White Knight
Page 9
“I just need a little time,” I said. “Not much.”
Taking his hand, I led him upstairs to my room. Shyly, his eyes roved the room. I removed the top, dust-ridden cover from the bed and sat, patting the spot next to me.
“Sit with me,” I said. “Tell me about Talyssa and your brother.”
He sat, his fingers interlaced on his lap. I stared straight ahead, taking deep breaths. “Maybe this is not the best place to talk.”
“Oh?”
“I mean... it’s your bed.”
In response, I lay back, my legs dangling over the side.
He angled his body in my direction and watched me with hungry eyes. “You’re tempting fate, my lady,” he said.
“We don’t have to rush into anything, but...” I paused, “I’d like to get used to the idea. Maybe you can... ease me into it.”
A crooked smile shaped his lips. “With pleasure,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.
I stopped him by placing a hand on his chest. “But first, tell me about Talyssa and your brother.”
He sighed in disappointment, then lay next to me.
For the next hour, we spoke, his hand brushing mine as we lay. He told me about the state of things at the Black Palace. He answered all my questions and talked about escape, though the tone in his voice told me he didn’t have much hope for that.
Before leaving, we kissed and savored each other. My passion for him burned deeply, but, respecting my wishes, he took it slowly, letting me grow used to every new caress.
“Soon,” I told him before we parted.
CHAPTER 22
The man visited Oakes Apothecary every week. He came in after hours when all the market stalls had closed. He went in quickly and left in the same fashion. His name was Beryx Antonescu, according to the genealogy trees and maps. He was tall with a pink bald head and an irregular gait. He wore a suit that must have once been fine and trendy, but which had clearly seen better days.
His home was in Square D7, a small one-story cottage with a crumbling roof. He worked as a clerk at a lawyer’s office and, according to my research at the library, he was married. However, despite having spied on his house after he left to go to work, I had never seen his wife. It seemed she never went out.
Was she the Trove? Did he buy the leaves for her? If that was the case, I would have to find someone else. If not, he should pay for laying with a child, a young girl who was forced to walk the streets to help support her family. What honorable man would do such a thing?
Yet, at night, I lay awake, thinking of his wife, and what it could mean to leave her without a husband.
As a Rook, I could demand to go in their home to ask questions, to search. All the white squares belong to the Queen, after all. But, even as my fear of the pit grew, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Still, the pressure from the Queen continued. Every time I saw her, she seemed more desperate and her threats grew more violent. In a rage, she had, only moments ago, struck Daciana and sent her flying across the throne room as if she were made of straw. I might have been next if Knight Kelsus hadn’t interfered by stepping up to become the victim of another ruthless feeding. Afterward, he was left on his knees, holding the bleeding wound at his throat, swaying with his emptiness.
The same way my strength grew with each of my human feedings, so did my fear of the Queen. It was late January, and I’d had four already. Her blood seemed to have latched on to every fiber of my body, each drop weaving so deeply into me that I felt as if I had no choice but to heed her every command and bend to her will and fear-mongering.
I left the White Palace, my heart in my throat. I’d only made it a few paces out the east entrance when Ferko caught up with me.
“Rook,” she called.
I stopped and faced her. Her thin layer of spiky, black hair had grown a little longer, making her appear like a fledgling buzzard. She’d decisively looked better bald.
“Yes, Knight Ferko.” I inclined my head slightly.
“I presume you sense the Queen’s urgency,” she said.
“I certainly do.”
“You don’t want to end up in the pit, Rook Flagfall,” she said, her expression all hard angles. “I had a taste of it once, when I was Rook, and trust me, it does things to you. So... if you have a lead on a Trove, I suggest you act. Now. Make your Quadrant proud or suffer the consequences.”
Knight Ferko went back into the palace, her boots kicking up snow. I watched her disappear through the ornate door as a numb certainty descended over me. I didn’t have much time. A horrible momentum was building around me, something inevitable.
Maybe it was fate.
As I headed toward the main gate, pulling Florea behind me, I caught a glimpse of Loretta for the first time in six weeks. She wore a long fur coat over her white nurse’s uniform and carried a basket full of clean linens. I veered in her direction and intercepted her path as she headed from the servants quarters to the infirmary.
We stopped a few paces from each other and exchanged a quiet good morning. I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was that if she was here, in front of me, it was because she willed it so.
“Do you have questions, child?” she asked in her customary calm tone.
“Many,” I said.
“I shall answer them tonight,” Loretta said, bowing her head. “Meet me at the infirmary at midnight. Good day.” She continued on her way, leaving me behind.
Thoughts of the pit, Florea, Loretta, and Beryx Antonescu crowded my mind as I made my way down to Acedrex. Without planning to, I ended up in square D7, passing in front of the decrepit two-story cottage and trying to peer through its curtained windows as my horse sauntered by.
Windows shut in my wake as the Square’s residents realized a predator prowled their streets.
The pit is always ready and hungry like a beast.
