Darran, then? Where are those estates located?” Miro asked cheerfully, guiding us down another corridor, where the carpet underfoot gave way to cold stone and the sconces were more utilitarian than decorative. “Probably near Argent, since that’s where they found you, right?”
I shrugged. Once, in my younger years, I’d looked up the lai Darrans. In those days, I’d still been struggling with the sense of loss, that I had an entire family out there that no longer cared if I lived or died.
They did own quite a large piece of land south of Argent, and the family tree dated well back past the Red Epoch, but I’d quickly realized it didn’t matter how much I knew about them—name aside, I would never be one of them.
And as for Miro’s questions, I couldn’t answer in any way he would understand at the moment, anyway. Fortunately for me, my new artist was happy to fill the void of my answers with more talk, ensuring that my brief silences went unnoticed.
“Most of the humans live back here. We aren’t granted quarters in the towers. You’d think, since we’re sacrificing our lives to defend the Rift, that we’d at least warrant rooms in the Tower of Summer, but Bane keeps that reserved for the nobility. Obviously the Tower of Winter is off-limits—it belongs to him—and the Tower of Spring is yours, my lady.”
What’s in the Tower of Autumn, then? I asked, but he was already off on another tangent.
“I should’ve had the Tower of Summer. My mother was nobility, and highly respected as an artist, but…” He smiled ruefully. “I had a Forian father, as you can see. The half-breeds never rise so high as the vampires.”
This time I kept my hands still. I understood bitterness, the gnawing feeling that one had been born destined for more and denied that right without reason; but as I’d learned from my long years in the Cathedral, it was pointless to gripe about what wasn’t, and far easier in some ways to strive for a new path.
Miro struck me as quite young in some ways, despite appearing of an age with myself. Or maybe my judgment was too harsh.
I, too, was new to vampire rule and custom. Perhaps Bane did place his own kind above the Rift-kin who had lived here for centuries before him; after all, despite his kindness, I knew my husband very little.
The heat of the kitchens struck me before we saw them; they were large, clean rooms in the back of the keep, kettles hung over the roaring fireplaces, with a long wood table, glowing with years of polish, set in the middle. Several of the human staff were already eating at a rapid pace. I recognized one of the maids from my wedding preparation, Yuli, whispering and giggling with another girl as they ate.
The head cook was human as well, a hard-faced woman whose gaze went over our shoulders, and I turned to find that Koryek and my other vampire guard had followed us in.
We were quite the cavalcade, but I hadn’t anticipated the unwelcome in the cook’s eyes.
“You may wait in the hall,” she informed Koryek. “This place is for our kind.”
Koryek straightened, drawing a little closer to me. “We are under direct orders, ma’am.” He had a deep voice, with a faint Nord accent, faintly apologetic. “The Lady is not to leave our sight while outside the Tower of Spring.”
“And we have a cast-iron agreement with Lord Bane,” she retorted. “This place is for humans , so we can eat comfortably.”
It was yet another lesson, coming at me sideways; I hadn’t expected the humans to consider certain parts of the keep their own, but I supposed it made sense, in a way. Because… I had never lived among vampires, so I had not yet seen one feed.
Perhaps these Rift-kin had all witnessed such a thing, and would rather not be reminded of it during their own meals.
Please, don’t argue on my account , I said. I will eat elsewhere.
I wouldn’t insist that my guards leave. Bane had given them to me for a good reason, and I wasn’t fool enough to tempt a fate of wolves, no matter how appealing a respite from being watched might sound.
The cook’s eyes softened as she glanced at me. “You’d likely be more comfortable dining in the Great Hall, my Lady. This place is for the staff, not the nobility.”
Light defend me, as though I were unfamiliar with the heat of a kitchen! I smiled at her and shook my head, taking a plate from cabinets where servants would help themselves, and Ellena followed my lead, along with Miro.
There was bread baked with a honey crust, fresh ham, and sliced melons. I filled my plate and waited for the others before heading out, not for the Great Hall, but for a place of peace and quiet.
“The Great Hall is this way, Lady Cirrien,” Miro said, his brow furrowed, but I kept walking. He could go eat alone if he wished. I wanted fresh air.
I found the strange, cramped hall Wyn had rushed me through the previous evening, and Koryek rushed ahead to get the door for me, opening it and checking that no wargs were lying in wait before allowing me through. It was a little ridiculous—as though a warg would be hanging around in plain sight—but I smiled at him nonetheless as I made my way to the outer courtyard.
And walked right into a hive of activity.
Human soldiers were drilling right there in the middle of it all, most of them younger men. Visca walked the rows as they moved through the practice motions with blunted swords, jabbing at an elbow dipping too low, a weak stance; she looked up as we emerged, tipping me a wink before smacking the back of a man’s head. “Straighten that arm, Godfrey!” she bellowed, fangs flashing.
It was too late to turn back now without looking like I was trying to hide.
“Are you sure you want to eat out here, around all this?” Miro wrinkled his nose, watching the soldiers drip sweat.
