Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
More and more I found myself thinking of my maker.
In the first centuries he’d gone to ground I’d tried my hardest not to. For half a millennium I’d refused to say his name. In many ways, I’d believed I’d failed him as a fledgling—failed to understand his teachings, his wisdom, the divine connection he held with his creator.
Seth had been my voice of caution when passion overtook me, my voice of reason when I lost myself within my melancholy.
I wondered what he would say to me now in that low, musical voice of his.
If he would wrap his arm around my shoulder as if I was merely a boy and tell me to trust all would be well.
There were times when I went to my daylight rest I was sure I was awake and walking with him through the deep forests to the north.
Sleeping during the day was a skill I’d taught myself.
For those made by Seth, the sun was an irritant, but not deadly in the way it was for those made in the next generations.
Now I had the same daytime visions as most of my kind, succumbing to the paralytic sleep to refresh my mind and powers.
Seth and I never spoke in those dreams, but I swore I woke with his scent surrounding me before it vanished in the dusk.
But Seth was not here and I was not sure if he would ever rise again. And as I watched Mademoiselle Valois within my crowded ballroom, hand tucked around the arm of Lord Montag, I wished more than ever before he was, if only to push me to be brave.
After that night at Cavera lan Aiyah I had been tempted to send the pianoforte to Jules for Mademoiselle Valois’ parlor in the den.
Jules had predictably cautioned me against such a gesture, and instead I’d merely sent another bouquet of asiva flowers I’d picked from my garden.
Something to remind her that I was still there, that even if she did not realize it, I waited for her.
Jules was somewhere in the ballroom as well, keeping an eye on both her givers in attendance tonight.
But I did not look for her. Instead, I scanned the crowd for Mateo.
He and his siblings were here, though they’d caused quite the fuss as they’d arrived, as they always did.
Henry and Gabrielle were on the dance floor, gazing into each other’s eyes as if there was nothing else in the world but them.
Callum stood at the edge of the dais as usual, refusing the attention of any wayward female or frightened ancient and nursing a goblet of synthetic blood.
Mateo, come, I sent out through the crowd, trusting my magic to find its intended recipient.
Callum turned toward me with a brow raised, his blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck. “Who is it you search for, Uncle? I felt your summons.”
It was easy to forget what power Callum hid beneath his arrogant expression and sarcastic bite.
“Me,” Mateo said, appearing beside his brother and grabbing Callum’s goblet to drain it. He pulled a face while handing it back. But before I could say anything, Mateo bowed once and slipped through the crowd.
Where are you going? I pressed.
To give you what you want, he answered, his humor audible even in his mind.
A few moments later he was at Lord Montag’s side, slapping him on the back heartily before bowing low to Mademoiselle Valois.
There was an exchange between the two males and suddenly Lord Montag was nodding enthusiastically and turning to kiss the witch’s knuckles.
My teeth ground together as he left her unaccompanied in the ballroom until Jules appeared at her elbow.
But Mademoiselle Valois did not look upset—if anything she appeared relieved.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, before making my way down the dais and into the crowd.
There was a cacophony of greetings from immortals desperate for a moment of my time as I passed.
But I ignored them, my attention fixed on the curve of a pale throat, a blonde ringlet fallen from her bun and brushing her collarbone.
She turned as I approached, green silk skirt swirling around her.
A pretty flush crept across her cheekbones as she took me in and I could not help but grin.
Regardless of the reason why she kept me at arm’s length, she wanted me.
I could scent it on the air as much as I could see it in her face.
This is my mate, I pleaded to the goddess, allow me to recognize her.
“Good evening, Mademoiselle,” I murmured.
“Serang lan nauth, my lord,” she answered, pressing her fingers to her lips and curtsying.
Perhaps recklessly, I drew her hand from her mouth and bowed over it, kissing the very same fingers. “You honor me with your presence tonight.”
The flush on her cheeks deepened and she dipped her chin. “It is your light that honors us,” she answered in Kysoi.
My blood heated and a low rumble slid through my chest. I wondered if she could hear it over the music and the crowd. There was nothing in the world but this female and I did not give a damn she’d come here with another immortal.
I took a step closer, drawing her hand to my chest. “Dance with me.”
Those blue eyes flicked back and forth between mine.
