Young Writers Society

The conference room was not a large room, by any standards, but the furniture was arranged artfully enough to feign airiness in a space that would have seemed, otherwise, to be small and cramped. The walls slanted ever so slightly, and the cabinets seemed to be moulded along the lengths of the wallpaper. Evian did not have the time to observe the changes that had overridden the conference room since the last time he had been there; Aidan at once grabbed him by the elbow and steered him towards a chair. Council members occupied every available surface: vampires sat on the table, on the windowledge, and one or two Ixisters, with brightly coloured facial hair, even sat on the floor. The casual way with which the majority of the room surveyed Evian's entrance made him feel like he was intruding on a party. But in a party, Evian reminded himself, such stoic silence does not serve as the main course.

He felt awkward as Aidan introduced him, and stared at his hands all the while, only looking up to nod at each person as they greeted him. Aidan's 'friend', Leath—the vampire who had held Evian's hands behind his back and slammed him into the wall at the inn—met him with odd enthusiasm. Evian gave him a strained smile before he drifted away.

Evian was glad when everyone's attention shifted away from him. The discussion resumed. It was not the kind of seamless discussion Evian would have expected from the vampire council—rather, the Ixisters and vampires huddled in various groups. They all appeared to be arguing about something, but about what, exactly, Evian could not grasp.

Aidan sat down on Evian's right and leaned over to whisper in his ear. 'We're having an informal discussion right now. Topic of debate's the Blacksmith uprising.' He spoke to Evian in a familiar way, as if he were not a stranger, but someone he could trust. Evian immediately decided he disliked him. The vampire was not an idiot, he knew, but Evian's trust was not so fickle as to lead him into believing Aidan was his friend.

Nevertheless, the mention of the Blacksmiths aroused his curiosity. The chain around Evian's neck seemed to burn against his skin; he resisted the urge to tug at it.

'The Blacksmiths?' he asked, in what he hoped came off as a casual tone-of-interest. Aidan's eyebrows hitched upwards on his pale face.

'You've taken history lessons, yes?' His eyes widened in sudden mock realisation. 'Wait—you haven't. My apologies,' he said smoothly. 'I often forget exactly what I have read in people's minds. Although'—he rested his elbows on the chair's back and ignored Evian's suddenly sullen expression—'it's not really your fault your knowledge is not as extensive as others. I believe spending your teenage years on a pirate ship wasn't all that conducive ... er ... not that that matters.'

He looked slightly ashamed of himself, and Evian could not resist commenting: 'I think shamefacedness is the most human I have seen you.'

Aidan's expression once more shifted to one of mild amusement. He waved at an Ixister on the opposite side of the room, who seemed to be beckoning him towards their group. To Evian, he said, 'Vampires are just as human as humans are—both of us, are, after all, hybrids of the same race.'

Evian's lip twitched. 'And here I thought all vampires shied from being compared to humans.'

Aidan laughed a deep, rumbling belly-laugh that caused some people to look at him disapprovingly from the other side of the room. Someone thrust a velvety-looking, plumed hat in his direction. He picked it deftly from the air and, on the off-chance that the wearer might throw it back at him, placed it on Evian's head. Evian was sure that it clashed violently with his hair, and he would not have minded if it did, but he hated feeling conspicuous.

He was already being thrown enough curious glances as it was. What could warrant such attention? he thought.

But he could not dwell on the matter. Aidan, now with a completely serious face, continued: 'Only idiots shy away from being compared to other races. And vampires are not idiots. I admit that humans are not without their ... defects'—Evian harrumphed in protest—'but vampires are not as pure-blooded as Vagnar II—you do know who he is, don't you? Vampire general from the first three-way war—would have liked to believe.'

'We're all by-products, impure, yes, I get it,' Evian said. 'But Blacksmiths?'

'Also impure.' Aidan smiled lazily. He leaned back in his seat and rapped at its side with is knuckles. His eyes acquired a faraway look. 'We are all inclined to prejudice,' he said, 'but I believe that where Blacksmiths are concerned, this prejudice cannot be classified as an unfair judgement ... but as a fact. To put it simply...' His eyebrows puckered. 'Blacksmiths are evil.'

He lapsed into silence, and Evian took that moment to note that the rest of the room's chatter, too, had been lulled into a gentle quietude. A tall figure swept up from her seat in the corner of the room. A spangled shawl was draped over her shoulders; she made her way through the crowd as though her walk was unimpeded by obstacles in the shape of flesh and bone. She seemed to float, almost. Evian watched as she approached the large, ovular table he and Aidan were currently seated at. As she neared, Evian realised with a jolt, who she was. She radiated the same aura of power as she had in the station as Syti, but here it was ... calmer, somehow. As though it had been watered down and placed in a jar, like a calmly burning candle instead of a wildfire on a windy night.

Evian's foot began to twitch; he leaned back in his seat almost instinctively, trying to hide behind the large, fat Ixister who sat next to him. Aidan noticed his efforts, and laughed, but Evian was too caught up in trying to make himself obscure to care.

'She's the heir to the throne of L'amar,' he hissed at Aidan. 'I met at her at the station—she's vile—what is she doing here?'

Aidan's perpetual look of amusement shifted to confusion. 'Oh—she's not—'

'I am not Princess of the L'amar,' the woman said. Her clear voice carried across the room. Evian's gaze snapped toward her. She smiled at him from where she stood; her eyes crinkled into tiny slits and she pushed her hair away from her face. It shone black and blue and white in the artificial light that filled the room. 'I am her mother, the vampire king's second wife, and I would be surprised if he even knows I am alive.'