She let out a small breath of relief.
“Unfortunately, my nephew took it upon himself to inform his mother already.”
What? She kept her voice calm. “He did?”
“Oh yes,” Lord Soren said, his face looking like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “He sent the message two days before we left the planet, by an emergency jump-drone, announcing that he would be bringing a bride and to make sure adequate accommodations were prepared.”
Damn it, Arland. “He didn’t ask her blessing?”
“No. I believe he commanded the household to make themselves ‘presentable.’”
Because his mother would never find that offensive. She closed her eyes for a tiny moment.
“Then he sent a second message, stating that you turned him down but will be joining him anyway.”
Arland had accelerated. He was looking at her as if she was the lone light in a dark room.
“Did his mother reply?”
“Yes.”
Maud steeled herself. “What did she say?”
“Just five words,” Lord Soren said. “Can’t wait to meet her.”
Great. Just great.
Soren reached over and awkwardly patted her arm. “It could be worse.”
She couldn’t for the life of her see how.
Arland reached them. “Lady Maud.”
His voice sent a soft rumble through her. She hated that. It was a weakness, but she had no idea how to compensate for it. She wished she could be immune.
“Lord Arland.”
Lord Soren discreetly stepped away and strolled closer to the arch of the summoning gate. Helen abandoned the fish and the water and brought her bag over. Arland held out his hands, but Helen stayed by her side.
“No hug?” he asked.
“Mommy said to be polite.”
“There are certain appearances that must be observed, my lord,” Maud said.
“I never cared much for appearances,” he said. His eyes were soft and warm. Inviting.
She needed to get her head examined.
“Unfortunately, some of us are not in the position to not care.”
The summoning gate turned crimson. Lord Soren stepped into the light and vanished.
“My lady.” Arland indicated the gate with his hand.
He reached for her bag, but she shouldered it out of the way. They walked toward the gate.
“What’s bothering you?” he asked quietly.
“You told your mother.”
“Of course I did. You’re not some shameful secret I’m going to hide.”
“No, I’m a disgraced exile who had the audacity to turn down the most beloved son of House Krahr.”
He considered it. “Not the most beloved. My cousin is much more adorable than me. He is two and his hair is curly.”
“Lord Arland…”
His eyes sparkled with humor. “You could always remedy it and say yes.”
“No.”
Helen was looking at them. Maud realized they were standing in front of the summoning gate and bickering.
“Do you remember this?” Arland asked Helen.
Helen nodded and eyed the gate. “It makes my tummy sick.”
“Do you want to hold my hand?” Maud asked.
“We have to do it quick, like charging a castle.” Arland reached out, swung Helen onto his shoulder, and ducked through the gate.
“Arland!” she snapped.
He was gone. She was on her own on the arrival deck with half of Arland’s crew gaping at her. She clenched her teeth and walked into the crimson glow.
3
The red radiance of the summoning gate died behind Maud. She blinked, fighting the vertigo, and walked away from it on autopilot to keep from blocking other arrivals.
To the right, about twenty-five yards away, Arland stopped to speak to three vampires. He’d taken Helen off his shoulders—thank you, universe—and she gaped at the spaceport.
Maud looked around and stopped to gape, too. She stood in a cavernous rectangular chamber. Daylight flooded it through long, narrow rectangular windows cut in the gray stone walls twenty feet above. She turned slowly, trying to take it all in.
To her left, the summoning gate glowed, about to release another traveler into the spaceport. To her right, small craft, sleek fighters and a few light civilian vessels, perched on the floor, and beyond them enormous hangar doors stood wide open, filled with blue sky. Above the hangar doors, a stone relief depicted a snarling krahr. The massive predator, its wide head a cross between a bear and a tiger, roared at the visitors, its maw gaping open, its sabretooth fangs a fatal promise. A thin crack down the krahr’s left side had chipped a bit of stone fur from its jaw. Nobody had fixed it.
It hit her. House Krahr was an old House.
