“My lord?” Herbert decided politeness was his best bet.
“Otto was a colonel in the Austrian army until four months ago.” Draculea’s voice changed somehow, the conversational tone dispelling the strange mood as his hand steered Herbert along the corridor. “It’s impressive how easily you managed to defeat him. You would be what, thirteen now?”
“Fifteen,” Herbert snapped before he could stop himself. It wasn’t his fault that he still had a child’s height. “Well, almost.”
“Then, old enough to know your own mind and to defend it. But you might want to carry a sword the next time. You do know how to use a blade?”
“Father’s been teaching me.” Fencing hadn’t managed to catch Herbert’s fancy so far, but he had an idea it might change now – certainly if those piercing eyes kept looking at him that way whenever he chanced a covert glance at his companion’s face. “He says I’m good at it.”
A flicker of amusement passed over Draculea’s face. “We should trust his wisdom in this matter. And what are you doing so near to our council chambers? My kind are not fit company for mortal children.”
“I don’t have much other company,” Herbert pointed out irritably. “And I’m not a child!”
“Aren’t you?”
Draculea’s arm tightened around Herbert’s shoulders, pulling the boy into a niche in the castle wall. The embroidered brocade of the vampire’s coat caught and snagged on the thin linen of Herbert’s shirt. He was close enough to see Draculea’s face clearly despite the difference in their heights – the captivating eyes, the cruel, almost delicate features, the full lips reddened with stolen blood. He recognised the signs of recent feeding.
He shivered, a single tremor going through his whole body. In the silence of the hallway, he could hear his own heartbeat.
“And what would you do, young man,” Draculea asked, “if you were trapped with a vampire without a crucifix at hand?”
Herbert licked his lips, took a shaky breath. “Give in?” he suggested flippantly. “I always thought it would be wonderful to know how to turn into mist.”
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Further hallway conversation...
Date: 2006-03-23 03:44 am (UTC)“Otto was a colonel in the Austrian army until four months ago.” Draculea’s voice changed somehow, the conversational tone dispelling the strange mood as his hand steered Herbert along the corridor. “It’s impressive how easily you managed to defeat him. You would be what, thirteen now?”
“Fifteen,” Herbert snapped before he could stop himself. It wasn’t his fault that he still had a child’s height. “Well, almost.”
“Then, old enough to know your own mind and to defend it. But you might want to carry a sword the next time. You do know how to use a blade?”
“Father’s been teaching me.” Fencing hadn’t managed to catch Herbert’s fancy so far, but he had an idea it might change now – certainly if those piercing eyes kept looking at him that way whenever he chanced a covert glance at his companion’s face. “He says I’m good at it.”
A flicker of amusement passed over Draculea’s face. “We should trust his wisdom in this matter. And what are you doing so near to our council chambers? My kind are not fit company for mortal children.”
“I don’t have much other company,” Herbert pointed out irritably. “And I’m not a child!”
“Aren’t you?”
Draculea’s arm tightened around Herbert’s shoulders, pulling the boy into a niche in the castle wall. The embroidered brocade of the vampire’s coat caught and snagged on the thin linen of Herbert’s shirt. He was close enough to see Draculea’s face clearly despite the difference in their heights – the captivating eyes, the cruel, almost delicate features, the full lips reddened with stolen blood. He recognised the signs of recent feeding.
He shivered, a single tremor going through his whole body. In the silence of the hallway, he could hear his own heartbeat.
“And what would you do, young man,” Draculea asked, “if you were trapped with a vampire without a crucifix at hand?”
Herbert licked his lips, took a shaky breath. “Give in?” he suggested flippantly. “I always thought it would be wonderful to know how to turn into mist.”