“We like to run to the same songs,” I said.
“Do we?” He barely looked up from his work.
“Mm-hm.” I rolled onto my back and rested my lower leg on my knee. “Hey, Arthur?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“Can I see your Mark—from your oath?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
His shadow appeared over my face. “Because, it would be terribly inappropriate for me to remove my shirt in front of you while in private.”
“Can't you just roll your sleeve up?”
He looked at the long arm of his shirt. “It’s not that kind of shirt, Amara.”
“Will you show it to me another day?”
“Of course.” He extended his hand and helped me to my feet. “Perhaps I will wear a t-shirt tomorrow. Sound good?”
I nodded, straightening my clothes.
“Right. Well, for now, we best part ways, my dear. Dinner will be served in a quarter hour, and I need to freshen up.”
“Okay.” I wandered over and opened his door. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
He smiled kindly. “You will.”
I shut his door behind me and turned around to look at Falcon, leaning on the wall, arms folded, legs crossed out on a slant.
“You know you’re not supposed to be in there with him—alone,” he said.
“I know, Falcon.” I started walking. “But he means no harm. He was just teaching me about plants and herbs.”
“I know.” Falcon wandered slowly behind me. “I was listening to every word.”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Are you allowed to do that?”
“Yes.”
“Isn't that a little invasive?”
“No.”
“I think it is.” I folded my arms.
“Mike says it’s not.” He folded his arms.
“Fine. I don't care. Go ahead. Listen. You won’t hear anything juicy going on.”
He smiled softly. “I know, Ara. I'm not worried about that.”
“Well, what’re you worried about? That he’ll kill me?”
He shook his head.
“What then?”
“I'm worried about his intentions—romantically.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my feet. “Well, don't. Our relationship is about as platonic as it gets.”
He walked quietly behind me then, like a good little bodyguard. When we reached my room, I opened the door and waved at Quaid, who popped up on the balcony and darted around the space, way too fast for me to see.
“Is it really necessary to check my room every time I go in there?”
Falcon folded his arms and stared at that spot of nothing on the wall he always looked at while playing guard. “Yes.”
“I'm going to win this, you know. I will have you guys reassigned while I'm on manor grounds.” I used my best queen-sounding tone. “I don’t need to be followed everywhere.”
He just bowed his head a little, keeping his eyes on that spot.
I stood next to him and angled my head to look at it, too, as if there was something of great interest there. “Oh, yeah.” I nodded. “I see what you mean. Fascinating patch of paint, isn't it?”
“Go ahead. Mock me,” Falcon said. “Won't change the fact that you can't walk anywhere, talk to anyone or so much as look at a painting in this manor without my knowing about it.”
I curled my lip up, my head wobbling side to side as I repeated his sentence in a very mocking tone.
He just smirked, unperturbed.
“Yeah, well, there’ll be two less of you for a few weeks soon. Mike told me you decided to send Pure Createds to Elysium to spy on Drake.”
Falcon nodded once.
“Is…you know who going?”
He looked at me, and I knew he could tell from my eyes that I was asking about David. “No. We can't risk him being discovered.”
“Are…” I hesitated. I didn't really want this answer. “Are you and Mike going?”
“No. Quaid and Ryder are.”
“Why them? Why not ordinary Created Lilithians?”
He sighed. “Mike wants a quick, clean mission. Quaid and Ryder are highly trained for this kind of operation.”
“What, like, from when they were human?”
He nodded.
“Cool.”
He nodded again.
“Well, I'm glad you’re not going.” I leaned on the wall beside him again. “You’re the biggest pain in the arse when it comes to guard evasion, but…I kinda feel safer with you around.”
He nodded again, moistening his tight lips.
“Anyway.” I skipped off. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
He gave one last nod as I closed my bedroom door to a bad-guy-free room.
The sweet, spicy scent of butter chicken wafted away as a plate of custard and apple pie took its place. I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. Down the line of vampires at the dining table, most meals went back to the kitchen untouched. But I knew Chef wasn't insulted, he was used to it. They only really ate if it was something sweet or salty. Arthur and Nathan ate on most days, but Eric was more of a drinker than an eater. Half the pitchers resting between the soft glow of candles were filled with wine, and the other half with blood. David never drank blood that way, well, not in front of me anyway, but I’d recently learned it was quite pleasurable for vampires to enjoy it as a beverage with a meal. It made me wonder why they couldn’t just do that instead of killing. And when I piped up to ask that question, was quickly shot down with several arguments.
Now, I had taken the role of the quiet, eloquent queen, who only spoke when she had something of real value to say. Which worked well for me, because it actually made me seem more intelligent when I just nodded in agreement to whoever was getting the most positive reaction from their statements at the time. I’d finally figured this queen thing out.
“So, when do you plan to send the knights to the castle?” Nathan asked, projecting his voice down the table to Mike.
“We’re still debating over who’s going,” Blade said.
Mike pinched his lips, drawing his hand away after. “Blade. The decision is final. I won't argue this with you again.”
“I was under the assumption the queen’s Private Guard were employed to protect only her,” Margret said, emphasising enough words to make that sound patronizing. “Not go on recon missions.”
“Our reasons for sending the guard are private,” Mike said.