Sloane Briallen

We had spent the afternoon and early evening walking through the castle and around the grounds.  Familiarizing myself with the literal lay of the land had helped ease the constant anxiety buzzing in the back of my mind.  For the first time since I had gotten here, my shoulders weren’t quite so tense.

Eventually, Amara’s stomach had growled, and we decided it was time to turn in for dinner.  There was a small (read: still the size of a school cafeteria) dining hall off a small (read: see previous note) kitchen close to the entrance to the castle.  Amara had explained that the families that lived here, they typically ate in their houses, cooking their own meals.  But anyone staying here had access to the dining hall at all hours of the night and day.  There was always someone available to make food.  There was a menu, but dietary restrictions were accommodated.

The dining hall did not have the same dry-wall-and-paint set up that other rooms in the castle had.  It was what I thought of when I heard the word “hall”—lights in sconces, with stone pillars, floors, and walls.  The tables were made of wood, with wooden benches.  Tapestries and paintings adorned the walls with runner rugs arranged between tables.  It made me feel like I needed to get a robe to wear and clutch dramatically to my chest to “keep out the chill”. 

Amara laughed when I said that.  Her laughter reminded me of happy birds at a bird feeder. 

“The castle is eclectic,” Amara agreed, setting her fork down, having finished her dinner of penne vodka, fresh bread, and wine.  I was working on a glass of blood slowly while we talked.  “I think they want the rooms to feel homier, but don’t care quite as much about places like this?  The queen is infinitely practical.”

“I noticed that it seemed like her husband was the one who decorated their chambers.”

Amara nodded.  “I think she leaves a lot of the structural stuff to the king.  She runs the people-facing bits, and he keeps track of the infrastructure.”

“So, the queen kisses babies, and the king plays in dirt?”

She snorted, giving me a scandalized look.  “Sloane.”

I shrugged, tipping the wine glass back to finish off the blood.  When we were in the kitchen ordering, I had been offered a glass and taken it.  Amara hadn’t even seen mildly wary.  I guess, if you worked for vampires a lot, seeing them drink blood didn’t really make you uncomfortable.

I stood up.  “I’m going to go get another one.”

“Sure,” she said.  She was halfway through her plate.

There were a set of swinging doors in the back of the room leading into the kitchens.  I pushed through one, entering a small room with a pass-through for food and two doors.  One door led into the kitchen, the other led out into the castle.  I could hear the sounds of kitchenware in industrial-sized sinks.

The pass-through was empty.  I stood next to it until a short dark-haired Scottish woman sidled up.  It was the same woman who helped me earlier.  She was human, in her early forties.  Seeing me, she held her hand out.  I handed her the glass.  “More?” she asked.

“Please.”

“It’ll be a few minutes.  We’ve run out and one of the lads has run off to fetch more.”

I shrugged.  “No problem.”

She nodded, bustling off into the annals of the kitchen.  I could only see the tops of some stoves and a cabinet through the pass-through.  I settled back against the wall, pulling out my phone to play something while I waited.

The door to the main castle opened and a man with brown hair cut close to his head entered.  He was shorter than me by a couple inches, slender in the waist but broad across the shoulders.  He had killer cheekbones.

Seeing me, he gave a short nod, but his jaw set in a way that spoke of wariness.  There was a tension in how he moved going up to the pass-through.

The woman came back.  Seeing the man, her face split open into a grin.  “Fay, how the hell are ye?”

“Oh, I’m doing alright, Greer,” he replied.  He had the same Irish accent I had come to expect from everyone in this place.  “How’re you?”

“Same old, same old.  I’m warning ye, we’re out of blood.  Thomas is running off to fetch some more, but it’ll be a bit.”

“Oh, that’s fine Greer.  I’ve been sent on an errand.”  The tension had bled out as he spoke to Greer, but it bled back in now.  “I would like to request two chocolate lava cakes with truffle raspberry swirl ice cream.”

That sounded amazing.

Greer smiled at him.  “A date?”

He shrugged one shoulder but gave her a half smile.

