Chapter Eighteen
It was difficult to tear herself away from Michelle, but their little oasis within reality was shattered by Quintia’s shouting for Lavinia from outside of Lavinia’s door.
“Coming!” Lavinia answered for Quintia’s sake. “Are you hungry?” she asked in a smaller voice, pulling back slightly so she could see Michelle. A deep red flush braced her cheeks, her eyes bright.
The taste of her blood was still on Lavinia’s tongue. Strength was trickling back into her veins, suffusing her with a feeling of well-being that had been lacking for a while. She really should have fed earlier. But then, it was hard to regret her actions when they had led to this moment.
“Not really,” Michelle answered. Then she wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s been a long night.”
She looked so damn adorable in that moment. Before she knew what she was doing, Lavinia leaned in and kissed her forehead, as fleeting a touch as from a butterfly’s wing. Michelle closed her eyes briefly, and the flush on her cheeks deepened.
“Just give me a moment,” Lavinia said, and tore herself from their embrace.
It was an instant loss, and her body yearned for the feel of Michelle in her arms immediately.
She walked into her walk-in closet, pulled a white T-shirt from a pile of identical white T-shirts.
Slowly, rational thought was returning now that she’d created a bit of distance between her and Michelle.
The sharp scent of fresh blood still clung to them both, mingling with Michelle’s own smell, that now-familiar scent of floral notes with a hint of warm spice.
Stepping into a pair of soft grey leggings, she couldn’t decide whether she’d just made a horrible mistake.
There was no place for a human in Lavinia’s life.
There was hardly any space for anyone else at all beyond the Sisterhood and her own family, let alone someone from a different species.
But she couldn’t help but grin in the privacy of the twilight of her closet.
If it had been a mistake, it had been an amazing one that she would refuse to regret.
“Come on,” she said, walking back into the brightness of the room, and led Michelle to the staircase at the end of the west wing corridor.
As they walked, Michelle’s hand brushed Lavinia’s.
Without looking at her, she slid her hand into Michelle’s, their fingers entangling.
They didn’t let go until almost at the dining room door, a handful of voices filtering through the wood that had been returned to its rightful place.
The door opened to a familiar scene. Lucretia sat at the head of the table, arguing with Quintia over whether she should have a larger helping of the roast pork that lay on a silver dish between them.
“You don’t eat enough,” Quintia urged.
“None of your business,” Luce countered.
“You skipped breakfast this morning.”
“I didn’t know you were my keeper.”
“Take it.” Quintia threatened the sovereignty of Luce’s plate with a piece of pork dangling from a pair of tongs. Luce easily warded the incursion off with a clash of cutlery.
“No.”
While they argued, Vesta scrolled on her phone with one dainty finger while she loaded her plate with green beans, seemingly without looking.
“No phones at the table,” Messalina beside her said, frowning.
Vesta launched into a defence of her behaviour, quoting several different families who were at a tipping point in their struggle for power, rattling off a list of names that apparently meant as little to Messalina as they did to Lavinia.
Octavia, however, nodded along with Vesta’s explanation.
The clean gauze wrapped around her head contrasted starkly with her electric blue hair, now free from blood.
Slipping between the cacophony of voices, Mrs. Frost put another steaming bowl of fragrant food onto the table before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Lucretia was the only one to look up at their entrance. “Sit down, you two.” Lavinia pulled out a chair for Michelle beside Messalina and sat down opposite her, next to Vesta.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Messalina said, addressing Michelle. She extended her hand. “Messalina. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Michelle.” They shook hands.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Lavinia said, holding out her plate for Vesta to share some of the green beans.
“I just arrived. I came as soon as I could. I wish I had been here with you all.” Messalina’s eyes spoke of fatigue. She had pulled back her black hair into thick twists and still wore the flexible, lightweight armour suitable for missions where little fighting was expected.
“You’re stationed in Scotland. We can’t be everywhere at once,” Lavinia said.
Messalina sighed and held out the dish with roast pork so Michelle could serve herself. “Don’t I know it.”
“How’s Gus?” Finally, the fray at the head of the table subsided, a relative quiet returning to the room. Beside Lavinia, Vesta slipped her phone back into the pocket of her flowing dress.
