The Bride of the Immortal (23 page)

The maid gestured towards the place where she had stood before the artificial daylight had appeared.

"I'll do that," Mairin assured her and impatiently waited until Hilda had left. As soon as the maid was out of sight Mairin completely disregarded her posture and once again sunk into the cushion of the chair. By then she was more than eager to start gathering information about the creature that was depictured above her bath tub. Impatiently but also carefully she opened the book and began to read.

Father Adrijan looked up from his desk. His appearance betrayed his efforts to conceal the fact that he hadn’t been able to get much rest.

“Ah… you’re back. Did she choose any of them?” The priest’s voice lacked energy yet it was unusually warm and friendly.

Hilda nervously went further into the room and curtsied. She respected Father Adrijan but he often seemed callous and distant. If she hadn’t witnessed what he had done for her mistress she wouldn’t have believed it possible.

“Miss Muriel chose Bram Stoker’s
Dracula
, Father Adrijan.” This time she was going to make sure not to blab.

“A fine choice,” he remarked wearily and continued typing on the laptop. Hilda lowered her gaze and stared at her folded hands, uncertain what to do. Was he expecting her to tell him more about what had happened in the library?

“Hilda, you’ll have to take good care of your mistress. For the duration of Master Vivian’s tutoring I shall refrain from interfering in their lives.”

Hilda furrowed her brow.

Father Adrijan paused to focus on typing a few more words. When he was done he turned towards her and raised his head to look into her eyes. His gaze was so intense that for a short moment Hilda believed, that her mistress may not have been mistaken in her assumption that Father Adrijan was a demon.

“I’d appreciate it if you could occasionally report back to me and tell me about Miss Muriel’s progress.” Again he paused, as if he were looking for words. “That includes telling me about any problems that may arise. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Father Adrijan,” Hilda replied without hesitating.

“Then you may go.”

Hilda quickly turned around, ignoring the priests clumsily feigned smile. She was unpleasantly aware that she was in a hurry to leave. There was something eerie about Father Adrijan, something she couldn’t quite explain. When she had finally reached the door, he called her back.

“Oh… Hilda? Did Miss Muriel inquire after my absence?”

Hilda faced the demonic priest once more to tell him just how much her mistress had pestered her to obtain the information she had been instructed to withhold. She wasn’t going to word it quite like that though.

“Miss Muriel-“

“Never mind, Hilda. It doesn’t matter,” Father Adrijan interrupted her. “You may go.”

Hilda turned away before frowning again. The rich and their friends were certainly hard to serve, especially when one of them was immortal.

It tickled in a pleasant way. Mairin lowered her shoulder a bit, moving her head into the opposite direction and pressing it further into the cushion. Her body acted without her doing, revealing more of her neck and shoulder and thereby allowing the source of the wondrous sensation to continue. Her breathing had changed and overall she felt more relaxed than she had thought it possible. It was-

Realisation jolted Mairin out of her drowsiness and she sat up so quickly that she caught Vivian off-guard, causing both of them to collide with their heads.

“Ow, ow, ow...” he complained, letting himself fall into the chair next to hers, rubbing the spot where her head had hit him.

Mairin was certain that her pain wasn’t less excruciating but she was too proud to even raise her hand. She still had problems trying to understand what had actually happened. Hadn’t there been something similar in the book she had been reading before dozing off? Maybe Vivian had done to her what Count Dracula had done to Lucy.

“You! Are you one of them?”

Mairin hastily picked up the book that was resting in her lap and aggressively held it towards Vivian. The immortal chuckled and took it from her.

“You can’t lie around like that, totally defenceless and expect me not to seize the chance. After what Adrijan had told me and finding you with a vampire story I simply couldn’t resist.”

This time Mairin did raise her hand, even if it was only to see if there was blood on her neck. The result was negative.

“I didn’t bite you, silly princess.”

Mairin thought that Vivian’s grin had broadened – if that was even possible. Her idea had fit to the story she had just read and to the scene above her bath tub, but there was no blood. Calming down and coming to her senses she also realised, that he hadn’t touched her neck, rather the part further down, where her neck met the rest of her body.

Vivian got up from his chair and started walking about in the room. Not having to look at him made it easier for her to talk.

“Did you... kiss me?” she asked nervously, sitting uptight in the chair.

The sound of his steps faded right behind her, giving away his position. Mairin tensed when she suddenly felt his hand on the back of her neck and subconsciously held her breath as he slowly let his fingers slide towards her shoulders. Then he stopped.

