“Well,” Tenzin blocked a kick that Beatrice aimed at her left knee by taking to the air. “There was a time about two hundred years ago that he stopped talking to me for five years because I killed one of his servants.”
“You what?” Beatrice’s mouth dropped open. Tenzin landed a few yards away and rushed her, sliding to her side along the mat as she pulled Beatrice’s legs out from under her. The two women fell into a heap before Tenzin shot up again.
She shrugged. “He was a very dishonest human. He’d been stealing from Gio. And he was taking advantage of a servant girl.”
“So you killed him?” Beatrice shook her head as she jumped to her feet, continually amazed by Tenzin’s rather interesting take on morality.
“He was diseased anyway. And the servant girl was pregnant. He was trying to beat the baby from her by striking her stomach. An entirely worthless human. I’m not sure why your husband was so upset.” Tenzin landed a blow to her shoulder and Beatrice stumbled back and grimaced.
Tenzin had been slipping the “your husband” phrase into conversation as often as possible. Always with a smirk or a snort. “I’m not sure why he was angry, either.”
Tenzin dodged a quick blow she aimed at her head. They had been practicing Zhang’s style of kung fu that evening and Beatrice was still amazed that the movements came so naturally.
“He started talking to me again when I explained why I killed the human. He wasn’t completely unreasonable.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “So you took five years to tell him why you killed his servant?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that kind of explains it, Tenzin.”
The small woman shrugged one shoulder before her hand reached out and landed a jaw-shattering blow to Beatrice’s face. Beatrice winced, but shook her head and continued to fight, feeling the water in the air automatically draw to her skin as her bones knit together.
“I hate talking to your husband when he gets self-righteous and flame-y. I gave him a few years to cool off, then I had a rational conversation with him. It’s not my fault he always assumes the worst.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop talking to your husband?” Tenzin grinned. “Not really a problem at the moment.”
“Stop with the ‘your husband’ thing, all right?”
Tenzin burst into laughter. “I think it’s hilarious.”
“What?” Beatrice asked as she ducked down to avoid another blow. “That we didn’t feel like sharing personal news that was really no one’s business but ours?”
“No,” Tenzin snorted, “that you two participated in an arcane human ritual that was completely unnecessary. It’s not like you need a piece of paper. You’re mates.”
Beatrice frowned. “Do you have to make it sound quite so scientific?”
Tenzin laughed so hard that Beatrice managed to land a blow to her torso that knocked the vampire to the ground. She skidded and came to a stop near the stream in the practice room, still laughing. Beatrice went to sit next to her and lay on her back, staring out the open ceiling, the roof drawn back to show the sparkling night sky.
“Was it his idea or yours?”
Beatrice sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get out of answering. Tenzin was fascinated by the whole situation, for some odd reason.
“Getting married was his idea. Keeping it to ourselves was mine.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s remarkably sentimental for a vampire.”
“He’s a five hundred year old Italian Catholic, Tenzin. Of course he wanted to get married. He’s just annoyed that we only had a civil ceremony. Among other things.”
Tenzin was silent, and Beatrice finally looked over to see her staring at her with a sympathetic look. She reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Beatrice’s ear.
“He adores you. You must know that.”
Beatrice bit her lip and tried to keep the bloody tears from her eyes.
“It’d be nice if he started acting like it again, you know?”
The first nights after Beatrice had turned, Giovanni had been perfect. Strong, tender, supportive, he was everything she had needed him to be as she made the awkward, often painful, transition from human life to immortal.
He had helped her to master her amnis so she could walk around the room without cringing from a gust of air. He stayed by her side as she saw her father and Tenzin again, supporting her through the roller coaster of intense emotions that seemed to be her constant companion. He had been quick to make sure she never had to wait when hunger struck her and made sure that all humans were kept at a safe distance. He had been the steady, quiet presence Beatrice had needed him to be.
But as the days passed and she grew more confident in her body, as she regained her composure and her control, Giovanni had drawn away, sinking into a shell of polite resentment. They slept in the same bed every night, but he had not touched her in weeks, and he refused to speak to Tenzin. He conversed only in the most polite way with Stephen and Baojia. And only when it was strictly necessary. He was most often in the library, still searching for the key to the elixir formula, or in the Great Hall, strategizing with Tenzin’s father and his allies.
“Do you think it will be five years before he forgives me?”
“Please, you’re his wife. He’ll get horny. You’ll fight. The two of you will make up. We won’t see you for a few days. You’ll be fine.”