Integrity staggered into her room, a stunned look on her face. Galia moved forward and eased her onto the edge of the bed. “Are you well, miss?”
Integrity shook her head slowly. “Galia, how old are you?”
She thought for a moment. “I can't really say. I was born, as a human in 1748, became a vampire when I was 19. Does that answer your question?” Integrity nodded blankly. Galia hesitated, then said, “I'll help you disrobe when I bring your supper. Is that satisfactory?” Integrity waved vacantly, still trying to do the math . . .
Đ
And so Integrity's training began anew. While Bowman continued to teach her fighting techniques, a new tutor came on the scene—Mitchell.
It was hard to accurately judge his age, and not just because he was a vampire; he looked to be in his 20s or 30s. His hair was long enough to brush his collar, but instead of looking grungy, he looked like someone you'd see on the cover of a romance novel.
He was the ultimate gentleman, to the point that he made Integrity antsy. He stood whenever she did, bowed as a greeting, and seemed to have been born in a three-piece suit. Integrity had never seen a true three-piece suit before she met Mitchell. He even announced his arrival with a written note.
“There will certainly be dancing at your coming out,” he intoned fluidly, “so we will start your training there.” He held his arms in the air, prepared for her to join him. She did so self-consciously. “No, no, no,” he said, “you must keep yourself firm.” He shook her arms. “Like pudding. Imagine you are the frame of a house, a distinct, stable shape.” Integrity tried, feeling more like a mobile home than a mansion. “Better.” She could tell the comment came from pity. Without taking a single step, he backed away from her. “Did you take dance lessons as a child?”
She shook her head. “No. I never wanted to. I wasn't really into girly things like that.” She was surprised that he didn't make some remark about how obvious her lack of training was, but learned over time that a true gentleman would never undermine a lady's confidence, and Mitchell was the poster boy of a true gentleman.
As the days and weeks passed, she learned the basic dances, along with one complicated number called the night teres. She thought she would go mad before she received Mitchell's approval. While her lessons continued, she worked on dining manners and her curtsy, which was a nightmare.
“In most cases, a simple bob will suffice.” Mitchell demonstrated and Integrity snorted.
“Sorry. I couldn't help it.”
He bowed his head to her magnanimously and continued. “When you are presented to royalty, however, you must go much deeper.” Integrity watched as he easily swept one leg behind him and dropped, his knee barely above the carpeting. He rose fluidly and gestured for her to try.
“Okay.” Integrity was overconfident; Mitchell had made it look so simple, and he was a guy! Before she was halfway to the floor, her ankles twitched convulsively and she found herself solidly on the floor. She scrambled to her feet, feeling her face grow warm.
“That was an excellent first try. You will be a natural in no time at all.”
Integrity humphed. “Yeah, right.”
“Sarcasm does not become a young woman,” he chided gently. “And remember your posture; you're all slumped forward again.”
Integrity sighed and straightened. She felt a pressing need to hit something. Where was Evan when you needed him?
Chapter Ten
She couldn't remember the last time Ben had been to see her, but she couldn't feel any excitement when she saw him entering her window. Life had become a very safe monotony, and Integrity was comfortable with that. There was no need to rock the boat.
“Hey,” Ben said, his tone guarded. When Integrity made no response, he waved his hand in front of her face. “Hello? Anyone home?” She pushed his hand away from her, as though it were a fly. He clutched his chest. “Ouch.” Still nothing. “Integrity, what's wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice held no emotion.
“You don't smile, you don't laugh. Do you hate me?” He moved toward the window, still looking at her. “Do you want me to leave?” No response. “Well, then,” he said, full of false bluster, “I'll just chuck myself out the window, and you'll either be happy because I'm gone or happy because I'm an idiot.” He swung the window open, and leaped up onto the sill. “Well, here I go.” He looked at Integrity. “I'm about to throw myself to my death. Feel free to stop me.”
Even though she knew he was all talk, Integrity stood and walked to the window. She put a hand on his arm. “Don't leave, Ben. I'm sorry.”
“Phew!” He wiped his arm across his brow. “I thought you were going to let me jump there for a minute. Ah, a smile! A token smile, but a smile nonetheless. I'm making progress!”
“You know what would make me smile? If Evan threw himself out that window.” Even as she spoke, Integrity thought, C'mon girl, lighten up, but her tone was still far too serious and bitter for the joke to float.
“Evan? What happened with Evan?”
Integrity blinked. “You wouldn't know, would you?” she mused. “How could you? You're in a cell all the time.” She turned from him and walked toward the sitting area. Forcing herself to not think about what she was saying, she blurted out, “He killed my parents.”
Ben was behind her in an instant, spinning her around to face him. She focused on his chest rather than his face. “What?!? You can't be serious! Tell me you're joking!”
Never looking at him, never truly thinking, she stated, “It's fine. I'm over it.” He pulled her tight against him, but she pushed him away; she could feel the dam she'd built around her emotions growing weak. “No, I said I'm fine.” She forced her tone to sound gentle, although the words weren't. “Really, Ben. I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Are you sure?” When she nodded mutely, Ben stepped away and sat down in one of the armchairs. “So . . . what's new?”
