“My parents were very wealthy,” Red countered smoothly. She inched toward her old mentor on silent feet. “My father dealt with a lot of trade. He was the best in the business.”
“He must have traded throughout the whole continent and perhaps farther to have gained such wealth.”
“He was very proud of his work,” she replied stiffly.
“And your mother must have been a beauty to have created such a lovely daughter,” Arthur stated coolly. His eyes glanced up, the smile growing as he watched Red halt in the center of the room.
“Indeed, she was. It’s a shame she died,” Red shot back with a snarl. She knew she was treading in dangerous waters, but she only needed a small distraction to bring her closer to her old mentor.
“You and I both know that she is very much alive,” Arthur Welin sneered, peering back to his held page as if he were reading the information he knew right out of it.
Red waved the comment away with a snicker, “Dead to me, then. The details don’t matter when I don’t care either way.” She rounded Arthur's desk, ready to snatch the book from his hands. “Now if you’re finished with mentioning my overly dull past, I best be on my way.”
Red lunged for the book, slamming her whole body into Arthur in an attempt to knock him off balance. Her attempt was a little too strong, though. Both of them crashed to the floor in a tornado of flailing limbs and shouted curses.
“You can’t run away from your past,” Arthur laughed up at the page that he had held open even in their tumble to the floor. “Sooner or later those royals are going to come after you.”
“You’ll be displeased to hear this,” Red spat, “but they’ve been chasing after me my whole life.” She jerked the book into the fireplace, that open page burning on contact. “I’ve just been better at running than they are at hunting.”
She pushed herself away from what could have been the fight of her life, brushing the wrinkles out of her cape as she stood. She clenched her teeth together, holding herself back as she rifled through her sleeves.
“They will find you. Even if it takes me to my last breaths upon these lands, I will make sure that they do,” Arthur Welin shot back as he propped himself up. His face was scarlet with anger, but he did not rise from the floor.
“I’d like to see you try,” she replied dryly. “I read the deals you’ve been finagling with the queen’s right hand. Your wishes are nothing when it comes down to what she ultimately wants.
“So I will warn you once and only once. The Perancinian court will not be made into fools, but they will turn you into one. Take it from someone who knows.”
Red pulled the envelope Estra had addressed to her out of her cloak. “A final parting gift,” she stated. “It was fun watching you panic when I tore mine to shreds, but I have no use for this one anymore.”
She leaned down, slapping the letter onto Arthur Welin’s chest. “I hope you find it as interesting as I did.”
She turned away from Arthur, his mouth agape as he picked up the letter like it was a delicate flower. Red stalked toward the door, her strut made of confidence and unrepressed swagger. Arthur Welin was still staring as she swung the door open, slamming it behind her as she left him on the floor, the fire eating away at the book behind him.
~~~
Red leaned against the study door, a relieved sigh rushing past her lips. Her hands shook as the adrenaline still coursed through her veins. She smiled down at the ground triumphantly. But her victory was short lived as a muffled shout and a crash sounded down the hall.
Red rushed to the storage closet, pushing the exchange between her and Arthur to the back of her mind. She swung the closet door open, jumping aside as the butler she had tied up tumbled out.
“Crap! Harry, what are you still doing in here?” Red exclaimed, dropping to the floor to help the head butler sit up. She leaned farther into the storage closet as the older man scrambled back, her hands fumbling to keep him from pulling the handkerchief gag from his mouth.
One false scream and Red’s plans would be shattered. She momentarily thought about knocking the butler back out again, but she already felt bad for hitting him once and leaving him in the closet for so long. Red shook her head, throwing the thought out of her mind.
When Harry Ordom stopped struggling, Red slowly crawled closer, her hands still pressed over the man’s mouth. “I don’t want to leave you like this,” Red whispered. “And I don’t want to kill you. But if you make any sudden sounds, I will not hesitate.”
