Chapter Twenty-Five
The conversation leaves me with my gut in knots. It’s obvious I’m missing something, and Claude doesn’t seem willing to explain it to me. So I take his suggestion and invite Benjamin over for tea. I emphasize that it’s not an emergency, but still, he agrees to meet me that very night.
I meet him in the foyer with a curtsy and a smile. “So glad to have you, Lord Benjamin.”
His returning smile is warm and tinged with relief as he looks me over. “Look at you. A proper lady of the house. I take it you’re settling in, then?”
“Better than expected. Thank you.” I lead him to the sitting room, where a pot of tea is waiting along with cups and saucers.
I found the lovely set of floral-decorated porcelain in one of the cabinets, along with an outrageous amount of tea just ready to be made.
I’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried that Claude let me set it all up myself without coming in to insist on helping.
“You seem well,” Benjamin says, pouring himself a cup and drawing me out of my thoughts.
“I am,” I say, sitting across from him at the table. “Truly. I hope you didn’t rush here thinking I was in trouble.”
“The thought crossed my mind, but really, I had been meaning to visit. I wanted to see for myself how this arrangement was working out. Especially since you and Claude have an… unusual agreement.”
“Right.” I bite my lip, looking down at my cup as I stir sugar into my tea. “That… is what I wanted to talk about, actually.”
I can feel him watching me, but I can’t bring myself to make eye contact.
It’s embarrassing to have this discussion after how insistent I was about adding the intimacy clause.
More embarrassing still because Claude clearly indicated that I don’t understand something.
But Benjamin did once tell me I should ask him whatever questions I want.
“Go on,” he says, after a few moments of silence trickle past.
“Benjamin,” I begin, “is it possible to change my contract with Claude? If… both of us wanted that?”
It’s difficult not to squirm under the weight of his gaze. “It’s not impossible,” he says, “but it’s not as easy as an agreement between you and him. It would require my agreement, and that of the Vulpe Court, as your representatives.”
I nod, considering. I’m sure that Benjamin would agree if I asked him, though he might not be thrilled about me changing my mind after all of the trouble. But the Vulpe Court… that might be a bit more problematic, given Claude’s tumultuous relationship with them.
“And what would happen if the contract was broken?” I ask.
Benjamin sets down his cup rather heavily. “Has something happened?”
“No,” I say. “I’m just curious. I realized I made all that fuss about the intimacy clause and I don’t actually know how it would be enforced. Are you the one responsible for it?”
Benjamin’s gaze is heavy, suspicious, but after a moment he leans back in his chair. “Partially. But a vampire’s court is responsible for enforcing any contracts under their name, and the Solomon Court would also step in to render aid if requested.”
“I see.” Or at least I’m starting to have an inkling. “It’s… pretty serious, then. If a contract were breached.”
“Very,” Benjamin says. “Valentines are cherished and protected by vampire society. Who would ever want to be one if they weren’t?
It’s paramount that we have humans willing to provide blood for us, and also vital to our relationship with humans as a species that we treat them well.
Valentines are the embodiment of the deal our species made long ago, and the trust that keeps us in balance now. ”
“I… hadn’t thought about all of that,” I say, feeling dizzy as the realization starts to set in. “So you’re saying the punishment would be severe, if a vampire broke the contract.” I glance at Benjamin, who nods, his expression grave. “They would be… what? Imprisoned?”
“Mm.” Benjamin holds up a hand, waves it vaguely. “Imprisonment is considered a light sentence, given our infinite lifespans. Unless it’s a permanent imprisonment, but that’s a rare cruelty usually reserved for traitors to one’s own court.”
“So what?” I ask, my voice tight. “They’d hurt him? They’d… kill him?”
“It’s up to the court,” Benjamin says. “It’d be a severe punishment, but…”
I think of Claude saying the Vulpe Court despises me. How I thought he was being dramatic. But then, what I witnessed at the art gallery, the way they all shunned him.
“In Claude’s case,” Benjamin continues, “since his sire is alive, the final decision would fall to him…” He pauses, expression shuttering as some realization seems to hit him.
I remember, all at once, that Claude mentioned Ambrose was the one to suggest the intimacy clause. The final piece of the puzzle slots into place. I shut my eyes, fighting a wave of nausea as I realize exactly what situation I’ve found myself in.
Claude. The contract. The Vulpe Court. Ambrose.
Me.
I’m sure they’d be rid of me if they could, Claude once said.
“I’m a trap,” I whisper. “Aren’t I?”
* * *
The moment Benjamin departs, I search for Claude. He’s out on the back porch, flipping idly through an art magazine, dappled moonlight casting his face in hard angles.