Yes . I signed curtly with one hand, balancing my plate on the other. If he and Ellena chose to go eat together, I’d breathe a sigh of relief.
I left the soldiers, keeping to the walls of the inner keep so I wouldn’t be in the way. There were raised garden beds in the back, with the mountains towering high above the wall that surrounded us; humans tended them. The stables were another hive of activity I avoided, and I kept going until I found a smith’s yard.
It was not the smithing nor the smith himself, nor the anxious-looking apprentices that caught my attention, but the vampire holding up the entire back half of an empty wagon as easily as breathing while the smith hammered at the underside of a wheel.
Bane was shirtless, sweat sheening the hard valleys of muscle beneath ash-gray skin, the sharp, striated ridges of his natural fiend form standing out in spikes over his spine and shoulders, even flaring up from his clavicle.
That was what I had felt beneath his shirt; even if he were stripped naked and dropped into the middle of a forest, he would still be armored against the teeth of wargs.
A mane of black hair fell over his shoulders, thick and wild; one of his massive arms rippled, and the entire wagon tipped further upwards, the smith crawling around under it without the slightest worry it would be dropped.
“Hm. Well of course he’s strong, being a fiend and all,” Miro whispered, breaking my focus, and I realized I’d been staring open-mouthed.
Which was fine. Because he was my husband, and I could stare at him all day if I wanted to. It was well within my rights… and, to be honest, I was curious about the body that was only human insofar as he possessed a torso with all the requisite parts attached.
But a furious blush raced over my cheeks. Miro’s whisper was not as quiet as he’d intended—or he’d wanted Bane to hear—because the fiend looked up, amber eyes a brilliant gold in the sunlight, looking displeased until his gaze found me.
The look in them, almost predatory, softened at once; he looked the way he had when I’d thrown the silver bells and rowan from the carriage, a tinge of hope.
Pushing aside thoughts of last night, I smiled at him. Or tried to, anyway. I couldn’t shake the guilt.
But I could try to repair the damage I had done.
So I sat on a conveniently overturned barrel, kicked my velvet skirts out of my way, and balanced my plate on my knee, perfectly content to watch him lift wagons while I ate.
Although I didn’t necessarily find him handsome—at least not in the way Miro or Koryek were—there was something strangely mesmerizing about Bane’s sheer strength, the alien lines of his large body.
“Um… my Lady… this isn’t a very appropriate place for you to break your fast.” Ellena sniffed, glancing at the smith’s yard with obvious disdain.
You can leave me here. Go inside, be with people , I said, already annoyed with the sniffing about what was appropriate and what wasn’t. It was petulant and childish of me, but we both knew that Ellena was simply a foil, and not actually expected to wait on me at every turn.
She waited for me to get up, and when I didn’t, she turned her nose up and shot a hopeful look at Miro. “I’m going back to the kitchens, then.”
Do as you please . I’m not your keeper, and you’re not mine .
She left in a hurry, and I ate a bite of the honey-sweetened bread, watching as the smith examined an iron bar. He said something, and then Bane picked the whole wagon up.
His arms bulged, the muscles of his back contracting, and he lifted the entire damn thing and carried it out of the smith’s yard, placing it onto the paved stones of the courtyard where a hostler waited with a mule.
Oh, my.
It was one thing to know that Bane could crush skulls with a single hand or throw a horse, and quite another to see him pick up a thousand pounds or so with all the effort it’d take me to pick up a book.
I blinked, still a little dazed, and found that I was staring at his vast, well-muscled chest, and Bane was grinning a little.
Miro let out a sharp hiss of breath between his teeth. “He’s just showing off now.”
His grumble startled me; I’d completely forgotten his presence. His dismissive attitude towards Bane irritated me in a way I wished I could express in words.
Why shouldn’t he? If you could lift wagons like they were feathers, I’m sure you’d be showing off, too.
Bane mastered himself as he strode toward us, that hint of grin fading as he approached. He made an effort to enclose his lips over his fangs, his shoulders drawing up ever so slightly.
“Good morning, Cirrien. I hope you slept well.” The echoing grumble of his voice was louder outside, bouncing off the stone walls of the keep.
A little , I signed to him, abandoning my plate to my lap. There was quite a bit to write about. I never even had the chance to properly thank you for the journal.
His gaze followed my hands, eyes squinting slightly. “‘Write’… I saw that one. And maybe ‘thank’?”
I nodded encouragingly, suddenly feeling bolstered by the decision to come outside, and this time it was easier to smile.
We will practice together, you and I , I told him. I will have you fluent in no time .
Most of that was probably a muddle to him, but I knew he understood ‘you and I’, two sweeps of the index finger between us; his shoulders lowered, the tension running out of him like water.
I stood up, balancing the plate on the barrel where I’d been sitting, and took a step towards him.
I hope you slept well, too , I added, watching his eyes as I signed. I didn’t mean to run from you, I just… it’s something I never expected in my life. I hope you won’t hold it against me, if you give me time… perhaps we can try again one day.
