Bettina had corrected her: "A tradesperson. . . ."
Now, in a coaxing tone, the vampire said, "Come, Bett, show me what weapon I'll encounter tonight if I displease you." Was there a hint of a smile on those grim lips of his?
"Fine." She demonstrated how the rings interlocked to form brass knuckles.
He gently grasped her fingertips, holding her hand to examine the rings thoroughly. At the contact, some kind of electric charge passed through her, like a bolt of . . . anticipation.
He must have felt something too. His voice was huskier when he asked, "You devised this yourself?"
"Yes." She stiffened, drawing her hand away. "All by my little self." Why were others always so surprised by this?
"It's clever."
Chin raised, she said, "I can see a problem and visualize a solution."
"What design are you working on now?"
"A commissioned piece."
"You sell your work?"
She bristled. "What of it?"
"I have a niece who is obsessed with weapons. She would love to have something like this."
"You want to commission a piece?"
"Absolutely. And then I'd insist on watching you work."
Bettina blinked at him. "You really are interested?"
"I'm a weapons master. You create weapons. I think it's fascinating."
"You don't have a problem with your Bride being in trade? It's not exactly decorous. I thought an old-fashioned vampire like you would want me to quit."
"Though I'll be loath to let you out of our bed for any reason, I'd never try to restrict something you enjoy."
Another fitful adjustment of her mask. Let me out of bed?
"And as for the trade stigma, I've lived my life obeying the rules, enforcing the rules. I cast off that rigid existence to be with you. Perhaps the beauty of being a queen is that you get to do whatever you like."
"I'm not naive." I might be naive. "I know that's not how the world works."
"Then change the world."
The world? She could barely change the subject.
"For now, let's discuss this commission," he said.
"How would you even get the gift to your niece?"
"Not easily. She never leaves the kingdom, so I'd have to send it through another one of my family. I'm not shunned by them all. Well, not exactly. Let's just say that I suspect I haven't seen the last of the Dacianos." There seemed to be a wealth of emotion in that statement, but she couldn't decipher it. Relief? Grief? "When will you finish the piece you're working on now?"
She mumbled, "Probably sometime after I actually start it. Which should occur after I figure out what to create."
That hint of a grin teased his lips once more.
"My patroness is very exacting, and I've sent her weapon after weapon. She wants something new."