“Shit,” I interrupted.  They both looked up at me.  Greer looked surprised, but the man, Fay, was guarded.  “Sorry,” I shook my head.  “Can I get one of those, too?  That sounds fucking fantastic.”

Greer eyed me.  “Human vampires can eat?”

I furrowed my brow in confusion.  “Yeah?  Why not?”

She frowned.  “I guess I never really thought about it.”

“It doesn’t do anything for us, but I’m a sucker for raspberry and chocolate.  Why not?”

“Alright,” Greer said, moving away.  “Three lava cakes with ice cream.  It’ll be out soon.”  She disappeared back into the kitchen again.

“I also didn’t realize human vampires ate,” the man said.  The tension seemed to have disappeared again. 

“Eh.  We don’t need to.  But I definitely like to.  Especially because when I was alive, I was allergic to chocolate.  But now, I can eat as much as I want and not get sick.”  I clenched my fists and moved them in a short, triumphant jerk.  “Thank you for reminding me of that fact.  Living vampires don’t need to eat either, right?  I just assumed all of this was for the humans and kids who lived here.”

He smiled tightly.  “Some of us gain a bit of sustenance from food.”

“Huh,” I said, looking up at the ceiling.  I hadn’t heard that, but I also had never really been interested in living vampires outside of what they could pay me when I was a teenager, and Aoife asked for a favor.  “Dope.  Fay, was it?”

“Faolan,” he answered.  “You must be Sloane.”

I huffed out a breath of annoyance.  “I hate that everyone knows who I am, but I don’t know anyone in this damned place.”  It was getting old.  “You’re not going to tell me you’re some important lord or something . . . ?”

The laugh he let out was bitter.  “No, I’m not particularly important.  I’m Captain of the Guard.  It’s the only reason I’ve heard about you.”

I raised an eyebrow.  The thing was, he didn’t sound like he was faking humility about his title.  “I think our ideas of important are very different.  Aren’t you, like, the reason any of the royals get anywhere safely?”

He snorted.  “You think any of them really need guards to babysit them?”

Thinking about the sheer presence that was Hazel, I shrugged.  “Fair enough.  But I feel like there’s still some power there.”  I pursed my lips, thinking about my interaction with Saeran the day before.  “At least maybe to protect them from themselves”

“I see you’ve made the acquaintance of a certain heir.”

“Yeah, Prince Dickhead.”

He snorted again, bringing his hand up to rest one knuckle against his upper lip as if to hide the smile.  “You said it, not me.”

“He ain’t my fucking prince.”

“Alright, laddie and lass,” Greer said, cutting into the conversation.  I looked up to see her setting a tray down with three shallow bowls of heaven and a wine glass of blood.

Wondering what Greer’s idea of “it will take a bit” meant, I moved forward to grab my bowl and wine glass off the tray.  Faolan took the tray, holding it in one hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sloane.”

I snapped my fingers and gave him a thumbs up.  “See you around, Faolan.  Or not.  This place is fucking big.”

Before we could go out our respective doors, the one Faolan was aimed towards opened.  Faolan stepped back to avoid the door crashing into him.

Three vampires came through the door.  The two words that came to mind when I saw them were “posh lads”.  They wore things like vests over long-sleeved collared shirts and pin-striped pants and leather loafers.  One had a blazer slung over his shoulder, holding it.

Upon seeing each other, Faolan and the three men stopped.

That same tension was back.

“Alright, Faolan?” one of the men asked.  He was the one holding his blazer over his shoulder.

“Alright, Connor.”  Faolan’s face was guarded, watching the three men like he was expecting something.

“What are you doing here?  Aren’t you a daylighter?” The one with the pin-striped pants asked that.  There was a quality in his tone that I recognized: something about this interaction was mean.

“I sleep during the daytime, just like you, Nicholas,” Faolan replied through gritted teeth.  This sounded like a conversation that had happened more than once.

“Then why do you look so tired?  Is that why you’re eating?  Blood not enough, boyo?  I suppose you can’t expect halfborns to keep up, after all.”

Before Faolan could respond, I said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Their heads swiveled to look at me.  Faolan’s expression had become guarded again.  The other three vampires looked shocked.

