The Gentleman

by H. P. Mallory

  Varick sat two rows behind me and slightly to my right. I watched him eyeing Bryn with the telling expression of raw hunger as his tongue ran along the sharp points of his fangs. Although he did not particularly care for the little hellion, he purposely let it be known that if he could have had his way with her, he would have. The only type of woman Varick sought was one who showed no interest in him; he invariably preferred the most reluctant to the most willing. Of course, he would have had to get past me before he could place a finger on her. I would instantly kill him for making any attempt.

  Varick and I had two different philosophies as leaders. He insisted that vampires were the superior beings and consequently, all other creatures should bow down and obey us. A long time ago, he expressed his interest in breaking away from the underworld and taking our vampire brethren with us to claim our own place in the world. Of course, I refused. Not because I did not believe in the supreme power of the vampire. I did! And I still do believe that our position at the top of the food chain has its advantages, but they do not include the complete subordination of other creatures.

  My disagreement with Varick ultimately drove a permanent wedge between us. And I am sure he still resented me for breaking free from his ownership and mastery.

  Klaasje sat next to Varick, and she scanned the room numerous times as if to ensure that those who entered were entitled to be there. Even though Klaasje was vampire, she refused to let her innate superiority pollute her, not to the extent that Varick had. Instead, she chose to remain steadfast—devoted in her role as protector of the queen. She was, without any doubt, loyal, honest, and faithful; attributes of which I was extremely grateful.

  Mercedes stepped into the room, and I glanced at the Lady Bryn and watched her cringe at the prophetess’s arrival. Then Bryn quickly glanced away and her eyes met mine. For a moment, we held each other’s gazes, and her eyes were very wide and beautiful. She looked down at the floor as I pried my eyes away from her delectable face and body. Using the strictest discipline on myself, I continued to assess the room while making note of those who had not yet arrived.

  Odran sat beside Mathilda. And if my hearing did not fail me, they were discussing Bryn’s vision of the destruction of Kinloch Kirk. Trent sat, surprisingly quietly, to my right and in the same row as me. He was a few seats down, and next to him was a female were I did not recognize. Aside from the queen’s regular panel of advisors, there were many others sitting or standing around the amphitheater-styled rows of seating. All were patiently waiting for the queen to enter and take her place at the enormous table located in the center of the room.

  Ten minutes later, the queen finally entered the room. Everyone grew quiet as they stood and bowed their heads in deference to their sovereign ruler. Our queen smiled and briefly scanned the room, her gaze alighting on each valued member of her kingdom. She waited for Randall to join her before raising her hand to quiet any persistent whispers.

  There was visible concern on her face. And when I glanced over at the Lady Bryn, I knew that she noticed her sister’s unusual concern as well. They both appeared to mirror the other’s expression.

  “Thank you all for coming,” our queen began. “I wouldn’t have requested your attendance unless this meeting were not of the utmost importance.”

  I watched Jolie’s eyes traveling to her sister’s, where they remained. Likewise, the Lady Bryn returned her sister’s penetrating stare. I could only assume they must have been in the midst of a telepathic message with one another. I must confess my envy of their ability to hear each other’s thoughts. Yes, the two of them were certainly a powerful force to contend with.

  The queen gave a slight nod to her sister, who nodded back. The moment only lasted a few seconds before our queen returned her attention to the group assembled before her.

  “No doubt, all of you have heard the chatter and whispers about my sister, the Lady Bryn’s, prophetic dream,” she began. “I wanted to invite all of you here to discuss what we should do moving forward,” she finished. “As most of you also already know, I already met with your superiors, so the purpose of this gathering is to inform you of what is going on and to answer any questions you might have.”

  “What was the dream or vision about?” someone called from the far side of the room.

  “The vision foretold an attack upon our kingdom and our people,” the queen responded placidly.

