Free Bloodwitch by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page A

was.
    Jaguar caught my wrist, his grip strong enough to bruise as he lifted me to my feet and said, “You must be Vance.”
    “I …” All vampires had black eyes, but somehow Jaguar’s were darker. Deeper. I swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
    “Nonsense, Vance,” he interrupted. “I’ve been instructed to make sure you’re happy and well taken care of. Jeshickah is very concerned for your well-being.”
    There was something so honey-sweet in those words that they seemed foul, like they could have flies or other things stuck to them. On the other hand, hearing that Mistress Jeshickah herself had expressed concern for me was almost exciting enough for me to overlook the fact that he had dropped her title.
    I glanced over at the other man, Nathaniel, to see if he was angry that I had interrupted their conversation, but all I saw on his face was amusement. He shook his head but said nothing before he continued up the hall in the direction from which I had come.
    “Thank you,” I said. There, that was polite.
    I tried to shake off the negative impression. Jaguar hadn’t done anything mean to me. He hadn’t said anythingexcept that he was supposed to be taking care of me. He hadn’t hit me or yelled at me, like Lord Daryl had done, or dragged me through snowy woods like Malachi.
    “Rose, you are dismissed,” Jaguar said to my guide. “I assume you were on your way to see Taro?”
    “Yes, sir,” I answered, instinctively falling into formality.
    “Relax, boy. You and I don’t need to use titles with each other,” Jaguar said. “As it turns out, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. My mother was one of your parents’ people, and Jeshickah seems to think that means you and I should … bond.”
    The last word had an ironic lilt to it, but a more pressing matter had my attention—a question more important than any other I could ask.
    “Why do you call her Jeshickah?” I asked. “Taro told me I should never call her by name without her title. He never does. He says it’s rude.” It was also rude for me to question a vampire about anything … but I needed him to clarify before I could have any idea whether or not to trust him.
    “
You
should never forget her title because you are a bird, and therefore nowhere near to being her equal,” Jaguar answered. “Taro uses her title because he knows he is not her equal, either. No one really is. I frequently do not, because … well, I’m rude. Taro will agree.”
    The half smile on his face seemed very honest and almost elicited a matching reaction from me, before I squashed it. He rapped sharply on one of the elaborately carved doors, which was immediately opened by a thin man with a collared throat just like Rose. Another slave, I decided.
    He half bowed to Jaguar, saying, “Master Taro is completing a project but will be with you momentarily. May I be of service while you wait?”
    “Vance would like some breakfast,” Jaguar replied. He hadn’t consulted me first, but as soon as food was mentioned, my stomach rumbled, so I supposed he hadn’t needed to. “Something simple.”
    “Yes, Master.”
    The slave slipped out of the door like a shadow, leaving us alone in a sitting room that—like all of the building I had seen so far—lacked windows. The furniture was hard wood, polished until it shone, and a tapestry woven of rich colors in abstract shapes warmed one stone wall. There was no fireplace, but there were runes above the main doorway that resembled those that warmed the stream in the greenhouse. Was this the kind of magic that Mistress Jeshickah thought I might be capable of? If I was, it would mean that people like Lady Brina wouldn’t need to hire the unreliable cretins Lord Daryl complained about. On the other hand, why would people like Malachi feel so threatened ifmy magic was meant to be used for comfort and cosmetic things like this?
    There were two other doors, but both were