“I’ve heard that fucking word more times in the last forty-eight hours than I’ve heard in my life.  What the fuck is wrong with you?”  I looked them up and down.  “Racist little shitheads.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” Connor asked.  His eyes flashed a mother-of-pearl—a threat.

“I’m a special guest of the queen’s, so I dare you,” I replied, straightening up to stand at my full height.  “Who the fuck gatekeeps food?”

The door behind me opened, and I heard Amara saying, “Sloane, what’s taking . . . so . . . long.”  She paused and I glanced back to see her taking stock of the room.  “Hey, Faolan.”  She nodded to Faolan.

“Hey, Amara.”

Amara looked Connor and his friends over.  “Connor.”  Her tone was much cooler.

Connor sneered, jerking his head towards the door.  “Come on, lads.  Let’s get out of here.”  He turned, passing Faolan to go back through the door, shoulder-checking Faolan as he went.  Faolan kept a steady hold of the platter, as if he had expected that.

The door closed shut behind them, and I shook my head.  “Jesus fucking Christ.  This entire god damned place is filled with fucking eugenicists, I swear to God.  Who the absolute fuck talks like that?”

“It’s an unfortunate byproduct of living in a castle filled almost entirely with people who sided with the Protestants during the war and the Troubles,” Faolan replied.  There was a tight, bitter smile on his face.

I didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t matter.  “What sad life do you have to live to give people shit about eating food?”  I had to admit, I only spent time with human vampires, but no one had ever said a word to me about eating.  It was a fun thing to do, sometimes.  “Do they get just as nasty about mixing drinks with blood or drinking non-blood drinks?”

Faolan gave me a tight smile, but it wasn’t as strained as when those three assholes had been in here.  “Drinking is different.”

“Aesthetics?” I asked.

He didn’t reply, but the way he pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows told me I got it in one.

“Gotta love when people get wrapped up in their own mythology.”  I glanced at Amara.  “Sorry, got sidetracked.”

“No worries.”

I addressed Faolan.  “You should go bring that to your date before it melts.  It’s already starting to look like soft serve.  Don’t think they’ll appreciate it.”

Faolan glanced down at the tray to see that the ice cream was indeed beginning to pool around the lava cake.

“I have it, laddie,” Greer said from the pass-through.  She was already setting a new tray down on the counter with two new lava cakes and ice cream.  “Minute I heard that scabby eejit in here, I got to work.  Last time ye two ran into each other, he knocked everything out your hands.  Can’t have that.”

Faolan’s tight smile turned warm and full.  “Thanks, Greer.”

“I’ll take one of the rejects,” Amara said, plucking a bowl off the tray that Faolan was setting down.

Faolan swapped the trays and nodded to us.  “Good night, ladies.”

“Night, Faolan,” Amara said as he disappeared out the door.  “Bye, Greer!” 

Greer had already bustled away, but she called back in response.  “Goodbye, lassie.  Leave the bowls in the bin.”

We went back into the dining hall.  I almost moaned when I took my first bite.  The lava cake was still a bit warm, and it was obviously homemade.  The cake was light and fluffy, the center made of something like melted ganache in consistency.  It still spilled out onto the bowl when I cut into it, but it was thicker than I had expected.  Paired with the raspberry truffle swirl in the vanilla ice cream—I was in heaven.

“Greer’s son makes the best desserts in there,” Amara said through a mouthful of ice cream and chocolate cake.  “Next time we’re here, we have to order his crème brûlée. There’s this gooseberry sauce he serves it with—first time I’ve ever considered marrying a man.”

I snorted, fitting a bite almost the size of my fist in my mouth.  I mumbled something through it that was supposed to be, “Jesus Christ”, but it was unintelligible.

The cold of the ice cream hit the roof of my mouth, and I felt the brain freeze come on before I could stop it.  I cursed, spitting the cake out in the bowl and grabbing my glass of warm blood, gulping it down to ease the ache.

“Gross,” Amara said, chuckling as she took another, much smaller bite than me.

I gave her the finger.  The warmth of the blood eased the headache, and I put the cup down.  “I didn’t even know vampires could get brain freezes.”