  The exclamations increased and eventually became a loud hum of murmurs. The queen sucked in a breath of air as she waited for the room to grow silent. Once she regained everyone’s attention, she glanced at her husband who offered his tacit encouragement.

  The spectators hushed again before the queen resumed her briefing. “We must analyze all the details from the vision before we can avail ourselves to its significance. But through the aid of magic, we intend to recreate Bryn’s vision in order to dissect it. We can study it so we can learn whatever we need to from it.” She took another big breath as she eyed all the surprised faces in the room. “And that is precisely what we aim to do—we must recreate the vision in order to glean every morsel we can from it. In the meantime, I want everyone to remain on high alert. If anything seems out of the ordinary or the slightest bit suspicious, please contact Sinjin or Klaasje immediately.”

  “An’ who’s orr enemy?” one of Odran’s fairies called out in his thick Scottish brogue.

  “Our enemy is Luce,” Jolie responded without a trace of emotion.

  More murmurs followed before the heat of someone’s gaze alerted me. I turned to find the Lady Bryn staring at me with those beautiful, passionate eyes—that were both complicating and confusing. I held her stare and smiled, which apparently unsettled her because she immediately glanced away.

  “We’ve increased all the wards and stationed tighter security around the kingdom,” the queen continued. “We also intend to continue recruiting an army. We may have to prepare for battle if and when our security is breached. Please compile lists of those within your factions who are willing and capable of fighting. I would like to have those lists turned in by this time tomorrow so we can start planning our defensive strategies. This enemy …”

  “Tomorrow evening is too late!” Trent interrupted. “Those lists should be compiled here and now and turned in to you by the end of the evening!”

  I fought the urge to pounce on the bastard when he interrupted our queen mid-sentence. The glorified dog had a penchant for getting under my skin, and he irritated me to no end.

  “I do not appreciate such rude interruptions,” the queen announced flatly as she glared at Trent. “I have given my orders; and tomorrow evening marks the deadline for you to surrender your lists of able-bodied men and women.”

  Trent growled something beneath his breath, but no one appeared to care. The queen placed her hands in the air to garner everyone’s attention again. “I must ask you not to be alarmed. We are handling everything in the fastest and most efficient way we can. Spread the word to your friends and family and remind them to be alert but not necessarily fearful.”

  Almost as if on cue, the double doors to the green room opened and a stranger appeared. Without hesitation, he immediately walked into the room. His pronounced sense of confidence both surprised and bothered me as I did not recognize him. Rather tall in height, he possessed an imposing stature. Perhaps no older than thirty-five years of age, he had amber hair that was slightly long, and dark brown eyes on a very masculine face. He was fashionably dressed in a dark suit with a crisp white shirt and dark, pointy-toed shoes. He was the type of man who demanded everyone’s attention when he entered the room.

  Standing up, I immediately dematerialized in a mere second and only reappeared when I was standing before the queen, planting myself conveniently in the path between her and the stranger.

  “Oh, my God,” the Lady Bryn whispered, but I could hear her unique voice as if she were speaking into my ear.

  I turned back to face her and found her staring at the stranger
with an open mouth and visible shock in her wide eyes. But something else shone there as well—recognition, and a sense of familiarity. The Lady Bryn knew this man, although I could not detect from her countenance whether he was friend or foe.

  When I looked back at the man, I found his gaze riveted on Bryn, just as hers was on him. They just stared at one another as if nothing and no one else in the room mattered. I could not explain it, but a surge of jealousy overtook me, and I could feel it especially in my fangs.

  My sharp canines descended as I returned my gaze to Bryn just as the queen laughed. Looking up at me, she took my hand, grasping my attention.

  “It’s okay, Sinjin,” she said in a soft voice. “He is not the enemy.”

  I glanced back at the stranger and found him still staring at the queen’s sister. I sensed his obvious attraction to the Lady Bryn, and my wrath began to churn in my body, like a burst of adrenaline that thoroughly surprised me.

