Witches With the Enemy

by Barb Hendee

  He took another step back, reeling. “Then you . . . you intend to marry Damek?”

  “Forgive me. I have no choice.”

  * * *

  Nearly two weeks passed, and the manor was abuzz with nothing but talk of the marriage negotiations. It pained Maddox when he realized that Rochelle was going out of her way to avoid any chance of being alone with him.

  He began making excuses not to attend the family dinners.

  A part of him believed that Rochelle might still somehow find a way to end the negotiations, and once that happened, he and she might have a chance to speak to her mother and uncle without fear of destroying the family’s interests.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the hungry way Rochelle used to seek him out, and they would hide in guest rooms or storage rooms or once in the tack room of the stable, and she would struggle halfway out of her dress before he got the door closed. She’d wanted him so badly. Now . . . she barely spoke to him.

  It was torture.

  The manor had a small contingent of private guards—with few duties, as Quillette Manor was located in one of the safest areas of Droevinka—and one of Maddox’s duties was to oversee the watch rotation.

  He lived in a small room on the upper floor of the manor, and he was in his room, sitting at his writing desk, attempting to concentrate on the watch rotation—and failing—when a knock sounded on his door.

  He swiveled his head. Had Rochelle come to him? She’d never come to his room before, but no one ever knocked on his door. Getting to his feet, he strode over and pulled it open.

  Lady Helena stood on the other side, looking frazzled and distracted.

  “I do apologize for disturbing you in your room, Captain,” she said, “but it couldn’t be helped. It seems that via written communication, the negotiations for the betrothal have come to a standstill. We are willing to dower Rochelle quite generously, but Prince Damek is asking too much. He wants a portion of the wine income for life. Lord Hamish thought a meeting in person might help with matters, but of course he would never be coarse enough to say that.”

  Maddox didn’t understand where this was going. Why would suggesting a personal meeting with Damek be considered coarse?

  “So Lord Hamish arranged for a family visit at Kimovesk. Prince Damek welcomed the idea as charming.” She paused. “I told my sister, and Prince Rodêk instantly assigned a contingent of Väränj soldiers to accompany us. They arrive tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be in command of them. I regret giving you such short notice, but we leave in two days.”

  The Väränj guarded the family of whoever was serving as grand prince during any given nine-year period. For Lady Helena, arriving with a contingent of Väränj soldiers in red tabards would only give more credence to her claim of royal connections.

  Yet Maddox still didn’t quite understand the situation.

  “My lady . . . the family? You don’t mean Lizbeth and Rochelle?”

  “Of course Rochelle. Once Prince Damek sees her, he will . . .” She trailed off and gave him a hard look, as if he was being impertinent. “You will act as bodyguard to the children. We leave tomorrow.”

  She swept away down the upper passage.

  Maddox fully grasped the scheme now.

  Prince Damek was asking for more than they were willing to pay, and Helena and Hamish were banking on what would happen as soon as Damek saw Rochelle . . . spoke to Rochelle. He’d probably drop half his demands. Helena was using her own daughter’s beauty and sweet nature as a bargaining chip . . . but she was doing so on the pretense of a seemingly innocent family visit to meet an impending new member.

  Gripping the door latch, Maddox felt so ill he considered packing up and riding away. He couldn’t bring himself to take part in this. A moment later, he changed his mind. This wasn’t going to be some garden party in the company of a handsome prince. The most common term he’d ever heard applied to Damek was “twisted,” and his soldiers had the worst reputation for violence in Droevinka.

  Maddox couldn’t let Rochelle be forced to walk into this without proper protection, not to mention Lizbeth.

  No, he had to go.

  Then he thought . . . perhaps this was for the best after all. Once Rochelle saw the reality of the future her mother and uncle were creating for her, she might be shocked enough to forgo her duty to the family and refuse.

  That thought gave him comfort as he began to pack.

