Page 90 of Wedlock
“The wetnurse.”
“Wait, he’s still drinkinghumanmilk and blood?”
“We thought it best to continue, due to his illness,” Mother nods. “It’s usual for vampire babies to drink only blood after a time, because they can drink cows’ milk and eat solids...”
“Yes,” Angie frowns, “that’s my experience, ah, understanding.”
“Yes,” Mother nods, giving Angie a sharp look, “when Tiger was not so unwell he ate food, but only sparingly, so we kept his baby diet too.”
Angie nods slowly, still watching the woman standing over our son.
“What happened to his original wetnurse?”
Mother sniffs. “You should know, you hired this one after firing your original nurse and nanny.”
“I didn’t hire this woman,” Angie frowns, reaching out to take the woman’s wrist to stop her from pouring her milk into theinfusion bag hanging over our son’s bed. “Where did you come from?”
The wetnurse freezes, her eyes wide.
“The Court, Lady Dragonspur.”
“What court?”
“I, ah, the Court.”
Seeing Angie’s concerned expression, I look at Mother, who appears equally confused.
“Is there something amiss, Angie?”
“There’s something off about this woman,” she says quietly, “about her eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was under a thrall.”
“All wetnurses are under a thrall,” Mother snorts. “How else do you think they serve unselfishly and heal from the bites. I’m sure I’ve told you this before.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Angie turns slowly to Mother, “or if you did, it went over my head. Who bites them?”
“Each court has a special wing for the procurement and training of wetnurses in their country.”
“Procurement?” Angie whispers. “Are you saying they didn’t volunteer for this?”
“Angie,” I shake my head, “don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She snaps, “Don’t ask the hard questions? I’m done with that shit, Falcon.”
“Eleanor, where is the baby this woman gave birth to?”
“Angie,” I try to keep my voice soft to defuse what I see coming. I’d told her before what diet the Queen favoured, and she’s clearly putting two and two together. “You don’t want to know.”
She stiffens where she stands, her hand still on the woman’s arm.
“So, you kidnap human mothers, eattheirbabies, and keep them breastfeeding royal babies,” she whispers. “And the whole time they’re mourning their own babies they’re stuck under a thrall to be robot milking machines, nothing more. I guess I don’t need to ask what happens to these wetnurses after they leave their royal charge.”
“No,” I sigh.
“You didn’t answer my question, Eleanor,” she says quietly, her voice calm, far too calm for what she must be thinking. “Who bites them?”
“The Queen’s thrallers,” Mother says quietly.
“Just as I thought,” Angie growls.
