The dining room’s great windows had been covered in sheer curtains; dim light filtered in, illuminating particulars of dust in the air. Agnes gripped her wrist behind her back to prevent herself from itching her nose. A woman with lesser training might have revealed her irritation. Instead, her face was carefully blank, her shoulders tight, as she waited beside the covered, porcelain bowl that sat at the head of the table.

The dining room itself was a strange place. Deep, green wallpaper had peeled away to reveal the grey stone beneath. The tables were covered in dust, but for the principal seat. 

Agnes huffed. Were she the head of the household, she would keep even the unused parts clean and presentable. Lady Rosemary ought to fire this Aster fellow and replace him with someone who actually knew what cleanliness meant.

The door creaked open. “Miss Murray,” Aster exclaimed, “you’re early.”

“I believe you are actually late. I was told six o’clock. It is now six thirty.”

“It isn’t that bad,” Aster said. “Lady Rosemary sometimes takes hours to get up.”

“Then why is her food already served?”

“That isn’t for her,” said Aster. “I had the cooks prepare it for you.”

“At her seat? I thought this was her castle.” Agnes huffed. “If I am a member of staff, then I should eat with them.”

Aster smiled, striding to the chair. On this morning, he wore a sheer, dark veil over his head. It occurred to Agnes that although she knew of the vampiric intolerance to sunlight, she had little idea of its power. Sheer veils seemed to be enough. “Think of it this way; you’re warming it for her.”

“Fine.” Agnes sat on the chair’s plush cushion (too plush! someone might fall asleep in this) and opened the lid of the bowl. Before her was a simple breakfast; salted porridge, complete with a spoon. “Got any coffee?”

Huffing, Aster crossed his arms. “I’m afraid we only have tea. Nothing so new as coffee.”

Agnes frowned. “Coffee houses are flourishing enough that even someone like me can afford them. They’re hardly new, sir.”

“Well. We are quite old.” Aster shook his head, and the veil fluttered back and forth. “I myself have served Lady Rosemary in this place for five hundred years. And the castle is five hundred years older than that.”

“And in this time, she has never left?” Agnes took a bite of porridge, then another, and then another.

“This place is much too beautiful to leave. And you know how dangerous Cordis can be, crawling with hunters as it is. They’ll kill her.”

Absolutely, Agnes thought. “Surely such an ancient vampire as Lady Rosemary could defeat them.”

“Would you risk it all for a night of revelry? No; much better to have blood brought, to keep in hiding here, where it is safe.”

Finishing her bowl, Agnes stood. “Then why hire a maid from outside?”

Aster raised an eyebrow. “Lady Rosemary insisted. Someone new, she said. Someone who does not know this place, or her, or anything about it.”

“I suppose a vampire lord may request anything she desires.”

A long creak caught the attention of both. Agnes turned to watch the kitchen doors unfold as a sweet, floral scent began to permeate the room.

In the doorway stood a slight figure. Beneath a pure, white nightgown and a veil, Agnes caught sight of a pair of pale feet, bare on the cold floor. Visible through the sheer veil were two glistening, red eyes.

“That she may,” said the woman, in a soft voice not unlike the ringing of a bell. “You must be my new maid.”

“You may call me Agnes,” said Agnes, falling into a practiced curtsy. “I am delighted to meet you, my Lady.”

Lady Rosemary stepped gently towards her and lifted a delicate hand to her face. “You may call me Rosemary. We are to be close, after all.”

Agnes took Rosemary’s hand. It was small and soft despite its fierce claws, and as cold as ice. She pressed her lips to the back of it in a traditional sign of deference, and glanced up. “If we are to be close, might this handmaiden see her lady’s face?”

Rosemary’s finger twitched. “She may.”

The two sat there a moment, one in curtsy, one standing upright, stiff as a corpse. Then Agnes rose, and drew her fingers (for once bare, the brown skin and black claws and silver bracelets visible) to the edge of Rosemary’s veil. It was smooth as silk beneath her fingers and heavier than she expected. 

