Read Online The Frostwoven Crown (Book 4) by Andrew Hunter - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Hunter
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staring at him from across the room.
Claude did not look happy to see him.
Claude's face brightened into a smile when Marla noticed him and waved. The thin vampire boy excused himself from his conversation with two elder vampires and made his way over toward Marla and Garrett. His long black hair was tied back, hanging down over the left shoulder of his gray suit. A polished silver gorget plate lay across his chest, suspended from a chain to hang just below his throat. It bore a symbol of two bat wings spreading from either side of a fanged skull. His shiny black boots clicked on the marble tiles as he strode up to them. He seemed to be doing his best not to look at Garrett.
“Marla,” he said, “you look lovely tonight.” He bowed to her and smiled as she thanked him. He straightened and half turned to Garrett, giving him a second, somewhat stiffer bow. “Master necromancer,” he added.
“Hi, Claude,” Garrett said. He hadn’t spoken to the young gaunt rider since that night in the swamp when Claude had warned him to stay away from Marla. They had taken every opportunity to avoid one another since then. As far as Garrett was concerned, the arrangement suited him just fine.
“We’re going to find our seats now, Claude,” Marla said, “Would you like to sit with us?”
Garrett felt a little sick to his stomach.
Claude’s eyes flicked toward Garrett for the briefest moment before he spoke again. “Thank you, but I’m afraid that I’ve promised to sit with a few of the riders that accompanied the Valfrei from Thrinaar.”
“Have you met her yet?” Marla asked, and Garrett detected a little note of anxiety in her voice.
“Yes, but that was long ago, back home,” Claude said. He reached out and took Marla’s hand. “You have no cause to be nervous. She is a great woman, and I’m certain that you will like her.”
“Thanks,” Marla said, smiling.
Garrett noted that Claude had not yet released Marla’s hand. The vampire was also pointedly ignoring the glare the young necromancer was giving him.
“Perhaps you and your mother will have an opportunity to visit Thrinaar again in the Valfrei’s company,” Claude said, “How long has it been since you were last home?”
Marla laughed nervously. “I haven’t been to Thrinaar since I was a baby,” she said, “I have no memory of the city whatsoever.”
Claude looked shocked. “You're serious?” he said, “I can’t believe it! You must let me show you the city when you come. There are things there that you can’t imagine! No other place in the world compares to it. Certainly not…” he flicked a glance at Garrett. “Well, I’m sure the embassy is comfortable enough, and Wythr is certainly… intriguing, in its way, but Thrinaar … It is home .”
He was still holding Marla’s hand.
Garrett cleared his throat. “So, uh, what is this play about?” he asked.
Marla smiled and turned to face him, slipping free of the gaunt rider’s grasp. “The Song of Samhaed is the story of the first of our kind,” she said, “the first vampire.”
“Oh,” Garrett said, enjoying the look of consternation on Claude’s face, “is it a good play?”
“One of my favorites,” Marla beamed, “I think you’re going to enjoy it. The Yellow Troupe has come in honor of the Valfrei’s visit. They are some of the greatest dancers in the world.”
“It’s a dancing play?” Garrett asked.
Marla wrinkled her nose. “It’s not exactly what you think of as…”
“Vampire dancers are similar to what you humans would call actors,” Claude interrupted, “only they are much more skilled.”
“You really just have to see it to understand,” Marla assured him.
Garrett frowned at Claude. “I guess we’d better find our seats then,” he said, “I don’t want to miss the show.”
Marla bid Claude farewell. She took Garrett’s arm then and led him away, toward the doors of some great inner hall at what Garrett guessed to be the center of
Claude did not look happy to see him.
Claude's face brightened into a smile when Marla noticed him and waved. The thin vampire boy excused himself from his conversation with two elder vampires and made his way over toward Marla and Garrett. His long black hair was tied back, hanging down over the left shoulder of his gray suit. A polished silver gorget plate lay across his chest, suspended from a chain to hang just below his throat. It bore a symbol of two bat wings spreading from either side of a fanged skull. His shiny black boots clicked on the marble tiles as he strode up to them. He seemed to be doing his best not to look at Garrett.
“Marla,” he said, “you look lovely tonight.” He bowed to her and smiled as she thanked him. He straightened and half turned to Garrett, giving him a second, somewhat stiffer bow. “Master necromancer,” he added.
“Hi, Claude,” Garrett said. He hadn’t spoken to the young gaunt rider since that night in the swamp when Claude had warned him to stay away from Marla. They had taken every opportunity to avoid one another since then. As far as Garrett was concerned, the arrangement suited him just fine.
“We’re going to find our seats now, Claude,” Marla said, “Would you like to sit with us?”
Garrett felt a little sick to his stomach.
Claude’s eyes flicked toward Garrett for the briefest moment before he spoke again. “Thank you, but I’m afraid that I’ve promised to sit with a few of the riders that accompanied the Valfrei from Thrinaar.”
“Have you met her yet?” Marla asked, and Garrett detected a little note of anxiety in her voice.
“Yes, but that was long ago, back home,” Claude said. He reached out and took Marla’s hand. “You have no cause to be nervous. She is a great woman, and I’m certain that you will like her.”
“Thanks,” Marla said, smiling.
Garrett noted that Claude had not yet released Marla’s hand. The vampire was also pointedly ignoring the glare the young necromancer was giving him.
“Perhaps you and your mother will have an opportunity to visit Thrinaar again in the Valfrei’s company,” Claude said, “How long has it been since you were last home?”
Marla laughed nervously. “I haven’t been to Thrinaar since I was a baby,” she said, “I have no memory of the city whatsoever.”
Claude looked shocked. “You're serious?” he said, “I can’t believe it! You must let me show you the city when you come. There are things there that you can’t imagine! No other place in the world compares to it. Certainly not…” he flicked a glance at Garrett. “Well, I’m sure the embassy is comfortable enough, and Wythr is certainly… intriguing, in its way, but Thrinaar … It is home .”
He was still holding Marla’s hand.
Garrett cleared his throat. “So, uh, what is this play about?” he asked.
Marla smiled and turned to face him, slipping free of the gaunt rider’s grasp. “The Song of Samhaed is the story of the first of our kind,” she said, “the first vampire.”
“Oh,” Garrett said, enjoying the look of consternation on Claude’s face, “is it a good play?”
“One of my favorites,” Marla beamed, “I think you’re going to enjoy it. The Yellow Troupe has come in honor of the Valfrei’s visit. They are some of the greatest dancers in the world.”
“It’s a dancing play?” Garrett asked.
Marla wrinkled her nose. “It’s not exactly what you think of as…”
“Vampire dancers are similar to what you humans would call actors,” Claude interrupted, “only they are much more skilled.”
“You really just have to see it to understand,” Marla assured him.
Garrett frowned at Claude. “I guess we’d better find our seats then,” he said, “I don’t want to miss the show.”
Marla bid Claude farewell. She took Garrett’s arm then and led him away, toward the doors of some great inner hall at what Garrett guessed to be the center of
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