She picked herself up from the mat just as Mika spat out blood and a shard of one of his teeth. She lay down her staff, trying to look less injured than she really was. He hadn't wanted to fight her with their bare hands, convinced he'd probably kill her – and so the bars had been his next natural choice. He rarely competed but he had always loved them; he was too big for the delicate system really, and had to focus hard to move as delicately along the poles as he wanted to. He wished now that he hadn't allowed her a staff. His jaw was going to be swollen for days. He'd eventually beaten her, of course, after what must have been twenty odd hard strikes to her knees and sides, but he had never exhausted her – her legs were crumbling beneath her by the time he had swept her off them, her body giving up but her mind prepared to continue. Mika remembered his own hatred of being a half-vampire just for that reason – his body had never quite followed his instructions however much he'd wished it, still tainted by too much human weakness. She had gotten in far more good hits than he'd imagined possible. At first, he had gone a little easy on her, nudging her back and testing her, and he'd been rewarded for that with a temporarily blinding strike to the junction between his nose and his forehead that had almost brought tears to his eyes. Mika had never been the most merciful of vampires, and so after that he had growled and made to finish her off, annoyed that she had taken advantage of him treating her kindly. In the end, finishing her off had taken him nearly an hour.
He touched his nose gingerly, trying to discern whether she'd actually broken it. When he was content that she probably hadn't, he too jumped down from the bars to stand beside her. Though she had struggled to a standing position a moment ago, she had since decided that she was happier sitting, and was leaning back against the lowest pole for support.
"There is no way," Mika said, sliding down to sit opposite her. "That you've learnt how to fight like that from Luca."
"Mostly," she shrugged, flattered although refusing to say so. She was frustrated with herself – she clearly felt she could have done better but hadn't been able to force herself to fight any further. "He isn't an awful mentor," she commented, a little defensive, eyes glancing up at him coldly. "I'm not sure he even wanted an assistant really. He's been good to me, all things considered."
Mika chuckled. "He's tolerant of that temper," he said, amused. If she were his assistant, he vowed he'd have knocked the disrespect out of her by now. Luca was entirely wrong for her – she was clearly talented, and yet Mika knew Luca would never be inclined to give her any opportunity to fight, and she was clearly still a little rebellious, but Luca would never be inclined to show her the importance of obedience.
She smiled, a little nastily. "He doesn't understand me at all," she said. She looked a little calculating in that moment in a way that reminded Mika of himself. Though he was noble, he wasn't blindly good as so many vampires tried to be. Mika knew he was manipulative, cunning, intimidating, and made no effort to become more similar to vampires like Seba and Vanez who were more concerned with being liked than succeeding. Arra certainly didn't mind about being liked. "He gets so upset about my little altercations, but they're working as I intended."
His brow furrowed. "Intended?" he repeated, watching her stretch her legs out to the side, straightening one knee with her hands, clearly in substantial discomfort.
"I tried playing nice for a night when I got here," she said, keeping her eyes on the knee that was clearly causing her some trouble. "It didn't get me very far. When Luca introduced me as his assistant, a few of his old friends even laughed." For a girl as proud and with as violent a temper as hers, Mika distantly wondered whether these old friends accounted for a few of the deaths at last Council. "To some I was a new kitchen assistant, some Luca's assistant to help him through his old age, some simply Luca's idea of a joke, some a new possibility of a mate that isn't a cook or Marta Vergard." Mika almost laughed – Marta was one of the most terrifying, troll-like women ever to have graced the face of the Earth, and he wondered if anyone still held out any hope of charming her after the hundreds of years she'd spent alone. He doubted if Arra had ever actually met the ageing vampires, but thought the two probably would have gotten along famously. He didn't have the heart to tell Arra that nobody considered Marta Vergard a possibility any more, and that it was only her they were interested in; it hardly seemed that was something she would relish hearing. "Relatively few considered that I might have been here to learn like the other assistants are."
Fascinating, Mika thought again, vaguely amazed. Perhaps she wasn't as disrespectful as he initially thought. It was well thought out certainly, something he might have done if he were in her position – pick as many unreasonable fights as possible just to show the men she wasn't scared, that she wouldn't be picked on or treated any differently to the other assistants just because of her gender. Very forward-thinking of her, he had to admit. She might have made some difference to human women, but he doubted she'd change anything in an ancient, traditionally sexist society like the vampire clan.
"One of these nights someone's going to knock my teeth out because of it," she said. "But I don't care. I'd prefer that, even if Luca isn't much looking forward to it."
Mika did laugh that time, and felt a little more at ease with her afterwards. She had volunteered so much information then that he suddenly felt that he had managed to befriend her, or at least he had made them into acquaintances. She no longer seemed eager to get away from him, no longer suspicious or judgemental of every move he made. "Hasn't Luca told them all to take you more seriously?" he asked her innocently, as though he didn't already know the answer to that question. In reality, he knew full well what she would be about to tell him. Mika was ahead of her like he always was with everyone, fiercely intelligent and quick to come to decisions – but it wouldn't hurt to hear her side of things before he got ahead of himself.
