Midnight of the Fae [Tangere Tales 2] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  “My love, what is it?” his father asked, reaching for the instrument as her hand dropped to her lap. He held it up to his eye and then blinked in astonishment. “Well, now.”

  Selena sat silently, looking serene while the pair goggled at Caresse.

  Clearly confused, Caresse didn’t know what to do, and Selena winked at her.

  You’ll know what to do when the time comes, sweetie.

  I wanted to show Caresse the portrait, Leandre muttered silently.

  I would’ve except we were interrupted, Sebastien said. He’d always thought it a little unfair that she’d been kept in the dark, whether by design, timing, or by necessity,

  Caresse’s ignorance and that one’s crappy eyesight is what kept her safe, Selena replied, indicating Desdemona with a swift glare. And everyone else would’ve known if the portrait was revealed before it was time. Even the fact that it was stored away years ago worked as part of my plan.

  A fast-paced discussion was occurring on the dais, but Caresse was clearly having difficulty following both conversations with everyone talking over each other.

  Shush. I can’t hear.

  Jeremiah accepted the monocle back with a bow and pointed to the rear of the room. “Why not see what de Rochambard thinks? He’s just returned, and I believe he carries a miniature of Ella everywhere with him.”

  “A miniature! I burned all of those!” Desdemona snarled.

  Regine turned to her in shock. “Why would you do that?”

  “He is my husband!”

  “No one is questioning that, Desdemona,” Regine countered. “But he loved Ella very much. With the way you honored them, staying at the mansion to take care of her when she got so sick in her grief, I would’ve thought you’d understand that. And Ella loved you. Why would you destroy her likenesses?”

  “Yes, why?” Selena asked, her perturbed tone hinting at where the conversation was headed. “Especially when you were the one who gained the most by her death.”

  “Why should I live under her shadow? He wouldn’t shut up about her. Day in and day out,” she snarled.

  The growing rumble of conversation behind him signaled that they’d become the center of attention, thanks to Desdemona’s rising tone.

  She jerked the monocle from poor Jeremiah’s hand as he attempted to pin it back onto his vest and whipped it up to her eye, poking it in the process. “Ow!” She rubbed it with her hankie and batted away the servant who tried to help her.

  Another of the ministers came forward and eyed Caresse as if she were a specimen, and said, “If her hair and eye color were different, the bone structure, height, and carriage, even her shape—pardon my boldness, your esteemed graciousness—she could be Ella’s daughter. Didn’t…”

  “Ninette is dead and not miraculously coming back to life. Her kidnappers and those wild animals saw to that,” Desdemona said as she wiped the monocle and once again held it up to her eye. “She—ahhhhhhhhh!”

  “What has happened?” Charles de Rochambard hurried forward, smiling and bowing deeply to the king and queen. “Please excuse my appearance, Your Majesties. I’ve only just arrived. I have excellent news. Contact has been re-established with the Northern Kingdom. Their winter finally ended. It was rather miraculous that we were able to get through the mountain passes, and—Desdemona, whatever is the matter?” He peered at his wife, who continued her shrill screaming.

  Selena chuckled, and in the mental chat room, she said, I don’t suppose we could abduct an ophthalmologist from your world and give them a mini vacay while they fit all these squinters with spectacles or perform some Lasik eye surgery?

  Leandre chuckled. Although in Desdemona’s case it was a good thing she never got a closer look at Caresse.

  Selena said, No doubt. She’d have attempted to kill her as soon as Charles was out of the house.

  Huh? I’m having a hard time focusing!

  Sorry.

  Selena rose and touched Charles’s sleeve. He startled, seeming to see her for the first time.

  He bowed deeply and then smoothed his fluffy gray hair back from his brow. “Ma belle enchanteresse, how wonderful to see you again. I apologize for my interruption.”

  She preened at his endearment. “You were always such a sweet talker, Charles. You have perfect timing.”

  “Oh yes? So much excitement these days in the kingdom.”

  “Don’t I know it. Charles, by chance, would you have on your person a miniature portrait of Ella?”

