Protected

After a set of long and tearful goodbyes (mostly on Dezzy's part, though Damien would admit to a failure to keep his own eyes completely dry), Grace and Damien exited the city via the south gate, and began making the short trek up to the gates of the Solveig fortress. Damien had learned a bit about the massive structure from Grace as the climbed. He learned that the master of he castle was the sire of all the vampires who lived there. His name was Alaric Solveig, and even the thralls who liked being enthralled were properly terrified of him. He was capricious and cruel, and it was considered both a tremendous honor and a terrifying ordeal to be called upon to serve him. 

Damien hoped he never had to lay eyes on the man. One vampire was bad enough, and the vampire he knew of was one that Grace, alongside many other thralls, apparently found to be some sort of wonderful person. A vampire, considered wonderful! Damien had to work very hard not to laugh bitterly at the idea. 

Beyond that, Grace told him a bit about how the thralls functioned in the fortress. She told him about Morgan, who was the thralls' senechal, and how she would be the one to assign Damien a place and a duty. 

"But… I'm not a thrall."

"A human who isn't a thrall wouldn't be allowed to stay in the fortress," Grace had hushed him. "You'll just have to tell people you're Cain's thrall."

"But I thought Cain didn't like thralls," Damien pointed out. 

"He doesn't," Grace said. "But the thralls that he protects still call themselves his. So people will assume it's similar for you. Not many thralls are exclusively claimed, and thralls don't necessarily define themselves by the vampire who enthralled them first - many thralls have been fed on by a number of vampires. So it is easier to describe yourself in terms of the vampire who is most likely to be upset if you've been broken by another vampire."

"And Cain is strong enough that claiming to be his will be a deterrent?" Damien asked, raising an eyebrow and allowing his skepticism to weigh heavy in his tone.

"He is," Grace said. "But he has enemies, too."

Damien grimaced. "Of course he does," he muttered.

"You'll especially need to watch out for Crowe, or any of Crowe's thralls," Grace explained, pausing in her brisk walk to look at Damien with a serious expression. "Crowe loves to punish vampires by attacking their favorite thralls. So make sure you avoid him at all costs."

Damien grimaced. "Avoid Crowe. Got it." He had to force himself to not pat the amulet he wore under his tunic. Hopefully it would do its job, keeping all the vampires away from him. "Anything else I should know?"

"There are a few thralls who are very jealous of Cain's attention," Grace said. "If you overstep, such as spending too much time with him, they might get jealous. Or angry."

"I don't think there will be much concern there," Damien said. He frowned then, considering the way his mate-sickness had affected him. "Unless I get really sick again."

"That's exactly what I mean," Grace said, sounding regretful as she resumed walking. "The other thralls won't know that you're not actually a thrall. If they see you spend a lot of time with Cain, they might even assume he's feeding from you. So be sure that if you need to spend a lot of time with Cain, you're not discovered, especially not by the thralls who are jealous."

"Are you going to tell me who they are?" Damien asked.

"Would you be able to remember the names if I told you now?" Grace asked.

Damien considered the question. "Probably not."

"I'll let you know once you've met them," Grace explained. "Some of them you may even be able to figure out on your own." She sighed. "I'm sorry it's going to be so difficult for you."

"That's all right," Damien said. "It's not your fault." He may not have liked the fact that Grace was a thrall, but he had to admit that it didn't change the fact that he liked her. And the Dezzy liked her, a lot. So he would do his best to take her advice and not cause trouble. Well. Not at first, anyway. Once he figured out how to make Cain miserable without drawing the wrong sort of attention, though, all bets were off. 

He hoped Grace would be able to forgive him for that.

* * *

When they reached the gates of the castle, Damien worried that he would be questioned. But fortunately, it seemed that Grace was well-liked not only by Dezzy, but by all the residents of the castle, too. The heavyset man (a human thrall, by the looks of him) at the gate gave Damien barely half a glance when Grace said he was a new thrall and one of Cain's. Damien hated how possessive that sounded, but he also knew it was a necessity. 

