The Secrets of Lore Seymour

4. Surrounded by Distrust

"What is that thing doing here?" Cyan asks while jutting his thumb towards me.

"Thing?" I repeat, aghast.

"You should know, Cyan, seeing as you were meant to meet him at the airship station this afternoon and escort him to the estate. Luckily for Seren, he's at least capable of finding his way," Draven replies in a manner that I believe to be insulting because at least capable is a very odd yet specific way of phrasing a statement.

Cyan holds up a finger to argue, then he gapes, stares, rapidly blinks, and huffs in slow realization. I've also slowly realized that he does not quite suit his name. Emerald green eyes. Silver hair. All black clothes covering almost every piece of pale skin regardless of the summer heat. Where's the cyan? Who named him and were they color blind? Or am I color blind?

"Damn," Cyan says with a roll of his shoulders. "That's my fault, but I wouldn't have gone even if I weren't busy--"

"You mean if you didn't forget?"

Draven's question is ignored as Cyan continues, "I have no interest in helping a religious zealot. Why the hell is he here anyway?"

"That was also explained when I told you to retrieve him from the station." Draven's smile speaks volumes; he's a second away from retiring the resident idiot. Permanently.

"Well, I, uh..." Cyan blushes, then digs a finger in his ear and stares at the ground where he knocks the tip of his toe against the grass. "Your... your voice annoys me! So, like, whenever you speak I don't process the information."

"Clearly."

Cyan flinches like someone pricked him with a needle.

Draven turns to walk away. "Clean up your mess quickly, otherwise you'll miss out on dinner."

"It's time for dinner?!" Cyan bolts towards the smoking cathedral. "I'll be right there! Don't let that brainwashed trout anyone near my food. He'll contaminate it!"

Religious zealot. Brainwashed trout. I'm eager to hear what name he creates for me next. I knew I wouldn't be welcome, but this has taken a turn I never expected. Even the children despise me for something I didn't know to be insulting. Lore is a careful trickster. I'll have to do my best to match him.

Draven guides me to the dining hall where Lore, Arline, and the children line a long table overflowing with food and blood. Consuming human blood without permission is illegal so vampires rely on animals. Dhampir consume food and blood, needing a bit of both to be healthy. Regardless, the sight of pitchers containing thick crimson being passed around like it's mere water makes my stomach knot. Two maids scurry around the table, ensuring that everyone has everything. Lore rises from his chair to assist Reegan in slicing through a bloody steak.

"Take a seat wherever you'd like," Lore says without looking my way before retaking his seat at the head of the table. "Feel free to let the cook know if there is anything special you'd like. He'll be sure to make it from time to time during your stay."

"I appreciate any food given to us by the Three Mothers," I reply and take a seat next to Darika, seeing as the only other option is Arline. Between the two, I choose the moody teen that glares over the glaring House Mother.

Conversation flows across the table. Nothing out of the ordinary, just typical child-like innocence where they discuss games, toys, and the occasional hair tugging. Lore listens intently to his children and spends more time on his feet than eating. He wipes food from the twins' chins when they make a mess or rushes over to prevent Nalo from dumping a goblet of blood all over him. A doting father or good at pretending to be one?