Bitter Bloodlines

Chapter Seven

 I was not allowed to attend large events at the Duke's estate until I was nearly fourteen. I was always told that this was for my safety - I was, after all, living in hiding, away from my homeland. But eventually I was considered old enough to lie effectively about my identity, and to defend myself if necessary. It was important for me to become cultured.

I remember feeling lost among strangers - no companion to whisper with, no drink to hide behind. Aimless. I remember watching Phoenix, my mentor, standing dutifully by the Duke's side, and wishing I were old enough to fit into such a role.

"What do you do for the Duke?" I asked him later.

"You know that I am his nasferata," he replied, looking at me curiously. "Do you mean what service am I meant to perform? What will you do for your mother?"

I nodded. I remember him leaning forward, red eyes looking deep into mine, looking at me like I was an adult.

"Tell me," he said. "What have you learned from your studies of history?"

"Nasferata were first created and trained to protect powerful families from strigans," I recited. "And other threats."

"Yes. And then?"

"And then...it became custom for royals and nobles to have them."

He nodded, giving me a half-smile of curiosity. Phoenix was always so confident in me, the only person who truly treated me like I was capable of having my own ideas.

"Can you guess why commoners do not have nasferata?" he asked.

It was a question I had never considered. Being forbidden from leaving the grounds for my protection, the only commoners I knew were servants, and the occasional merchant delivering goods. When I was very young, I had spoken to them like I'd spoken to the nuns during my early development - with total trust and enthusiasm, the way children do. But I had learned quickly that most servants, and most of my tutors for that matter, were wary of me, and did not want to be friends.

"Is it because...they are scared of us?" I asked.

Phoenix smiled. "Yes. They are frightened - they believe us to be just like the strigans that hunt them. So when royals and nobles keep nasferata, our job is not just to protect them from their enemies. Our job is also to stand by their side as a symbol of their power, their status."

"Because we frighten their subjects?"

"That's right."

"But...we aren't strigans. I would never hurt a commoner." I said it with conviction, as if I knew the common people of my country, as if I didn't feed on strangers.

"It is not the act," said Phoenix. "It is the idea. I have rarely had to protect the Duke with my body, though I am trained to do so if I must. More often, my presence has prevented attacks on Charles before they happened. I have been a deterrent."

"Is that what I will be for my mother?"

"That, and more. You will have to be better than I am." He stood up, eyes gleaming. "Because you will be serving a Queen, yes? And Queens have far more enemies than Dukes."

*****

As the day of the public feast loomed closer, my mother began to meet with various dressmakers, shoemakers, and jewelers - a full team of people to ensure that she would look her best. I stood nearby with Isabelle, my mother's lady-in-waiting, whom I had met in the carriage when I first arrived in Aveline. We watched as tailors circled her with exacting measurements and displayed trunks full of fabric for her inspection.

"I think that will do nicely," she said, settling on gold embroidering along the hem of the newest dress. "Now, I was hoping you could make something for my daughter as well."

I blinked with surprise as she stepped down from the tailor's small pedestal and gestured at me.

The tailor looked at me and bowed again, though he had already done so when he entered. "Of course. I would be honored, Princess Audrianna."

"Oh - I hardly need new clothes," I stammered, trying not to be impolite.

"Nonsense," said my mother, waving me forward. "You are a Princess. Besides, I have noticed you rarely wear the dresses I left in your rooms. They must not be to your liking."

"They are very beautiful," I assured her, stepping nervously up onto the pedestal. "I am just...more accustomed to my old clothes."

"I can make you something lovely, hmm?" said the tailor, moving up beside me. He was a small man, grey-haired but quite spry, with a pair of thick glasses at the end of his nose. He seemed quite comfortable with me, which gave the impression that a nasferata princess was perhaps not the strangest person he had dressed before.

"I'd like her in something dark," my mother said. "And not too bulky. Don't you agree, Isabelle?"

"Dark colors against her skin would be lovely, your majesty," Isabelle replied.

"Certainly," said the tailor, nudging my arms up and swiftly pulling a tape measure around my chest. "I can do black, or a dark midnight blue. I have a lovely dark shade of wine-red."

"That would be perfect," said the Queen.

I held still, uncomfortably so, as the little man circled me with a hand on his chin, studying my form like a sculpture.

"Do you prefer the high collar?" he asked me, nodding at the one I wore now.

"I want something that shows her neck," my mother said, before I could answer. "And her arms."

"I can create something sleeveless." The tailor circled me again, measuring my waist and the length across my shoulders. "Lightweight. Something loose at the bottom, yes? So you can move as you wish."

"Thank you," I replied, and he nodded.

I stood dutifully until he finished taking all the measurements he needed, and then stepped down when I was dismissed. As he left, my mother stepped close and placed her hands on my cheeks, gazing lovingly at my face.

"You deserve the best," she said. "It is time to stop hiding your scars, don't you think? Be confident in what you are. You are beautiful and powerful, just like your mother."

The warmth of her hands spread across my cheeks like a blush. I reached up to touch them, to hold them there for a moment, a perfect little moment of connection.

"Yes, mother," I said, smiling.