by Lynn Viehl
Simone sat quietly through the examination, and the only time she flinched was when Alexandra produced a copper-tipped, open-ended syringe and some glass vials.
“I need to take a little blood now so I can use all the fancy equipment in my lab and see what’s going on inside you. All right?” When Simone nodded, she began to draw the samples.
Korvel looked over as Simone’s blood filled the first vial. “She handled both the scroll and the cross, Alexandra.”
“I know.” She exchanged vials.
He felt a surge of impatience. “They must have revived her.”
“I thought every human who touched them died. Which reminds me,” she said to Simone. “Were either of your parents Catholic, or maybe born in America?”
“I don’t think so,” Simone said. “My father was born in Garbia. Mother was a prostitute in Paris.”
“At least you had a two-legged mother. Evidently mine was a Petri dish in some mad scientist’s lab.” She saw Simone’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not rudeness,” Simone told Korvel. “She is only trying to help.”
“He didn’t say a word,” Alexandra said, at the same time Korvel told her, “I didn’t speak.”
“You said the doctor should not speak so rudely to me. I heard you.” She looked from Korvel to Alexandra. “Didn’t you hear him?”
“She couldn’t,” Korvel said slowly. “I was thinking it.”
“It could be part of the bond between you two,” Alexandra said as she began packing up her case. “Sometimes Michael and I finish each other’s sentences. It’s probably best if you keep this to yourself,” she added. “Bond stuff is private.”
“You don’t believe any of that,” Simone said. “You also don’t want the high lord to know about this.” When the doctor didn’t reply, she got to her feet. “Why?”
Alexandra ignored the question. “Okay, we’ve got telepathy. Captain, we have to get her out of here. I suggest now. I’ve got the Learjet waiting on the mainland; she can come back to America with me.”
He nodded. “I am grateful for the generous offer, my lady. Would you give us a moment alone, please?”
She nodded, picked up her case, and left.
“Why must I leave now?” Simone asked. “I am one of you. You said I was.”
“Come here, love.” When she did, he swept her up and carried her to the large chair beside the hearth. “Alexandra’s Kyn ability allows her to read the minds of some of the Kyn. Before she changed, no Darkyn ever had that talent.” He took her hand in his. “But Alexandra’s ability is also limited. She can only read the thoughts of killers, or those planning to kill. If you could read my mind and hers, then it seems you have the ability to read any Kyn mind.”
“Why does that mean I have to leave you?”
“As Kyn you are now subject to Richard’s rule. If he discovers the nature of your talent, he will command you to remain here so he can make use of it.” He hesitated before he added, “There is someone who has the power to invade our minds and take control of our bodies. It has done this to the high lord tonight. He will not rest until he discovers who can do this—and once he learns of your ability, he will use you to find him.”
“I’m not leaving you, and he can’t use me.” She got to her feet. “It’s time to introduce the high lord to Helada.”
“Absolutely not,” he said flatly.
“I know what I’m doing.” She held out her hand. “Trust me, please.”
Korvel rose and took her by the shoulders. “You would have a good life in America. Alexandra would make sure of it.”
She smiled up at him. “Not without my husband.”
He tried to persuade her to change her mind as they walked from the room to Richard’s study, but Simone assured him she knew what she was doing.
Richard sat by the fire reading a book, and nodded as Korvel bowed and Simone dropped into an elegant curtsey. “You are recovered?”
“Yes, my lord.” She turned to Korvel. “Captain, would you perform the introductions?”
“My lord Tremayne, this is Simone Derien, sentinel sworn to the tresoran council, daughter of Derien of Château Niege, and the last surviving member of Cristophe Noir’s mortal bloodline.” When she gave him a pointed look, he reluctantly added, “She is also known as Helada.”
The book fell to the floor before Richard seemed to recover his composure. “I always suspected that Helada was mortal.”
“As I was, until today,” she agreed. “Dr. Keller says I have made the change. So now Helada is truly immortal.”
The high lord jumped to his feet. “The agreement was made with Cristophe’s mortal family. You no longer belong to them. You are mine.”
“I think the tresoran council will convince you otherwise.” She looked at Korvel. “My family took an oath to serve the council under the rule of lineage. For as long as there are Deriens, faith can never be broken.”
Richard uttered a low growl. “It was not meant to include mortals made Kyn.”
“Neither does it exclude them, my lord,” Simone said politely. “But perhaps we can renegotiate the terms.”
The high lord moved away from them, going to stand before the windows that overlooked his gardens. “What do you want?”
“Freedom,” she said simply.
“We are none of us free, my lady,” Richard advised her. “Nor will I allow the two of you to run about the continent. We have more than enough rogues to contend with presently.” His eyes shifted to Korvel. “This thing that spoke in our minds and controlled our limbs must be found. I will not tolerate such attacks. I expect you to lead the hunt.”
Korvel considered telling him about the shadowy presence he had seen both in Jamaica and on the other side of Simone’s funeral pyre. But if he revealed what he knew, Richard would never release him.
“I would not know where to look, and my hunting days are finished, my lord,” he said at last. “Lord Gabriel has offered me a place in his household. I would like to accept it.”