“It’s not really an injury, so much as a dilation, right?  It makes the blood vessels in your sinuses close up.  Thus, the pain.”

“I guess.”

She shook her head, but she was laughing.  I gave her the finger again.

I tried again, this time taking a much smaller bite.  It was successful.  “So, is Faolan halfvampire or something?”

Amara nodded, swallowing.  “Yeah.”

“Huh.  And halfvampires need to eat?”

Amara made a so-so motion.  “It gives them a bit of a boost.  Kind of like coffee?  But it makes them stronger and faster.  And I think something about  . . . vampire wellness?  Like how I should eat more fish or whatever?”

Vampire wellness.  Not really a concept that I had ever thought about.  “So, gatekeeping food is another way to be racist as shit.”

“Correct.”

“This entire fucking castle is filled with white supremacists.”

“Actually, I would just straight up call them nazis.  It’s all about racial purity in a way that really makes me think of that.”

“Gross.”

I walked Amara back to her room.  We had spent most of the day walking around the castle, and I was beginning to get the layout of the passages.  I always tried to know the closest exit whenever I was inside.  Amara hadn’t seemed to think it was weird that I checked just about every door that looked like it led outside, even if we weren’t going outside. 

Her room was only a few hallways away from mine. 

“You keep a nocturnal schedule?” I asked as we came to a stop in front of her door.  She stood in front of the door with her back to it.

“Not recently, but I’m working on getting back to it.”  She bit back a smile as she said, “Would you want to help with that?” 

I blinked in surprise.  Amara had been the one to kiss me.  I guess it shouldn’t have been all that surprising of a question.  As much as I flirted, I was a coward when someone tried to call me on it.  But she wasn’t just calling me out, she was giving me an open invitation.

I leaned forward, bracing one hand against the door.  “That sounds like way more fun than whatever the hell I was going to do.”  I tipped her chin up with my free hand and kissed her.

She reached up with one hand to tangle her fingers in my hair.  Her other hand snaked around my chest, splaying between my shoulder blades to pull me forward.  She opened her mouth.

I pressed into her hungrily, desire racing straight from her mouth down my spine.  I rested my hand against the side of her neck, fingers touching her jaw and sitting in her hair. 

The passion she met me with was unexpected but welcome.  I pressed a knee between her legs, and she let out a soft noise of desperation.  She moved her hand from my back and wrapped both arms around my neck, pulling me in tighter.

I took my hand off the door and brought it around her back, lifting her up.  She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I pushed her against the wall.  She hiccupped in surprise when I moved from her mouth to her jaw and down her neck.  I sucked on the delicate skin below her ear, groaning when she fisted one hand in my hair tightly.

“W-we sh-should go in-inside,” she huffed as I bit down on the area where her neck met her shoulder.  No fangs, just teeth. 

“Agreed,” I murmured into her neck, arousal pooling inside of me.

Really, right now?

I jolted, almost dropping Amara.  She yelped, but I managed to keep hold of her, looking up just in time to see Mira rounding the corner, riding on Karhi’s back.  It had been her voice in my head.

I had to imagine we were a sight, Amara and me.  Her legs were still wrapped around my waist, her fingers in my hair.  My lips buzzed from kissing, and I felt wild from the contact.

But seeing Mira put an immediate damper there.

“Oh, and there’s the king and queen,” I muttered as I finally recognized that Hazel, Matadi, and Aoife were standing behind Karhi.  Aoife looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes in exasperation.  Hazel and Matadi’s expressions were inscrutable, though I thought I saw a flicker of amusement in Matadi’s dark eyes.

Mira got off Karhi, and I immediately saw she was favoring one leg.  All thoughts of getting a second anthroshifter in my body count fled, and I set Amara down.  I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, murmuring, “Next time.” 

Her ears went red, and she pulled away from me.  She nodded to the king and queen before disappearing into her bedroom with a slam of the door.

I turned back to Mira.  “The hell happened to you?”

“Pick me up,” she replied, holding her arms out to me.  “My ankle is fucked.”

“Fantastic.”