Chapter 4
Chapter Four
The Souzterain was quiet when I arrived a little before sunset, an unseasonable chill slipping through the winding alleyway that hinted at autumn just around the corner.
I pulled my shawl a little tighter around myself, nodding to the shopkeepers I recognized as I stepped around a small group of Lycans huddled in front of Cora’s apothecary booth.
The silver-haired witch threw me a wink before ducking to answer the young, dark-haired male who leaned casually against her counter.
Warmth pooled in my chest. I loved the Souzterain, loved working alongside Lilith and Jules and the other blood givers.
At home I’d been isolated, save for my brother, Louis, and the occasional lesson my mother orchestrated, until I’d been old enough to be an official giver in our town.
Even then I worked alone, with my mother coordinating all my clients.
When I’d first arrived in Oylen proper, the sights and sounds of the inner city had been overwhelming.
I’d struggled to sleep for at least two weeks until I’d gotten used to the hum.
All my letters to Louis had been filled with complaints and fears.
But it had been freeing to be away from my family, from the heavy silence and the duty, duty, duty.
Noah treated me with warmth and protectiveness that had nothing to do with what I could offer him.
Lilith was the same. Friends. It was more than I could have ever dreamed.
Jules sat perched on the tall stool before Risqeu lan Serang, worn feather quill dancing across the parchment of her ledger.
But she looked up when I approached, smiling warmly, and reached for the heavy velvet curtain behind her.
“Evening, love,” she murmured, tugging back the fabric.
“Your room is cleaned and I left a mug of serangunah for you on the side table.”
As I passed, I reached to take her hand, squeezed it once and swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
Yes, Jules was my employer. It was in her best interest to keep me healthy and happy. But I’d seen plenty of other blood givers within the Souzterain who were not treated half as well as those of us at Risqeu. She patted my knuckles, rising to follow me into the small parlor.
The room itself was old and perhaps a little outdated, but I loved it as much as everything else.
It was swathed in deep blues and gold, complete with its own fireplace.
I’d had a few fanciful moments of hoping I’d earn enough one day to perhaps keep a pianoforte here, but it was impossible.
Yet the knowledge didn’t stop me from imagining from time to time one nestled into the corner of the room.
Perhaps I’d play for my patrons the way Liam—our newest giver—played cards with his.
“Lord Montag will be here in an hour or so.” Jules strode past to grab the steaming mug and offer it to me.
It had been about a week since the ball at Lord Azad’s estate—a week since the lord had requested a private session.
Though I’d resolved to put him out of my mind, he floated back unbidden, like a specter that haunted the corners of my vision.
Lord Montag, however, had come to call almost every night since.
Sometimes he stayed for only an hour, others for the entire evening.
To be fair, I preferred his presence over some of the other immortals I saw.
Lord Durham barely spoke to me, save for a grumbled “thank you” when he left, and Lady Brockhower kept up a constant stream of complaints about her small coven.
The only silence I found with her was when her teeth were in my neck.
Lord Montag at least engaged in conversation, occasionally bringing a book for me to read aloud on those nights he monopolized my time.
However, now he always sat a little too close, his touches lingering perhaps a bit longer than was proper.
He had not tried to kiss me since the full moon, but sometimes his eyes lingered on my mouth as we said our goodbyes.
I sighed, taking a deep drink from the mug. Jules pulled a box from under the couch, placed it on the cushion and turned to me. “I received word this afternoon from Bernard that Lord Montag has been invited to Eamon’s estate for dinner tonight.”
My stomach swooped. “Who is Bernard?”
Jules blinked as if to say: That is what you’re asking? “He is Eamon’s head of house.”
I rolled my lips together as adrenaline pulsed in my throat. “All right. So, Lord Montag will visit here before—”
“He wants to take you with him,” she cut across me. “Eamon hosts the occasional gathering with other immortals at his estate. They are free to bring companions, or a blood giver if they prefer. Lord Montag has requested you accompany him.”
We stared at one another. The longer I looked at Jules, the more tired she appeared.
Purplish bruises were smudged beneath her eyes, and there was a sallowness to her skin, leaching away her pink undertones.
A few days ago, Cheyenne had left Risqeu to be kept as an in-house giver to a wealthy vampire who lived near the coast in Chynon.
It had not been a bitter parting—Jules had wished her well—but it meant there were now only three of us left: myself, Liam, and an older male I rarely saw named Hugo.
It would have been selfish for me to say no.
Risqeu needed the oyista. Goddess, I needed the oyista.
And if I was Lord Montag’s companion for the evening, then I would not need to interact with Lord Azad.
I’d been to a few gatherings like these and the vampires kept to themselves, generally ignoring whatever companions their guests might have brought.
“What’s in the box?”
Jules tugged open the lid. “It may be a bit old-fashioned and not fit properly, but this was mine back when I attended balls and events with Lilith’s father.”
The deep amethyst gown was beautiful, silk reflecting in the firelight as she held it up for me.
I’d never heard much about Lilith’s father—only that he had died before she was born and he’d been a human.
Perhaps the gown was a little old, the bustline a little higher and the skirt a little fuller than more fashionable garments today, but it was beautiful.
I took a step forward to touch the beaded neckline, silver sparkling like stars down to the skirts. “It’s lovely, Jules.”