She laughed half-heartedly. “Well, let's see, everyone here thinks I'm some sort of super hero and they're throwing a ball to let the world know.”
“What?” Laughter broke up his speech. “A super hero? Can you fly?”
She frowned. “No, unfortunately all I can do is cause mass destruction and death.”
“Mmm. And did they give you some cool name, like Death Girl or Destruction Diva?”
She laughed, her dark mood slowly dissipating. “No, but you're close.” While staying seated, she bowed as grandly as she could. “Meet the Destine. Dun-dun-dun.”
“Ooh.” He pretended to shiver. Returning to his normal tone of voice, he said, “No, really, what's been going on?”
She shrugged. “They really do think I'm this Destine thing, and they really are going to throw a ball.” She wrinkled her nose. “They're making me learn to dance.”
“No!” he gasped sarcastically. “Not that! Anything but that!” He slid off the chair onto his knees and raised his face and hands to the ceiling. “Oh, the humanity!”
Making her voice waver, fanning herself with one hand, she replied, “It's okay. I'm strong. I'll make it through . . . somehow.”
Ben jumped to his feet and pulled her to hers. “Dance with me. Show me what you've learned.”
“What?”
Integrity stumbled along behind him as he led her to a more open area. He bowed deeply, then stage whispered, “You're supposed to bow back.”
Integrity laughed and dropped a curtsy. “We don't have any music, you know.”
Suddenly serious, Ben put one hand on her waist and slowly closed her hand in his other. He pulled her close, only inches between them. She sucked in a breath. “We don't need music.” He stared moving slowly, Integrity falling easily into sync with him. Bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest, he moved her even closer; she lay her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I wish I could dance with you at the ball,” he whispered.
Somehow emboldened by having her eyes closed, Integrity said, “I think I like this mor
e.” He laughed softly and squeezed her hand lightly. She could feel the heat seeping through his shirt into her hand. I must be a pig, she though vaguely. He's always so much cleaner than I ever was when I was in a cell. Maybe he has access to more water. She let her thoughts drift off, focusing all of her energy on the moment. She felt the empty cavity inside of her begin to gloss over. What she thought of as a temporary peace settled lightly on her head and shoulders, drifting slowly downward like a thin piece of material.
After a time, Ben murmured, “I wish I could do this right for you.” She pulled her head back to look at him in confusion. “You know, balloons, streamers, punch, the whole works.” She giggled and buried her face in his neck, not knowing what to say. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.”
They stopped dancing and Integrity backed up slightly. “Ben, I don't want anything else.” Her heart rate increased, an unnamed fear creeping up her spine. “Balloons and punch don't mean anything. You do.”
Ben broke into a tremulous smile and he looked as though he might start crying. Not wanting him to be embarrassed, Integrity took his hand once more and started dancing again. When Ben relaxed once more, the temporary peace returned. If only he never had to leave. If only we could stay like this forever. If only . . .
Đ
The day of the ball approached far too quickly for Integrity. She felt disgruntled and ill-prepared. It didn't help matters any that Galia arrived early in the day with several followers to prepare Integrity.
Though she was far from entertained, the hours sped by. Hair, makeup, wardrobe were all dealt with in meticulous detail. Integrity was even introduced to the wonderful world of a corset, her poor posture never rectified to Mitchell's satisfaction. She knew the laces could have been drawn tighter than they were, but that was little consolation—she couldn't take more than the shallowest of breaths. And they expect me to dance like this?
To top matters off, the gown was much heavier than Integrity felt was necessary. I may as well be wearing a suit of armor. At least then I could close the helmet and not feel like such an idiot.
When she was finally permitted to see herself in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself. All of the flaws were gone; well, covered effectively. Rather than alleviating her fears, her looks only compounded them. How am I supposed to live up to this? I look like someone that knows what she's doing!
Then the painful waiting began. Integrity sat in her chair, fidgeting, for as long as she could stand before she spoke. “Galia, what time is it?”
Pulling a small watch on a chain from a pocket, Galia flipped open the cover, glanced at the face, then snapped it shut. “It's nearly half-past seven.”
“What time does the ball start?” Integrity failed to keep the impatience out of her voice.
“It will begin in half-an-hour's time, but you will not arrive until an hour later.”
“What? Why? Isn't it rude to show up late for your own party?” Far from being eager to get to the ball, Integrity took the fatalistic approach of Well, let's get this over with.
Galia patted Integrity's shoulder reassuringly. “You needn't worry. We would never let you make a social faux pas.”
“If only I didn't have to go at all,” Integrity muttered. Galia pretended to not have heard.
Just as Integrity was starting to relax, Galia stood and announced. “It is time.” Integrity jumped to her feet, then didn't know what to do with herself. “The other servants and I will go before you and begin our duties. Your guards will escort you to the ballroom.” Integrity swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting her voice. Sensing her uncertainty, Galia gave her a warm smile. She murmured, “You'll do splendidly. Just remember to breathe.”
Integrity laughed, too loudly. “Yeah, it wouldn't be the best thing for me to pass out, would it?”