“Go on,” Rosemary crooned.

Agnes lifted the veil.

The woman beneath it was perhaps the most beautiful woman that Agnes had ever seen. Her eyes were a bright, blood red, set into her round face like precious jewels. Her eyelashes were thick and delicate, fluttering now in uncertainty like a bride before her wedding day. And her lips were a soft and gentle pink, like sweet rose petals. All of this was framed by a mass of thick, wavy hair that poured down her shoulders in rivulets of white. She looked like the stars made human, like sea foam given flesh, like–

–like a hideous monster that Agnes was to destroy.

Agnes forced a light smile upon her face. “There you are, Lady Rosemary. I have been waiting a very long time for this.”

Rosemary smiled, drawing her gaze to the side. Her cheeks flushed pink. “So have I.”

The eldest of vampires, the progenitor of her kind, was not at all what Agnes had expected. She was not tall, nor was she spindly and monstrous. She clacked her terrible talons together with a jittery nervousness that contrasted her age of a thousand years old.

“How do you feel?” Agnes asked.

Rosemary glanced up at her. Suddenly, Agnes grew quite aware of the height she had on the tiny lady before her. 

How very lucky she was, that she had learned restraint. Especially since... this woman was the cause of the plague of vampires in the city, spreading pain and suffering with her blood. Agnes reminded herself to focus. She was here to gain Rosemary’s trust, and then to betray it.

Rosemary smiled. “I have not spoken to someone new in so very long. I hope I do not bore you.”

“With centuries of things to say, how could you?” Agnes asked. 

“I suppose... you have not heard my thoughts before.”

“I have not.” Agnes thought a moment. “Nor have you eaten. Aster, sir?”

Aster piped up from where he had been previously silent. “The servants are already on that, Miss Agnes.”

A moment later, a door swung open in a patch of wallpaper. Out stepped a maid, wearing the same black dress and white apron that Agnes had donned. On a silver tray was a goblet and a glass bottle. She set it down on the table, before the chair.

“Allow me to pour, my Lady. You sit down.”

“I always do,” Rosemary sighed, settling into place. 

With that, Aster poured a cup of blood from the bottle. “A special blend to mark the special occasion, donated by our friend in the Hunting Clans.”

Agnes sputtered, biting out, “You know a Hunter? But... they are so dangerous.”

She did not stop to congratulate herself on the subterfuge.

“What Hunter doesn’t wish for immortal life?” Aster said. “You would be surprised by how many allies we have in the organization. What wouldn’t they do for a bottle of Lady Rosemary’s blood?”

His shoulders rose, while Rosemary’s seemed to droop. 

“Could they not fund it on their hunts?”’

“Perhaps they do,” said Aster, “but, they are far likely to steal it successfully. We, meanwhile, will give it away for a donation or three. We must keep Lady Rosemary fed, after all, if we are to continue in our good work.”

“Good work?”

Aster frowned. “You must not ask so many questions. Remember your place, maid. You are here simply to be a friend.”

Through all of this, Rosemary had sat silently, sipping her cup of blood. Now she pulled her veil back over her face, leaning over the table like a dying lily. Agnes bit down her disappointment at the loss of Rosemary’s face, and carefully did not think about why she might feel that way. 

“My apologies. I am poor and no little of the world of vampires. I am simply curious as to how the society I’ve entered works.”

Aster smiled. “You need not think of anything but caring for Lady Rosemary. Isn’t that right, my Lady?”

Rosemary nodded, quiet. A moment later, she pushed to her feet. The chair squeaked across the old floor. “I am going to bed.”

“So soon? But I have more courses for you.”

“I have already eaten. I do not wish to be in the light today.”

Agnes stepped after her. “Please, my Lady, at least allow me to prepare you for bed, and get to know you as your handmaiden.”

“I will call you if I wish to!” Rosemary cried. “But right now, I wish to be alone.”

With that, she rushed from the room, slamming the doors behind her. Her sweet scent lingered in the room, tickling Agnes’ nose.

Oh, she thought, this is going to be difficult.