It was late in the evening when the light rapping came at her door. Late enough that the winter's night had fallen hours earlier, but still not quite so for Belle to have been fully asleep, merely propped up with pillows in bed while dozing with a book in hand. She blinked blearily for a moment before calling for the servant to enter.
"My lady, he's here!" The young girl, Mina, dashed inside and hurriedly closed the door behind her. "He's answered your call!"
The book was tossed onto the bed as Belle frantically threw herself out of bed, shedding her nightdress to tug on the elegant gold gown Mina pulled from the wardrobe. She ran a brush through her tangled curls while the girl laced up the gown, trying her best to look at least somewhat presentable for one of the most powerful men in the country, perhaps even the world.
"Where have you put him?" she asked, heading out the door in a flurry of silk, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer than necessary.
"In the library, my lady," the girl answered as she followed Belle out of the room.
Taking a deep breath, Belle nodded. Do the brave thing. "Make sure no one in the court knows he's here," she cautioned the girl, "especially my father. Do you understand?"
It wasn't normal for the noblewoman to act the part around the servants, but Mina knew what was at stake and didn't fault her lady for the brusque manner. "Yes, my lady. I understand." She paused for but a moment before wrapping her arms around Belle and squeezing tightly. "Good luck," was whispered in Belle's ear and then she was gone, leaving Belle to traverse the drafty corridors alone.
Bravery will follow. She screwed her eyes up tight as she reached the grand doors to the library, willing her heart to not jump straight out of her chest, fearing he would hear it even through the doors. It was said their hearing and vision were extremely heightened, and she wished, if at all possible, for him not to know just now terrified she was at being in his presence on this particular occasion.
Pushing through the fear, she entered the room with a burst of false confidence, sending up a prayer to whatever higher power might be listening that she would not fail. She could not. Everything depended on it.
He stood with his back to the door, facing the fire that blazed high enough to both illuminate and warm the room against winter's chill. His profile was a match to the strong, mysterious image she'd retained of him from her one childhood meeting, and it was almost comforting to know he had not changed physically in all those years. Perhaps he still had that kindness within him that prompted a powerful man to offer a perfect rose to a crying child.
The garments he wore were similar, as well. Solid black, it seemed, with a leather coat etched with designs of intricate scrollwork that glimmered in the dancing light and fitted pants that disappeared into tall boots of the finest quality. She could see as she neared that there was a splash of deep crimson across his chest in the form of a silk shirt, adding to the air of danger about him.
"My lord," she spoke softly as she stopped at the ring of chairs surrounding the fireplace, "I thank you for coming."
When he turned away from the flames to regard her, it was with a sneer marking his features. "I am no lord, child." His voice was cool and controlled, with a lilting accent coloring the words. Had he set out to make her one of his conquests, she had no doubt her knees would be turned to jelly at the sound of it, but in this instance it had no application to the matter.
"And with due respect, sir, I am no child." Though she supposed, to someone his age, they were all akin to children, especially with their petty wars, like children arguing over toys in the playroom. From the look he gave her, she also judged that she should try not to be so very much herself and keep her tongue in check, lest she offend him with impertinence.
His dark eyes raked over her form, taking in the decoration on her dress, the heeled shoes on her feet, and the way her hands clenched at her sides. "Are you frightened, dearie?" He stepped closer to her, until he was but an arm's length away, and it was then that she noticed the cane he carried and its ornate silver handle.
Honesty. She would not lie to this man when she so desperately needed his help. "Yes, sir, I am."
"Of me?" he enquired, pressing a pale hand to his chest.
"No."
Narrowing his eyes, he lifted a hand toward her, revealing long, pointed nails at the end of thin fingers. "I can tell you're lying," he warned, stepping closer still to take a curl between his fingertips, those nails brushing against the line of her jaw as he did so. "I can hear the rushing of blood in your veins…"
"I'm not lying!" she protested indignantly, meeting his gaze without hesitation and steadfastly ignoring the notion of his paying attention to anything to do with her blood. "I'm not frightened of you, there's no reason for me to be." Not too much of one, anyway. "I'm frightened of what will happen if these negotiations fall through."
A dark chuckle flowed past his lips as he let go of the curl and moved past her to peer at a shelf of books dedicated to the history of her land. "Negotiations? You assume I've come here to deal with you."
Belle forced herself to stand a little straighter. "Why else would you be here?" she tossed back. "You know from my letter that my people are in trouble. The armies are approaching and we have no hope of surviving the onslaught in our current weakened state. We need help."
"So you desire a deal with the Vampire, then." A sigh seemed to sink through his body, sliding down from shoulder to toe like water falling down stone. It gave an impression of weariness that had not been there before, and that was completely beyond her understanding.
Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, she repeated to herself before diving in headfirst. "Sir, I grew up hearing stories of your dealings, all of them casting you in darkness, claiming you to be a monster," she explained, picturing herself in front of her father's council instead of beside a creature that could kill her in the blink of an eye. "But what I have taken from those tales is a sense of fairness; the Dark One never goes back on his word, exactly, but instead exploits the holes left in contracts signed without proper inspection. Anyone else we could deal with would take payment and run, or turn on us while we're at our weakest, but you won't."
He was quiet for a long while, as if truly contemplating her words. Finally, with his gaze still on the spines of books, he asked, "Do you really have such faith in me, dearie?"
"I do." She would brook no argument on the issue.
"Then let us strike our bargain."