Lawrence made quick work of the petticoats and laces. When she was fully dressed, Amaia went to her vanity mirror to style her hair. She picked up her silver boar bristle brush and ran it through her long auburn locks. The sheen from her hair accentuated her hazel eyes. It was odd to be looking at the same face she always had, but to see it so differently. It would take some getting used to. She picked out a jeweled comb and some hair pins and arranged her hair, sweeping the front up and leaving the back to curl loosely over her shoulders.
All the while, Lawrence paced behind her, watching her in the mirror. She found it unnerving. Adjusting to being undead was hard enough without Lawrence watching her every move. When she stood, he brought a pair of jeweled shoes for her to step into, and her outfit was complete. “What do you think?” She twirled.
“Lovely, as always. Practice moving slowly until it’s time for us to leave.”
Despite feeling foolish, Amaia did as instructed. How could she be expected to move slowly when she had just been born into a bright new world? There was so much to see and do. Her own rooms appeared foreign to her new vision. How would the rest of the world look?
Knowing that it was important to Lawrence, she tried to concentrate. She discovered that he was wrong. The trick was not to try to move slowly; the trick was to imagine walking through water. Only then was she able to achieve a realistic movement speed without losing any of her natural grace.
“Excellent, my dear. The sun has set. It’s time we were going.” Lawrence stood and fetched a dark blue wool cloak from her wardrobe.
“So it’s true then? We can’t go out in daylight?” Amaia had been dreading the restrictions of her new form. She supposed it was fair. Immortality had to come at a price.
Lawrence guffawed. “Hardly. What nonsense humans teach their children. We travel whenever we like. The sun merely does less than pleasant things to the noxious odor of humans. It’s more enjoyable to be out at night, and it’s easier to go unnoticed.” He wrapped the cloak around her, hiding the opulence of her dress. “No need to draw extra attention.”
Amaia didn’t know what she felt more, relief or excitement. It appeared she had been given the world, unbridled by silly rules. Life—or death as it were—was perfect.
She stifled a giggle as she followed Lawrence to the door.
Chapter 3
London, February 1623
As soon as they settled in the rented carriage, Lawrence curtained the windows. “You don’t need distractions. Focus on breathing. I want Zenas to see that you’re a quick study.”
“I thought you said I didn’t need to breathe.”
“Not to live, but your stays aren’t so tight that you can’t pretend.”
Amaia drew in a shallow breath and immediately squinched up her face.
“The smell?”
“Yes. It’s dreadful. What is it?” Her hand flew to her nose, trying to shield it from the pungent stench. The air seemed full of sour sweat, baked waste, and decaying plants. The source was a mystery. The horse before her smelled as horses always had, only stronger. It certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it was hardly the overwhelming fetor surrounding her.
“Mainly humans. I told you. You’ll get used to it. I’ll admit it’s startling at first. Now that you’re not one, you notice their stink more acutely. Sometimes there’s a benefit to duller senses. You’ll learn to pick out the good and disregard the bad.”
“How can they smell so distasteful when they’re meant to be food?”
“The cow always smells worse than the beef, my dear. It’s not their flesh we’re after, it’s their blood.”
It made sense, but Amaia couldn’t stomach the thought with the odor assaulting her nostrils. “Where are we going?” Amaia didn’t risk removing her hand from her nose. The only pleasant scent she could discern came from herself.
“To a manor outside the city. Usually Zenas would make us travel to wherever he is—which these days tends to be Moscow—but he came here to see you. It’s rare that Zenas travels for anyone. It reveals his interest in you. I need you to follow my lead.”
“How?” Amaia lowered her hand. The smell was dreadful, but she’d have to learn to cope eventually, and she wanted to make Lawrence proud.
“You’ll bow to him, feed his ego, but your first loyalty is to me, just as mine is to him. He has the power to destroy you, and there’s nothing I can do to protect you—not yet. He’ll want me to supplicate to him for you, to demonstrate his power.”
“He sounds like a prick.”
Lawrence’s hand gripped hers where it rested on the bench. His blue eyes held her gaze. “A very dangerous prick, my dear. Don’t try to play him. Not only will he not be susceptible to your charms, but you’re still too new to your condition to use them effectively. The best thing you can do is watch quietly.”
Amaia nodded. In some ways, it was a relief. If she wasn’t expected to say anything, she would be free to observe and learn. Part of her supposed that vampires couldn’t be that much different from humans, but she wasn’t prepared to potentially embarrass Lawrence due to lack of knowledge.
Thirty minutes later, Lawrence grimaced. “It appears Zenas is not traveling alone. I should have known. He’ll want to make this a public spectacle.”