  Who was this man? How dare he be allowed to drink the Lady Bryn in with such familiarity and recognition? Not to mention blatant desire! Who could this man be to her? And why do both of them seem to know one another so well?

  Jolie greeted the stranger as I stepped aside, reluctantly allowing him to approach her. Without sparing me a sideways glance, he pried his attention away from the queen’s sister and squarely settled it on the queen! Grinning broadly like a jack-o-lantern, he dipped his head in a low bow while taking her proffered hand and bringing it to his mouth.

  I caught Randall shifting uncomfortably, but he did not say anything. However, I must admit I was boiling with anger. How dare this … heathen approach the Queen of the Underworld so cavalierly and dare to kiss her hand!? Such a display of unbridled familiarity and informality surpassed the limits of polite acquaintance. Even so, the queen took no offense but simply motioned for him to stand beside her, which he obediently did.

  I watched Randall reluctantly shaking the arrogant man’s hand, and I narrowed my eyes. I could only wonder from where in the depths of hell this stranger emerged who was wholly unknown, but, apparently, only to me.

  The queen raised her hand to quiet the few people who were talking. “We have a special guest who arrived earlier this afternoon. He traveled very far to be here with us tonight and I would like to introduce him to all of you now.” She scanned the room before her eyes settled back on the stranger. “May I introduce the esteemed and honorable Dureau Chevalier. He comes from the land of the fae in Pays de la Loire, France, and he is here to better understand the impending threat posed to our kingdom by Luce.”

  I was not surprised to learn the newcomer was no more than a frog. In an instant, my instinctive repulsion toward him struck me as entirely understandable and correct. The French could not be trusted!

  Glancing from Dureau Cheva-whatever to Bryn, I was astonished to find her visibly riveted by him! It seemed as if her gentle gaze had been forcefully aimed and anchored in his direction. Her odd reaction to this French dandy bothered me so intensely that I dematerialized at once and reappeared standing beside her. She ignored my presence, if she even noticed me, so I cleared my throat in order to get her attention. However, she responded by looking at me with a vacant expression before refocusing her lovely eyes on him again.

  “Who is that man?” I asked as I leaned in to whisper into her ear. Her signature scent instantly caused my male parts to respond. I leaned into her more than necessary and longer too. The supple smoothness of her bare shoulder rubbed against my cheek, flooding me with a fierce desire to claim her.

  Glancing at me from the side of her left eye, I watched her frown, contorting those beautiful, naturally pink, sumptuous lips. “I’m sure you heard my sister, Sinjin. He’s Dureau Chevalier from the heart of France.”

  “You know that is not what I meant.”

  “Then you must say what you mean and mean what you say,” the little imp barked back at me! The obsessive way in which she continued to watch the intrusive stranger suggested a much more intimate knowledge of him than what she admitted.

  “I am simply curious, my pet, about your peculiar fascination with him.”

  She immediately faced me with disgust. “I’d hardly call myself fascinated with him, much less in a peculiar way,” she argued.

  “And yet, can you deny you have not been able to pull your attention from him since he entered the room?”

  “He, uh,” she started to say but took a deep breath. “He just reminds me of someone … another man I used to know.”

  “Was it someone that you met at one of Luce’s camps?” I asked, and my tone of voice might have been tinged with a sprinkle of disbelief.

  “Yes,” she answered distantly. Her eyes and body language indicated that she was far away from me, as far as she had ever been. “He just … he just reminded me of someone I used to know.” She glanced at me. I failed to mask my utter disgust because I knew at once she was not telling me the truth. She definitely knew this man and he knew her. I was bound and determined to find out how they were acquainted.

  “Then you are not well acquainted with him?”