I was in no hurry to feel fangs at my throat again, but to lose any regard he had for me… that would be genuinely painful.
“You might have to write that out for me,” Bane said, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. I was close enough to once again pick out those little star-like flecks of silver in the midst of the gold. “Did Miro tell you what he’s been commissioned for?”
My portrait , I said gloomily, and Bane’s lips twitched at my frown.
“His mother, Edda Kyril, was the court artist, when the last Lord of the Rift ruled here.” Bane gave the young man a sidelong glance. “He’s inherited her talent, and if he can prove himself consistent with any kind of work, perhaps he will earn a higher commission.”
“It would be my pleasure to prove it,” Miro said, bowing a little. There was a sardonic tilt to his mouth.
Well, if he didn’t want to be treated like a child, maybe he should have been a little less open with his disgruntlement and self-professed laziness. But I kept that thought to myself.
“Are your guards… to your liking?” Bane’s expression was veiled, carefully neutral.
Koryek is doing perfectly fine , I said, spelling out the guard’s name phonetically. He doesn’t complain incessantly .
There were a few times that I was spitefully grateful I was speaking a language no one else understood; this was one of them.
Bane watched my hands with uncertainty for a moment; had he understood? But he shook it off, wiping the back of his arm across the sweat on his forehead. My eyes dropped to the brawny slab of his stomach without my permission, and I jerked them back up.
How strange to find parts of him attractive, but be horrified by the whole. But was it horror, really?
Yes, I decided, glancing at his teeth. Some horror, yes. But that was mitigated by the soul inside that blood-drinking shell, which must be why I could not get ahold of myself and keep my eyes where they belonged.
I would have to sleep with him eventually. I wanted to be less alarmed when that time came.
Did Edda ever paint you? I asked, my curiosity still aflame at what Bane had looked like before his choice to become a fiend. I suppose I should ask this in my journal, because you will read it tonight if it’s the last thing you do. There are too many things I’ve wanted to say to you to have them put off any longer.
“I apologize, my lady, but most of that was beyond me.” He looked apologetic enough that I briefly reached out and laid my hand over his. His skin was both velvet-soft and burning hot, running at a temperature much higher than normal for humans. With a quick flick, his bat-like ears swiveled upright and forward, quivering at the tips.
Only for now , I told him with my other hand, spelling it slowly.
Bane’s fingers flexed under mine, twitching ever so slightly, and then he laced his fingers through mine, bringing my hand up to kiss the back of it.
His lips were soft, careful to cover his teeth. I stared up at him, holding my breath, every cell in my body aware of his presence, the strength that had lifted a thousand pounds, and yet he still touched me as carefully as a man with a butterfly cupped in his hand.
My heart raced against my ribs, a rapid clip I couldn’t calm. Could he feel it? Hear it?
Bane stared into my eyes, still holding my hand. This must be what it felt like to be entranced by a predator, a deer with an arrow aimed for its heart… the rest of the world had vanished.
There was only the fiend, holding me in a gaze of soot and gold.
“If you’d like to stay out here with me, I would find your company to be very… very pleasing,” he said gruffly. “I… enjoy being around you.”
I smiled, curling my fingers around his a little tighter.
Yes , I wanted to say, I enjoy being around you, too , but I didn’t want to pull my hand from his oh-so-careful grasp.
So I just smiled at him, telling him with my eyes. Interestingly, his jutting cheekbones had darkened in tone, from ashen to a charred-gray hue. Could vampires blush?
I reached up, wondering what those sharp ridges felt like—were they bone, or as flexible as his ears?—
“By the ancestors, were you going to make me search the entire keep for you?” Wyn’s waspish tones brought me back to reality with an unpleasant jolt. “There’s more preparations to be made for tonight, unless you’d like to be presented to the Rift-kin looking like a country bumpkin…? Also, Bane, two of the horses need shoeing and the farrier’s short a hand today.”
I blinked at the bloodwitch, resplendent in black silk today, a list in her hands. Of course.
“As for you ,” she snapped at Miro, billowing towards us in a flurry of silk like a bat out of hell, “If you’re not working on the commission, you might as well attend the drills.”
That sour tilt had returned to Miro’s smile; he bowed again, giving me an unreadable look from beneath his thick brows as he straightened. He left without another word.
I felt the tiniest flutter of shame that I’d managed to forget him entirely, not just once, but twice; but I didn’t think I could be blamed.
Not when my husband was so much more interesting than I’d bargained for.
He gave me a rueful glance, releasing my hand.
“I would apologize for stealing your wife, but honestly, I rather think I’ve saved you from distraction.” Wyn steered me away, towards the keep’s doors. “Horses, please. Don’t forget. Supply deliveries need to go out to Fog Hollow tonight.”
I glanced back as I was led away to far less interesting things, catching a last glimpse of Bane over my shoulder—as he flexed his hand, gazing at it intently, as though to read words I’d left behind.