Understanding dawned in the butler’s wide eyes as he caught a glimpse of the daggers lining Red’s belt. He slowly shook his head, beads of sweat trailing down his lined forehead.
“If I take this out”—Red nodded down at her hands holding the gag in place—“are you going to scream?”
Again, Harry slowly shook his head.
Red swiftly pushed herself away from Harry while pulling the handkerchief with her.
The butler let out a few dry coughs, but did not make any noticeable sounds. “The next time you plan to break into Master Welin’s study, I will gladly step out of the way,” the butler whispered lightly. He held his bound hands out to Red, his silk tie still wrapped tightly around his wrists. “It’ll be our little secret.”
Red gave him a guilty smile, her fingers quickly working through the knot around the man’s wrists. “Don’t let Arthur hear you say that,” Red chided quietly. “It almost sounded treasonous for the Kingdom Rogue standards. Besides, there won’t be a next time.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Harry Ordom asked. He pulled his hands back, working through the rest of the knot on his own before throwing his silk tie to the side.
“I’m leaving the Kingdom Rogues,” Red stated quietly, the weight of what she had done finally settling over her. She pulled at the older man’s arms, helping him stand. Red reached for the discarded tie, trying her best to smooth out the wrinkles before handing it back to Harry.
“Well, in that case,” Harry declared, “I insist on seeing you out one last time.” He politely held out an arm, eagerly nodding for Red to take it.
“Always the proper host,” Red joked, “even with a deserter and a traitor.” Red cringed as she remembered to whom she was admitting such things.
But Harry Ordom was not fazed by her confession. “I will always take care of the guests that walk through these halls,” Harry replied softly. A smile appeared on his face as he added, “Besides, I’ve been a traitor for years now, so taking care of a fellow traitor is much easier than waiting on the rest of the Kingdom Rogues.”
Red stopped dead in her tracks, gaping at the butler’s daring confession. “I guess that explains why you offered to just step aside the next time I decided to break into Arthur’s office.”
Harry merely shrugged in response, beckoning for Red to continue down the hall with him.
The butler quickly escorted Red to the back of the manor through the servants’ quarters, avoiding the prying eyes of the Kingdom Rogues starting their early morning chores. They breezed through the kitchens, Red sneaking a few breakfast rolls into the pocket of her cloak. Harry only slowed once they reached the back exit, his large hands holding onto Red before she could slip out the door.
“Please tell Robyn Thorn that while my work here might be done, I will not be joining the rebels again for some time,” Harry whispered, a mischievous gleam making his eyes light up.
Red was yet again stunned by Harry’s words. “You’ve been working with Robyn?” she questioned, cursing the raging curiosity that slipped into her words.
Harry gave Red a proud smile, his dark moustache turning up with his lips. His matching salt and pepper speckled hair bobbed with the movement of his large head as he nodded. “He asked me to watch over you upon your return, as well as trying to sway you into leaving. But seeing that someone beat me to you, my task has become that much simpler.”
Red bowed her head in thanks, but she lifted a brow in question as she asked, “How did
you know I was going off to find Robyn?”
“You didn’t kill him,” came his simple reply. He motioned for her to step through the door, holding it open for her. “And I’m assuming that you are still curious to know why he left the Kingdom Rogues to join the rebels.”
Red did not want to end the first pleasant conversation she had been a part of in months, so she asked, already knowing the answer, “You really won’t join me?”
“It would be an honor,” the butler replied, his hand resting over his heart in respect, “but I am afraid that I have some unfinished business that I need to attend to here first.”
“And after that?”
“I will leave before things get too messy,” he assured, but he cocked his head to the side in thought. “Maybe I’ll move back to my home in Craelon. The countryside perhaps. And there I will live out the rest of my days serving no one but myself until I am reunited with the Maker.”
“I would love to join in on that plan,” Red confessed, praying that this man’s happy ending would come true.
“Then it is my pleasure to cordially invite you to my future humble abode, Miss Red.”
