Page 11 of Velvet Folds (Velvet)

Chapter 11

In which our heroine’s secret is revealed

It is mid afternoon, a soft breeze flutters the curtains, and I have placed a polished stone onto the loose pages I’m not working on, and have tried, again, to get the leaf shape of the stone poppy just right.

My fingers have started to cramp. I’ll have to take a break soon… and I am afforded the perfect excuse.

“You have a visitor,” my father says quietly while he rocks near the embers still glowing from this morning’s fire.

And not a moment later, Felicia taps on the open door and softly says, “Cooee.”

“Hello,” I glance at her and she waves.

“Give me one second.” I scribble out the last of what I know about the poppy in my hand.

She peers over my shoulder and I see her grimace even out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t comment on my spelling.”

“I wasn’t going to.” But her smile is strained.

“We both know that the pictures are the most important part.” And then the “do or do not eat” mark beneath the plant’s name.

The compendium is far from complete. Each page takes time, each drawing needs the right details, the correct colors. The size and shapes have to be exact… any variations need to be included.

I’ve spent more time on the nightshade than anything else so far. And with good reason.

As I set the poppy’s page to the side to let it dry, I remind myself that all the poisons should be first. Just in case.

Felicia speaks softly to my father while I wash the errant slashes of ink from my hands. And when I’m done, she has him laughing, a wide and genuine smile on his face.

“You need to write your stories down, Miss Lecia.” He always calls her that. Patting her hand, he turns his face toward me. “The two of you will have plenty to pass on to the children of the village.”

Felicia doesn’t notice the way he worded it, but I do. The way he speaks about children… but never my children, has never bothered me before. Now, I wonder.

“I actually came to give you this.” Felicia holds out a basket full of baked goods and sweets and a few newly woven dish cloths. There are quills and a new inkpot inside it as well.

“What on Earth?” I look from the extravagant gift up to her and she looks a little sheepish.

“I owe you my life, Cia. That is not enough, but I don’t plan for it to be the last thing I bring you.”

“How do you owe her your life?” My father’s smile hasn’t faded, and I don’t have the chance to tell a lie to keep it there.

“She took my place,” Felicia says, guilelessly.

“Your place?” The way the smile melts away makes Felicia look at me with concern. And I can see him working through the myriad things it could mean. I know when he’s decided on the worst possible outcome when his jaw sets.

The worst possible in his opinion. “When the moon bled?”

“Y-yes.”

My father is so quiet, so still… and then he slams his fist down on the arm of the rocking chair.

Felicia’s eyes go wide and she takes a step away from him.

“Thank you, but these aren’t necessary,” I say quickly and gently nudge her toward the door, before softly telling my father, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Felicia whispers. “I didn’t realize he didn’t know.”

Because she thinks I tell him everything.

But I shake my head and squeeze her hand. “Don’t be. He would have found out, eventually.”

“But not until you wanted him to.” She screws her eyes shut, shoulders dropping. “That’s important, Cia.”

I don’t remind her that my father is not like her father… because he’s different. I don’t fear a beating when I return inside. He may yell. He may throw things, but never at me. He may begin a tirade of all the dangers related to Adrik’s particular kind of monster.

He’ll certainly be disappointed…

“Let me deal with him.” I tell her. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she apologizes again and she leaves.

As soon as she’s out of sight, I turn back to my home and I am not surprised to see him standing in the doorway, waiting.

I am not certain how much he heard, but it doesn’t really matter.

“What she said is true?” he asks, the words getting muddled in his low anger, reminding me that he once spoke a completely different language.

I take a deep breath. “Yes.”

Cursing, he goes back to his chair, hand gripping his face. He curses into his palm. And then, he says, “She would not have died… as evidenced by you being here now.”

“We both know I am made of sterner stock than Felicia. And you know that one’s heart does not need to stop beating for their life to end.”

“Every experience changes us. She will learn that eventually, she simply would have learned it sooner if you’d let the traditions play out the way they should.”

“No.”

“No?”

“The story she told you today? Do you think she would have told it to you if she’d endured a feeding that terrorized her? Do you think she would still laugh and smile and look at this world through eyes that see the good in it?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “She might have. You can’t know.”

But that hesitation tells me he knows I’m right, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“And it was my choice not to leave that up to chance.” And even though I know I shouldn’t, I tell him. “I asked Lord Adrik for a favor.”

The stillness takes him over again and he grips the chair’s arm more tightly. “Did he give it to you?”

“Yes. Felicia’s father is dead.”

He curses and shoves himself to standing. “If he granted your favor, he’ll come for you on the next bleeding moon.”

I don’t tell him he’s come for me already, I follow him into his bedroom and watch as he throws open a dusty trunk and begins to dig.

“Vampires don’t do anything without expecting more,” he says with a soft irritation. “There are very few reasons he would kill a man for you. But whatever the reason he’ll want something from you in exchange.”

He lifts out an ugly stake, sharp and jaggedly carved from white ash.

No. “I am not going to kill him.”

“Yes, you are. You are my daughter… and that means you must.”

The way he says it, I know he doesn’t mean that I owe it to him… he means because he has a legacy to uphold… and he needs me to finish it for him.

But I can’t. I won’t.

And arguing with him will only agitate him.

Though… he is already agitated.

“He might come for you sooner.” Stalking to me, he puts the stake in my hand. “Keep this with you always. No matter where you go, I want you to have it.”

“ Father. ”

“Do not argue with me, Lucia.”

“Fine. I will put it in my harvesting basket, in case I need it while out in the night.” But I won’t.

I place it at the bottom of my basket, buried beneath the cloth and leave it there.

I’ll never use it, but I can’t take it out. He’ll check. I know he will.