“Everly,” the count says. He sounds hesitant. “If you do stay, and you feel comfortable with it, would you allow me to… see… how you tend to the forest?”
Ah. He is curious. “You want to see a dryad circle?”
“The power of life is intriguing, I must admit.”
“Forest magics aren’t anything that would be useful to you,” I say. I’m surprised because what he’s asked of me is… pretty personal. I’m not sure he even realizes that. I wonder if maybe he’s lived his entire long life within Dread? Maybe this is all he knows? This eternal darkness?
“No, but knowledge is.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Trusting him with my life—do I have a choice? Trusting him with dryad secrets? No. “Maybe.” I hedge. A dryad circle is no joke, and I fear what it would do to him should he approach even for curiosity’s sake.
“I have offended you. I apologize.”
“No, it’s… a dryad circle isn’t a novelty.”
Yeah, I was vague. But I should tell him in case he thinks to wander his backyard and accidentally-on-purpose stumble into my claimed area. “It could drive you from your home. All it would take is a couple of dryads to join me in your garden and all the habitants of Raven Night would flee for their lives.”
“A circle has that much power?” He seems fascinated.
“Oh, yeah. You think you have a forest back there now, just wait until I get comfortable… if I get comfortable. You’ll be shaking hands with vines in this corridor before you can sneeze.”
He doesn’t seem perturbed by my warning. “Is the reach something you control?”
“Sometimes, but it’s not in our nature to box in nature.”
“Hence a dryad’s inclination for freedom. I’m beginning to understand other reasons why Riven chose me to host you.”
We walk in silence down a row of doors between paintings. The pictures are oil and canvas and depict people. All of them old. All of them dour. All of them resemble the count in some way. Maybe hints of his features. But he’s much better looking.
“Who are they?” I lift a hand to the walls.
The count’s smooth gate stutters, and a sad tightness thins his mouth. “They are honored acolytes of our family.”
I have no idea what that means. But he doesn’t offer more. And I don’t ask. We walk down the hall until there are no more paintings along the walls.
“Stregen hopes you will like the room he’s chosen for you.” The count almost has a smirk on his face. Almost.
“Then am I meant to sleep in a… a room? Indoors?” I ask, because it’s unnatural. I’ve never slept in a room before and I can’t say I like the sound of it.
“No.” He frowns. “I expect you to stay in the forest. But it was Stregen’s insistence that you be given a room. He believed it appropriate for a young lady.”
“But ghouls don’t talk.”
“And therefore they have no mind of their own?” He sounds exasperated, like this is an argument he’s had with others. “They have no other way of communication?”
“Sorry.” I wince.
The count sighs. “No. It’s probably something only a vampire understands.”
“Will you explain?” I ask, not wanting to upset him. I mean, he did provide me with an amazing garden. I’m still wondering how many magic users that required. And he had to have done so quickly because… unless he knew I was coming? Expected me? Of course he did—if Riven told him he was to be my host family. So then I wonder how long they’ve been expecting me? And why? Because the Academy of Enchantment is also expecting me. This is all very confusing and I plan to set it all right tomorrow.
Right then, one of the hallway doors opens, and out pops a beautiful brunette in a black dress that clings to her curvaceous figure like a second skin. Her piercing blue eyes sparkle, and the only thing she looks at is the count. But the way she looks at him… it’s as though she can’t really see him. She doesn’t focus on his eyes.
She steps out in bare feet, using her curves to slink her perfectly proportioned five-feet-six-inches up to the count, and just about purrs in his ear. “Hello, handsome.”
“Can you see his face?” I ask, amazed she possesses the same ability I do. I don’t even realize I’ve blurted the words until they’re already out.
“Annabell.” He holds her tentatively, as though he isn’t happy to see her. As though he wishes she’d remained in her room… his room? No doubt she’s probably his girlfriend. Yet, the way he looks at her…
“This is not a good time,” he says. “I will…”
She cuts him off as she stares at me. “I don’t need to be able to see him to know he’s gorgeous inside and out.” She smirks, then adds, “Isn’t that true, dumpling?”
Dumpling? I look to the count with a frown and he shakes his head as he looks back at me. Then he rolls his eyes, obviously not appreciating the pet-name.
So I guess that means, no, she can’t see his face. Interesting.
“Annabell,” the count says more forcefully.
“Is she your new paramount?” Annabell interrupts, glaring at me and then him. Once she looks at the count, the glare turns into a smile that says it doesn’t matter I’m here. I’m fairly sure he’s just glamoured her into obedience. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Everly is a student,” he starts but she interrupts him again.
“Will I finally get one of my own portraits on the wall?”
He winces. “I am Everly’s host family…”
“Oh! Welcome, then.” Annabell steps forward, offering her hand. I’m not sure if she’s on something or it’s