“Right there,” he said calmly, without trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

Mairin was unable to bear his touch any longer and jumped up from the chair.

“Don’t do that!” she demanded irritated.

Vivian didn’t seem to mind her mood.

“Take a look at these,” he invited her, gesturing at the tapestries. “They show some of the most famous lovers. Over here for example: Pyramus and Thisbe, separated by a wall, but not letting it get between them. Right next to them: Romeo and Juliet, likewise kept apart by the hate of their rivalling families, but proclaiming their love to each other over the balcony. And here: Orpheus guiding his beloved Eurydike out of Hades. And last: The Irish princess Iseult in the arms of her lover Tristan, who makes plans to run away with her.”

Mairin followed Vivian’s gestures, letting her gaze wander from one tapestry to the next. She had already taken a look at them before, wondering if they showed characters of some texts she had read back at Sunflower Garden.

“But they all... tragically died in the end,” Mairin argued.

“Ah, you’re proving my point. As you can see, there’s no great love without great passion.”

“Who said I was in love with you?” she snapped at him.

“Who said I wasn’t in love with you?” he replied smiling.

Mairin blushed. With that one question he had taken away her anger and replaced it with an entirely different feeling.

“Well, no matter. I’ll be tutoring you starting tomorrow. We’ll meet every day here in the library until you’re ready to hear my proposal.”
Mairin nodded dumbfounded. Her heart was beating fast.

The immortal bowed. “Then I bid you good day, princess,” he said still smiling and returned the book to her.

Adrijan did his best to keep his mind occupied. When he wasn’t exercising to keep in shape he visited
Nebel
in the stables or tried to focus on the problems in
Traumstadt
. Against his prior assumptions, having averted the crisis hadn’t broken the rebellion and he was led to believe that they hadn’t caught the ringleader after all. A week ago he had sent out more spies and was carefully supervising them, so he wouldn’t run into danger of being betrayed again. He had split them up into small groups and each of the members had to report back once a day to give a detailed account of their findings to Alfred or himself. Even so he wouldn’t be able to avoid going back to
Traumstadt
. Maybe it was best to go without delay. The artificial town wasn’t far and since he always had some changes of clothes at his cottage, there wasn’t much to prepare. The only reason why he hesitated was, that he wouldn’t be able to see Mairin again. Even if he avoided her, there had always been hope to encounter her accidentally as long as he stayed at
Mondstein
castle. Adrijan sighed, disliking how weak he was.

In the end he was unable to make up his mind and decided to take the easy way out by leaving the decision to fate. If he didn’t run into Mairin by evening, he would leave for
Traumstadt
at night.

Vivian grinned mischievously. “Today is going to be special!”

Over the past weeks Mairin had gotten accustomed to the master of the castle. She had enjoyed learning with him and had found out that he was smarter and wiser than she had thought it possible. It had just been very unlikely that one person was handsome as well as intelligent – and not to forget rich.

Vivian had proven his patience, never growing tired of finding different ways of explaining a variety of things that were unfamiliar to her. He had constantly motivated Mairin to ask questions, even at times when she felt that she had to be the only person on earth not to understand what he was trying to teach her. Often she had become victim to his teasing, but none of his remarks had been hurtful. She had experienced Vivian like that, childish, making jokes about everything, but she had also come to know his serious side.

In the many hours they had spent together Mairin had learnt a lot about the wonders and evils her ‘new’ present had to offer. Most importantly though, she had learnt to enjoy Vivian’s company.

“Special, hm?” Mairin laughed. “We’ll see about that!”

“Don’t tease me, princess,” he demanded grimly, feigning annoyance and grabbing her hand. This time he was dressed in a
trabea
, a purple toga that in ancient times had been worn only by Roman emperors. Had it been worn by someone else, he would’ve looked ridiculous, but Vivian simply looked stunning.

Like every day for the past weeks, Mairin was wearing a matching outfit he had prepared for her. In the beginning she had felt silly and had thought it tedious but after a short time she had started to enjoy the daily ritual. Before she knew it she had found herself looking forward to discovering Vivian in a new outfit and had been disappointed when he had once or twice shown up to a lesson in his regular clothes. One day she had been dressed like a medieval queen, the next like a
tsarevna
, a Russian princess. Today he had chosen a Roman theme and her clothes consisted out of an under tunic, a
stola
– a pleated dress that ended a few centimetres above the floor and the
palla
– a long shawl.