He followed Grace through the narrow servants' hallways, and eventually they ended up in the kitchen. He helped her unload the supplies from town, and then stood around awkwardly, watching the thralls in the kitchen begin their preparations for the morning meal.

"Damien," Grace said, walking up and laying a hand on his shoulder, drawing him from his reverie, "let's go see Morgan, now."

Damien nodded, and followed her through several more winding passages until they found themselves in a wide, but nonetheless a rather cramped-feeling room. The space felt narrow because despite how large the office was, it was crammed floor-to-ceiling with boxes and papers. 

"Seneschal Morgan?" Grace called from the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Yes, yes," came the firm, low tone of a woman who was busy with work but not so busy as to disregard those who came for guidance. A moment later, a tall, thin woman with gray-streaked brown hair walked out from behind a huge stack of papers. She was carrying several sheafs of documents in her arms, and she looked unsurpised to see Grace. Her brows rose significantly when she caught sight of Damien, though. "And who is this?" she asked, her tone sharpening ever-so-slightly.

"A new thrall…?" Grace said, sounding hesitant. 

Morgan narrowed her gray eyes, deepening the lines beside them. She glanced Damien up and down, bearing an otherwise neutral expression as she did so. "A new thrall?" she repeated, this time clearly expecting Damien to answer.

"Yes, um, I'm…" Damien tried to say the name Cain, but felt like it was caught in his throat. He couldn't say it. He didn't want to! 

"He's one of Cain's," Grace said quickly.

Morgan looked quite unconvinced at this statement. "Is that so?" she asked Damien.

Damien nodded. 

Morgan blinked once, slowly, then said, "A werewolf. And none of the higher ranks have claimed him?" She looked at Damien with disbelief. "Surely you know how valuable your blood is as a bargaining chip. Cain is hardly the most powerful figure you could throw yourself in with."

In truth, Damien hadn't wanted to throw himself in with anyone, and wasn't sure how to go about convincing Morgan that he wanted to be here when he actually wanted nothing less, particularly in that moment. "I… maybe I'll change my mind," he said weakly, "once I get the lay of the land?"

Morgan eyed him for another long second, then sighed. "Will you be listed on the blood roster?"

"Actually," Grace cut in quickly, "He's sick." 

Morgan looked at Damien, a bit of an annoyed look on her face. "Yes, yes, the transformation. Don't worry. We have some cells down in the lower levels, I'm sure one of them will hold you."

"Not that," Damien said, though in truth he was grateful that he wouldn't need to broach the werewolf issue at a later point - though he was curious as to how the human woman could identify him on first sight. Most humans lumped all supernatural creatures into the same category. Maybe thralls had a better understanding because they spent so much time with vampires. It might enhance their senses, or something. "I have a… wasting disease."

Morgan eyed Damien. "You look fine now," she pointed out.

"I was given a powerful medicine by a witch," Damien said quickly.

Morgan's eyes widened. "Not a temple, I hope," she said, sounding almost worried.

"No," Damien said, "I haven't been… to a temple…" he frowned, wondering if his odd encounter with the divine magic of his bond would count as a visit to a temple. "Not recently, anyway."

"You never served as a priest or dedicated your body to a holy service?" Morgan pressed. 

"No," Damien answered. "I'm a werewolf. They don't typically welcome my kind."

"Some sects do," Morgan mused, mostly to herself. She waved them both off, then. "Very well. He can stay off the roster for now." She paused then, and looked at Damien with her sharp eyes. "Just know, if one of the ranked vampires demands your blood, no matter what your disease, you do not have the right of refusal. You would be wise to remember that."

Damien nodded, more grateful than ever for the amulet that would probably keep all of those nasty creatures far away from him. "I will," he promised. 

"Grace, find him a room. There should be one near yours that was recently vacated," Morgan ordered, already disappearing behind a stack of boxes, the rustling sound the only indication that she was still in the room.

