Carriages, I had found out, were not conducive to writing. I realized early on that the wheel skipping over gravel paths and the movement of horses was intolerable. The moving box I was stuck in rocked and tossed, much like I was riding a bull. Except, this time, I couldn’t kick at its sides and force it to yield.

  The only thing I could do was stare out the window. I found that far more relaxing after I had already upheaved my stomach attempting to write. Ophelia said that it was normal, and it took her months before she was even capable of reading in a carriage.

  When I asked her how she even ate as a vampire, her emotionless face somehow became even more emotionless. I think it had to do with her not having to force her muscles or something, since she responded with a quiet, “We don’t. It’s from before that.”

  Of course, that killed the conversation, if the small sentences we exchanged beforehand even qualified. I found myself in this situation constantly. Even in school, after we finished working together on our homework and lessons, I never knew what to say. Do I talk to them about water, or a fascinating bug I saw last time? I didn’t know—that sounded boring, and I doubted the other girls wanted to talk about that.

  Melissa always talked about clothing and fashion and what was pretty, and it made the other girls flock. “You should tie blue lace around your blonde hair, Emily!” “Those green shorts look amazing on you, Jasmine!”

  She always knew what to say. Hell, Jasmine too. They’d say something silly, and then go talk about a cute dog. They could carry a conversation. Me? I was borin’. I only really liked talking about things I knew about, or about homework. I guess I’d continue being awkw—

  “You’re trying too hard, Lady Hart,” Ophelia broke the silence. She was holding an apple and a sharp knife, and her thumb guided the blade against the skin.

  “I know! I just want to get it all don—” I quickly responded.

  “No, not about your work. You’re actually pretty far behind as far as I’m concerned, but a promising upstart is far more valuable and interesting than an established face.”

  “Thanks? I don’t know if that was a compliment.”

  “It’s not, Lady Hart. I just said your work is subpar, but that’s expected of a peasant. It’s also not what I was talking about, or you. And you know that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just say what’s actually on your mind. You think social graces are something only certain people have? They’re not—you have to practice them, and you get better at knowing what to say.”

  “What are you—”

  “Let me guess what’s going through your head right now: you, a peasant, got sick in a carriage in front of a noble. When the noble tried to reach out, you snapped and shot back, and didn’t realize what you said? With that awkward silence, you were wondering how other girls talk without getting into each other’s feelings? Probably Ms. Carnwich in specific who, as much as she talks, doesn’t seem to bore or ever offend anyone?”

  “I’m that easy to read?”

  “I’ve lived your entire life at least a dozen times over by now. I’ve been in your shoes. The big difference is Ms. Carnwich isn’t afraid of being wrong or being hurt. She’s just reaching out to find a topic you both can relate to, even if she’s a bit wordy.”

  Her knife pushed into the skinned apple, as the wet juice poured out. It spilled against the silver of the blade, shining under moonlight. My eyes were glued to the sight, unsure if I was being threatened.

  “Lady Hart, pay attention. The most common way of talking to someone you don’t know is to do something like this: observe what they’re doing; ask a question; add a tiny bridge of yours. Now, you try.”

  “Ophelia, what are you even doing? And what’s with the knife? Are you threatening me?” I finally barked back.

  “Good! Though a bit too on the nose, Lady Hart.” Her knife reached the core of the apple and, with a quick flick of her wrist, she carved a slice right off. I didn’t even see the blade move before it returned to the flat of her palm. Her hand offered me the slice.

  “I don’t get what’s happening right now,” I admitted, but took the slice of apple. She began carving another piece.

  “I am doing what the other one does—the one Father and you know—oh yes, the [Witch] is doing.”

  “...Harassing me?”

  “No! Mentoring you. If you are to join my council, I can’t have you start a war with the Inquisition because you don’t know how to talk to someone.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Vampire politics—all politics—is dangerous. But that’s because conversation is. People make it out much more dangerous than it has to be. I’ve seen entire underworlds wiped out because two people just misunderstood each other.”

  I glared at her, and for Ophelia’s part, she offered me another slice of the apple.

  “Why do you keep doing that?”

  “Because I like you, Lady Hart. And I know you have trouble understanding that. You’re probably seeing all acts of charity as signs of abuse. You really have to let go of that, and just see that people only exist in the moment.”

  “Be quiet, Ophelia.”

  “As you wish, Lady Hart,” she acquiesced, and the carriage fell into another deep silence. Her knife continued to carve into the apple till it was neatly sliced. She moved a lot slower since she didn’t need to prove a point.

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  “Alright, what I’m really thinking is that… I have no basis for this scientific process, and all I’m really doing is going around random spots to ‘fill out a map,’ as if that even makes sense. I haven’t written anything about magic in the Mortis Agrariae, I haven’t bothered looking at my skeleton, and I’m not even really sure I want to murder your dad?”

  “Oh,” she added slowly. She returned to that doll-like state she seemed to be practiced in, and I couldn’t tell if she was angry, disappointed, or didn’t even care.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I get the problem, but like…”

  “Lady Hart, you do understand what your entire operation is actually forming, right? You created a rival underworld in the heart of another one. The fact is, when you crossed the line, you sealed your own death warrant. As soon as you became an [Acolyte] it was just a matter of time before someone would come and try to use you. You’re just starting it first.”

  I said nothing to that statement. Ophelia offered me another slice of the apple.

