Page 114 of Besieger
“Conniving, you mean,” Penelope corrected him. “Or she might have left the continent altogether, there is a whole new world to explore.”
“And what of the Old World?” August asked, not expecting an answer. “Our Master is busy demolishing walls and scouting architects from Austria to come here and build his madhouse.Has he written to the mistresses at last? Have they been made aware that our Father was killed?”
“We have no way of knowing, he may well have died on his own,” Nhalme said, rubbing at his temples. August’s insistence on revisiting Ingenuar’s death was as maddening as the state of their home. Yet it had been Nhalme himself who had forbidden news to leave the Coven, not Silvio. “What if there is a limit to how long the Blood can sustain the body?” he went on. “What if it had run its course, and dried, and left him to die?”
Raffaelle found the statement curious, given that Nhalme was one of the first to be turned by the All Father. His Blood was as old as the First Blood—should he not have perished as well? He opened his mouth to ask but Penelope seized another thread:
“If you speak true, and someone did kill Ingenuar, would that someone sit idly by and watch as Silvio takes the seat of power? Think about it. If you had killed the first vampire, would you not wish to rule as the first vampire?”
Silvio had been nowhere near the All Father the night of his death. Every maid and footman Nhalme interviewed had confirmed that both he and the Comte were in their chambers.Preoccupied.
Of all the Regents, Silvio was the only one who knew Ingenuar was dead. There was power in that secret, an edge in knowing that a shift had occurred within the Coven, Raffaelle chewed on his lower lip.No, he shook his head.There was another Regent who knew. But the newMarquishad disappeared. He would not have gone to the mistresses, no matter what Betül might have alluded to regarding his acquaintance with them.
RAFFAELLE, 2020
Raffaelle had stopped attending the former Council’s impromptu gatherings. What more was there to say?The Master was dead, long live the Master!They had all fallen into their familiar routines. Scarlett seemed content, she supervised the changes Silvio imposed on the interior. And whatever lovers their master kept, Raffaelle could not have cared less, he had his own means of entertainment.
Until news of theMarquisfinally reached the Coven.
Raffaelle had woken up alone at sundown, his demon, wearing the skin of a servant while wandering the hallways, had been pulled into assisting with the labour in the great hall. As Tabes told it, while pacing back and forth in the dining hall, they had tasked him with polishingallthe mirrors. Raffaelle watched him, seated at the edge of a long table, chin resting in his palm. The uniform of a footman suited the demon: perhaps he should ask Tabes to keep it.
“Vampires have reflections, right?” the demon asked abruptly and pointed at one of the mirrors hanging on the wall.
Raffaelle raised an eyebrow, unsure whether this was the beginning of yet another childish prank.
“Obviously,” he said, staring at their distant reflections. The demon followed his gaze and choked back a laugh.
“And you do not lose it over time?” Tabes pushed on. He crossed the room and tapped on the glass a few times then turned on his heel and walked back to Raffaelle, face flushed. His golden eyes fixed on his master in a stern stare, and his breath caught as though something absurd had crossed his mind.
“Where is this heading?”
How many mirrors have they made him polish in that hall? Has manual labour broken him?Raffaelle had been a generous host. He always kept his pet well fed, sometimes multiple times a night, with both his body and blood. He never starved Tabes,not even as punishment. A hungry demon held no value for him, so he ensured Tabes was sated and entertained.
“Vampires have reflections, yes.” The demon said, nodding as he wagged his index finger from Raffaelle to the mirror. “But when Silvio walked down the hall to inspect the work,hisreflection was not clear. It seemed fractured!”
“Or you have done a poor job polishing the glass,” Raffaelle offered, but Tabes continued to ignore him.
“His reflection aside… I could not read his mind!”
“Perhaps it is because you already know what he wants? It is no secret—weallknow.”
Tabes scrunched his nose. “It is not just desires; I could not get anything from him. But what truly disturbs me is that I think he can readmymind. He looked at me, Raffaelle, he…”
Raffaelle let out an exasperated breath. He had tried time and time again, but nothing could pierce the veil of Tabes’ thoughts, that was what he liked most about keeping a demon by his side.I have had him masquerade as Silvio for quite enough. The madness has seeped into him.
“My pet,” he sighed, gentler now. He took Tabes’ hand and massaged the fingers, unbuttoning the cuff of the shirt with his free hand.
The dining hall lay farthest from the chambers and rooms vampires tended to occupy. He had chosen it for its seclusion and for the soft glow of the chandeliers above them. With his foot he kicked a chair from under the table and nodded towards it, inviting Tabes to take a seat and put an end to his ramblings.
I’ll let you have a little sip, shall I, he thought. Yes, the uniform looked good on his pet: the long coat and the white gloves. Even the white bow tie was charming. Raffaelle did not recognise the face of the human the demon was wearing, but he wanted to feel those soft lips on him, feel the scruff of stubble on his throat while Tabes drank from him.
“Did you see the skylights he is having installed?” a man’s voice echoed through the open doorway of the dining hall.
Raffaelle whipped his head towards the voice, recognising it as August’s.
“He needs light and cannot be touched,” Penelope chimed in, the peal of her laugh was deafening, as they drew closer. “Has theMarquisturned into a cactus? Why does he need skylights? Not even my sisters in Athens crave light as Silvio paints him to be.”
Tabes jerked his hand free and looked around for somewhere to hide.
