Chapter 13 THIRTEEN
I couldn’t trust her enough to speak freely, not yet.
“Anyway, I suspect that you must be famished, I know I am, and I didn’t make the journey you did. Would you like some breakfast?” blanche asked, holding out her hand for me.
I didn’t take her hand, but I nodded, my voice soft and low. “Yes please.”
“What’s the matter, do you think I have germs or something?” She laughed, snorting slightly as she continued, “I am as clean as you are!”
I let out a small laugh, smiling even though I was afraid, I didn’t expect Berus’ apprentice to say something like that, he seemed so stuck up. But Blanche was like a day of sunshine.
She was too good to be here, a slave to the prince.
If only we could escape.
Berus was a traitor to our own kind, I was sure of it, even though I didn’t have any proof.
I didn’t exactly know the story of how she came here, or any information on how Berus came to be the prince’s personal warlock, and I suspect that I perhaps never would. He didn’t seem like the type to share that kind of information with anyone.
Blanche smiled with me, shaking her head as she let out another snort. “Ah. So, you do have a smile after all.”
I sighed slightly with relief, I hadn’t known what to expect, but I was beginning to like Blanche as a person, she was so witty and bubbly; something I wasn’t used to.
But I didn’t understand how could she be so happy when she was forced to work under such a creature as Berus. He was a monster, she was an angel.
Or at least, that’s impression I got.
How could she smile when she must listen to his every command without hesitation or objection? I hope he treats her well.
I hope he doesn’t hurt her.
I followed her out of the small room, neither of us needing to say another word, the ice had been broken and now we could walk silently, yet; it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was strangely comfortable and nice, something that I had never been able to experience whilst with my parents, they were always so on edge and scared of what would come barrelling through the door.
I couldn’t blame them though, their life had always been been hell, more so before I arrived.
My shoulders drooped at the thought of my parents, knowing that I would never see them again hurt, more than I could have imagined. It was like someone had taken a knife to my chest and carved out my heart.
They had been killed, ripped from the world by vampires and there was nothing I could do to change that. Nothing I could do to bring them back, and I had to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life; knowing that I was too weak to do anything to stop it.
We reached the kitchen in under five minutes, five minutes of me wondering why all the halls look the same, portraits of old warlocks littering the dusty stone walls and a crimson-coloured carpet nailed to the wooden floor.
The kitchen was old, much older than me, the hobs on the cooker slightly rusted and aged; the walk-in fridge had seen better days, and so had the oak counter tops. But really, what did I expect when vampires had no need for the nutrition we did, of course they wouldn’t put more money into it than was necessary, especially as it all still worked. Or I hoped it worked, otherwise it would be a cold breakfast.
I moved to sit down on one of the chairs closest to the door, the dark wood table could seat six people, though I doubted so many had eaten there all at once.
Blanche got out a frying pan, quickly adding oil and turning on the gas stove closest to her. She worked with such elegance and poise, her actions never faltering as she cracked an egg on the side of the pan, quickly releasing it into the oil as it boiled.
I watched her with a pang of jealously, wishing that I could be so perfect in the way that I cooked, or did anything for that matter, but i was too clumsy to be like her. My body disobeyed me at every turn, never allowing me to show elegance, or any kind of beauty.
“How do you like your eggs?” She asked me, glancing back at me through her lashes.
I frowned, I had never been asked that before, I usually ate them as my mum did, scrambled.
But I didn’t want to disappoint or anger the witch, so I said; “I don’t know, how do you have them?”
“I like the yoke slightly runny, but not everyone does. That is why I asked?” Blanche chuckled, finding my nervousness amusing.
She had done nothing to hurt me, but I couldn’t help being nervous around her, how had she survived so long with the vampires?
I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I was too afraid that if I spoke out of line, things would change, and she wouldn’t be so kind to me.
“I have never been asked before... But my mum used to scramble them.” I murmured, unsure if I should be telling her that, my mind spiralling in confusion.
I hated not knowing the boundaries of what I could talk about, nor did I trust Blanche... not completely anyway.
How could I trust her when she was so kind? Was it all a ruse to get me comfortable before I died? What did she have to gain from being so nice to me?
She shook her head, smiling perfectly as she spoke. “Of course! You are a scrambled egg kind of kid; I can do that.”
I laughed lightly, pleased that she was so kind, maybe I could get used to her.