Unbidden, fragments of her thoughts slipped through the space between us.
Desire warred with duty and alarm at the growing need she felt.
This was someone who had seen horrors in her short life, I realized, one who did not trust easily and feared much.
Finally, she gave a small dip of her chin. “All right.”
By the time I looked around, Jules had melted back into the crowd.
I tucked Mademoiselle Valois’ hand into the crook of my elbow, guiding her onto the floor amongst the couples who waited.
Henry shot me a wink beneath his chocolate curls over Gabrielle’s shoulder, but I found I could not spare him another glance.
Not when the woman I’d been dreaming of for the last month was in front of me, sliding gracefully into my arms.
“This is one of my favorites,” she informed my chest.
I hummed. “It is one of mine too.”
We began the dance as if we had been doing it for centuries. Her frame was perfect, her tempo exact, and yet she held the pliant fluidity so many others on the floor lacked. I could practically taste her joy, tiny snippets of her mind singing to me in rhythm with the dance.
“Have you been to the music room yet?”
“No, I have not,” she answered.
I turned her beneath my arm, drawing her back a little closer than was proper, watching for any indication that she wanted me to move away.
Instead, she melted into my hold, staring at the emerald pin in my cravat.
I brought our intertwined hands closer, using them to tilt her chin up.
“Bernard will take you, if you’d like. There is a pianoforte and the glass doors overlook the lushest part of the gardens. No one will bother you there.”
A furrow folded between her brows and I fought the urge to press my lips to it. “Not you?”
My chest throbbed. “Of course not, Mademoiselle. I would not intrude.”
The curl stroked her collarbone with the shake of her head. “No, my lord, I meant—you would not show it to me yourself?”
Heat pulsed in my chest, so foreign it took me a moment to find my answer. This must have been the beginnings of the bond, yes? And yet in the next breath I realized it was merely the desire for her—not only for her blood, but for her company. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
The music found its end and we gave each other the customary bow and curtsy.
However, I did not let go of her hand. I tucked it into the crook of my arm as before and guided her out of the ballroom.
Her fingers flexed against my jacket, thumb tracing the stitching.
My blood roared in my veins. Did she know what she did to me?
We will be in the music room, I told Jules, catching her eye on the outskirts of the crowd where she stood next to a beautiful male with deep black skin I assumed was her newest giver, Monsieur Baldé.
She gave me a nod and returned to her conversation while we slipped through the doors and into the quiet hall.
“Do you enjoy these events?” Mademoiselle Valois asked.
I frowned. “I suppose I do, in a way. They started merely as a gathering of my maker and his fledglings—and our fledglings. Over time, however, they evolved into an opportunity to see and be seen. At risk of sounding like the ancient I am: I sometimes miss the old days when things were simpler.”
Her teeth strummed against her bottom lip. We turned the corner down another hallway no one ever wandered to during these events. “Then why do you continue to hold them?”
“It is an opportunity to place my finger on the pulse of our people—to see what needs must be met and what danger is on the horizon. My brother never attends, not in the last three centuries, but his fledglings do occasionally. These events allow me to spend time with them I would not be able to otherwise.”
“Who is your brother?”
Tightness crept up the back of my neck, mingling with the shame I felt whenever I thought of Mael.
Once we had truly been brothers, united beneath our maker with our other siblings.
But time and his proximity to the divine had twisted him into something unrecognizable.
He’d been driven mad by the knowledge Seth heard Amayah’s words and yet he did not.
I had been too weak-hearted to bring him to heel and ensure he did not fall into madness.
“Mael Auguste.”
A gasp slipped through her lips. “One of the leaders of the Covenant?”
“Yes.” My voice was bitter and from the corner of her eye I caught her watching me.
I wondered if she had the same gift as Jules, or perhaps she was merely good at reading others, because she did not press, only stroked her thumb across the stitching of my jacket once more. “And your fledglings?”
We came to a stop in front of the door of the music room and I turned her toward me. “I have never made any, Mademoiselle.”
Her full bottom lip jutted out slightly as her mouth turned down. “Never? In all this time?”
The true question stood unanswered between us: why? But the truth would have frightened her. I had never met a human I felt compelled to turn—no one had captured my attention, my devotion, my desire.
Not until now.