I stop, wrapping my arms around myself and staring at him. How much does he know, or at least suspect? Before I can think of how to begin the conversation, he looks up at me, and his stoic expression gentles.
“Come sit with me.” He scoots over on the small sofa, making room.
I walk over and take a seat at his side.
It’s small enough that our shoulders brush.
When he flips the page on his magazine, the backs of his fingers brush my knee.
The contact sends a familiar tingle down my spine, followed by a lurching sense of dread as it reminds me just how dangerous this situation is.
“Lord Benjamin and I were just discussing our contract,” I say, my voice tight.
“Oh?” Claude flips another page, picks the magazine up, and frowns as he studies some of the artwork within.
“We talked about what would happen if it were to be broken.”
“I see,” Claude says, still staring at his magazine. I reach over, place a hand over it, and lower it back down to his lap. He looks up at me.
I study his face. “You know what will happen if you break it.” It’s not a question; I can see the answer already in his expression. “Why on earth would you agree to that? The intimacy clause especially…”
He shrugs. “You wouldn’t have signed otherwise.”
“But why take on a valentine at all?” I ask. “You would have been safer without me.”
“And without me, you would’ve been in danger.”
My breath hitches. “What?”
“I… noticed you at the ball,” he says. “Ambrose noticed me noticing.” He smiles, but there’s a bitter twist to it. “My mistake, to think I could have a single moment of joy without him finding some way to use it against me.”
I shake my head. “But… he couldn’t have hurt me. The vampire courts would never have allowed him to get away with it.”
“Old-fashioned vampires like Lord Ambrose don’t consider humans to matter,” he says, with a terrifying matter-of-factness. “And he is powerful enough that the court likely would’ve covered up.” His smile is wry, bitter. “Or, more likely, pinned it on me.”
My lower lip trembles. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t know what it meant. How serious it would be.”
He slowly lifts a hand to cup my cheek, swiping a tear away before it can fall. “I did.”
I shut my eyes, unable to look at him. “Then why?”
“He would have used you against me either way. But as a valentine, you’d be safe.”
“But you’d be in more danger,” I say. “And you barely knew me at the time.”
“Even so.”
“You thought I hated you.”
“Even so.”
I open my eyes and suck in a breath, chest aching at the softness in his gaze. “Claude,” I whisper, even though I know I’m about to break my own heart. “We can’t keep doing this. It’s too dangerous, and it isn’t fair to either of us.”
His expression shutters, and he lowers his eyes. His hand slips away from my cheek. “No,” he murmurs. “I suppose not.”
* * *
We go through our contract line by line, with Benjamin on the phone to provide clarification, to determine what exactly is required of each of us.
Aside from the intimacy clause, the contract is pretty boilerplate, outlining the usual duties of a valentine.
I must reside at the house, give blood regularly, and attend events as Claude’s guest when requested.
In a moment of quiet when I’m jotting down notes, Benjamin says, “Lord Claude, I must apologize. I never realized the severity of your situation, or else I would’ve…”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” Claude says. “It’s not your fault.”
“I hope you know it isn’t yours, either,” Benjamin says.
After we’ve been through the contract, we hang up and look down at my bullet points. Claude is pressed close against my shoulder; he’s remained close to me ever since our conversation, like he expects what I’ll soon ask of him.
“Most of these requirements are left open to interpretation,” I point out.
“There’s no specification that I have to give blood every night, nor that you have to only drink from me.
No exact number of events we have to attend together.
We both have to reside in the house, but that doesn’t mean we have to be together all of the time. ”
Claude puts an arm around my waist and draws me against his side. “But I like being together,” he murmurs in my ear.
I can’t bring myself to pull away, even though I should. “That’s the problem,” I say. “It’s dangerous. I think we should have a rule not to touch each other at all. Except when you bite me.”
He goes still. He’s so close, I can feel the flutter of his eyelashes against my skin. “Living here without being able to touch you will be agony.”
“It’s agony either way.” I shut my eyes, will my resolve not to break. “But this way will be safer.”
A pause. “You’re sure?”
No. “Yes.”
He pulls away from me slowly, his hand grazing over my skin, giving me every opportunity to change my mind, but I don’t.
I bite my tongue and keep my eyes shut until I’m sure I’m not going to cry.
Then I take a deep breath and open them.
“It’s better this way,” I say, unsure if I’m trying to convince him or myself.
“We won’t be tempted to cross a line. And maybe when the year is up, then… things can be different.”
He nods. “Maybe. If I can only paint, then maybe… maybe Lord Ambrose and the rest of Vulpe would be more amenable to a change in the contract, or a new one at the end of the year, at least.” But his sad smile tells me he doesn’t believe it. And even though I want to, neither do I.