He walked to the nightstand and lifted the lid off the ivory box I’d seen when I first woke up. He picked up a small silver switchblade. With the press of a button, the blade flicked out. He didn’t offer it to me, but closed the blade and put it back in the box, replacing the lid with careful precision.
“It’s beautiful. Much nicer than the blades the Primes are given.” When a girl was chosen by a Lord to be his blood source, she was given a blade to cut herself with. A gift from her Lord or Lady.
His hand hovered over the top of the box as if he were uncertain. “That’s the influence of the Council. A long time ago, the knife a couple used was precious. It was a gift with meaning. The equivalent to a wedding ring. More precious than it is now.”
His glance to me was distracted. “This is a very old blade that my mother made for me when I was young. It was given to me with the expectation that I would give it to someone special. It was the only thing I had here, on such short notice.”
I wanted to hit him. “Right. I’m not special. You’re doing a fabulous job making that abundantly clear. You only used an antique, beautiful blade because you were too lazy to have a plain one sent up,” I said, sarcastically. “Not because I’m prime material. Got it. I wouldn’t have inferred anything from it, though. I’m a healer. Healers are not chosen as Primes.”
“It’s not barred,” he said, sounding defensive.
“No, but no one’s done it either. Not in my lifetime, anyway.”
One corner of his mouth raised, and I knew exactly what he wasn’t saying. Your lifetime is but a drop in the ocean compared to mine.
I was done. Ready to go. I saw a set of servant’s clothes on a chair next to a changing screen and got out of bed, grabbing the robe to make sure it didn’t slip as I made my way across the room. “I have to go now. Thanks for the blood,” I said begrudgingly.
His head tilted to the side slightly as he watched me through a narrowed gaze. The sun glinted off his dark hair, making strands of it appear lighter, not so unrelievedly dark. With a small bow he left me there to change.
I dropped the clothes back on the chair and went to the mirror, examining myself in it. There wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere. Which was a good thing, right? How could he be a jerk and kind at once?
I dwelled on that. Was he kind? Sure he’d saved my life—and not for the first time—but he certainly never seemed happy about it. My skin had a glow, my brown hair was shiny, and I looked well-rested, but there was no other indication that he’d provided blood to me.
Blood! He had given me blood. How bizarre! Who’d ever heard of such a thing? And was he really cured of diseases? If so, how come the others were not? Was it because they would have to leave the island to do so? Was it a difficult thing to accomplish?
I wished I had asked him when I had the chance. He’d been a veritable chatterbox for a few minutes there.
And I’d been an argumentative shrew. Was it just because I’d been so scared of dying and so shocked to wake up here with him? I put most of the blame on his giving blood to me and the strange intoxicated feeling it had given me. His blood had made me incautious. Certainly that had to be it.
The clothes were made in the House Marchant colors, but I put them on happily enough. It was always nice to wear new clothes. I was out of the dark. Away from the squeaking and scratching of rats. Alive. I was alive and not on the verge of starvation or dehydration. I slumped down to the floor, overwhelmed by the shock of being alive.
After an eternity in which no one came to the dungeon, I’d known. I’d known I was going to die. I’d touched every inch of the walls and floor in the dark, looking for a way out, trying to find anything that might help my escape. My fingers had become raw and then bloodied. I looked at them now and they were whole, even, the skin shiny and pink.
Once again I didn’t die. Saved by a man who hated me. Well, that was a bit much. He didn’t hate me, I was just very insignificant to him. An annoyance.
I paused. He’d really gone out of his way to make me feel ashamed and small. Sending me a book warning me away wasn’t enough. Now he was telling me directly. How awful of him! And why bother? Didn’t he have other things to do besides going around and telling teenage girls how much he didn’t like them?
Of course I thought of Hetty then, her sad conviction that what I felt for Lord Marchant was somehow reciprocated. That I was a temptation to him. It was so unlikely that I dismissed it without another thought.
The rage I was working up mixed with the strange floaty feeling I still had, and I blame that for what I did next. All I could think as I put on the shoes was that he didn’t control me. I didn’t owe him. His sister had almost killed me. His best friend had almost killed me. He took every opportunity to insult me and tell me how much in love with him I was. It was incredibly infuriating and rude!
I was done. There was nothing left to say. I hated him. And in my mind, for some strange reason, it made perfect sense to go to the bed and take the little ivory box that contained the switchblade he’d used to cut himself and save my life. I don’t really know why except that doing it made me smile, even giggle a little, as I imagined how annoyed he’d be to discover it gone.
I imagined that he was right outside the door, waiting for me, ready to escort me through the house, probably past his sister and even Lord Dalmaine, who practically lived here, and I refused to do that. To let them see me after what they’d done. I would be damned if I would let my existence amuse them.
So I went to the window, taking advantage of the fact that this room was on the ground floor, and hopped out easily. As far as I was concerned, I’d be happiest if I never saw him again.
I only hoped it would last.
9
I made my way along the outside of the house, creeping over the jagged black lava rock carefully. Falling on lava rock was painful and guaranteed losing at least a few layers of skin.
