by Lani Lenore
He’d heard those words before. Brooke had spoken them to him, and in fact, they’d both used the exact same tone.
She took the damp end of the cloth that surrounded her and lifted it up. Carefully, she began to wipe the blood from his face and body. He’d forgotten that he was dirty himself, but what were those things that had spewed forth from her mouth? For the moment, had she become the wise one? Did she know more than he did about life and love? In all the years he’d been without those things, had he forgotten? Grown completely cold?
Her hand was wiping a spot of blood from his jaw, and he clenched her wrist to stop her. He pushed her hand down, leaning her back against the metal ridges of the arm that waited to receive her. His hand left her wrist and tilted her chin up sharply, and all the while she looked at him with that same, seducing look that he’d seen before. He hadn’t looked at it long before his lips fell onto hers.
He wasn’t certain what his lips felt like to her, only knowing that hers were stimulating–so plump and easily manipulated. Armand leaned her back a bit more, stretching the width of his kiss until there was enough room to slide his tongue down inside. As warm and fleshly as it was, she moaned graciously for it, taking it deeply.
His hands knew they could grip any part of her they wanted without her protest, but he wouldn’t let them go too far. One held her back while the other enjoyed the curve of her waist. He’d admit, it would do wonders for him to watch her moan and writhe beneath him–for her to have her release even though there was none for him, but he reminded himself that he was not kissing her simply because he desired her or because he cared for her more than he’d cared for anything in ages. He was trying at something very important.
He was making her hate him. She couldn’t keep forgiving him forever. He’d let her get much too close, especially now by what he’d just told her–which was why he hadn’t told her from the beginning. Now, he brought her in closer to push her away.
Eventually, he closed off the kiss, knowing that she must have been sufficiently aroused by this time. Torture. Armand leaned back from her, giving her up, and she stared at him in confusion.
“I know what’s real.” He let his tongue pass lightly over her lips before he spoke again. “But I don’t have time for feelings. Yours or mine.”
4
His voice was low and breathy, but his tone was completely heartless. Anne stared up at him, unable to understand. He was accepting her, and now so suddenly he was rejecting her?
Abruptly, Anne saw herself inside the role of another woman, hundreds of years before, cleaning a bedroom in a large castle when suddenly the prince had come home from a hunt. He’d found her there in his chamber, seduced her with whispers, perfect lips, and a strong body. He’d taken his turn within her upon his bed of clean linens, and there was nothing more to it than that.
Anne knew she was nothing more to him than that servant he’d lent his seed to and then let die for their child. This was such a familiar story to her. She was completely infuriated.
No… None of that was true. He didn’t feel so carelessly about her at all. He only wanted her to think so. That realization angered her more.
Armand turned emotionlessly back to his weapons, and all the while, Anne sat quietly to herself, claiming her dress once it dried. She didn’t cry, only sulked. There was so much anger within her–such absolute rage!
She considered everything he’d told her, knowing the truth about him now. What was it he’d told her before? That after she’d heard his story, she would decide that it didn’t concern her and she wouldn’t care at all? She decided perhaps she should do him a favor and stay true to his prediction. He didn’t need her concern–he didn’t want it. She would let him have his stubborn way.
Anne decided she was wrong before. She did not truly believe–not for one more moment–that he thought she was worthless.
5
“Broooooke.”
The drifting whisper awoke him where he waited in the shaft, and for a moment, he thought he imagined it. It was only after Brooke remembered that he didn’t dream that he understood it was real.
The soldier didn’t bother moving from against the wall, turning his head soundlessly to peer down the dark passage.
“Broooooke…”
The whisper was distant, reaching him only by the echo in the shaft and by the warm wind that blew at him. It could have come from anywhere within the depth of the house. These were the ghosts of his past, calling for him. He recognized their voices. In fact, he had expected them sooner.
“Where are you, brother?” they asked. “We crave your embrace.”
Brooke did not stiffen where he stood–did not budge. Instead, he looked straight on into the shadowy distance.
“Brother…”
“Come on,” he whispered back.
Chapter Twenty–Three: The Gift
1
If there was ever a moment when the snake, belly down in the grass, raised its head above the blades and smiled over its own cunning nature, pleased with itself for not being detected; if ever it chucked while it laid in wait, anticipating man’s ankle to pass by so that its jaws could snare it–if such a notion existed, that was what this moment was like for Edge.
Had he known any songs, he might have sung. He didn’t have to know any dances to trot around gleefully, but there was no sense in looking ridiculous. Still, all those around him sensed his dark pleasure, and those that were able, cringed.
Edge’s grand triumph–of cleanly slicing off the nutcracker’s head to make way for his own–was still in the distance, but this was the beginning! His red eyes danced wildly, wide and alert. The gorgeously hideous doll could not contain his wicked grin.
Within the dark, musty attic, the Rat King’s minions–Edge’s minions–had prepared themselves accordingly for the plan. The doll pushed back his dark hair and peered up at the tall object before him that was set on a board and mounted on a roller–skate. It was draped by a decorative cloth of red and gold, and Edge paced around the great, square perimeter of it to make sure it was completely covered. Yes, it was hidden from view. It didn’t have the most pleasant odor, but perhaps that would go unnoticed. Perhaps it would be hidden beneath the smell of fresh paint.