“Gabriel’s household consists of exactly one razor-tongued shrew, who has never made oath to anyone or anything,” the high lord said. “He refuses rule of Ireland, and so he has no territory, no stronghold, and no power.”
“When we join him, I will transfer ownership to him of my father’s properties, which are considerable,” Simone suggested. “I will also increase his household to fifty-three. I should have mentioned I have my own garrison.”
“Oh, of course you do.” Richard turned around and regarded Korvel. “And you. You swore to spend your life in service to me. In the hour when I need you most, when I depend on your loyalty, you disobey my orders and ignore your duties. Where is my due, Captain?”
“Your due?” Korvel’s hands curled into fists. “I made that oath as a mortal child, outcast and terrified. You preyed on my fears and took advantage of my despair.”
“I see you recall the wretched condition in which you came to me,” the high lord said. “A pity you have no gratitude for what I gave you in exchange for your service.”
“What you gave me? You made me your prisoner,” Korvel said. “My sentence, which should have lasted only a few dozen years, has continued for seven centuries and more. In all that time I have served you without question, my lord, even when I came to know what you did to me.”
Richard uttered a laugh. “And what did I do to you, boy, but save you from starving in the hedgerows?”
“You knew what was happening to you when you returned from the Holy Land. You played God when you decided that I should not die a mortal death. You abused my faith in that oath until you almost destroyed my sanity and my soul. But I will give you your due this one last time.” He drew his sword and thrust it into the floor between them. “My fate is yours. Release me or kill me.”
Richard gazed down at the quivering hilt of the sword before he took hold of it and held it aloft. Several long seconds passed before he called out for his guard.
Simone took Korvel’s hand as the two warriors came to flank him.
The high lord stepped forward. “You vowed by bond of blood to serve me and my house, and to obey me in all things. By disobedience and insolence you have broken that vow and released me from my obligations to you.”
Korvel had thought the words would feel like blows, but instead he felt the chains inside him snapping, link by link.
Richard pulled back his hood and regarded the men on either side of Korvel. “Stefan, Howarth, I call on you as witnesses, and declare that this man has broken faith with me. He no longer holds position in my household or rank among the Kyn. His weapons and possessions will be confiscated, his privileges revoked.”
It wasn’t until the high lord inverted the blade and offered the hilt to Korvel that he felt the last chain, the one that had for so long imprisoned his soul, fall away.
“Korvel the bastard, I discharge you from my household. From this day forth, you no longer serve me as seneschal.”
Epilogue
November 7, 2011
Somewhere in Provence
T
he vineyards surrounding the old château, which had once employed half the village, had not been worked for many years. All mourned the day the land had been bought from its elderly owners by a speculator, and when the property became an asset squabbled over during his subsequent lengthy bankruptcy, predictions of doom began to spread.
Ultimately the château and all the vineyards went to a bank in Paris, to be sold off again to the highest bidder. This, of course, would probably be some foreigner determined to renovate it into a profitable obscenity that would turn the village into another tourist trap. Dour bets were placed as to whether the new owners would convert the winery into a factory for cheap ceramics, a New Age cultists’ retreat, or a backpacker hostel.
News of the sale reached the village, which initially rejoiced to learn a young couple had purchased it. To add to the excitement, it was rumored that they intended to keep it as a winery and start their own label. That joy crashed into renewed desolation when the owner was revealed to be an Englishman. Only when the Realtor also let it slip that he had a French wife did the locals decide that he must have some brains, and all was not lost.
En effet, he could have been married to an Englishwoman.
Simone lit the candle in the center of the old millstone table before she went to sit on the edge of the retaining wall. The music she had left playing in the house drifted out through the windows, coloring the frosty air with the wild, cascading sweetness of Debussy’s First Arabesque. Tonight it brought her the same languid pleasure as the blue silk dress she wore. She could feel the frost like tiny crystals in the air, but the cold never bothered her now. Almost nothing did.
While the encroaching winter had stripped most of the leaves from the olives and the cypresses around the old château, and gleaned all of the fields in the valley to brown stubble, she could still smell the lavender in the air. It reminded her of the convent, which still remained deserted, and the sisters, all of whom had been relocated to a new sanctuary in Italy. Gabriel had inquired after them for her, and assured her that the council had them well protected.
Nicola had set up a secure computer system for Korvel, and Simone used it to contact each of her brothers. While she had used them like a threat against Richard, she had no intentions of further intruding on their lives, and tried to release them from the oath of loyalty they had been forced to make. She still couldn’t quite believe they had all flatly refused, or that so many would soon be relocating to Provence to be near her and Korvel.
Alexandra Keller had called from America to tell Simone about the strange green particles she had discovered in the samples of blood she had taken from her. “I intended to test them and confirm that they were fragments of these emeralds Richard wants, but when I took the sample out of the centrifuge they were gone. The pathogen responsible for making you Darkyn probably ate them. What I want to know is, how did they get into your bloodstream?”
“Pájaro struck me in the head with the cross,” Simone told her. She recalled the tiny green glitter she had seen just before he’d hit her. “Perhaps it still had some power left in it.”
