‘“Seems I’ve little choice.”
‘“I did warn you. I’m twice as crafty as the devil. So, you two had best get on with it. Cut. Thrust. Have at thee, villain. All that wonderful, sweaty nonsense.”
‘“… You don’t want to learn too?”
‘“Sweet Redeemer, no. I shall stay well out of the way and make appreciative noises while you try to bash each other’s skulls in. Leave war to the fucking warriors.”
‘I moved the table and chairs, clearing us a space. Astrid retired to the windowsill, producing a stick of charcoal and a small sketchbook from her robes while I turned my gaze to Chloe. The lass was rolling up her sleeves, a blush on her freckled cheeks. She wore novice robes same as Astrid, but she was obviously ill at ease about being out of bed in the presence of a boy. She struck me as a quiet girl. Studious. Steady. And above all, devout.
‘“Why do you want to learn the sword, Sisternovice?”
‘“Not knowing how to use one is a good way to get killed by one, Initiate.”
‘“Good answer. Have you ever wielded a blade before?”
‘“I’ve studied it … in books. And I know I’m small. But I learn quickly.”
‘I sighed. This maid was green as grass. But Astrid was right – the fact that Chloe was a girl was no reason she couldn’t swing a sword. Unarmed, a lass that small would get murdered in a fight, sure and true. But by their very nature, weapons are force multipliers. Equalizers. And so, I put the point of my sword under Chloe’s chin, and lifted her head.
‘“You are small. But skill with a weapon counts for far more than power. So. First lesson, Sisternovice. Always look your enemy in the eye.”
‘Chloe met my stare. I saw a faint twinkle in her own. She clenched her jaw, lifted the practice sword. “Always look your enemy in the eye.”
‘We trained. Just basics. Shifting around the room while Astrid sketched by the tall stained-glass windows. By the end of our two hours, Chloe was dripping with sweat, and I was dry as dust. But the tiny girl’s eyes were alight, her smile bright as forgefire.
‘“He’s a very good teacher,” Chloe whispered as Astrid rejoined us on the floor.
‘“I saw.” Astrid kissed her sweaty cheek. “But you were also brilliant. A blade to match the Angel Eloise herself. Do you not think so, Initiate?”
‘“She was … excellent for a beginner.”
‘Astrid glowered at me sidelong. “Such praise could make angels weep.”
‘“It’s all right, Azzie,” Chloe smiled. “The Lord decrees we walk before we run.”
‘“And I’m sure you’ll be running circles about the good initiate soon, ma chérie.”
‘I saw Chloe blush at Astrid’s praise, just as I had when we first met. Sisternovice Rennier’s charm could turn glaciers to puddles, sure and true. But still …
‘“Shall we get to it? We’ve only a few hours to dawn, Sisternovices.”
‘“Oui,” Astrid nodded. “This gibberish won’t read itself, I fear.”
‘I moved the table back into place, hefting it effortlessly. Running her eyes along the shelves, Chloe took down an ancient brass-bound tome, its spine carved in a language so alien it almost made my eyes ache. I sat at table, with Sisternovice Sauvage to my left. Placing her sketchbook in front of her, Astrid curled up in the leather chair to my right, a dusty scroll in her lap, candlelight on her skin.
‘Glancing at her sketches, I saw she’d been drawing Chloe as we practised. Astonished at how she could conjure such life from simple lines on a page.
‘“Beautiful work, Sisternovice,” I murmured.
‘Astrid shrugged, chewing a well-worn fingernail. “I was trained by the masters of the Golden Halls as a girl. I used to be quite good. Rubbish now, though.”
‘Chloe scowled. “The Prioress would never have apprenticed you if that were true.”
‘“It’s not like she has a choice,” Astrid scoffed. “Charlotte’s eyes are failing. The old bitch needs to train replacements in inking the aegis while she may.”
‘“Astrid!” Chloe gasped, making the sign of the wheel.
‘“What? She is an old bitch. Trust me. Takes a young bitch to spot one.” Astrid gazed at her sketchbook, a faraway look in her dark eyes. Her face was a beautiful mask – the kind a mistress’s daughter would have learned to wear early in the Golden Halls. “When Mama insisted I be schooled in the arts, I’m not sure she imagined I’d be carving silver into halfbreed vampire boys’ skins, before sending them off to die in the dark.”
‘“Well, they made a fine choice in you,” I murmured, brushing fingertips over the lion beneath my tunic. “You’ve a keen eye and a keener hand, as Khalid said.”
‘Astrid glanced at my chest. “You were my first, actually. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
‘“Not too grim,” I lied.
‘She smiled at that, the beauty spot beside her mouth black as sin.
‘“A little pain never hurt anybody, eh?”
‘Chloe looked back and forth between Astrid and me, lips pressed thin. And my belly thrilled then, goosebumps tingling as a thin line of blood spilled from Astrid’s nose. The scent of it stabbed the air, the flood of rust and copper rushing through my skull, into my chest, and then, lower still. As always, I’d taken the sacrament at duskmass to quiet my thirst. But I found myself averting my eyes, reaching into my leathers.
‘“Nose,” I said, holding out my kerchief.
‘“Oh, fuck it all,” Astrid hissed. Tilting her head back, she spoke, voice smothered by the kerchief. “Merci. It’ll stop in a minute.”
‘I swallowed hard, pushing the thirst down, past my groin and into my boots where it belonged. Looking anywhere but at Astrid until she’d cleaned up that slick of brilliant, luscious red. I could feel Chloe’s stare, my teeth growing sharp, and for a moment, I felt horribly ashamed of what I was. The sin of my birth. My hunger. My nature. It was all well and good to be part of the silver flame burning between humanity and the darkness. But I could never allow myself to forget that darkness lived also in me.
‘The three of us settled in the candlelight, and once the press of my thirst abated, I was struck with how pleasant it was simply to be still for a time. The last seven months, my life had been sweating, praying, hunting, bleeding. I never thought I’d find such peace in simple reading. The words were a kind of magik, taking me by the hand and sweeping me into lands unseen, times unremembered, thoughts unimagined. Through all my years in San Michon, all the blood and sweat and darkling roads I walked, I learned one of my greatest lessons sitting in that Library with those girls in the still of the night.
‘A life without books is a life not lived.
‘Still, I found myself stealing glances at Astrid when I could, the scent of her blood tingling on my skin. She read swift as a storm, chewing through whole tomes while I managed chapters. I realized for all her cursing and brashness, Astrid was just as fierce a scholar as I was a swordsman. A girl who wielded books like blades.