  “I don’t have time to worry about if your infatuation—not love—infatuation with my father will fail this year or in the next hundred. It seemed like it was the spark waiting for another war—the ones from the Inquisition and the Elders.”

  “Then why don’t we just spark it around us first?”

  “And how would you suggest doing that? We go up to the inquisitor’s hut and knock on the door and say, ‘Lord Elias is a monster, please kill him’?”

  “Nah, Addy wanted somethin’ better than that. The boy said he already knew Elias was a vampire and all, but that wasn’t a queen’s reason to do somethin’ ’bout it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh. Addy would probably listen to Jasmine and me if we just talked to him.”

  “Why on earth would he do that?”

  “’Cause we’ve known him since we were kids, and he’ll listen to m—us if we’re straight with him.”

  “He’d listen to you and Ms. Carnwich if you just asked him.”

  “Probably. It’d help if we had evidence—like anything illegal he’s done.”

  “...Just take Ms. Carnwich with you then,” she implored. “That would make our job easier. And it’d let you get back to what you actually want to do, which is farming.”

  “But I like talking to you!”

  “We will have more nights to talk, Lady Hart. And hopefully mornings, but we’ve the forest to see. We won’t be staying in the carriage for long. We’re going to be walking.”

  “Walking?”

  “You scout more areas when you’re actually exploring. There are no shortcuts, unless you could turn into a bird or a bat,” she said dryly. I swear I’d murder Maddy.

  It wasn’t very often that I was out after dark—I’d be too tired for anything like that. Curfew was when the sun was dipping under the horizon, and even camping was often safe.

  I shivered under the oppressive darkness the real wilderness had. I lost track of time long ago, following Ophelia as we wandered about. I could hear insects singing to each other. The rustling of grass and leaves all around me mixed with the feel of the night air. I felt alone.

  And it was so, so dark. In fact, the darkness bothered me more than the cold air did. I could feel the wind against my skin, but that felt more like pressure than chill. I guess I was becoming like a ghost. I shook my head, but felt an even colder hand grip my wrist.

  “Lady Hart, this way. This is what we’re going to do. You will play the role of the lady, and I will be your maid…”

  “Ophelia, you and I look the same—we look like travelers.”

  She looked down. “Oh, yes. Then we just do this the more fun way.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I told you I was hungry, and we’ve been lost for ages.”

  “We’ve been lost that long?”

  “You’ve been lost. I’ve been following you. And we’re coming near an encampment.”

  “What, no, I’ve been following you?” I tried to correct her.

  “Why would you follow me? You’re the one exploring.”

  “Because you’re my guide?”

  “You don’t even know where you’re going!”

  “Exactly!”

  Ophelia shook her head and raised her hand to silence us. “Okay, anyways, we can figure that out later.”

  Ophelia moved toward the treeline and hid among the trees. I ran beside her, and she pushed me into the ground to keep me from moving. Over the clearing was a small campfire surrounding four men. Their clothing was ragged and ripped, and they all had weapons on their backs.

  They seemed even more uncivilized than I did. Ophelia smiled. “Bandits. The lowest of the humanoid class.”

  “Aren’t they just people?” I countered.

  “The lowest class of them. You need not bother or worry about them.”

  “Okay, but they haven’t done anything. We’re the ones attacking them,” I whispered. “It’d be different if we were attacked, but this feels like…”

  “Premeditation? Yes.”

  “I don’t want to do this!” I hissed straight into Ophelia’s ear.

  That caused her to look at me. “So you couldn’t kill in the castle, and couldn’t kill in the forest outside. What did you think having an escort meant, Lady Hart? To spend the entire day with someone where nothing ever happens?”

  “Okay, but we’re making this happen. It’s not happening to us!”

  “I already told you I was hungry when I went out. What do you think that meant? And even your… ‘Addy,’ he’d have to deal with bandits if he saw them too.”

  “But we’re the ones attacking!”

  “They are literally sleeping on the dead—their clothes, their money, their food, whatever!”

  Ophelia’s hand rose to my lips and placed her index against them. “It’s fine, Lady Hart. I can see you do not want to hunt. Perhaps your [Witch] friend and I can share that—friends do not need to always be together. And, as much as you want to ignore it, you would have to do this anyway—where else are you getting souls from? The townsfolk? My kind? Dogs?”

  I turned around, back against the tree trunk and staring away from the encampment.

  Ophelia sighed. “I’m sorry. I hoped this could be our thing, but I can see I am wrong. I must still feed—but I am sure we can find other things to share together.”

  But I closed my eyes. I’ve seen blood and guts and gore before. It was just the act itself. I didn’t like the thought of seeing Mirchie torn apart, the memory of ripping a wolf’s throat out, or even seeing Laura put down a pig.

  But the butchering, cleaning, proportioning, and all that? That was just numbers and math. And having more skeletons would be useful, if I had to automate my farm…

  “Ophelia?”

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  I didn’t feel bothered at that sentence this time. We were a team, and my place was to command and make things work.

  Hers was to rule and make it happen. She was smarter than I was, but I had something she didn’t. So we needed each other.

  It felt nice to be relied on—which, I realized, is why I liked being with Madeleine and Jasmine. They wanted my help.

  I wish Elias or Addy would genuinely want my help…

  I shook that thought off my head.

  “Don’t break their skeletons. I need their bodies for my work.”

  Ophelia gave a small grin and licked her lips. She cracked her neck unnaturally and then smashed her fists together.

  “Yes, Mistress.”