They exchanged hopeful smiles as Red slid a hand over the door jamb, her boots softly hitting the brick stairs outside. Red breathed in the fresh air, letting the outside breeze cool her lungs and steady her mind.
Harry Ordom bowed his head once more. “Stay safe, child. May the Maker guide you.”
“And you as well,” Red replied, skipping down the steps, a new lightness filling her steps.
“The queen’s old village!” Harry added abruptly, his rushed words making Red stop at the base of the staircase.
“Lauravelle? What about it?” she questioned. “It was burnt to a crisp years ago.”
Harry tapped his head with his hand, shocked that he had almost forgotten to tell Red where to go. “Yes, but the rebels have made their stake within those lands. You will find them there.” He turned to shut the door before he added, “They’ll find you there, actually.”
“Find me? What does that mean?” Red inquired. But the butler had already shut the door, returning to his self-proclaimed duty working secretly within the halls of the Rogue Manor.
~~~
Drip… Drip… Drip...
The hot tang of iron filled the air. The smell was intoxicating. It suffocated the life out of everything it touched. Dranac Gnorw inhaled in quick succession, wondering why no one else was struggling to breathe in the putrid air.
Dranac’s eyes darted around the room. No surface was free from the constant splatters of blood that fell from the ceiling at random. The candlelight basked the dripping walls in hues of ruby and scarlet. And the food set before him was seasoned with the taste of iron.
Dranac was repulsed by the people around him. Repulsed by himself as he watched their blood speckled faces light up with shared laughter and gossip. But his repulsion was soon replaced with terror as phantom cuts and gashes bore into their skin, their fine clothes soon stained with the thick liquid.
“Oh, Dranac,” one of the many women tittered, her perfect lips lined with dark crimson to match the rest of the world around her. “You are such a bore tonight. Have some fun, darling.” Her sparkling amber eyes and olive skin were the only contrast to Dranac’s bleeding world.
Dranac Gnorw took in her beauty like a breath of fresh air, but his apologies caught in the back of his throat when he took in the wound circling her slim neck.
Like the choker necklaces hugging the necks of some of the women around the table, the cut clung to her smooth skin. The streams of blood that slid across her skin were too perfect to ignore, even as they cut across her sharp collar bones and slipped down her curving chest.
Drip… Drip… Drip...
“You’ll have to understand, Britta,” Arthur cut in, shooting a glare toward Dranac that could tame a dragon, “his guilt from failing to sever Red Riding Hood’s head from her body is surely eating away at his dim mind.”
Dranac looked to his mentor, noting the blood that coated his hands before professing, “It is a shame that such a skilled assassin is so hard to kill.”
“You must have taught her too well, Arthur,” Britta Lozano insisted, a rolling laugh passing her lips. She threw a hand to her shaking chest as she laughed.
It took every ounce of will within Dranac Gnorw’s body not to stare in wonder as the blood slipped over her fingers, clotting against a simple gold ring that circled her thumb. Dranac looked down to see a matching ring on her left hand, the glimmering gold not yet corrupted by the blood that had taken over everything else.
“And to make it up to you,” Britta added brightly, her eyes soft as they moved to rest on Dranac, “I would bet that Dranac is already planning how he will capture Red Riding Hood and bring her back to the Rogue Manor.”
Drip… Drip… Drip...
Dranac Gnorw was most definitely not planning to go hunting for Red, but the young woman’s eyes held all power over his fumbling mind as he stated, “The lady is not wrong, Arthur. I will leave at dawn if it pleases you.”
“Why wait until dawn and give her an even larger head start when you can leave immediately?” Arthur interjected, motioning for the waiting butler to take Dranac’s untouched plate away.
“You are truly brilliant!” Britta exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Dranac cringed away from her stare as he glimpsed her second ring becoming smeared with the blood from her right hand.