From inside the rectangular obelisk, Edge heard a bit of squeaking, and he immediately slammed his palm against the wooden side of it.
“Keep quiet in there or I’m coming in,” he warned. The mouse noises ceased. Edge’s snarl switched to a purr. “I know it’s cramped, but it won’t be for much longer.”
From the side, a mass of blonde curls approached, carried by the clean, pretty child doll who was to be the greatest star of this day. Edge normally liked to manage his presentations on his own, but he had to accept at that he was not the doll for this task. The evil gleam in his eyes could not be hidden and the sinister look on his face was always apparent. Besides, what better to appeal to a child than another impossibly adorable little girl?
Edge knelt down to await Clara’s approach, and she skipped up to him obediently. He peered at her, and she back at him. There was something different about her face. There was a tiny smile on her lips, and her eyes were narrowed slightly, set and determined. Wicked.
“You have a nasty gleam in your eye, child,” Edge told her, smiling despite himself. “That won’t do for this play.”
Clara sucked in a deep breath, and then threw her hands to her face as if playing peek–a–boo. After a short moment, she pulled her hands away and revealed her new expression. Her eyes and lips smiled prettily. She batted her eyelashes and clasped her hands together in mock joy. She spun around in a little twirl and threw her hands behind her back. The tilt of her head and the extent of her mockery made Edge laugh aloud.
“Much better,” he praised. “The Lady Sovereign would hug you before dreaming of suspecting you.”
Clara fell out of her lovable stance. “Do I have to let her hug me?”
“Now, now, poppet; that’s not t
he proper attitude at all.” He scolded her with a lenient finger. “You know this whole performance is resting on your blonde head.”
“I know, I know,” Clara insisted swiftly, rolling her eyes. Edge always played the best games.
“Are you nervous?”
“Not at all!” she declared. “It shall be my finest work!”
She dipped down into a curtsy, and pale doll rose from the ground.
“That’s my girl,” he said, giving her a complementary pat on the head.
Edge peered around at everything they’d prepared. They had the gift–stuffed full of surprises. The dolls who were to make the presentation were standing around at the ready, dressed in their finest. Edge had his blade with him, and before him stood one anxious little girl doll. Yes; everything was ready.
“Seems you’re all prepared,” Edge grinned, hardly able to contain himself. “Let’s go make our offering.”
He turned to Clara.
“Do lead on, princess.”
Edge stooped in a short bow from the waist, and the child was thrilled. But she had a role to play now.
Turning up her tiny nose, she led the march from the attic and across to the Lady’s main gate, their gift in tow.
2
Once again, Olivia admitted her boredom, but with that was a deep sense of worry. What was going on downstairs? She had yet to hear word from any of her soldiers or from Armand. What if they were not alright? What if they were being ripped apart? Should she send more soldiers? Her advisors had informed her that she needed to keep enough defenses here so that her kingdom would be safe, but every toy in existence was important.
Especially Armand.
Olivia sat for the longest time. The sitting and the ruling and the worrying never seemed to end! Though, there was no way for her to know that her kingdom was about to be uprooted.
“Lady, there are soldiers here to see you.”
Olivia had nearly missed the introduction, but a delayed nod did just as well as a prompt one, and the peacock feathers were lifted from her view. Two soldiers were revealed to her, kneeling with their hats off reverently. She recognized them, knowing their names just as she knew every toy. These were two of the soldiers from her main gate.
“Pardon our intrusion without being summoned, Lady Sovereign,” the soldier said, “but a curious group of toys has approached her majesty’s main gate. They have a rather large cart with them, and have requested to be allowed inside.”
“Are these more from Pirlipat’s kingdom?” Olivia inquired, folding her hands across her lap.
“No, majesty,” piped up the second soldier whose name was Thaddeus. “They claim they have come from the realm of the toymaker, and they have brought a gift for her highness. Their princess is with them and would like to meet with you to establish a treaty.”
A gift? How pleasant! Another princess had come to meet her? Olivia was thrilled, and though she’d told herself she should be cautious, she quickly forgot about that. She stood from her throne and addressed the soldiers.
“I will go meet them myself,” she said with an unsuspecting smile. “It would be rude to refuse a princess.”
3
Just outside the large door of the Lady Sovereign’s kingdom, Clara was beginning to feel nervous–and irritated. She denied the first feeling; nurtured the second. Several of the Lady Sovereign’s soldiers were poking their noses around the gift, and though Edge instructed her to allow them to do this, she was still a bit concerned over it. How could she not be? What if they found the secret?
No, no. That was impossible. They were far too unintelligent to best Edge’s plan. However, the small doll had to clench her fists to keep her hands from shaking.
“I assure you toys that this is a strict offering of peace from one ruler to another,” Clara insisted in her most commanding voice, crossing her arms where she stood between two toys posing as her own soldiers. “In these times of despair and fear, is it not best that we should all join together?”
“Then your majesty will certainly understand our need for security,” one soldier said respectfully as he peered beneath the sheet of red and gold.
