‘The letters weren’t explicitly intimate,’ I say, but I concede Scintilla’s point: ‘They were close enough to it, though.’ I pause, considering my words. ‘Of course, I asked him about that, asked him why he never told me. And he—he implied that I never agreed to be transformed.’ ‘Oh,’ Scintilla says. There’s a pause in which I think she must be pitying me. ‘So it’s not that I don’t like him,’ I conclude when the silence becomes too much. ‘I just haven’t been able to figure out how I feel about him, and he’s been decent enough to keep his distance.’ I hoped Scintilla might be satisfied with the conversation, but instead she presses on, ‘But what about this week? What changed?’ It’s a much more awkward question, considering the change was Scintilla. ‘This week…’ I begin, hesitating on my phrasing. Just then, Scintilla returns the brightness settings to what they were before we came, then shuts the laptop and readjusts the position of the wireless mouse. ‘Are we done?’ I check my mo
Canus’s head of staff is Simon, who I suspect might even be older than Canus. He has the ageless white hair and flawless skin common in legacy thralls, maybe even by multiple generations—he slips into a tongue that I suspect might be Middle English sometimes. Before he sends us home, he tells us that he and Margaret will take shifts watching over Katy during the day, while Scintilla and I will alternate between watching over Katy at night. If this had happened before I’d gotten mysteriously sent back to the past, I wouldn’t have blinked. Right now, however, Canus only has five thralls and two progeny, which means that sending out a member of each group will render us even more short staffed than we already are. ‘We need more thralls,’ I mutter to Scintilla in the back seat of the cab on our way back to Canus’s estate. ‘We should probably send the thralls out in pairs to cover daytime protection, and, whichever one of us takes the night shift, we should also be accompanied by another
My chance to catch Canus in a conversation comes the next evening, after Scintilla volunteers to take the first shift to watch over Katy. I walk with her to the front door, then double back to Canus’s rooms to see him still reclined in his chaise longue, scrolling through his mobile. The cold light of its screen illuminates his face from below, glancing across the elegant ridge of his brow. He glances up when I step inside again, languidly inquisitive. ‘You’ll need more blood from now on, won’t you?’ A small furrow appears on his forehead. ‘Yes,’ he says, tone hesitant. He mentioned not three minutes ago that he would recruit more thralls to help watch over Katy; it’s not a difficult inference to make that he might need more sustenance on a more sustained basis. I just stand there, waiting for him to explain. ‘I was planning on supplementing my diet with mortals,’ he eventually admits. Though he’s looking levelly into my eyes, his expression is carefully blank. There’s something
The next couple of weeks are exhausting—so exhausting, in fact, that I table my plan of trying to have a conversation with Canus. He’s slippery, and I’m both tired and distracted. Scintilla and I have been taking turns watching over Katy. We’re usually accompanied by thralls now, at least one at any given time, so it’s less dangerous. Still, though, it’s a lonely prospect; thralls aren’t very good conversationalists, and I haven’t seen Scintilla for more than minutes at a time since we first discovered Claudia’s scent trail in Katy’s stairwell. It’s been a little more than a fortnight since then, and we’ve encountered no less than three instances of other scent trails appearing suspiciously close to various places that Katy likes to frequent. Scintilla finds one scent trail in one of the hospitals where Katy works, though two storeys above the unit where her shifts are normally scheduled. Scintilla describes the scent as masculine but clean, like sandalwood and snow. It’s not a descri
‘You have to turn her soon,’ I tell Canus after we return to the estate and I allow him to drink from me for the second time tonight. ‘I can’t last like this.’ He licks his lips, a flash of scarlet sweeping away a streak of crimson that had marred the pale stretch of his bottom lip. I watch the movement, so mesmerised that I almost startle when his lips part further and he says, ‘I will. I plan to ask for permission at court this Sunday.’ Even vampire lords like Canus need the Prince’s permission to add to the vampire population of a city, though for Canus it’s more of a formality than anything else. I make a plaintive face at him. ‘Why didn’t you ask last month?’ We could have avoided all this mess if we’d managed to turn Katy immediately after discovering Claudia’s scent. His gaze suddenly turns cool and assessing. ‘Are you questioning me?’ Once, I might have quailed, but I no longer fear his potential discipline, so instead I say, ‘It’s me you’re drinking a double helping from.
Canus’s decision, as reluctant as it is, seems to please Scintilla. She thanks him and leaves the room, giving me a brief smile on her way out. Meanwhile, Canus begins to explain what I’ll need for court tomorrow. I tune him out, however, listening instead for Scintilla’s footsteps to fade out of hearing. ‘…not greet anyone else with any deference, as you—’ ‘Sire,’ I interrupt quietly, ‘did Scintilla give any other reasons for not going to court tomorrow?’ Canus blinks. ‘Hasn’t there been a suspicious lack of foreign scents lately? She claimed she would be a better guard. Her sorcery has been improving drastically in the past month or so, and she’s always been better at physical combat than you.’ ‘Oh, right,’ I say. ‘If I may, Sire, I’ll see you in the evening? I just remembered that Katy changed her schedule a little, so I need to tell Scintilla about it before she turns in for the morning.’ ‘Have her help you pick out appropriate clothes, then. I’ll instruct you further in etiqu
Canus stares at me, expression unreadable. There’s the soft wet sound of his throat working, then the barest snick of his lips parting. ‘How much do you…’ he begins to ask, but trails off without finishing. The silence stretches on for a long time before I take pity on him: ‘Remember from my human life? I’ve gotten flashes. When we first met in the café, some of the dinner parties you hosted. That time you took me to a conference in Rome.’ For a moment, I can almost remember the taste of rooibos tea, smell the warm scent of freshly baked lemon cake, see the glitter of the Tiber river at noon. He lets out a soft breath. ‘The early days, then.’ He sounds relieved. I realise that I’d been wrong about something. ‘Why don’t you want me to remember more?’ As much as he’s still in love with Aura, he’s also terribly afraid of her. He shakes his head, refusing to answer. ‘Have you gone back to your flat again?’ ‘When would I have had the time?’ I return. Actually, I mostly haven’t gone ba
The court receives our company with polite smiles and a careful façade of respect. By virtue of their stations, Chryseus and Canus are able to directly approach the Prince, who looks aged in a way that only vampires can. He can’t have been more than twenty when he became immortal, but, at first glance, nobody would ever realise it. There’s a strange sense of fatigue, of parchment fragility, that is utterly incongruous with his youthful appearance. I pay more attention to his features this time around. His hair is blond, paler than Canus and less saturated than Chryseus, and his eyes are a fathomless green. He shares a nose and a mouth with Canus, and the shape of his eyes are identical to Chryseus’s, down to their long eyelashes in dark blond. All three of them have similar jawlines and eyebrows, and they share, too, an eerie beauty that I begin to suspect is a vestige of their dhampiric heritage. Most immortals are attractive, of course. For one, most vampires go out of their way t