The retinue of women left the room silently, and Integrity took a deep breath to steady herself. “Are you ready, miss?” Paul asked, waiting politely in the doorway.
“Yes.” She forced herself to put on a brave face and she strode to the doorway and what she felt was certain doom. I'd rather be going to the gallows. At least then people would laugh to my face instead of behind my back.
They trio traveled all the way to the first floor. Integrity looked longingly at the double doors that led to the outside as they passed them. I could always make a break for it, she thought, depressed. Not that I'd make it far in heels and this stupid dress. She followed Paul down the hallway toward the sound of many people in a large space.
Though her presence wasn't announced, the servants obviously knew of her arrival; the door swung open at precisely the right moment, and Paul fell to the side, giving a slight nod of his head for Integrity to proceed in front of him.
The music continued uninterrupted, but the crowd quickly ceased their dancing and pulled apart, a way appearing before Integrity. She hoped she didn't look as sick as she felt as she forced herself to walk forward into the crowd. She felt like she was at a bear-baiting, and she was the unfortunate beast about to be teased to death. It took all of her self-control to not glance over her shoulder, convinced that the crowd was falling in behind her as she passed, preparing to pounce on her unprotected back. She tried to take a deep breath, but her corset stopped her. She let her mouth open slightly so she could get more oxygen, hoping she didn't look like a slack-jawed yokel.
It's like when I'd come upstairs from the basement at home, after I'd turned off the lights, and I felt like I had to run up the stairs before the monsters grabbed me. Only now I can't come up with an excuse to cover my running, and I don't really have a safe place to run to. I doubt the king and queen would protect me.
The pathway had angled to her right, and she now approached where the king and queen were standing, waiting her arrival. There were several people standing near them, obviously people of import if they didn't feel the need to move away as Integrity approached, though they did fall back behind the king and queen. Not sure what was expected of her, Integrity halted a few steps from the king and queen. Hoping she wouldn't topple over, Integrity sank into the deep curtsy appropriate for royalty, then rose as smoothly as she could. Some angry muttering broke out among the crowd, and she wondered what she'd done wrong this time. Before she could worry too much about it, the queen clapped her hands twice and the people moved away from the girl, though she could feel their gazes still trained upon her. The crowd broke into smaller groups and conversation resumed, dancing following quickly.
Integrity studied those around the king and queen, recognizing Jydda. Her stomach clenched. It would be so fun to take off my shoe and chuck it at her head, Integrity thought. Jydda looked as though Integrity were an ex-con that had been invited to the White House for dinner. Integrity glared right back for a split second, then forced her blank mask back into place. Don't let them know how you feel. Be a robot.
The king paced forward easily, extending one arm to Integrity. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm self-consciously, and he led her away from the queen and her entourage. He rested his free hand lightly on top of her own. He felt slightly cool to her touch.
“And how do you like the party so far?” the king intoned, obviously not really caring what her opinion was.
“It's . . . big,” she finally stated, not knowing what else to say. People moved deferentially out of their way as they passed, bowing their heads or dropping a brief curtsy as they did so. The king led her to a refreshment table, staffed by well-dressed and emotionless servants.
The king picked up what looked like a shot glass and sipped at the thick liquid inside. Integrity felt bile rise in her throat as she realized that his cup, and all of the others, were filled with blood. Seeming to not notice her reaction, the king looked at one of the servants and waved one hand in Integrity's direction. A delicate cup was produced, filled with a light-colored liquid. Integrity took it from the servant.
“Well? Drink up,” the king encouraged, savoring his own beverage.
“Apricot nectar. Nothing sinister, I assure you.” The king laughed lightly, then offered her his arm once more. The pair moved off along the wall. The king made small talk only with those who stopped him, answering any questions directed at Integrity before she had a chance to open her mouth, generally with platitudes like, “Yes, this is our Destine. Isn't she lovely?”
When he had finished his drink, the king handed off the empty glass to a servant, then placed his free hand back on hers, trapped between his body and arm. She flinched involuntarily. He looked at her questioningly. “Your hand,” she explained, keeping her voice low. “It's so warm now.”
He looked at his hand for a moment, as though expecting it's appearance to have altered. “Ah,” he muttered, the solution clicking in his head. “It was the blood. It changes our core temperature, for a time.”
Integrity made some noncommittal sound, her stomach churning. She was not prepared to openly discuss the king's diet. She wished she could free herself of the apricot nectar—the smallest sip would most likely result in an upheaval of sorts. At least I have it, she thought wryly. They could have offered me blood, after all.
As the pair continued around the edge of the room, the king gestured to a dais where a band played. “Do you recognize them?” he queried.
Integrity paid close attention to the music for the first time, then gasped. “Yeah, I know them! I have a couple of CDs. What are they doing here?”
“We asked them to play.”
A thought occurring to her, she asked hesitantly, “Are they . . . uh . . . human?” She didn't know whether or not it was politically correct to say “vampire.”
“Certainly not.” The king sounded almost scandalized.
Wishing she were brave enough to say it, she thought, So, what, humans aren't a good thing? What about me? Isn't this whole stupid ball in honor of me?
Integrity: Book One of the Destine Series Page 14