Melizard’s House, House Ervan, was much younger. Noceen was a prosperous planet, with a gentle climate, colonized only two hundred years ago, and House Ervan had emerged as one of the prominent vampire clans due mostly to sheer luck. They had arrived with the first wave of settlers and the land they’d claimed happened to contain rich mineral deposits. Their wealth bought them weapons, equipment, and infrastructure. Everything on Noceen had been of the highest quality, modern and slick, especially the spaceport, where the traditional vampire stone was a veneer and the wood had been artificially distressed. She’d thought it rather grand when she first saw it. But this…This was the real thing.
All vampire spaceports were castles. Easily defended to allow for evacuation to orbit, easily contained if a threat were to arrive via the summoning gate. The spaceport of House Krahr had been built hundreds of years ago. The weathered stones under her feet, the massive wooden beams above, darkened by time, the thick stone walls, all of it emanated age. This was a stronghold, raised when strongholds had a purpose. Here and there modernization showed, but its touch was subtle and light: upgraded windows of transparent plastisteel, sensors high in the walls, and the massive blast-proof hangar gates. But the stronghold itself breathed an overwhelming sense of ancientness. It spoke to the visitors without uttering a word.
We’ve built this. It’s endured for centuries. Countless generations of us have walked across its threshold and still we own it, for no one is strong enough to take it away from us.
It wasn’t about money. It was a statement of power, harsh and brutal. It demanded respect, especially from a vampire, to whom tradition and family meant everything. It commanded awe and took it as its due.
She was so in over her head, it wasn’t even funny.
Arland strode to her, Helen at his side. “My lady.”
Clipped, formal words. The easy familiarity she’d become accustomed to was gone. She had expected as much.
“My lord.”
“I must apologize. A matter requires my urgent attention.” He leaned closer to her. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“I mean it,” he said. “Ten minutes.”
He seemed genuinely worried she would disappear. “Helen and I will wait for you.”
He nodded and marched away. The three vampire knights fell in behind him.
To the right, two vampire women followed him with their gazes. Both wore armor with the crest of House Kozor, a horned beast on blue. One was lean and tall, with a waterfall of chestnut hair framed by elaborate braids. The other, curvier, her armor more ornate, left her corn-silk blond mane free. It fell all the way to her butt in shiny waves, and by the way she tossed her head, she was quite proud of it.
Interesting. “Would you like to see the shuttles?”
“Yes,” Helen said.
“Let’s go look at them.”
They drifted closer to the shiny shuttles and to the two vampire women. Helen went to look at the elegant pure white fighter, and Maud watched her, keeping the two women on the very edge of her vision.
“…not the time to satiate your appetites,” the taller woman said.
Maud’s implant remained silent, but she understood regardless. Ancestor Vampiric. It was an older language, with dozens of regional dialects and variations. A lot of vampires could barely comprehend it, especially if it was spoken by a vampire from a different home world. Speech implants failed to interpret it, and outsiders didn’t speak it, but then she wasn’t an outsider. A lot of the great epics had been written in Ancestor Vampiric and reciting them in the original dialect had been a point of pride for members of House Ervan. She had tried so hard to be the best wife for Melizard. She was fluent in twelve main dialects and could understand others enough to get by. This particular one was odd, an offshoot of the Third Planet Coastal. They blended their vowels left and right but if she concentrated, she could make do.
“You have to admit, he’s a prime specimen,” the blond said.
“He’s preoccupied with his human toy. That’s her over there.”
“Toys can be broken,” the blond said.
Anytime you want to try.
“That is a beautiful child,” the blond said.
“A halfer,” the brunette sneered.
“Still, a cute little mongrel. Do you think she’s his?”
“No. The woman is an exile from some no-name House. One of the nouveau riche from the frontier. She was married to their Marshal’s son. He betrayed his House.”
“Interesting.” The blond stretched the word.
“Apparently Arland found her on Karhari.”
“The Marshal gets around.” The blond smiled. “You should let me play with him. It really is a shame to lose—”
“Be silent,” the chestnut snapped.
“Fine,” the blond sighed.
“I mean it. Mind your tongue, Seveline. Too many people have done too much work for you to ruin it with your blabbering. The future of our House is riding on this.”
“I said, ‘fine’.” Seveline’s voice turned sharper.
Short fuse, that one. She could use that later.
Helen moved on to the next shuttle and Maud strolled past the two women.