She raised a dark eyebrow. "You already know he won't," she growled, steely eyes glinting in the dim light. He was taken aback; and he felt a little pull in his stomach as though he was being drawn to her. He had known her two nights and already he had figured her out, and she him. "Luca has never really taken any of my ambitions seriously himself. And even if he did, nobody has any respect for what Luca has to say anymore. He should have given up on his job a long time ago; his skill is being lost with his age. It's not easy to respect a man who clings on desperately to his position the way Luca is doing."
Mika nodded. "If he gives up his job, though," he continued, in his on-going plot to draw her to the conclusion he wished her to reach. "What will you gain from that? Surely you only learn anything from him while you travel on his business."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not suggesting I wish him to leave the Generals," she replied. "However selfish, I'd like him to continue at least until he finally gets around to fully blooding me. I don't relish the idea of leading a quiet life settling down with Luca in the British countryside."
"So really," Mika said, shifting around until he was a little closer to her, then sliding one hand flat under her injured knee and clasping the other around the ankle. It was the first time he had touched her at all and he had half-expected a struggle, but she seemed to believe that his intention was to examine her injury and allow it. That had only been partly so, but Mika congratulated himself on pretending well enough that she fell for it. "This all means that you would have been better off with a younger mentor. One with a little more fight left in him." To punctuate the word fight he bent her ankle upwards, slipping his hand out from under her knee to press down on the kneecap and extend her leg as far as it should have been able to go. She hissed and gasped, but did not complain.
"That's exactly what it means," she agreed, watching him like a hawk as he pushed his luck, resting her ankle against his shoulder and pressing his fingertips into the back of her knee, against the tendon, and then against the side, ostensibly checking whether the cartilage was damaged. Uncomfortable in that position, she cautiously leant back on her elbows and slid her other leg into an arch next to his. His pulse jumped even though he knew it wasn't real. If he hadn't known her at least as much as he did, he might have misinterpreted it for a genuine invitation rather than a test. It was clever really - trying to see if he was really trying to help her or if he had the same intentions as vampires like Pascale Reuitter. Unfortunately, Mika was far too clever for that. He sniffed, and however much it pained him, slid back again, laying down the knee he'd examined.
"You don't seem too hurt," he concluded coolly. "It's probably a tendon." He waited until she had propped herself back up to a sitting position and then pulled her to her feet without asking if she needed the help – it was clear she was going to find walking on that leg a struggle, but he knew already that if he gave her the option of trying to do it alone she would most likely take it. She really was a prickly little thing, stubborn, suspicious, foul tempered – but he did like her.
"Perhaps I ought to have a chat with Luca," he said nonchalantly as they both stood, worse for wear from the injuries they'd inflicted on each other. He dreaded to think what she might be able to do to him as a full-vampire, but he was oddly eager to find out. "And see what can be done about finding another suitable candidate for a mentor."
She smiled. "I doubt anybody would take me," she sighed, though the look in her eyes told him that he she was fully aware that he intended to. It struck him briefly – had he been manipulating her to this conclusion, or had it been the other way around? – and the realization that she'd been playing him nearly made him stumble. Nobody outsmarted Mika Ver Leth – how had he allowed this to happen? "After all, he is so – how did you put it? – tolerant of my temper. I doubt he'll find anybody else like that."
"I'm certain he won't," Mika told her slyly. He looked at the heat in her eyes and briefly wished he'd taken the invitation and failed the test, consequences be damned. But he was a patient man, and he was sure that wouldn't be the last time she presented him with such an opportunity, if all went to plan (and all usually did, for Mika). "We'll see, I suppose," he concluded, as though she hadn't figured out his intentions. "I'll ask him about it tomorrow night. I'm sure he'll agree when I tell him it would be a shame for you to end up in the kitchens. Besides, I wouldn't trust you with the knives they have down there; it'd be carnage."
Finally, she laughed out loud. It was a deep, short laugh, perhaps more one of victory than of amusement, but all it made him think was how much he wanted her. You're a patient man, he told himself, and, keeping his eyes on hers, bowed lightly.
"A pleasure, Arra," he said smoothly, and then, not offering to help her back to her cell even though he was sure she would limp all the way there, strode away and out of the Hall. He would have gone back to help her had she called him back and asked, but he was aware the second he took his first step away from her that there was no chance of that. She was more likely to stay there until her leg healed than ask him to be her crutch. He had never wanted to talk to Luca Alsgaard more.
the titles of the chapters are the titles of songs i was listening to when i wrote each of them - i'm planning to post an extra chapter, like a playlist, when this fic eventually finishes. hope you're enjoying this, thank you rowan rawr for your continued reviewing! glad you're enjoying it so far.