She cleared her throat, shaking back her hair before managing a smile. Her grief was tangible and I didn’t blame her for feeling the loss of Lilith’s father much more keenly now that Solange was also gone. “It’s your choice,” she repeated. “If you would prefer—”
“Will you help me into it? I’m afraid my corset might need to be tightened.”
By the time I was settled in Gerald’s carriage, I found I was struggling to breathe, but it had nothing to do with my tightened corset or the bodice I was all but spilling over.
Jules had been right when she’d said it might not fit perfectly.
I was a bit fuller in the bust than she was, but I was glad the neckline was higher so it was at the very least not indecent.
Lord Montag had been all but drooling as he’d stepped from the carriage.
He’d dipped his chin in greeting to Jules and placed a heavy sack of oyista in her hand before following me in.
He’d kept up a stream of nervous chatter since we’d left.
“Of course, Lord Azad is a lover of the arts. Only last month did I see Charles Lebeau, and I believe Lord Azad was in attendance.”
I stared out the window at the rising ramparts of the city. Charles Lebeau was an accomplished violinist who currently traveled the world playing with different orchestras—I’d seen a poster advertising it a few nights before the concert. “Did you enjoy it?” I asked.
Gerald shut his mouth, as if surprised I’d said anything, before he swallowed. “Y-yes, I did. Very much.”
My smile was soft, but it seemed to ease a bit of his tension. “I would have loved to see it.”
He shifted in his seat. “Lord Azad is also a patron of Mattias Gurstrard, the renowned painter, did you know?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle my laugh. “No, I did not.”
For the rest of the ride I was treated to a soliloquy of Lord Azad’s accomplishments, his extravagant wealth and unfathomable power.
By the time we arrived at the grand estate I had to admit I was a bit annoyed with both males and grateful Gerald’s voice finally died when the footman opened the carriage door.
I waited first for him to leave. He rocketed onto the pavestones, voice booming into the night. “Lord Azad, it is an absolute honor to have received your invitation.”
My heartbeat sounded in my ears. I took a moment to wipe my palms on the cushion beneath me before I carefully stepped from the carriage, giving the footman a smile for the hand he offered in assistance. “Thank you.”
The mansion was just as fine as the first time I’d seen it, though without the bustle of people spilling from every door and window, it appeared bigger.
I took my time noting the lush blossoms lining the drive and the gleaming marble stairs leading up to the heavy front doors.
But when I could no longer delay, I finally made my way toward Gerald’s voice, keeping my attention fixed on the ground.
“…is next month and I would love for you to attend.” He had obviously not found his calm, from the way his words slurred with their speed.
“I would be delighted.” My belly clenched at Lord Azad’s deep voice, the rumbling timbre that felt like a caress.
Warmth blossomed across my brow, my cheeks, my lips while a shiver rippled down my spine. I forced my attention to stay fixed to the stairs and the shiny tips of his boots that came into view.
“Mademoiselle Valois.” It was not merely a greeting—no, it felt more like a sigh of relief, like the beginning and ending of a sentence all wrapped up in my name.
I curtsied low, pressing my fingers to my lips. “Serang lan nauth, my lord.”
This time he did not offer me his hand and I could not decide if I was relieved or disappointed as I straightened. Finally, I looked up. His hair was free tonight, framing his face in black waves, and though his clothes were splendid, they were not the opulent finery of the ball.
“Thank you for coming,” Lord Azad murmured. “It is a gift to see you again.”
I dipped my chin. “I am honored to be here, my lord.”
His eyes danced across my face before they slid back to Gerald and he gestured toward the front door. “Please, come in. Most of the guests have already arrived and are meeting in the parlor. I believe you know Lord Mateo Auguste, Lord Montag?”
Gerald nodded fervently. “I do, yes, my lord.”
My head spun a little at the multiple uses of “lord” and I wondered if they ever tired of such posturing.
We stepped into the entryway. Music slithered through the hall from the open door to the left.
An imposing vampire stood on the threshold, his dark brown skin gilded in the firelight while a wide smile pulled at his cheeks.
“Gerald!” The vampire took a step forward, long black braids swinging around his shoulders as he extended a hand.
“Mateo!” Gerald surged forward to take the vampire’s proffered forearm.
Lord Azad fell into step beside me. “I see Jules’ good humor knows no bounds.”
I frowned, chancing a glance at him before realizing his waistcoat was the exact color of my gown. Together we looked like a set.
My cheeks burned. “I apologize, my lord. I did not—”
A hand curled around my elbow, halting my progress forward. He turned me to face him, dipping his head until we were eye level. “I did not mean anything by it, Mademoiselle. Only that Jules does not always use her powers for good. We are merely innocent bystanders in the tangled web she weaves.”
My mouth twisted at the humor threading through his words and I nodded.
Lord Azad lifted his hand and for a moment I thought he meant to caress my cheek, but instead he gestured to the room.
A throbbing started in my chest at the sight of Gerald in the doorway, clapping the vampire I did not know on the shoulder.
My shoes were suddenly filled with lead at the prospect of spending the night at Gerald’s side and what that might entail.
A wide hand skimmed my lower back, encouraging me forward before falling away.
“Come, we should not keep our companions waiting.”