Clara sighed heatedly but did not allow her agitation to get the better of her. This was her job, and she would not fail her master again.
Just before she thought she might be swallowed by the monster of impatience growing inside her, a small window in the door opened up above them. It was the same one that she and Anne had stood before earlier that night.
“The Sovereign has come to meet with the princess,” a soldier relayed. “Have you inspected the gift?”
“It smells a bit sour,” one of the outside soldiers said, “but it seems to be legitimate.”
It was the paint, Clara had told them. Imbeciles.
“I’m opening the gate. Stand away, please.”
Finally! Clara had a hard time hiding her joy, but then she decided that she shouldn’t have to worry about that. There was nothing wrong with being happy–or anticipating being with Anne again.
From above, they heard a latch release, and the enormous door began to swing back, parting inch by inch until Clara could actually see inside the kingdom that had so strongly opposed her master.
It was not impressive.
Where were the devices of torture? The pits of bugs? Where were the beasts? The girl was disappointed, but reminded herself that she was not here to see the sights. This was business.
Once the door–gate had been fully opened, Clara and two soldiers with her followed the Lady Sovereign’s soldiers inside. Behind them, a few others of Clara’s company pulled the weighty, rolling gift through the gate. After they had all come inside and the gate had been closed once again, Clara found herself looking upon the Lady Sovereign for the first time.
The Lady was standing there in the middle of the floor, surrounded by soldiers and several other members of her court behind that. Clara examined the human girl in the elegant green gown, once again unimpressed. This was the great ruler? There was nothing terrifying about her at all! The child knew that the Lady was like Anne–of the flesh–but she had expected something a bit different. No matter. This did not change things.
Many toys in the room had noticed the visitors, and they headed forward hesitantly, gathering to see what was happening. Clara’s soldiers set the perimeter, keeping back the onlookers. It looked like security, but it was strictly because the gift needed room. Clara saw now why this kingdom was such a nuisance. There were so many of them! Hundreds! Small and large, glass and cloth, soldier and not. The little princess smiled to see them. She hadn’t expected to have such a grand audience!
The Lady and her company stopped at a distance indicated by Clara soldiers, requested for the gift. The doll princess came forward then and met her soldiers, standing before Olivia.
“I do appreciate you agreeing to meet with me, Lady Sovereign,” Clara said, dipping in a perfect curtsy. “Especially since I did not send word of my coming.”
“The pleasure is certainly mine,” Olivia obliged, “and there is no need for apologies.”
“Most gracious, your majesty,” Clara said.
She had reviewed various lines and responses, and Clara could likely keep this conversation going on for quite a while. However, since she could nearly hear Edge growling at her to hurry, she would keep this short.
“I admit,” Clara started off, “that in the past we have misinterpreted one another in our efforts to preserve ourselves, but there is a much greater threat to us all now. I have not only come to propose a joining of our two kingdoms, but to inform you that the kingdom of the Princess Pirlipat has been attacked.”
There were several gasps from within the toy crowd–one coming from Olivia herself. The toys began to discuss this quietly with one another. Clara enjoyed the moment, letting the hush settle back in before she went on.
“It was falling apart, but now it has been completely destroyed. The princess has been ruined beyond repair, I’m af
raid. We tried to assist them, but were too late.”
The Lady lowered her head, reverencing the fallen.
“We were able to recover only one thing,” Princess Clara continued, “and I thought it only right that you should have it–as much as I hear that you loved it so. I do hope that it will be a sufficient gift, and a symbol between us that we will not crumble so easily. This, my gift, I present to you.”
Clara bowed once more, turned with her soldiers and marched ten steps forward. They then turned once again, taking exactly twenty–two paces off to the left–just as they’d practiced. One of Clara’s soldiers stepped forward then, taking hold of the cloth and pulling it away to reveal the gift.
Olivia’s eyes widened when she saw it, and despite the horrible circumstances that had brought it into her possession, she couldn’t help but smile.
There it stood before her, tall and majestic–the very thing she’d craved for so long. It was the clock tower that had once sat atop Princess Pirlipat’s castle house, looking down over everything. Oh, how Olivia had desired it! She’d placed her own clock upon her palace, but this one would fit much better.
The tower had been freshly painted, though it had obviously been a bit damaged. Still, it appeared decent enough. And look! The clock was still working.
Olivia moved to take a few steps closer to the gift, but Clara was quick to stop her.
“Keep your distance, majesty!” she hastened. “There is more.”
The Lady, too overcome with delight, did as the child doll asked. Soldiers moved to the base of the structure, taking up strings. With the cords in hand, they marched out twenty paces diagonally and stopped. Clara held up a tiny hand–the moment she’d waited for!–and after counting to three silently, she dropped her hand down. The soldiers gave firm tugs to their strings, and Clara’s eyes locked upon the face of the Lady–her enemy.
The walls of the tower broke apart, falling toward the floor. The rancid smell hit harder after that, raping the air. The tower fell apart, just missing the spot where Clara had perfectly placed herself. A terrible scream rang out and the horror on the face of the Lady was evident.