Under the vampire Lord's protection Chapter 4: Under the sun

Warm morning sunlight slipped through the uncovered window, gently caressing her skin. Arabella's eyes fluttered open at last, needing a moment to adjust to her surroundings while memories of the previous day's events resurfaced.

She tossed aside the sheets and retrieved her locket from the nightstand, securing it around her neck before the expansive mirror on the vanity.

Her hand lifted automatically to her face, lingering above the scrapes from the night before.

Fresh skin had already knit over the injuries, leaving only faint, dry scars behind. It felt as if Arabella had carried those marks for much longer than just one night.

This was hardly surprising. She knew well how vampire blood healed human wounds, and as Ada had noted while giving her the potion, blood from elder vampires proved far more potent than from the young. A truth she already understood.

A far-off noise caught her attention—deep grinding and rumbling, soft initially but growing louder as it approached. She stood straighter, listening intently.

Soon enough, she recognized the sound of a wheeled cart being rolled along.

The clatter stopped abruptly outside her door, followed by a soft knock on the wood.

"Yes?"

"'Tis me, Ada, Miss," Ada's voice filtered through, muffled, "I've brought your breakfast."

"Please, come in," Arabella hurried to the door but stepped aside, letting Ada wheel the cart inside.

"Good morning, miss," Ada said with a warm smile, "You look much improved from yesterday. Why didn't you ring the bell for a maid?"

"I...," Arabella faltered, her mouth slightly open, as she watched Ada arrange dishes from the cart onto the table.

She started with the array of pastries, then the sliced cured meats, followed by cheeses and a selection of fresh fruits—including neatly sliced red apples, berries, and plump purple grapes. The enticing aroma was completed by a goblet of milk, fresh-squeezed juices, and herbal teas.

A feast worthy of kings and queens.

"Is someone joining me for breakfast?" Arabella inquired innocently.

"No, it's all for you," Ada set down the final cup, "Lady Persephone insisted your meals be diverse and meticulously prepared. Since you'll serve Master Silas, it makes perfect sense. Your health comes first."

"Right, of course," Arabella murmured, "Thank you."

After exchanging pleasantries, Ada wheeled the empty cart out and left the room.

Arabella remained still for a while, gazing at the lavish spread before her.

"Feed the cattle to get the milk," she whispered.

Grateful though she was, the terms of her stay struck her as... peculiar, to put it mildly.

Questions churned in her thoughts: What kind of man was this Master? What would it feel like to be fed upon? Would it hurt?

Those ideas sent shivers racing down her spine. She trembled on the spot and yanked the curtains wider to let sunlight flood in with its comforting heat—a true boon for mortals like her.

As she did, her eyes drifted to an enchanting view. The gardens beckoned silently. Her window overlooked the manor's rear, revealing wonders that prompted her to plan a stroll after eating.

Savoring slowly, Arabella ate until full, then stacked the dirty dishes neatly to spare the cleaning maid any extra effort.

The Eleazar manor kept surprising her delightfully. Even the gowns provided blended comfort with grace. That day, she chose red as her color, slipping into a simple yet stunning floor-length velvet gown. A wide golden belt cinched her waist, dividing the fitted bodice from the flowing skirt that pooled at her feet.

She glanced both ways down the empty corridor after stepping out.

Daytime brought comfort, knowing vampires slumbered, easing her nerves slightly.

Arabella wandered the mansion, her gaze lingering on every item along the way, be it useful or ornamental.

Down the stairs to the ground floor she went, heading for the kitchens in hopes of chatting with the human maids or lending a hand.

Guided by the laughter and chatter of young women clustered nearby, she figured she'd found the spot.

She paused at a half-open wooden door. As her hand reached to push it wider and announce herself, a maid's words halted her in her tracks.

"Arabella is her name, is it not?" the maid remarked without much enthusiasm.

"Something like that, I think," another replied, "Right, Ada?"

"Yes," Ada's familiar voice confirmed.

"Well, anyway, I don't see what's so special about her!" the first one huffed.

"I hear she's from noble blood," a third voice chimed in.

"And? That means nothing here! She arrived yesterday and already gets royal treatment," she complained, "She's no different from us. She should earn her place like everyone else!"

Her grumbling continued until Ada interjected, "Lady Persephone decided the girl earns her keep by serving the master directly."

"That's just unfair!"

"I'm sorry, but it's settled. Better accept it before it causes trouble," Ada advised.

Like her arms dropping limp, Arabella's smile faded. She turned away quietly without revealing herself and departed. Friend-making would wait; she lacked the energy to soothe their gripes now.

Her feet led her aimlessly as she replayed their words. Truth be told, her noble heritage held little weight in Umbraria, least of all in her situation.

Still, the unequal treatment toward her compared to other refugees demanded caution henceforth, to avoid greater conflicts.

Her legs froze mid-step, captivated by an alluring floral scent that seized her senses. The intoxicating blossom aroma drew her irresistibly forward.

Through grand doors she passed, halting only when her eyes met the paradise of the gardens.

Lush green lawns sparkled under the sun, stretching endlessly. Vibrant flowerbeds heightened her urge to approach, so she descended along a winding stone path flanked by perfectly manicured hedges.

Arabella hurried to the roses, drawn most strongly to them. A fresh smile bloomed as she marveled at nature's masterpiece.

"Roses sure are beautiful," a deep, velvety voice remarked from behind.

She whirled to face a handsome young man. His silky black hair, long enough to bind back, framed his features. Pruning shears in hand, he grinned warmly.

"Oh... I'm sorry if I'm not allowed here, I just...," she stammered.

To her relief, he eased her worry at once, "No, please don't fret, my Lady. You're most welcome." His smile widened even more.

"I'm no Lady here," her gaze dropped.

"Are you not? Forgive me then. You certainly appear as one," he cocked his head.

"Thank you. You're very kind," she paused, searching for words, "Are you the gardener here?"

"Oh! My apologies for the rudeness. I'm Edgar, and yes, I tend these gardens," he bowed slightly.

"I'm Arabella," she gathered her skirts, curtsying gracefully, "You must have magic in your touch. This place is pure heaven on earth."

"Thank you, Miss Arabella. I appreciate your words," his brows knit slightly, "Pardon my boldness, but your lovely face is new to me."

Her cheeks colored as she looked down, "I arrived only yesterday. Have you served Lady Persephone long?"

"A few years now, yes," he nodded, "Gardens thrive best under sunlight."

"True," she fidgeted with her fingers, mind whirling, carefully phrasing her question, "Edgar, if I may, how's life here? Treating you well?" she asked timidly.

"It has," he grinned, "Lady Persephone is remarkably kind—the kindest in my brief human years."

"I see," she wavered briefly, "And the Master?" she whispered.

Glancing back, she saw Edgar's expression stiffen. His smile vanished, eyes fixed blankly beyond her, high above.

She barely felt the chill breeze until a profound voice rumbled through her chest, "You have many questions. Best direct them to the source."

His breath ghosted her hair, drawing a sharp, silent gasp.

Slowly turning, she faced him and instinctively stepped back from his nearness.

Her eyes traveled up from his chest to meet piercing diamond gaze. His intense stare diminished her further.

"I...," she stuttered, words failing.

He offered no reassuring smile, making no move to relax her taut frame.

In daylight, Silas's hair shimmered silver... Daylight? A vampire strode in the sun?

"Come to my chambers at nightfall," his frigid command chilled her blood utterly.