As I crept past a window, I heard Lady Cassandra’s voice drifting out. I froze in fear and then found myself staying to listen, since it was clear they were talking about me.
“I want to talk to her before you let her go. I demand it!” Lady Cassandra said, like a petulant child.
My heart sped up when Lord Marchant responded, his voice harder to hear since he wasn’t given to theatrical shouting. “You had the chance when she was dying in the dungeon. At any point you could have gone and asked her a question,” he said blandly, almost bored.
“You never take my side.”
“How is this a matter of choosing sides? I leave and am summoned back here because you cause a scene. Killing indiscriminately, behaving—
“It was not indiscriminate! They were all my servants. My property. I killed them because they betrayed me. Is it not my right to dispose of my property as I see fit?”
“No, actually. It isn’t. You’re not supposed to kill the help. I’m quite confident we’ve had this conversation before. Every damned time I see you in fact,” he said, and I heard a trace of anger. “They are not property. They are not slaves. There is a difference, and you should mind it.”
“Then maybe you should be here, dear brother. To keep an eye on me. Here I am, in the middle of the ocean, stuck on this barren rock while you gallivant around the world, dictating to us what we may and may not have. You want to help mortals—even prisoners—but what about us? Your kin. Your own kind.”
There was a moment of silence. “I thought you said you were being poisoned,” he said, changing the subject.
“What do you care? You’re never here. Things are changing, Leander. You need to be here more.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, wearily.
She laughed unhappily. “You can, you just don’t want to. Let’s be honest, at least.”
“Dearest sister. The last thing you want from me is honesty. You see plots everywhere—“
“The Council killed my Richard,” she hissed. “Do you not care? You approved of him, spent time with him. He was to
be turned and added to our house, and he was killed in our home as punishment for harming a few mortals. The boldness of it, the disrespect. And you don’t even care. You come here complaining about this pathetic girl in the dungeon! Your priorities are so wrong. I warn you now, Lee…” Her voice dropped, and I shivered in the warm sun. “Our house is paying for your negligence. Blood is coming: It will pour down the streets and flood the oceans, it will swallow us all whole, and it will be your fault.”
A mutter. Was he swearing? “I’m sorry you lost Richard. But surely you can see that slaughtering every servant we have doesn’t help us. Who can be loyal to us now?”
“How can they not! They know what happens to them if they betray me. My actions have helped us. You think you’re so clever. As if everything can be resolved by a reduction in silk and wine. You are not feared. We are not feared. That’s the only reason such a bold move was made.”
“We are done here, Cassandra,” he said, sounding disgusted.
“Oh, I see. And so when will you be leaving, dear brother? Abandoning me again?”
“Do not,” he said, punctuating each word with barely restrained violence. “If you’d not slaughtered fifteen people, Richard would be alive. The council wouldn’t have acted against you.”
Her voice was a purr. “Is that all it was? Fifteen? He was to be a prince of House Marchant, and yet he wasn’t worth fifteen lives. They acted against us. But you don’t care because the world is safe enough for you, Leander. Or so you think. You control who gets what and how much of it. You leave and live in the world while we stay here, and our enemies wonder how much better it is where you are. Why you go to such pains to stay away and scorn the traditions you set up. We all want to leave, but only you get to.”
“Alistair goes sometimes. So does Roger. It’s not just me.”
“No, but they come back. You’d never return if you could get away with it.”
He responded quickly, making me think this was an old argument between them. “You want to leave, but you don’t want the responsibility that comes with it.”
“Saint Leander. The only wolf tame enough to go amongst the sheep and not slaughter the flock. You disgust me.”
“If you went back into the world and killed someone, they’d find you!” he said, almost shouting. “They’d know your blood was wrong, and they’d know you were something not human. We’d be hunted, captured, experimented on, and then killed. You have no idea the danger now. It isn’t like when we left!”
“Liar. Stephen is out there. Those who stayed with him. If they’ve not exposed our existence after all this time, we certainly won’t!”
A heavy pause. “How wrong you are, sister.” There is a long pause. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, but he wants to come here. Bring his people to the island.”
A gasp. “He told you that? He sought you out? I hope you told him no.”
“Yes, he did. Because it’s not safe for us out there.”
A vicious laugh. “Oh, how I would have loved to see the look on his face when you told him to stuff it up his arse.”
“I’ve brought it to the Council.”
“You did what? And just how would that work, Lee? Would they bring their own food? Where would they live? He had his chance three hundred years ago. You are a damned fool, Lee.”
“I think the Council should make the decision of whether they come here or not. It’s not my decision. It affects everyone here. And three hundred years ago is a damned long time to hold one accountable for a decision.”
“And what have you told the Council?” she asked, voice reedy.
“I think it’s a good idea. There is room for them.”
She laughed. “And there we have it. The reason I’m being poisoned, the reason they killed Richard. It’s your fault. Because you want to throw our society into chaos. Sounds like a perfectly good reason to poison me.”
“Back to that, are we? No one is poisoning you. The Council is discussing whether or not to let Stephen come. I’ll abide by their decision.”