“As you wish,” Dranac expressed with a bow as he rose from his chair. “I will pack my things and will be off before nightfall.”
Arthur Welin gave a small nod, waiting until Dranac Gnorw’s back was turned before adding, “Fail me again, Dranac, and consider yourself worse than dead.”
~~~
Red stopped her hike at the edge of Lauravelle, Queen Beauty’s hometown. It had been destroyed by the queen’s army years before. Her anger and hatred for what the village and its people had done to her never faded from the queen’s memory. Living the rest of her life in glorious luxury had only strengthened those feelings until she had ordered the town to be torn apart.
Lauravelle had been deserted by its people. It made up the setting of every Perancinian ghost story that kids would hear their parents tell before bed. Eventually, those rumors fell onto the fine line between fantasy and reality. And even travelers extended their journeys just to avoid nearing the cursed lands.
White ash from the torched wooden buildings coated the ground in a coarse layer of never melting snow. The winds that crept over the rolling hills to the east curved around the village’s outskirts as if they were afraid to disturb the dead town. Bricks from the sturdier buildings that had been torn apart made-up unmarked tombstones that were the only reminders that a once glorious town had ever stood in their places.
The old rose bushes that were planted in gardens all over Perancis were the only objects that remained intact. But those roses were not to be tampered with.
The petals always looked to be on the brink of death, but they never fell from their stems. The thorns were wicked and deadly, some reaching several inches past the borders of the bush. The leaves were thick and overgrown, forever enshrouding the ground that surrounded the terrifying plant.
Red stepped past the invisible line that marked the village’s southern border, a wave of gooseflesh gliding up her skin. The white ash crunched underfoot, but Red’s footprints were not heavy enough to leave a trail of steps across the unkempt ground. She did not dare to look back, fearing that she would catch a glimpse of the outside world and never venture forwards again.
“Harry, you better be right,” Red whispered, cursing herself for following the old butler’s instructions. She vowed to haunt the old man if he had gotten himself confused with a different town and had just sent Red to an easy death.
Red rounded the dry fountain in the center of the square. She was careful to avoid the rose bushes reaching out for her, their thorns hoping to pierce h
er skin.
It was midafternoon and the summer days had not yet begun their turn into autumn, but the air was cool around her. The sun that had shone brightly all day was now shadowed by layer after layer of storm clouds. The air smelled of rain ready to fall, but whatever magic that kept the town in its crippled state would also keep anything from ruining it.
“Everything about this town is depressing,” Red proclaimed as she watched the ash disturbed by her footsteps return to its permanent resting spots.
“Some people like it that way,” came a silky voice next to Red’s ear.
“It keeps those pesky tourists away,” whispered another.
Red pulled Alpha from its new sheath strapped across her back.
Laughs and giggles danced around her, every noise bouncing off the rubble strewn throughout the village. Some tones were sweet and spread further into Lauravelle’s ramshackle borders. Others were near and grumbling with distaste. They gossipped to each other, sharing stories new and old. But every voice that neared Red demanded she answer their questions and listen to their taunts.
Their endless stream of questions and taunts.
“Who dares to disturb Lauravelle? What do you want?”
“Where did such a lovely doll like you come from?”
“For someone so pretty, her scowl is truly frightening.”
“What is such a lovely young girl doing all alone in Lauravelle?”
Red ignored every outburst of demands and jeers. She continued to make her way through the town, swinging Alpha in front of her in broad arcs to ward off anything that crossed her path. But the whispers never paused in their berating as she walked down empty streets and burnt alleyways.
Red was ready to scream when she felt a tug at the base of her neck, the sting from a patch of hair being pulled from her head an instant later. But she earned herself a yelp of pain as she lunged out with Alpha, grazing one of the invisible beings. She watched triumphantly as a trail of blood disturbed the colorless ground with drops of indigo.
Cloak of Darkness (The Destroyer-Blessed Saga Book 1) Page 23