The Secrets of Lore Seymour

22. A Midnight Drink

I wake in the night with a pounding headache, likely because I slept on my neck weirdly. Why are the most simple of pains often the worst? Like aches from sleeping the wrong way and paper cuts. Paper cuts are the definition of pain and I've been beaten, stabbed, and tossed off high buildings.

Swinging my feet onto the floor, I hiss at the unexpected cold. I've been here a few days and I've already grown spoiled by the normally very warm floors. The barracks back at Trinia Cathedral were always a tad cold from the old stone halls that simply didn't retain the heat very well. I'd shiver all the way to the kitchens when wishing for a snack or somehow feel warmer outside on the training grounds than in the barracks. Still, I wouldn't change it for the world. Hearing my family nearby sleeping soundly, their laughter echoing in the halls, knowing they're safe, that they're close enough for me to save if they needed it--I slept better with all of them nearby.

Shivering, I throw on a robe and rush my way downstairs, or rather, I try to. Stopping at the top of the stairs, I spot Draven at the front door of the manor. He peers over his shoulder, catching me frozen on the first step. His orange eyes glisten brightly in the dim light of the halls. The moonlight drifting through the open doorway makes his red hair even darker.

"Heading off somewhere?" I ask, descending the steps slowly in preparation for whatever may come. Something tells me I wasn't meant to catch him sneaking out. There's no telling what he may do if this is truly a moment I wasn't meant to see. He may believe it to be easy to be rid of me without witnesses.

"It's rude to snoop," he replies, retreating from the door.

"This may be hard for you to believe, but I wasn't snooping." I stick my thumb out towards the kitchen. "I'm thirsty, so I was getting a drink."

Draven raises a curious brow, which makes me do the same because why is getting a late night drink considered an odd thing to do?

Then he asks, "Why didn't you just get a drink from the bathroom sink attached to your room?"

"I...that..." Well, that's an excellent question. Grumbling, I cross my arms that can't possibly hide my embarrassment. "I've never had an attached bathroom before so excuse me if it wasn't the first thing to come to my tired mind."

Draven appears to believe me because he doesn't question further. I, on the other hand, do; "So, where were you going?"

Judging by how he's fully dressed, he wasn't simply stepping out for some fresh air.

"I have many duties. None of which I need to explain myself for, especially to one like you," he snarls, seeming to be more willing to show his true colors when we're alone in the dark.

"Based on your tone, I'd wager that, if the situation were different, you'd have killed me right here and now," I claim while stepping closer, although I imagine I'm not that intimidating to his overly tall self. Even Lore is a few inches shorter because he's a dhampir while Draven's full blooded. All vampires tower over even the tallest of mortals.

Draven tilts his head, eying me quietly, then smirks. It's downright frightening, like I've looked into my future and saw the reaper.

"Get your drink, Seren," he whispers so sickeningly sweet that it coats the air in tainted sugar.

Pivoting on his heel, Draven walks away in eerie silence, although I'm certain he has much more to say. He simply knows how to contain his thoughts and that makes him a threat, regardless of whether Lore is the killer I'm searching for. There's no telling what is going on in that butler's mind.

While I do retrieve my drink, I also rest my ear against the wall. Imagining all the tiny cracks and crevices, the places to hide among these walls, I hum an incantation that heightens every sound. I hear wind against stone, spiders twisting cobwebs, the kids snoring, and Draven walking the manor. I do the same, heading back to my room with slow, steady steps.