Red As Blood

Chapter Seven

Red as Blood 7

            Sim wandered through the rows and rows of books. Everything she had read said that vampires were monsters. But the man below was different. He moved with the same fluid animal grace of the queen, feared the sunlight, but that was where the similarity ended. He was candid and blunt, his conversation and manner more human than she could have ever imagined.

            She tried to imagine him killing and drinking the blood from his victims, and shuddered as the image flashed in her mind. He was a monster, just like any other. The only difference was his better disguise. She heard the din of the kitchens below as the dishes were washed and preparations made for lunch.

            Guilt rose up at the back of her mind, for leaving Prince Awain to deal with them all alone. But she couldn’t have stayed one more moment in that room if she had tried. She felt too unsafe, too exposed to the both of them. Weak and small.

            “This is an impressive collection you maintain here. I would never expect it from such a small kingdom, or any kingdom where Morgan is queen.”

            She dropped the book she was carrying, stiffening as the book hit the ground and she heard the sound of its cracking spine. The prince stood right behind her, seemingly oblivious to her shock. He picked out a volume of fairytales and placed it in her hand. The touch of his skin was enough to break her out of her frozen state. Impossibly cold and smooth, more marble than skin.

            “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, striding quickly out of the room.

            She didn’t know what she was sorry about, but it seemed best to get out of his way. Her room held its fair share of books. It would be her sanctuary the entire time the prince stayed in Mirtlemeadow. She locked the doors behind her, bolting the doors and opening all the windows. Never had sunlight seemed so beautiful.

*          *          *

            The prince shrugged as she ran out of the room. It was amazing how fast those spindly legs carried the girl. She was more than eager to escape his presence. Most of the furniture in the library had rested undisturbed for months. But there was a writing desk and an armchair by the window, covered with scrolls and books.

            He waited in the shadows until the last of the sunlight failed to pour in through the window, and sat down at the desk. Hidden beneath the superficial layers of books on etiquette and gardening were her real reading. Books on monsters and magic.

            So the little waif was doing something other than running away. He looked at the notes prepared, the ancient scrolls she had somehow unearthed and understood. He wondered if Morgan had any idea of what the little princess was trying to do. Perhaps the girl wasn’t brave enough to attempt to kill the queen, but she definitely planned on escaping.

            All night he studied her research. It wasn’t a recent effort, but the culmination of more than a few months. She had figured out things that even he didn’t know. The girl systematic, thorough. The prince finished up her notes as the first of the sun’s rays started to shine through the window.

            With a final glance, the prince retreated back to the shadows. The little princess was nowhere to be seen throughout the day. She took her meals in her room, occasionally venturing out at mid-day to walk through the gardens. Always choosing the brightest of places, the furthest away from the queen’s rooms.