  Charles glanced guiltily at his hyperventilating wife and then produced it from his pocket and placed it in Selena’s hand. She offered it to Sebastien’s parents.

  Regine’s smile quavered as she touched the image and then glanced up at Caresse. Caresse’s confusion was evident, and Regine held out the gilt frame in her palm.

  Caresse accepted it, and her jaw dropped as she stared at it. She looked up at Charles, leaning closer, possibly noticing the traces of blond in his hair. But it was his eyes that were the obvious indicator. Sebastien knew they were the exact same shade of whiskey brown as Caresse’s.

  She put a hand to her lips, and her disjointed emotions trickled through their connection as she looked down at the image. He looked over her shoulder at the miniature that must’ve been painted by the same hands that had done the larger portrait Leandre had showed him two nights before.

  Ella de Rochambard’s hair was platinum blonde and straight as could be, and her eyes were bright blue. Her cheekbones showed the angularity of her fae blood, and her jaw was strong but feminine. The smile and the way she held herself were duplicates of the beautiful woman standing beside him.

  “This is…”

  “Not supposed to be happening!” Desdemona screamed as she gaped at her through the monocle, which Jeremiah was attempting to wrest back from her since his vest was still connected to it. “She’s supposed to be dead!”

  Charles’ eyebrows shot up as he gaped in horror at Desdemona and then back at Caresse. He gently removed the Caresse’s concealing mask and leaned close to gaze at her, tears pooling in his reddening eyes. “Caresse?” Charles whispered in a weak voice. “Little Leandre’s rescuer? Who are you?”

  In a shaky voice, Caresse said, “I think I’m your daughter, Ninette?”

  “No!” Desdemona cried out in horror. “Imposter! Viper in my bosom! I sheltered you under my very own roof!”

  “Her roof, you mean?” Selena quipped while offering Charles a supportive arm at his elbow. He looked ready to fall over.

  “She is also my choice—our choice—” Sebastien said, indicating Leandre standing beside him. “If she will accept,” he murmured, compassion filling him at the confusion and shock he could see in her eyes and sense through their bond. This was a lot for her to take in. “She is my choice for future queen.”

  “And mine,” Leandre proclaimed as the gold coronet on his brow morphed into a glowing diadem, similar to the one Selena wore, but of a larger, more masculine design. Even through her confusion, the beaming smile on Caresse’s face confirmed her love and her willingness to be theirs.

  “No! Desdemona shrieked, all sense of decorum long fled.

  “Oh, catch him!” Regine cried out, reaching for Charles.

  Leandre and Sebastien moved just in time to catch Charles before he collapsed.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Selena shouted as Desdemona tried to flee from the far side of the dais.

  Guards blocked her way before she could flee through the private exit behind the dais and escorted her back before the thrones. Guests crowded closer, all talking over each other, their faces showing their curiosity and concern.

  Desdemona bared her teeth at Caresse, and when she tried to attack her with clawed hands, the guards restrained her with her arms behind her back.

  Reginald growled and harrumphed at the aggressive display and glanced with concern at Sebastien’s mother, who sat forward in her seat, her hands grasping the arms of the throne in a white-knuckled gr
ip. “You used the phrase ‘viper in my bosom’ to refer to Ninette, but I gave you unfettered access to the palace, to me. How could you?”

  Desdemona struggled against the guards’ grip on her arms before stilling to gaze at the queen with such cold hate that gooseflesh rippled on Sebastien’s arms and the hairs at his nape rose.

  “You’re lucky it was only Charles I wanted—”

  “Only Charles?” Regine asked, leaning closer.

  “If I’d wanted Reginald, I could’ve taken him instead. Disposed of you and Sebastien. Like you said, I had accessss,” she replied, drawing out the word like a malevolent hiss.

  Regine stood, and her face seemed to go deathly pale. Reginald rose at her side and put his arms around her as she said, “You killed her. You killed Ella. You were responsible for what became of Ninette.”

