‘Does his highness have a jilted ex-lover?’Enrique drawled.
‘Something like that,’ Raleigh said bitterly as Enrique picked up one of the letters.He turned it over, saw the seal clotted on the back, and threw the letter back onto the table as if scalded.
‘You want to burn letters fromthe Queen?’
Raleigh slammed both hands against the table.‘Someone get rid of this food and bring me something I can actually drink.’He scooped up the letters himself, crossed to the fireplace and threw the entire stack in, watching as the paper curled and blackened, his face cast in shadow.The crimson wax dripped into the grate.
The sight triggered something in my memory.These weren’t the first letters he’d burnt.I knew the true fate of my lost letters now; the wax remnants I’d found hadn’t been from them.This queen had written before.
‘Would someone care to explain?’I asked.
Moira gave me a warning look, but Raleigh answered regardless.
‘The Queen would like me to come back to court.’Raleigh’s words dripped with poison.‘I shan’t be returning before January.There’s nothing else to say.’
‘I assume you don’t mean the emperor’s wife.’
‘You’d assume correctly.’Raleigh returned to his seat, ran his hands through his hair, then seemed to shift into someone else altogether.His smile returned, the past forgotten, buried under layers upon layers of masks.‘You don’t need to worry yourself about all of that.Let’s see what Enrique cooked up for you, shall we?’
I wondered, not for the first time, what I would find if I pulled back Raleigh’s defences.What lingered under his facade that he was so afraid of revealing?What exactly did he leave behind him at court?But there was no scope to ask.Raleigh was looking at me expectantly, and I didn’t doubt that his cheery demeanour would slip if I dared ask the wrong question.
I lifted the cloche, expecting a new variety of stew, only to find a roasted duck breast drizzled in a light but aromatic sauce, served with finely cut potatoes.There was also bread, gooey cheese, salad and some sort of white gelatinous dessert floating in custard.It was the sort of meal I’d dreamed of for a decade.
I glanced at Raleigh, who had tensed.‘Please don’t tell me how many people in Orlfen this would feed.’
‘Actually …’ I selected one of the many forks Enrique had laid out, hoping it was the right one.‘Orlfen seems to be doing fine.’I took a bite, then ascended to a new plane of existence.The sauce was the perfect balance of tart and sweet, and the meat practically melted in my mouth.Was this how infants felt when they sampled food for the first time?I couldn’t believe anything could taste like this.
‘Good?’Raleigh asked.
I had no words.I realised I was smiling.
On seeing my reaction Moira spun on her heels and ran after Enrique, no doubt to stop him from disposing of Raleigh’s leftover portion.
‘Sorry.’I prepared another forkful.‘I may have to elope with Enrique instead.’
Raleigh clutched his heart.
It was the first meal I’d shared with Raleigh that didn’t feel like a creative form of torture, even after Enrique returned with a goblet of blood.Raleigh’s company was surprisingly tolerable when he was able to make conversation.If I couldn’t uphold my end of our deal, the prospect of eternal night still loomed with suffocating certainty.But to my mild horror I realised that if the worst should happen, there were worse people to be stuck spending eternity with.
And as we ate and tore down the walls built by weeks of dreary silence, the Queen’s unread letters dissolved into ash.
Thirteen
AS THE SUMMER SOLSTICEcame and went, Raleigh spent each evening showing me what the equipment in the laboratory did, while teaching me everything he remembered about chemistry.He dug out his old notes and showed me how to recreate his grape experiment on a sliver of peach, which was fascinating, but useless.And yet when he turned to me with puppy-dog eyes and a dish full of sugar, I found it impossible to criticise him.‘That’s incredible,’ I found myself saying instead.His flush of pride almost made the time we were losing worthwhile.
The experiment became less incredible with each repetition.As we moved from peaches to apricots to plums, his boyish joy was no longer enough to stem my growing frustration.So one evening when Raleigh handed me a flask of blood, my relief overpowered any disgust I should have felt.
‘It’s mine,’ he said before I could ask.
I ran a thumb over the glass.It was indistinguishable from human blood.Raleigh explained we wouldn’t have to keep it on ice as he did for the rest of his supply.Whatever magic the curse wovethrough his veins was just as potent in his blood once removed.It stayed fresh, no matter how long it remained outside his body.He told me all this while measuring out a few droplets into a beaker.I asked how much he had experimented on his blood in the past to know this.
‘I haven’t.But the Queen keeps a vial of blood from each of her spawn.It’s how she keeps track of us all, while we’re not at court … among other things.If someone dies the blood turns to ash, but otherwise it remains as it was the day she drew it.’
The choice of words unsettled me.I wondered if he meant her children, but no, he’d saidwe.Raleigh’s mother had been a princess, and her bones had rested in the crypt below us for centuries.‘Her spawn?’I asked.
Raleigh sloshed a measure of blood onto the countertop.He hurried to clean it up, and with his eyes on the task he said with false nonchalance, ‘The Queen is mysire.’ He said this last word in French.The word was familiar, but one I couldn’t place.Raleigh noticed my confusion.‘I mean she made me what I am.She’s my sire, I’m her spawn; they’re the words we use,’ he clarified, before changing the topic back to chemistry once again.But I was no longer listening.
‘The court you’ve mentioned,’ I started, taking the bottle from Raleigh and stoppering it before he spilt any more.‘Is that thevampirecourt?’
