Edith timidly approached and sat on my knee.
I reached up. “Open.” I cupped her face, tilting it back.
When she opened, her fangs flicked forward, but one quivered as if it was taking significant effort to bear it out. Around the gumline was a bit of inflammation, the part responsible for flexing it in the first place.
“It looks like you overextended these.” I used my thumb to lift her lip up on that side. “Is it sore?”
She nodded.
“In my room, into the washroom, I have laudanum,” I instructed. When my gaze returned to Phoebe, she had stopped what she was doing.
Edith nodded, stumbling up and brushing her skirt awkwardly. She abandoned the room like a canary set free from her cage.
I smirked at Phoebe. “What? Just being helpful.”
“Don’t undermine me.”
“You’re a soft-horn, and you know it.”
Phoebe scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Like I said before, unrequited love does terrible things. It makes the prettiest of us repulsive.” I collected my book. “Time for me to turn in. You ladies have a good night.”
I don’t know why, but it was amusing poking at Phoebe. Such a proud woman, but she was as prickly as a porcupine. Jealousy was quite the color on her; I swore if she kept this up any longer, she would turn green.
As I exited the room, my stomach pinched, and the room began to waver. A wave of vertigo hit me faster than if I had consumed an entire jug of moonshine, like trying to navigate in a dream. I sluggishly made my way up the stairs, down the hall, and all the way to my room at the end. It was isolated from any of the occupied rooms. I don’t blame them, but it had some ironic sort of nostalgia to hear the laughter and chatter from far off, softly taunting me.
In the corner of the room, Edith sat in the chair, fiddling with the bottle of dark liquid.
“Did it help?” I mumbled, tossing my book onto the small table.
“I know your heart is in the right place...” Edith began.
An impulsive sneer was my only response.
“But you can’t insult her like that. In front of everyone,” she finished, lifting her eyes to me.
“She was being unpleasant.” I walked up to her. “How will they know that they can’t just say anything without recourse?”
“It makes my situation worse, tenfold.” She looked up at me, her brow creasing slightly.
“It can only get worse before it gets better?—”
“Luka!” she snapped.
Whatever I was going to say after was caught in my throat from her abruptness. Edith and I suffered from the same sort of isolation, though I think she had it a bit better than I did currently. Only because she was free to feed, even if she wasn’t on friendly terms with the others. I suspect that’s why Alina was her feeding partner.
She was standing now, haughty of posture, with a firm scowl. Even with her confident facade, I could see the vein in her temple pulse, her breathing shallow. Fear was not as shy when it waved its flag.
She was nervous. The sweat smells different when it’s from anxiety. From fear? No, from anger. Her eyes stayed on me, but my focus was more on the pulsing on her little neck, peeking from under her head covering.
The drumming of my head was louder, the pinch in my stomach nauseating. I approached her, only to be met with a hard shove.
My hand enwrapped her curly blond hair, the head covering pooling around her neck. The thrashing made my vision narrow. My own saliva collected fast enough in my mouth to choke me. Another hot drip of blood from my eye scored down my cheek.
I pried her neck to the side.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Luka!”
