Sim wandered through the rows and rows of books. Everything she had read said that vampires were monsters. But the man below was different. He moved with the same fluid animal grace of the queen, feared the sunlight, but that was where the similarity ended. He was candid and blunt, his conversation and manner more human than she could have ever imagined.

She tried to imagine him killing and drinking the blood from his victims, and shuddered as the image flashed in her mind. He was a monster, just like any other. The only difference was his better disguise. She heard the din of the kitchens below as the dishes were washed and preparations made for lunch.

Guilt rose up at the back of her mind, for leaving Prince Awain to deal with them all alone. But she couldn’t have stayed one more moment in that room if she had tried. She felt too unsafe, too exposed to the both of them. Weak and small.

“This is an impressive collection you maintain here. I would never expect it from such a small kingdom, or any kingdom where Morgan is queen.”

She dropped the book she was carrying, stiffening as the book hit the ground and she heard the sound of its cracking spine. The prince stood right behind her, seemingly oblivious to her shock. He picked out a volume of fairytales and placed it in her hand. The touch of his skin was enough to break her out of her frozen state. Impossibly cold and smooth, more marble than skin.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, striding quickly out of the room.

She didn’t know what she was sorry about, but it seemed best to get out of his way. Her room held its fair share of books. It would be her sanctuary the entire time the prince stayed in Mirtlemeadow. She locked the doors behind her, bolting the doors and opening all the windows. Never had sunlight seemed so beautiful.

* * *

The prince shrugged as she ran out of the room. It was amazing how fast those spindly legs carried the girl. She was more than eager to escape his presence. Most of the furniture in the library had rested undisturbed for months. But there was a writing desk and an armchair by the window, covered with scrolls and books.

He waited in the shadows until the last of the sunlight failed to pour in through the window, and sat down at the desk. Hidden beneath the superficial layers of books on etiquette and gardening were her real reading. Books on monsters and magic.

So the little waif was doing something other than running away. He looked at the notes prepared, the ancient scrolls she had somehow unearthed and understood. He wondered if Morgan had any idea of what the little princess was trying to do. Perhaps the girl wasn’t brave enough to attempt to kill the queen, but she definitely planned on escaping.

All night he studied her research. It wasn’t a recent effort, but the culmination of more than a few months. She had figured out things that even he didn’t know. The girl systematic, thorough. The prince finished up her notes as the first of the sun’s rays started to shine through the window.

With a final glance, the prince retreated back to the shadows. The little princess was nowhere to be seen throughout the day. She took her meals in her room, occasionally venturing out at mid-day to walk through the gardens. Always choosing the brightest of places, the furthest away from the queen’s rooms.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked her the first time he managed to catch her. He found out she usually had her breakfast in the castle kitchens. She was sitting at a crudely made table, eating her sweet bread and cheese. At the other end there was a large woman cutting up bloody meat.

He took the goblet his maid offered him and drank. It was his daily dose, a goblet of donated blood from his servants. It wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. But as his parents had drilled into his brain, no amount ever would.

The girl looked at the dark red fluid doubtfully, and he drank slowly, resisting the urge to gobble down more. After all, that wasn’t the urge he had to resist. He had to resist every exposed throat and wrist, every healing scrape and reddened bruise. Resisting temptation was as simple as breathing. Sometimes it was as simple as breathing underwater, but he was good at holding his breath.

“It’s blood given willingly. A couple of spoons from a number of my servants, they have a rotation for it and all that. They don’t suffer from the lack of it. And I… I benefit immensely from their gift.”

“You can do that?” she asked.

“Of course. It is the way our entire family survives. What did you think, that we just went for peoples’ throats whenever we felt thirsty?”

He ended his question in a laugh, but she wasn’t laughing. Apparently Morgan hadn’t acted civilized about her thirst for even one day. A life every time Morgan needed blood. No wonder the maids scurried at the sight of him. It was no wonder no children were allowed within his sight.

“Your queen is an exception,” he told her. “We knew that she was ruthless. But my family never imagined that she would behave so heartlessly. The beast… it’s not entirely who we are. There’s always a human remnant within us. For my family, that human remnant is a compass for our actions. For Morgan, I see that it’s more of an afterthought.”

“So you don’t kill people?”

“When there is a need to, we do. Criminals are hanged, and enemies are defeated. That occurs in every kingdom. We are not evil, Sim.”

The prince hardly knew what caused him to use her name so freely. She didn’t notice the lack of etiquette however and walked out of the room. He told her truth, but it would take much more for her to believe him.

* * *

“Not evil,” she pondered out loud. Bloodsuckers who claimed they were benevolent. There was no way to tell if he was lying. His servants would lie to save their own skins. She wasn’t experienced in drawing the truth of out of them. Sim wondered if it was true, and walked into the servants’ quarters.

The older servants were too afraid to take any risks with the queen. But some of the younger ones lusted for adventure just as she ached for freedom. A nicely put request worked wonders among them. One of the maids was the wildest of them all, procuring silver for her. Hara even added excessive amounts of garlic to the queen’s food in hopes of poisoning her. All she had done was cause irritation, but it still seemed to bring the young maid immense pleasure.

“Hara,” Sim called out into her room.

“Whatcha need me fo’ now?” the girl asked back. They were the opposite in every way. Hara was a tall tanned girl with a strong body and a mop of brown curls at the top of her head. Her brown eyes were always darting around a room, her lips ready to open and babble out everything she knew. Thankfully she kept her gossip restricted to the servants’ quarters.

“I need you to befriend one of the prince’s servants.”

“Who, the da ole man?”

“No. The other one.”

Sim saw the fear rush into and out of Hara’s eyes in a frantic flash. In a second she was back to her usual calm. The fear would still be there, but Sim knew about hiding fear. As important as it was for them to spy and acquire knowledge, it was even more important that no one ever found out.

“He claims that his family… that they do not kill anyone for blood, that his servants willingly give it to him.”

Hara snorted. “I’d willingly give it too. Much less painful than fightin’ back.”

“No. I saw him drinking blood from a cup.”

“Same way you’d drink yer’ wine, yer’ ‘ighness. Don’t mean the grapes still hang from their vines.”

“Well, that’s what I need you to find out. Come to my rooms if you need anything.”

Sim stepped out of the room quickly and retreated back to her room. It was a good enough place to hide, as long as she closed the windows at night and threw them open at dawn. She hoped she wouldn’t be stuck there for long. The castle wasn’t very large, but she missed the freedom of being able to roam it as she pleased. With all the new visitors she could barely risk walking into an empty room or a shadowed hall.

It wasn’t just the prince, either. It was Awain and his old witch. The old woman stared at her with an expression that Sim could not begin to comprehend. It was pity, guilt, and most of all fear. Sim had never done anything to the old woman.

She stopped midstride as she realized that the old woman might fear not what she had done but what she could do. What she would do in days to come.