“You’re not going to tell me what you know about these emeralds, are you?” Alex said, and then answered herself with, “Good idea.”
The little black dog came out of the woods first, racing up to the terrace to leap the wall and bounce around her, finally balancing on her hind legs as she pawed Simone’s skirt. Her sharp, excited barks soon quieted to little grunts of pleasure as her mistress scratched behind her ears and across the white line of fur along her belly.
Simone gathered the puppy onto her lap as she watched the big man emerge from the shadows. His black woolen cloak flared as he removed it and hung it on a peg by the back door.
The puppy, already accustomed to the daily routine, jumped down and raced around her master’s boots before she darted inside for her water bowl and the chew toy she had nearly gnawed in half.
Long flaxen hair fell in a curtain around Simone’s face as Korvel bent to kiss the end of her nose. He smelled of earth and larkspur, and she brushed a bit of soil from his shoulder. “What have you been doing?”
“Walking the perimeter. Running after the dog. Inspecting the south vineyard. Wishing for a leash.” He sat down beside her. “The soil is rich, and once spring comes and I’ve cleared the land, I think we can begin planting.”
It had been only two weeks since they had moved into the château, and already it felt like a home. She had considered burning the summons sitting in the pocket of her apron, but that would not make it go away.
“This came while you were out.” She handed it to him. “It’s from Richard.” As he crumpled it in his fist, she touched the back of his hand. “You should read it.”
He unfolded and smoothed out the paper, scanning the brief message. “‘Rule of Ireland bestowed on the Kyn warrior who finds the Emeralds of Eternity.’ How like him to turn foolishness into sport.” He looked up at her. “Gabriel knows of this?”
She nodded. “Nick called soon after the courier left. She said that the summons made Gabriel laugh and that we shouldn’t ‘sweat it.’”
“Richard publicly insults him, and he finds it amusing.” Korvel threw the paper across the terrace and watched the puppy race out, snatch it up, and carry it back into the house. “Now she will piddle on it.”
“Better that than the rugs.” She stood up and encircled his neck with her arms. “No one will come looking for me. Simone Derien died in Jamaica defending the cross. Now there is only Simone Cavelle, and this house in the hills, and the vineyards, and the dog that needs a leash.” She sniffed at his shirt. “And her husband, who needs a bath, and his back scrubbed, and as many kisses as he wants.”
He picked her up off her feet. “How much do you like this dress?”
Glossary
Aucune Sollicitation: No solicitation
Agenouillé-toi: Kneel down (command given to a horse)
Arrête: Stop, that’s enough
Arts Africains: African art
Au revoir: Good-bye, until we meet again
Banlieues: Apartment buildings in metropolitan French cities built to provide housing for immigrants
Bonne chance: Good luck
Chérie: Darling
Cinq: Five
Clos Lucé: A manor house in Amboise where Leonardo da Vinci lived and worked at the invitation of the French king
Coucou: Hi, there (informal)
Couture: Dressmaking
Dix: Ten
Doucement: Easy (command given to a horse)
En effet: Indeed
En le chiffre noir: In the night code
Et alors: So what, big deal
Gendarmes: French police
Huit: Eight
Il n’y a pas de quoi: You’re welcome (literally means “It was nothing” or “Nothing to thank me for”)
L’
attrait: The pheremonal body scent given off by Darkyn to lure and control humans (literally “the attraction”)
Lapin: Rabbit
La Roseraie: The Rose Garden
La Théière Verte: The Green Teapot
Les anglais: The English
Les détectives: The detectives
Lève-toi: Rise (command given to a horse)
Ma belle, ma belle amie: My beautiful one
Ma petite amie: My girl (affectionate)
Ma sœur: My sister
Madame: Ma’am, Mrs.
Mademoiselle: Miss
Maman: Mother, Mama
Mais oui: Yes, of course, very much so
Maudite garce: Damned bitch
Merci: Thank you
Mon ami: My friend
Mon Dieu: My God
Mon frère: My brother
Monsieur: Sir, mister
Mourvèdre: The French name for a variety of dark blue, heavy-skinned grapes used to make red and rosé wine. Sometimes referred to as Balzac or Mataró.
Nautonnier: Navigator (Old French)
Neuf: Nine
Non: No
Oui: Yes
Propriété privée: Private property
Quarante: Forty
Quartier: Quarter, section
Quatorze: Fourteen
Reste: Stay (command given to a horse)
Salle des États: The location within the Musée du Louvre in Paris where Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is currently on display
Santon: A small, hand-painted clay figurine used to portray various characters in Nativity scenes
Seize: Sixteen
S’il vous plaît: Please
Sud: South
Trente: Thirty
Vous désirez: Can I help you?
Read on for a preview of
Nightbred
by Lynn Viehl
Available from Signet
in December 2012.
“S
o Richard offers rule of Ireland in exchange for some lost baubles. If I’d known that was the sole requirement, I’d never have crossed the pond.” Lucan rolled up the summons Jamys Durand had given him and passed it to Burke. “I thank you for delivering it. Shall I have young Chris drive you back to the airport?”