Night's Honor (Elder Races #7)(30)

To a person, they were all uniformly friendly toward her and also a bit distant, and she was under no illusions whatsoever. She didn’t fit in, and probably, as far as they were concerned, she wouldn’t truly belong until at least after her trial year was over.

That was okay. She had never really fit in anywhere, certainly not in any of her foster families. She didn’t need to fit in or belong. She just needed to survive.

Midafternoons, right around the time when she could hardly walk anymore, it was time for the other lessons—Elder Races history, politics and inter-demesne conflicts. Memorizing the different races and their predilections, strengths and weakness. Information about each Councillor on the Elder tribunal. The power structures in each demesne, along with the heads and their heirs.

After supper came the lessons in etiquette. The ideal attendant was the invisible one who anticipated her patron’s needs and fulfilled them without needing to be asked.

One never spoke until one was spoken to. Always serve drinks from the left, food—for those visitors who partook of food—from the right. The dagger set at the top of every supper plate was symbolic (of what, she hadn’t yet figured out, and no one had told her); no one ever used them, or if they did, it was considered gauche and the height of rudeness.

An attendant might disregard any request or order from another Vampyre (or anyone else, for that matter) outside of the house, but if that Vampyre was a guest in her patron’s house, then as an extension of her patron’s hospitality, she must do everything in her power to make that visiting Vampyre (or other creature) feel at home.

Out of the entire six weeks of training, that was the one time she balked.

She said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Everything.”

Raoul said, “Everything that your patron would wish you to do, you should do.”

“Oh, come on.” She gestured with a stranger’s arm that was slim, tanned and rippling with toned muscle. Between the insane amount of training and truly excellent nutrition, the entire landscape of her body was changing dramatically. “Sex. Blood. Anything?”

He gave her a severe look. “What do you think Xavier would want for you to do?”

She hesitated, as she remembered the talk she’d had with Xavier in his study.

I will never bite you without your permission. I will never take anything from you that you do not want to give.

Feeling only slightly chastened, she muttered, “You’re saying he wouldn’t want us to give in to another Vampyre’s demand for sex or blood, but would the other Vampyre know that? What if they didn’t care and pushed for it anyway?”

“That would be a most extreme mistake on their part,” said Raoul, his face stern. “If any guest tries to press you to do something you don’t want to do, you must tell me or Xavier immediately.”

She watched him narrowly. “But what about what happens in other Vampyre households?”

Raoul lifted a shoulder in a very Gallic shrug. “To each house, its own rules.”

“That sounds almost like a motto.”

“It’s an ancient saying and lies at the root of Vampyre diplomacy. Old Vampyres are not only Powerful and opinionated, but they have lived through huge societal changes. What is normal for them may not be so in modern society.”

Even though it was considered the height of bad manners to put her elbows on the table, she did it anyway and propped her head in both hands. “What if they’re trafficking? Slavery was pretty prominent once, and a societal norm.”

“That’s another matter entirely.” For once Raoul didn’t admonish her for her incorrect posture, and he seemed happy enough to just talk, as he leaned back in his chair opposite hers. “You’re no longer talking behaviors or who has the authority to dictate what customs to follow in a house. If someone is breaking the law and they get caught, they have to face the consequences.”

But how often were they caught? She scratched her fingers against her scalp. “Thinking about all of this makes my head hurt. I feel like I’m training for war and a house party all at the same time.”

“That’s a fair description,” he said. “Sometimes relations get strained between Vampyre houses, or between creatures from different demesnes, and occasionally violence might break out. While that’s relatively unusual, if a human is caught in the middle and doesn’t know how to handle herself, she’s as helpless as a six-week-old puppy. No patron with any kind of conscience would allow for that to happen.”

Conscience. There was another concept that messed with her simple idea of what a monster should be. Irritably she pushed the thought away. “So all of this is just an extended version of basic training.”

“In some ways, yes.” He regarded her with an unfathomable expression. “And like basic training, we’ve barely scratched the surface. It will be some time before you’re suitable to be taken out in public.”

She bristled for more than one reason, but mostly because, despite her attempt to keep up emotional barriers, she was starting to look for Raoul’s approval, and his words stung.

Clearly everyone else in the household thought highly of him, and she was beginning to respect him as well. He was always patient, always courteous, and indefatigable. But despite the fact that she threw everything she had into every single day, she had almost never heard a word of praise from him.