“Ahhh…you’ll ‘abide.’ How magnanimous. I will abide also. After my vengeance.”
“Don’t.”
“Oh, I will have my vengeance, Leander. The moment you leave, my wrath will fill the streets with blood,” she purred.
“Do not threaten me, Cass.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s what needs to be done. If you won’t do it, then I will.”
“What do you want? What will it take to behave then?”
“I want to know if the poison is real.”
“Alistair can—“
“You’re right, Lee. He can. Go ahead and go,” she cooed. “Alistair will help me. Now let’s see here. Who would have access to poison? The infirmary, I imagine. He’ll make the healer tell him. And of course that girl of yours would be questioned too. I think she’s quite fond of our little dungeon. Although now that she’s been in your rooms, maybe she’s too good for the dungeon. So, yes, by all means, you leave it to Alley and me.”
“She is nothing to me,” he said, voice hard and low.
“And yet she’s in your room. Recovered, you say? How on Earth did that happen?” she asked mockingly.
“She almost died because you abducted her and left her in the dungeon. There is a penalty for harming a healer, you know. I certainly don’t want to pay it. I was trying to spare you.”
“Harumph. Why does she have a way to contact you?”
“For supplies. Medical supplies and it’s nothing to do with her. The healer and I communicate using it, that is all.”
An annoyed sigh. “Well, I really don’t care either way. I’m just telling you that you are more than welcome to leave, and I will find the party responsible for harming me with Alistair’s help. That was a very good solution, Lee.”
“Don’t blackmail me.”
“Don’t abandon me! Don’t let Richard’s death go unpunished! Providing isn’t enough. Not anymore. That’s taken for granted now. Expected. You need to stay here and prove that House Marchant is still a force to be reckoned with. That we are not just money and trade but power. They killed one of our own, and we can’t let that stand.”
Silence. I imagined him thinking, imagined the cold, stern expression on his face. Not that it deterred his sister at all. “Alley says it was Hapin who ripped out Richard’s heart. I want to challenge him for his house. I want to rip his heart out and show him how it feels.”
“What?”
“I’d expect you to be quite happy with the idea. Especially if the Council lets you bring Stephen and his riff-raff to the island. If Stephen’s people come there will be challenges of all kinds. For houses and land, for people and goods.”
“And what would become of House Marchant if you defeated Hapin?”
“What do you mean ‘if?’ The man is virtually dead already. Boredom. What a terrible affliction. But what would happen to our house? Nothing. You’d have your vote and then I’d have one too. Just think of all the reforms you might finally be able to get through if we had an extra seat.”
“What you want could cause a war,” he said.
“If you allow Stephen and his ragtag bunch of parasites to settle here, then there will also be a war. You’re too demanding, Lee. You want to eradicate the island of diseases. You want the people to have more freedoms, when all we want is more control over the people. You are out of step and you are never here. You need an extra vote. I kill Hapin, punish him for Richard, take his House, and the Council knows we are still a force to be reckoned with. You should be down on your knees kissing my feet, my plan is so perfect.”
“You can’t mean it. Emile Hapin is no weakling—”
“And neither am I. I can take him. I will rip him apart, and then we will all be happy. You’ll have a crucial vote for your cloyingly kind policies and everyone will be reminded of how our family came to be in power.”
Another long silence. “And the infirmary? The healers?” he asked, making it plural. “If I
support you, then you’ll leave them alone?”
She waited a beat. “If you promise to investigate the poisoning,” she said, words sweet as honey.
He was silent for several moments. “I have to be back in New York next week. I can’t be here for long. But while I’m here, yes, I’ll investigate the poisoning.”
Lady Cassandra squealed in joy. “Thank you! All I wanted was your help. La, I feel better already,” she said, sounding like a happy girl.
There was a moment of silence. “On to something better, brother. What did you tell the Council about taking a Prime this year?”
“I’m to meet the Council in an hour. And I’m going to tell them no, like I always do.”
“This year is different I think. It’s happening. I’ve seen the roster and your name is on it. Everyone is talking about it.”
“An oversight.”
Lady Cassandra made a small noise of disagreement. “I was at the meeting. They are demanding it. They think it biases the people to you because you don’t choose a girl. Even Alley didn’t dare to support you. The Houses are angry at your favor among the people.”
“The Houses are always angry.”
“Damn it, Leander! Listen to me. We are not feared. They moved against us. Attacked our family name. The poison is real and this year, this year they will make you take a primary because they take what we give them for granted.”
“The hell they will,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I provide everything. Having some girl slit a wrist for me every now and again won’t convince anyone of anything.” I heard a clink, imagined a glass of brandy being set down hard beside him. “No.”
“Don’t tell me, dear brother. I’m sure it’s an accident that after all these years they’ve put your name back on the list. Go tell them you won’t do it because it’s a sick practice and you eat on the mainland so you’ll pass. Let me know how that goes. But just in case…have you considered the girl in your room? She’s ever so young. My Richard was that young once.”
Remembered Page 9