  * * *

  After a two-day journey, the entire family arrived at the gate of Kimovesk in the late afternoon with Maddox and ten Väränj guards riding at the front and another ten guards bringing up the rear. The family and their personal servants rode in the middle.

  The party was expected and accorded with an instant entrance through the gatehouse tunnel.

  Prince Damek was not in the courtyard to meet them.

  Instead, they were greeted by a strange, small man with a birthmark—who introduced himself as Master Lionel—and a paunchy captain with an unkempt mustache named Kochè.

  The castle was ugly and forbidding, and there was no one in the courtyard but guards in black tabards. Maddox knew his instincts had been right. Even before meeting Damek, who should be out here, Rochelle could see the trappings of the dim future before her.

  Master Lionel informed them that Prince Damek was not yet ready to receive guests, but that they would all be shown to their rooms. They were taken through the castle to the third floor of the east tower. The family was assigned rooms nearest to the stairwell, and Maddox was assigned a small room a good distance down the passage, all the way at the end. He didn’t mind; he wouldn’t be using it much.

  He noticed the air throughout the entire castle smelled dank.

  While the family rested from their journey, he went down to make sure the horses and Väränj guards were properly housed and fed, and by the time he got back, he knocked on Heath’s door to check in and learned that the family was dressing for dinner.

  Not long after that, a gong sounded, and then everyone began emerging from their rooms. Lady Helena and Lord Hamish were both dressed in their finest, complete with jeweled rings on their hands. Heath wore a simple blue tunic over the top of a black wool shirt, and he looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Lizbeth had put some effort into her appearance, dressed in a light green satin gown with her hair in a neat braid.

  Carlotta wore black with her hair in its usual severe bun. She also wore a tight, determined expression as if she were about to head into battle.

  And then . . . Rochelle stepped out from her room.

  She, too, wore black, but it was a velvet gown with a scooped neckline that exposed the white skin of her throat and collarbones to the tops of her breasts. The dress fit snuggly around her small rib cage and waist, and then draped to the floor at her hips. He’d never seen it before, so he assumed it must be new.

  Her hair had been brushed until it shone and then left to hang loose, but her long bangs had been pinned back at her forehead with a small, jeweled clip.

  “Perfect,” Lady Helena said approvingly. “You are a vision, my dear.”

  She was.

  Master Lionel appeared from nowhere and escorted them down the stairs, and then down a long passage along the back of the castle that emptied into the great hall. A single table had been prepared at the far end. A fire burned in the hearth.

  With the exception of a few downcast-looking servants and Captain Kochè, the hall contained only one occupant. He stood by the fire with his back to the archway, but he turned as the family entered.

  Prince Damek.

  Revulsion flooded Maddox at the sight of him. Damek was slender and sleek with long, dark hair. His skin was nearly white, and his narrow features could certainly be called handsome. But his face had a feral merciless quality, as if he was incapable of understanding the suffering of others.

&
nbsp; He smiled, revealing straight white teeth. “Lord Hamish,” he said, sounding like an actor in a play. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

  Maddox assumed they had met somewhere before.

  “My prince,” Hamish answered, returning the smile.

  Lady Helena was to his right, and Carlotta was to his left. Damek greeted Lady Helena, who introduced Carlotta as her daughter, and as Damek’s eyes shifted to Carlotta, a look of undisguised horror passed through them.

  He must think she was the intended bride.

  Damek’s expression was so obvious that Helena rushed to correct the misinterpretation. “Oh, my prince, this is my eldest daughter, Carlotta, to whom you have been writing.” She stepped aside. “May I present Rochelle?”

  As Rochelle moved into Damek’s view, an entirely different expression altered his face. He looked stunned.

  “My lord,” Rochelle said gently, keeping her eyes on the floor.

  Prince Damek had the manners of a peasant. First he had openly insulted Carlotta by not bothering to hide his revulsion, and now he stared at Rochelle like a hungry wolf.

  Maddox hated him already, but again, prince of Pählen or not, at least Rochelle could see how hopelessly unsuitable he was.

