to teach me, but we’d both given it up as a lost cause. Lucy, strangely, had picked it up really quickly and embroidered a tapestry of Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow for my last birthday. Somehow, I didn’t think that was going to help me right now. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at embroidery.”
Her lips pursed. My palms went damp. Her fangs were out, as pointed and delicate as little bone daggers. “That’s disappointing, Solange.”
I was going to die because I couldn’t embroider roses on a pillow.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Can you draw?”
“A little. I can throw pots. I don’t suppose you have a kiln?”
“No, but duly noted.” She waved her hand and suddenly Marguerite was back. I hadn’t seen her leave, and I hadn’t seen her return. She was carrying a small table like it weighed nothing and a chair. She set them down in front of me, then produced a sketchpad and pencils. “Go on,” Veronique murmured. “Draw me something.”
I wiped my hands and reached for a pencil, eyes racing over my surroundings for a subject. If she asked me to draw her, I might as well kill myself right now. I noticed a clay vase in the corner, holding a bouquet of stakes. I drew vases and pots all the time, getting ideas for my work at the pottery wheel.
I broke the tip of the first pencil. I took another one but had to wait until the tremor in my fingers subsided before trying again. This time I drew lightly, trying to pretend that my future didn’t actually depend on it. Veronique glanced at my page.
“Passable.”
I let out a breath in a big whoosh. She was like the scariest teacher ever. It made me glad I’d never gone to a regular school.
“And now for music. The harp? Piano?”
The harp? Was she serious? My mother taught me how to avoid hunters, shoot a crossbow, and stake a rabid vampire at twenty paces, not how to play “Greensleeves.”
“I . . .”
She rose from her chair with the speed of an ancient vampire and the grace and posture of a prima ballerina.
A prima ballerina who was about to pass judgment on me.
“No music at all?” She did not sound pleased. I stumbled back a step before deciding to hold my ground. I’d been telling Lucy for years not to run because it only made vampires chase you. “Tell me, what can you do?”
I felt useless and insignificant. And I couldn’t think of a single thing I could do that might impress her. How did you impress a nine-hundred-year-old vampire matriarch?
“Math?” she snapped.
“Yes,” I replied, relieved. “I’m good at math.”
“History?”
“Yes.”
“When was the Battle of Hastings?”
“1066.”
“Who was Eleanor of Aquitaine’s first son to rule?”
“Richard the Lionheart.”
“What year were my twins born?”
“1149.”
“Can you fight?”
“Yes.”
“With a sword?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
She clapped her hands once and another woman walked in, wearing the traditional white fencing uniform and face guard. I could tell by her eyes, which were light green, that she was a vampire. I had no idea if she was a Drake. And though I was pretty good at fencing, how was I supposed to beat a vampire? I was still human, and it was late enough that I would have been yawning by now if I’d been any less scared. My opponent gave me a mask and a vest and a foil.
“Begin,” Veronique demanded before I’d even had a chance to test the balance of the blade in my hand.
We began.
I gave the proper salute, bringing my handle up to eye level and bowing. My opponent did the same. Then she lunged. I cross-stepped backward, blocking her attack. The slender blades scraped together. She lunged again and I used a circular parry, low this time. I didn’t touch her, not once. She was too quick, a blur of white. I’d never felt slower. I was at a distinct disadvantage but I kept going.
“Riposte!” Veronique hissed, and I obeyed, cross-stepping forward to attack. I blinked sweat out of my eyes.
She blocked me, feinted, and then brought her sword down toward my head. I held up my own sword, parallel to the gleaming floor, and absorbed the power of the blow in my arms. The force of it rang through my bones. I knew if she’d wanted to, she could have cleaved me in half.
“Enough,” Veronique called out, sounding satisfied. I lowered my arms, panting. There was the sound of footsteps in the hall and then my brothers all trying to race through the door at the