  Jeremiah cleared his throat and looked out at the crowd that had formed. “Perhaps we should reconvene in the private audience chamber—”

  “No, Minister Fustbottom,” Selena said, her tone of voice brooking no argument. “The crimes Desdemona committed were done in secret. Her retribution will be seen by all—”

  “You don’t speak for the queen,” Desdemona snarled through her teeth.

  “Did you just interrupt me?” Selena replied and lifted a hand and clasped it in a loose fist.

  Desdemona gagged, and her eyes bulged.

  Regine said, “In this instance, she does, and I stand with her, Desdemona. Crimes were committed against Plaisir D’Or, but Ella was from the royal line of Etherea. You’ll answer to both of us.”

  “Will you indulge me, Your Majesties?” Selena asked. At their nod, she gathered her skirts around her and slowly took the steps down to the marble floor.

  In their mental chat room, Leandre chuckled and said, Selena always had a flair for the dramatic. Will we get to dance at some point, sister?

  Yes, brother. But first, they deserve to know what actually happened all those years ago, as well as tonight.

  You know?

  I do now.

  Selena swept her skirts around and held out her hands. In one, a silver staff materialized from a shimmer of flames. In her other hand, a mundane bed pillow materialized.

  She approached Desdemona, who continued to struggle against her guards, but she eyed the pillow in Selena’s grasp.

  “What did we miss? Are they doing a drama? How ingenious,” Poutina whispered as she and Niebleht drew close, having just returned from the women’s salon. Poutina looked up and spotted Charles. “Hello, Papa, I’m so glad you’re back. I see you’ve met Nicola. Isn’t she—”

  Niebleht tapped her with her fan. “Pooty, hush, something’s amiss with Mama.”

  Poutina’s eyes rounded as she looked past the small group and saw the scene happening beyond. Obviously confused, she scanned, and her eyes popped open even further when she saw Caresse, who was no longer wearing her mask. “Caresse! You’re here, too! But wait! You’re—”

  Beside her, Niebleht growled and shushed her. Poutina slammed her lips shut and blinked in surprise.

  “Ah, I see you recognize this,” Selena said as she came to a stop in front of Desdemona. She held the pillow forward so Desdemona could get a good look.

  Her gaze focused on the embroidered lace edge on the pillowcase, and her eyes rounded in horror as she backed well away from it. “No! Get it away!”

  Warming to her discourse, Selena pointed her staff at one of the chandeliers. The flame orbs flickered out one by one, and a dark flat expanse appeared under it.

  A floating two-dimensional image flickered into focus of Desdemona murmuring comfortingly to someone off-screen while she tipped a dark brown bottle over the same pillow. Charles gasped when the image shifted and Desdemona carried the pillow to a bed where a lovely but very sick woman with platinum blonde hair was lying. She lifted the woman’s upper body and placed the pillow beneath her and said, “Fear not, dear friend, all your grief and pain will end soon.”

  Standing by the bedside, she crossed her arms over her chest, watching avidly as the woman began to struggle for breath. Selena waved a gentle hand, and the image faded quickly.

  “Ella! My lovely Ella!” Charles cried out, and tears flowed freely from his eyes. Caresse went to him and put her arms around his shoulders to offer him support.

  Selena flicked her hand, and another scene came into focus as she said, “But that’s not her only crime.”

  Desdemona renewed her struggles but ceased when Selena looked back at her and arched a brow.

  The image came into focus. It was a close up of Desdemona as she peered down at something. The angle shifted, and it became apparent she was bending over a cradle. A tiny hand waved out as if trying to grasp at her hand, and she sneered.

  She cast a glance behind her at the servant snoring in a rocker in the corner, oblivious to her presence.

  “Oh, but—” Poutina whispered as she pointed. Niebleht gave her a wide-eyed look, and neither of them said more.

  Shadows flickered in the light from the fireplace and the candle Desdemona placed on a table. The image shifted to show her looming shadow on the wall as she lifted the blanket-wrapped infant and placed her in a large workbasket, like the kind used for sewing. She flipped the flaps on the basket closed and stalked without pause from the nursery.