The Queen’s words echoed in my head, sending a jolt of fear down my spine. The images she’d painted inside my head were too vivid, same as her Bishop’s glowing eyes—not to mention Ferko’s warning.
As if my thoughts had conjured her, Knight Ferko appeared at the end of the street. She was on her white stallion, her back straight as she approached.
“Knight Ferko,” I said, pointing my hand to the ground in a forty-five-degree angle, a stiff salute.
“Ready to move on your lead yet?” she asked, glancing toward the Antonescu’s cottage.
The blood drained from my face.
“You suspect something, I know,” she said, guiding her horse toward the small house.
How did she know? How?!
I turned Florea around and followed, my heart climbing into my throat and pounding at the rhythm of our mounts’ clattering hooves.
“It happens,” Ferko said, “that Rooks often hold on to their human sensibilities. So it’s a Knight’s job to pay attention and figure out when a new Rook may need a little help to do what they must.”
Ferko dismounted right in front of the cottage’s door. “This is it, right?”
“I... I don’t think... I don’t...” I was so flustered I couldn’t think of what to say, of how to lie.
“It’s alright,” she patted my leg. “It happens, Rook Flagfall, but the system is designed to work around things like this. Don’t worry. Now, dismount.” The order was firm and unavoidable.
I swung my leg over Florea and stood at attention, a question repeating inside my head over and over.
What have I done? What have I done?
Knight Ferko gestured toward the door. “Do your job. I’ve already done mine.”
Antonescu wouldn’t be here now. He would be at work. Maybe the house was empty, though his wife, what if...?
“What are you waiting for?” Ferko demanded.
I stepped up to the door and knocked. There was no answer. Ferko rolled her eyes and, without preamble, raised her heavy boot and kicked the door in. She marched inside and disappeared into its dark interior. I stood on the sidewalk, g
lancing from left to right. The street was suddenly deserted and every single window shuttered.
A scream came from within the house. I ran inside, not knowing what to expect. I crossed through a small foyer, passing a sitting area with a decrepit sofa and threadbare carpet. A second scream led me into a bedroom where a frail-looking woman sat on a bed while Knight Ferko pulled her by the hair, trying to drag her out from under a pile of moth-eaten blankets.
“Oh, gods! Oh, gods!” the woman croaked in a weak voice.
“Is this it?” Ferko asked, wrinkling her nose at the smell of urine that permeated the air. “All I smell is piss.”
“I... don’t think so. I suspect her husband,” I said, shaking my head with uncertainty.
This poor woman was nothing but skin and bones. She looked ill. No, she was ill. Her eyes were sunken, her skin sallow, and her legs didn’t seem to work properly. Was she an invalid?
“Beryx, Beryx! Help me!” the woman managed to call for her husband between sobs.
“What makes you think there is a Trove in this place?” Ferko asked, finally letting go of the woman’s hair and wiping her hands on her jacket.
“The research I’ve done in the ledgers,” I said. I’d prepared a lie that would spare me from betraying Mr. Oakes, a lie that I could back up with my substantial research.
“Oh gods, I’ve been found,” the woman cried out and buried her face on the pillow and wailed.
Ferko blinked in surprise. “Well,” she said. “It appears as though she’s demented enough to simply confess to her crime. No doubt she’s on bloodshade. I’ll get the Square Sentries to bring her to the White Palace. Good job, Rook Flagfall.” She patted my shoulder. “This is an amazing win for a soon-to-be Knight.”
“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” she asked innocently. “You have challenged Knight Kelsus for the chance to take his post.”
“What?! I... I have not done such a thing.”
Knight Kelsus was a decent person, and my intention was to challenge Ferko when I felt ready, not him. What had Ferko done?
Her eyes roved around the room as if she were confused. “Odd. I have your signed request on my desk.” She smiled, then leaned in closer and whispered. “I won’t have you challenge me, Flagfall. I have a feeling about you, and I’ve learned to listen to my instincts. I plan to keep my rank for a long time, and you feel like too much of a threat for some reason I can yet fathom. Besides, Kelsus is not cut out for this. He has never been. He’s too soft.”
She walked on but stopped at the threshold. “You’ll thank me someday,” she added before she left me in the room with the wailing woman.
Ferko had been playing her game well, and once more, I was left feeling like a pawn, a piece moved by a force much larger than my own.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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About the Author
Ingrid Seymour is the author of Ignite The Shadows (Harper Voyager, August 2015). When she's not writing books, she spends her time cooking exotic recipes, hanging out with her family and working out. She writes young adult and new adult fiction in a variety of genres, including Sci-Fi, urban fantasy, romance, paranormal and horror. Her favorite outings involve a trip to the library or bookstore where she immediately gravitates toward the YA section. She's an avid reader and fangirl of many amazing books. She is a dreamer and a fighter who believes perseverance and hard work can make dreams come true. She lives in Birmingham, AL with her husband, two kids and a cat named Ossie.