"Yes, Seneschal Morgan," Grace said demurely, then turned and grabbed Damien's arm, hard. Her eyes said that she had a lot to say, but this was not a good place to discuss it. "Let's find you that room," she said, with false cheer so practiced it almost sounded genuine. 

Damien nodded, and allowed the girl with a surprisingly strong grip to drag him down the stone servant's hallway deeper into the center of the castle keep. 

* * *

Once they had made it into a quiet, seemingly deserted area, Grace pulled Damien into a small corner and said, "This is bad."

Damien nodded. "Yeah, that Morgan lady seemed like she was too sharp."

"No, I mean your blood," Grace said, poking Damien in the chest. "I just realized when Morgan recognized you on sight - most vampires don't use their sight. They use their sense of smell. And you probably smell delicious to them."

"Maybe it's not as bad as you think," Damien suggested, taking a risk and reaching under his shirt to withdraw the amulet he wore. "See this?"

"It's a little cloth bag," Grace said, sounding unimpressed.

"No, not the bag," Damien opened it, allowing the little stone amulet to roll into the palm of his hand. "This."

"A rock," Grace sounded even less impressed than before, which was pretty impressive considering how little appreciation she'd had to begin with. 

"It's not just a rock," Damien protested, tucking it back into the little pouch and tucking it back under his shirt. "It's a ward. To keep vampires away."

Grace's eyes grew wide. "You can't have that here!" she gasped. "Nothing that harms vampires is allowed in the castle!"

"It doesn't harm vampires, it just keeps me from being interesting to them." Damien frowned. "If I want them to get close to me it will let them, so it can't be harmful. It probably just hides my scent or something."

Grace didn't look convinced, but she said, more slowly, "You're sure it doesn't cause harm?"

Damien wasn't sure, but he was very sure he didn't want to live here without it, so he nodded firmly, not trusting his voice to sound truthful. 

Fortunately, Grace believed him, and she sagged against the wall with a sigh. "Oof," she said, clutching her chest briefly, "That was almost a disaster."

"Because of the amulet?"

"Because I thought I was going to accidentally get us both caught because you told me about that weird good luck charm!" Grace pointed at Damien. "New rule. Don't tell me anything that might get you in trouble, okay? If I know about it," she laid a hand on her chest, "I have to tell someone about it. In this case, I'll probably be okay sitting on it long enough for Cain to get back, since it's not actually dangerous, and I'll need to tell him about you being here anyway. But in future, just know, you can't trust us." She gestured expansively, as if indicating that this was true for all the residents of the castle. 

"I can't trust… thralls?" Damien guessed.

"We're all beholden to one vampire or another," Grace said. "We can't keep secrets, not if they might put our masters in danger." 

Damien nodded. "I see."

"Seneschal Morgan will be telling Lord Solveig about you for that reason," Grace explained. "But she's smart. She'll be able to make you sound unappealing, even though there isn't any other werewolf blood here." She covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I didn't think about that until she said something," she groaned. "Sorry."

"It wouldn't have changed things," Damien admitted after a long pause. "So don't worry about it." He still would have been forced to come here. It just meant that his position was more precarious, and he would need to rely on the power of the amulet as much as possible to hide from the vampires in the castle. 

"Thanks," Grace said. "But seriously," she added, leaning forward. "Don't ever let yourself get injured. I don't think there's a magic that exists that would be strong enough to hide the smell of freshly spilled blood from a hungry vampire."

Damien cringed a bit at the thought. "Right. So no kitchen duties for me, then?"

"I don't know," Grace admitted. "Seneschal Morgan will decide that. She'll probably find something for you by tomorrow morning." 

Damien nodded. "So where was this room she was talking about?"

Grace perked up a little. "I think I know the one! Follow me," and with that, she darted out of the corner and hurried down the hall, forcing Damien to jog after her in order to keep up. 

He felt the amulet thump against his chest with every footfall, a firm and reassuring reminder that mother had taken every precaution for him. He would be fine. He had to be.