  “We received you as a guest in our home,” Charles ground out in a shaky voice as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Ella trusted you.”

  “Yes, so trusting,” Desdemona muttered. “Who allows unfettered access to the heir’s intended bride? Gullible fools, that’s who. The wise make their own luck.”

  Caresse’s heart thudded hard as she realized she had been the infant in the basket, in Desdemona’s clutches.

  The basket shifted hands in the shimmering image. The next image was a stark one of the basket sitting near a campfire in the dark woods, flaps still closed. Nearby, strangers clothed in the garb of wanderers argued over how to most effectively silence the infant that squalled within the basket. The cries were shaky and filled with fear.

  “That explains my fear of the dark,” she murmured.

  “My poor sweet Ninette,” Charles murmured as he kissed the top of her head. Leandre and Sebastien stayed close by but allowed her father to comfort her the way he couldn’t back then.

  Suddenly an enormous wolf, growling and snarling, crept into the circle of the campfire. One of the guests in the ballroom shrieked at the sight of it. The three captors screamed at the sight of the terrifying predator. They reached for their weapons and tried to fight back but were no match for the monster. As the image of carnage continued, Caresse covered her eyes, and one of the women in the audience fainted before the scene went black, with only the baby wailing as the wolf howled, the two combining into an anguished sound.

  The moon shone brightly as the next scene came into focus. The wolf nosing open the flaps in the basket and then sitting back on its haunches as it peered in at the pretty infant. The wolf looked back at the castle, and suddenly a slightly younger version of Selena appeared. She knelt and whispered to the wolf, stroked his head, and then pointed her staff to the dark cavern opening beyond the light of the campfire.

  The wolf gathered the basket handles in its jaws and carried the infant forth to the cave, disappearing into the dark as Selena shimmered into thin air.

  “But the wolf! The infant!” said one of the guests. “Ninette lived!”

  Selena nodded. “He’d tracked the group to their camp. I knew someone close to the royal family had done the deed but was distracted by another event in the kingdom. Ninette wasn’t safe so I sent her somewhere she could be safe. By the time I returned…Ella was gone.” Selena’s lips trembled. “I wasn’t there to save her, and her own bodyguard was in another time and place, making Ninette safe. It was too late. Majesties, I take responsibility for not realizing her dastardly plan included killing Ella.”

  “But why?” Poutina blurted out. “Why do all of this?”
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  “To secure your future, you idiot!” Desdemona shouted, turning a hateful glare in Poutina and Niebleht’s direction. “I was securing a place for you in the royal family! And you worked against me at every turn. No one understood! And now there you stand with her, not realizing she’s stolen the kingdom from you!”

  Niebleht frowned and placed herself in front of her sister. “You did what you did because you wanted power, Mama. We were pawns for you. Unwilling pawns.”

  Without comment, Selena lifted a hand, and the expanse above their heads went dark and then the next image formed. Desdemona stood at the window in Caresse’s attic room, muttering to herself. She held Caresse’s pillow in one hand and a small brown bottle, identical to the one she’d used in the earlier scene. She dribbled the contents on the pillow while tilting her face away. Then she tossed the pillow on the bed and stalked from the room. The scene went dark, and the chandelier re-lit itself.

  Leandre growled through their link as they watched his tiny canine form follow her from the room. I didn’t realize what she was doing. I thought she was just being creepy and weird.

  “Desdemona sought to murder Ninette de Rochambard, also known as Nicola de Rainier, also known as Caresse Baker of Washington,” Selena said as she returned to stand before the dais. The audience was silent and wide-eyed.

  Desdemona struggled to be released but the guards were unrelenting. “How do we know she is Ninette? You can’t prove anything with all of these theatrics! Who’s to say you haven’t just found some tramp who bears a resemblance and employed her to impersonate Ninette.”

  Selena turned to Desdemona, smiled, and then approached the king and queen. “Ella had a unique gift, one her daughter shares.”

  “I do?” Caresse replied.

  “You do, princess.” Selena drew near and said, “What is your first memory when you arrived at the mouth of the cave?”