  Heath and Lizbeth were quickly introduced, but Damek barely glanced at them. He went to Rochelle, took her hand, and kissed it. “My lady.”

  Maddox wanted to run him through.

  Carlotta watched Rochelle with a stony expression, but to Maddox’s surprise, he also caught a glint of hate. This took him aback. It had never occurred to him that anyone could hate Rochelle.

  “Am I late?” a silky voice said from behind.

  Maddox turned to see a slim woman with long silver-blond hair, wearing a long purple robe, glide in through the east archway.

  “You’re always late,” Damek responded, but his tone was light, and he gestured to the woman. “My counselor, the Lady Saorise.”

  As she approached, Damek introduced her to everyone, and her gaze lingered on Rochelle. “Oh yes . . . yes.”

  Something about her gave Maddox the shivers.

  “Please,” Damek said, motioning toward the table, “come and sit and we’ll have wine before dinner.” He called to a servant, “Johanna, bring the pitcher.”

  Looking over, Maddox saw a striking young woman with black hair and slanted eyes. In her own way, she was almost as lovely as Rochelle—which was rare. Johanna carried a large pitcher toward the table, but she stole a few glances at Rochelle, and in her eyes . . . Maddox saw alarm.

  He noticed Lizbeth watching Johanna, too. Lizbeth didn’t miss much.

  The family sat where Damek directed them, with Carlotta as far down the table as possible.

  Maddox stood against the wall, invisible. On this occasion, he was only a bodyguard.

  Somehow he managed to keep himself expressionless and standing at attention through dinner and into the late evening. At some point, Carlotta and Prince Damek went up to his private chambers for further bargaining.

  Maddox believed their efforts would be a waste of time, and he believed that by morning, Rochelle would have privately informed her mother she could not possibly wed Damek and become mistress of this dank castle.

  But the following day, the family gathered in the great hall in the late morning, and they ate breakfast, and they waited out the day. Damek never appeared. No one even mentioned leaving. Heath wandered the castle for lack of anything better to do, but for the most part, everyone else seemed in limbo.

  And Maddox realized they were not leaving.

  Rochelle was going to be sacrificed to Damek.

  In the late afternoon, the family went upstairs to change for dinner, and a repeat performance took place once they all went down to the great hall in the early evening.

  Before any food appeared, Damek asked his guests to be seated.

  Goblets and plates had been laid out on the table, and Johanna went from guest to guest, pouring dark red wine. Maddox paid no attention to the Lady Helena’s attempt at polite conversation, but he knew this was going to be another long night.

  Carlotta had not said much and appeared to be at odds. Once again, she was seated as far down the table as possible. She’d been the one handling negotiations with Damek, and perhaps she had expected a bit more respect and attention than she was receiving. With her mouth more downturned than usual, she took a sip from her goblet.

  “Is the wine to your taste?” Prince Damek asked Rochelle.

  She murmured a polite reply, but then Maddox noticed Carlotta was in some distress, attempting to swallow and apparently failing. She attempted to swallow again, and her eyes began to widen as she struggled to breathe.

  “Are you well, my dear?” Lady Helena asked, with a tone of mild embarrassment.

  Carlotta turned red and struggled halfway to her feet with one hand gripping her throat and the other gripping the table. Her eyes bulged, and Maddox took a few steps forward, but he was uncertain what to do.

  Other people jumped up and moved to help. Lord Hamish reached her first. A barrage of questions and cries filled the air, and Maddox heard Rochelle cry her sister’s name. He felt helpless, but he was a soldier, not a healer.

  Carlotta grunted and choked a few more times. Her features contorted and she fell backward into Lord Hamish’s arms.

  Prince Damek strode toward them, his face exposing both his confusion and his alarm.

  Carlotta made one final struggle to breathe, and then her body went stiff.

  “She’s dead,” Lord Hamish said, raising his gaze to Damek and then lowering it to Carlotta’s wine goblet.

