Bloodborn by Nathan Long Read Free Book Online Page B

through the slushy streets did so at a scurry, looking over their shoulders before entering their houses, and eyeing dark alleys with suspicion.
    The countess sighed as she listened to it all. ‘It is as bad as I feared. Panic in the streets, and a full-fledged hunt. This must be stopped.’
    Ulrika nodded, but continued looking out the window. They had turned onto a quieter, more prosperous street now, and the noise of the crowd had faded, but the few people abroad still hurried from place to place like frightened rabbits. She had to quash the thought of bolting after them like a greyhound.
    ‘Dear one,’ said Gabriella.
    Ulrika cringed and turned. Had the countess read her thoughts? But no, she didn’t look angry. In fact she looked positively pensive, her hands pressed together in her lap and her lips pursed. What had made her so nervous?
    ‘Yes, mistress?’ she asked.
    ‘Sit by Lotte and let her put your wig on and comb it out for you,’ she said, fluttering a hand. ‘We want to look our best.’
    ‘Yes, mistress,’ said Ulrika, and moved to the other bench as the maid took the long dark wig out of its box. Ulrika didn’t like the thing. It was hot and itchy, and made her feel like a little girl playing dress up, but she understood that her scissor-cropped hair would not do for polite society.
    Gabriella smiled weakly at her as Lotte draped the wig over her head and tugged it into place. ‘I… I wish to remind you that you must be on your best behaviour at Lady Hermione’s. You are my ward – my child almost – and as such, whatever you do, whatever you say, reflects on me and how well I have taught you. I would have wished for another year at the least before I introduced you into society, but it can’t be helped. So I command you, no, I beg you, not to embarrass me. Particularly not in front of Hermione, who, as I have mentioned, does not care for me much, and would use any excuse to belittle me.’
    Ulrika stiffened. ‘I may be new to your sisterhood, mistress, but I am not a rube. I–’
    Gabriella waved her down. ‘Yes, yes, I know. You are the daughter of a boyar, and a lady born. But, as you have shown in the recent past, the difference between being a lady and acting like one can be vast indeed.’
    Ulrika inclined her now bewigged head, as rigid as a rapier. ‘I shall endeavour not to disappoint you, mistress.’
    Lady Hermione lived in a grand three-storey townhouse in the Aldig Quarter, the richest neighbourhood of the city, home of the nobles that frequented Countess Emanuelle von Liebwitz’s court. The house was in the Tilean style, with twisting columns flanking the front door, and snow-capped plaster curlicues topping every window. A liveried footman trotted out to open the coach door for Countess Gabriella and Ulrika, and another came to take the reins of the wagon from Rodrik. Ulrika noted that theirs was not the only coach in the curving drive. A plain black rig stood near the gate, its driver watching them intently.
    Gabriella paid the other coach no mind, and started up the curved steps. As Ulrika and Rodrik followed her, the carved front door opened and a handsome woman in a severe black dress curtseyed deeply to them. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her manner was as starched as her ruff collar.
    ‘Welcome, countess,’ said the woman in reverential tones. ‘We have awaited your arrival. Your rooms are ready. Please come in.’
    ‘Thank you, Otilia,’ said Gabriella, stepping through the door and handing her cloak to a waiting maid. ‘It is good to be back in Nuln. Is Lady Hermione receiving?’
    Otilia, who Ulrika guessed must be some sort of housekeeper, pursed her lips and glanced over her shoulder towards the parlour doors. ‘You have come at an inconvenient moment, m’lady,’ she said. ‘Lady Hermione is just now entertaining Captain Meinhart Schenk, of the witch hunters.’
    Gabriella paused at that, and looked to the parlour doors uneasily.