  “No,” she answered quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. She looked up at me and her eyes settled on my mouth. “Your fangs are out, Sinjin.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  I immediately retracted my involuntary fangs. Unfortunately, I was sure now that I was losing control over my emotions, which I found more than frustrating, to say the least. But no more frustrating than this stubborn woman! Even her breathing began to irritate me! I could not resist watching the way her chest moved up as her bosom expanded when she inhaled; and the slight depression when she exhaled seemed purposely designed to tease and taunt me. Every part of me wanted to physically remove her from the meeting so I could have my way with her. However, I had to reel in my consuming emotions, so I unenthusiastically suffocated them with cold logic and distance.

  “And may I inquire as to why we should trust this new stranger?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, adding, “maybe because he’s fae?” She turned her face finally to me. I allowed myself a moment to bask in her attention and responsiveness before I continued to hone my suspicion that our guest might not be as trustworthy as she seemed to believe.

  “Perhaps this Dureau Chevalier is nothing more than a Trojan Horse, all dressed up in that silly, French, avant-garde fashion?” My words were carefully chosen as I tried to distract her from the foppish bastard she continued to stare intently at. With an expression of exasperated disdain, she returned her lovely eyes to our unwelcome guest.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “Did you not just tell me he reminded you of someone from Luce’s camp? I should think that would be warning enough!” I shrugged impatiently.

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” she replied.

  “Then, pray tell me … just what did you mean, pet?”

  Before the little twit could respond, the queen ended her meeting. She called the Lady Bryn to her side in order to introduce the French imposter to her subjects. I could not contain my irascibility, so I directed my view toward Varick before I decided to approach him.

  “What do you want?” he asked, and I might add, ever so amiably.

  “Just a moment of your time, my good fellow.”

  “Save the pomp and circumstance for someone who cares!” he snapped. He was glaring at me with his arms crossed over his narrow chest, and a stern, unfriendly expression on his face. Although we rarely saw eye-to-eye on most topics, Varick was a master warrior inside and outside.

  “Very well, I shall shelve the pomp and circumstance for the moment. I came over to discuss our list of able-bodied vampires to assemble for the queen’s army. I thought perhaps we should choose them together.”

  “Very good,” Varick answered with a clipped nod and a short huff. “You assemble your list and I will assemble mine; then we can compare the two.”

  “I fear your definition of ‘choosing them together’ v
aries quite differently from mine, but I intend to make haste in my compilation of the list.”

  He nodded and turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced back at me with a smirk. “What happened, Sinjin? Did your grand tryst with the queen’s sister end so quickly?”

  “I fail to …” I started to say, bristling at his innuendo.

  Varick motioned to the Lady Bryn who was still gazing up at the French imposter with unconcealed admiration. “Shall I assume she has moved on from the likes of you?” Throwing his head back, he laughed heartily before turning to leave.

  Bryn also started leaving the room with Dureau’s hand resting on the small of her back, so I dematerialized and appeared instantly at the queen’s side.

  “Sinjin! You scared me!” Raising her hand to her heart, the queen turned toward me, resting her other hand in her husband’s much larger one. She continued to answer the questions from her subjects and citizens.

  “Do you know where your sister is going?” I asked calmly. However, I was anything but calm.

  “Oh,” she started, looking puzzled. “Dureau offered to walk her to her room.”

  “Do you know anything about him, my queen?” A sense of panic began to churn my innards as I soon as I wondered about the frog’s true intentions.

  “Not personally, no, but Mathilda and Odran vouched for him only this afternoon,” she answered with a smile. “And if Mathilda trusts him, then I have no problem investing all of my trust in him.”

  Mathilda looked up at me at that moment and nodded. “Chevalier has been known to us since his fateful birth. He comes from a royal line of fae nobility.”

  Jolie reached out and patted my hand. “There’s nothing to worry about, Sinjin. My sister is in very good hands.”

  Refusing to be placated, I stepped between them. “May I inquire when was the last time you saw this Chevalier character, Mathilda?” I demanded.

  She shrugged. “I must admit it has been rather a long while. The Chevalier line is somewhat exclusive and they tend to avoid the company of most others.”