  “Did you have her poisoned?” Heath demanded. “Over the dowry negotiations?”

  Damek’s mouth fell open, and Lady Helena gasped. “Heath!”

  “I want to go home,” Lizbeth said. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, this is over,” Heath said. “We are leaving.”

  Again, the passive young man showed surprising spirit, and hope rose inside Maddox that Heath might prevail.

  Neither Hamish, Helena, nor Rochelle spoke. They were all still looking down at Carlotta’s body and bulging eyes.

  “Please,” Damek said, holding both hands up. “Let me find out what has happened here.”

  * * *

  By the following morning, Maddox’s hopes were again dashed. No one had packed a thing, and it was clear the family was still not leaving. Damek had Carlotta’s body moved down to a cold cellar, and he promised Lady Helena he would find out who was responsible for Carlotta’s death and see the culprit punished.

  This appeared to soothe both Lord Hamish and Lady Helena.

  Several days passed slowly. Damek either slept or remained in his private chambers most of the day, coming out only at twilight. To Maddox’s disgust, dowry negotiations resumed, with Damek and Lord Hamish meeting after dinner.

  No amusements or entertainments were planned. Rochelle took this serenely, as was her way, but Maddox could see that both Heath and Lizbeth were miserable. Once, Maddox attempted to speak to Rochelle, to see if she was considering breaking with family honor now that she could see what her mother and Hamish intended for her. But his words only caused a tear to run down her face, and she turned away. After that, she began making certain they were never alone.

  He was helpless.

  On the fifth night after Carlotta’s death, Maddox escorted the three siblings into the great hall to see a few new soldiers wearing tan tabards . . . and then he saw three new guests, a man and two young women.

  The man bore an uncanny resemblance to Damek, except that his hair was shorter and not quite as dark. His eyes were different, too. As opposed to cruel, they struck Maddox as . . . cautious. Both women were pleasing to look at, especially the one with dark blond hair. She certainly didn’t have Rochelle’s ethereal
beauty, but she was indeed unusually pretty.

  Lady Helena introduced the man as Damek’s brother, Prince Anton. Then Anton introduced Miss Céline and Miss Amelie as his personal seers. Maddox had no idea what that meant, but it seemed they had come to help Damek investigate the matter of Carlotta’s death.

  Almost immediately following this, Miss Céline admitted that she had examined the body and was uncertain if this was a case of poisoning or not.

  Maddox seethed inside as Lady Helena jumped at this news.

  After that, he tried to stand by the wall and ignore anything being said. He kept his eyes on Rochelle.

  While everyone remained standing, Johanna served wine, and at some point, Lady Saorise arrived.

  Some silliness followed as Miss Amelie pretended to “read” Johanna’s past—but this was done at Lizbeth’s insistence. And shortly after that, Master Lionel entered the hall, and Damek asked everyone to take their seats.

  Maddox followed them as they all drifted across to the table, and he took another position against the wall.

  Miss Céline attempted polite conversation, and Lord Hamish aimed a few insulting comments at Heath—at which Lizbeth defended her brother. Rochelle sat near Damek, and the prince leaned over to whisper in her ear. She smiled.

  Maddox’s whole body stiffened.

  Lord Hamish appeared to have set his sights on the pretty Céline. “Will you read my future later?” he asked her.

  “It would be my pleasure,” she answered.

  With a lecherous smile, he took a long swallow of his wine and seemed on the verge of saying something else, but no words came out. He attempted to clear his throat and draw a breath. His expression grew alarmed.

  “My lord?” Céline asked.

  In panic, Hamish shoved back his chair and stood, grabbing his throat and fighting to breathe.

  “Brother!” Lady Helena called, rushing toward him.

  Rochelle was on her feet as well.

  Again, Maddox had no idea what to do, but then a miracle happened. Distraught, Rochelle turned to him and cried, “Maddox! It’s happening again. Please make it stop!”