Chapter Twenty-Three #2
He pauses to sink into an unoccupied armchair, tugging me down to share the plush seat with him.
A man sitting on the couch next to it abruptly stands and walks away.
He heads to the bar, so he could have just been getting himself a drink, but I’m starting to get the sense that there’s more than that going on here.
“As I’ve mentioned, I’m not exactly popular with the Vulpe Court,” Claude says.
My brow furrows. “I didn’t realize that meant they’d treat you like a leper.”
“Perhaps they fear my lack of inspiration is contagious,” he says, leaning his head back against the chair.
But we both know that’s not the truth. “It’s Lord Ambrose, isn’t it?” I ask. “They’re afraid of him.”
Claude shrugs, but he squeezes my shoulder in a way that feels like a warning; it’s not safe to talk openly here. Because of course it isn’t. We’re surrounded by snakes.
“Surely you must have some friends within the court,” I say.
Claude’s smile is strained. “I used to. One by one, they’ve been chased away.” He breaks eye contact. “Or bribed away. One or the other.”
I study him, struck by what a lonely existence it must be, being shunned like this by his own court. Living in that house by the seaside, with no one for company before I came along. Ambrose made him come tonight, just so he could be reminded of how alone he really is.
I take Claude’s hand in mine and stand. “Well, there’s no use wallowing about it. Let’s go look at the art some more.”
He stares at me quizzically but lets me urge him to his feet and lead him out of the room.
We walk through the gallery together. People keep looking at Claude, but no one approaches him. Conversations have a habit of quieting as we walk past.
Claude seems resigned to it, but there is a spark of anger in my chest that grows every time I notice the way they’re snubbing him.
I don’t let that show, though. Instead I talk loudly about the art, and laugh, and tease Claude.
If these assholes want to see him miserable, then I refuse to let it happen.
Every time I coax a smile out of Claude, it feels like a victory. Yet every time that victory fades, and I catch him staring in silence—not at the vampires who are snubbing him, but at the artwork on the walls around us—with an expression like heartbreak.
* * *
On the ride home, Claude stares resolutely out the window. He looks especially broody, still wearing my sunglasses, but I can’t seem to find a good moment to ask for them back. Especially when the silence stretches out like this, bubbling with tension.
“That was awkward,” I finally say.
Claude doesn’t turn, but I catch his grim smile in his reflection on the window. “It was not much fun for me either, I’ll admit.”
“I can see why you don’t like to attend Vulpe events.” I chew my lip, trying to think of how to broach the subject. “I knew you had a strained relationship with Lord Ambrose, but I didn’t think the whole court would be so…”
“Oh, the Vulpe Court despises me,” Claude says, saving me from my fumbling.
“But why?” I press. He shrugs, still turned away. “Claude, please look at me.”
He turns slowly to face me. A smile is plastered across his face; with his eyes hidden behind dark lenses, it’s much harder to read his actual feelings. “I’m a blemish on their reputation. A drain on their coffers. An embarrassment and a nuisance.”
“If that’s true, then why haven’t they kicked you out yet?”
His smile is strained, but his voice is still light as he says, “I’m sure they’d be rid of me if they could. But it’s not so simple. There are laws about these kinds of things, and no matter how much Vulpe wishes it were, refusing to paint is not a breach of vampire law.”
After a moment, I slide closer on the seat. Claude doesn’t move as I reach up to remove my sunglasses from his face, revealing the soft blue of his eyes and the sad depths they contain.
I study him as I tuck the glasses away. “Do you even want to be in Vulpe?” I ask. “Surely you can’t be happy as a part of a court that openly snubs you.”
He shrugs. “Better that than courtless.”
“Benjamin is courtless, and he seems to do well enough for himself.”
“Benjamin is a rare case, and he has not made enemies of half the Vulpe Court.”
“You think they’d come after you if you were courtless?” I ask, taken aback. He seems so flippant, I figured he was exaggerating. “They hate you that much?”
His eyes flicker. He looks away. “I’d rather not find out.”
“But…” Surely there has to be a better answer than him existing in perpetual misery in Vulpe. “Couldn’t you join another court? You have friends in Camelia, don’t you?”
He pauses, stares at me. For a moment I think I’ve said something helpful, but then he says, “You think I’m beautiful enough for the Camelia Court?” He splays a hand over his chest. “I’m touched, Nora.”
“Claude, I’m being serious,” I say. “You can’t be happy with the way things are now.”
He drops his hand. “Of course I’m not,” he says.
“But it’s… it’s complicated, Nora. Even under better circumstances, it’s extremely difficult to change courts like that.
In my situation, nigh impossible. Camelia and Vulpe don’t have the best relations as it is, and Ambrose would never allow such a thing. ”
“Ambrose has that much power over you?”
“He is my sire,” Claude says, as if that explains everything. Then he presses his hand across his eyes. “I’m tired of talking about this.”