“Gus is my consort. Augustus,” Messalina explained to Michelle. “He’s fine. Wanted to come, but with the little one… It’s not always easy.”
Lavinia nodded. Messalina was the only one in the Sisterhood who had a child.
It was a challenging life, and adding a young child into the mix made everything even more complicated.
Gus was a wonderful consort, understanding of the risks Messalina took, but even then, the competing demands took a heavy toll on her.
“You’ve got a kid?” Michelle asked.
Messalina nodded, her eyes filling with pride. “A daughter. Messalina, the sixth of her name.”
“How old is she?” Michelle ventured tentatively. Lavinia thought back to her facial expression when she’d told Michelle about her little brother’s age and smiled to herself.
“Eight years old now. She’s still so small but getting stronger every day. She wrestles with cousins twice her size and wins. She might make an excellent warrior someday.”
“Minerva be willing,” Vesta said.
“Minerva be willing,” Messalina agreed. “What about you, Michelle? Do you have any children?”
“Oh, no,” Michelle laughed. “Unless you count all the ones on the ward. I’m a paediatric nurse. But I never really thought much about having any myself.”
“Neither did I, until I met my Gus,” Messalina said.
The door behind Lavinia clicked open, and Proserpina shuffled in. The table fell quiet for a moment and then burst into cheers.
“She’s up!” Octavia exclaimed.
“About fucking time,” Quintia grunted, but a crooked smile softened her words.
With a groan, Pina lowered herself slowly into the dining chair.
She looked like hell. The bandage around her chest was stained with blood, and her olive complexion still looked sallow.
Her usually bouncy, curly hair lay flattened against her head, and Lavinia could see the tremor in her hand as she held up her plate for Lavinia to ladle some stew onto.
Still, looking like hell was miles better than being unconscious and impaled.
Mrs. Frost appeared at Pina’s elbow and silently placed a glass of water in front of her. “Thanks, Mrs. Frost,” she said. “I feel like the queen with everyone serving me. I should get stabbed more often.”
The table erupted in laughter, breaking the tension.
“Alright ladies,” Luce said from the head of the table. “Bless the moon and stars that we’ve survived another damn night. Let’s eat.”
This was all the incentive everyone needed, and the Sisters attacked their meals as if half-starved.
“I meant to thank you, Michelle,” Pina said, gingerly stabbing a potato with her fork. “Not that I was awake for any of it, but the doctor told me of your assistance. He spoke highly of you. Without you, one of these idiots might have just ripped the stake out of my chest without any precautions.”
“Hey!” Quintia exclaimed, her mouth half-full.
Pina levelled her eyes at her. “Do you know anything about medicine?”
Quintia swallowed. “Nah. I just know not to get stuck by the pointy end.”
“Dickhead,” Pina murmured, but it sounded like a term of endearment. “Still, thank you.”
“That’s alright,” Michelle answered with a blush. “I didn’t do that much.”
“Oh, she’s humble. I see why you like her, Vin,” Pina said.
In a conspiratorial voice to Michelle, she continued, “Lavinia here is also terrible at taking any kind of praise. I think you two are a great fit.” Michelle’s blush deepened.
She gave a sly little smile to Lavinia. The red of her bite mark peeked from beneath the maroon of her jumper.
Lavinia suddenly recalled Pina’s words on the first night she’d brought Michelle here.
You like her, she’d said. She had been right, of course.
Pina was always right about this kind of thing.
Still, there was no reason to be so smug about it.
“Stop it,” Lavinia said, shooting a warning glance to Pina that said, don’t push it.
Pina waved her fingers in the air. “Just saying. I can’t help but notice that you’re looking exceedingly healthy tonight, my dear Vin.”
“Pina,” Lavinia said, this time cranking up the threat in her voice.
“You fed?” Vesta asked. “Goddess, Vin, finally. You were getting increasingly grumpy.”
“I wasn’t.” Lavinia refused to lift her eyes from her plate, not meeting the teasing glances of her Sisters.
“You were almost as bad as Quintia.”
“Hey!” Quintia said, not having been part of the conversation but realising immediately she was being made fun of. When Vesta explained, she said, “Actually, fair enough.”