But the duke didn’t know her quite as well as Cort did. “You would be wise to listen to her,” di Reinardus said. “She has been brave, but she has the sense to know that courage is not enough. And that I will make her death most unpleasant.”
“Let her go!” von Mir shouted. “We’ll give you anything, pay any ransom….”
“Please,” Aria sobbed. “I will marry you, Duke. I will do whatever you tell me.” Her voice was closer to the carriage door now. “You asked me to marry you, and I refused!” she called out to Cort. “I want nothing to do with you.” A portion of her pale face showed in the window. “Do what he says. I order you! Take all these men away.”
“You heard Her Highness,” di Reinardus said. “You have three minutes to decide.”
Three minutes. Three minutes during which Cort would take a terrible chance.
“Where is Yuri?” the duke asked. “Have you killed him?”
“He’s dead,” Cort growled.
“It would have been better, for your sake, if you had seen to him in California. Are any of my men still alive and capable of handling the carriage?”
“One.”
“Let him up. He will drive us. And be warned…if anyone follows, the princess will die.”
Cort backed away and gestured to his father. Alphonse Changed and jerked the man in question to his feet. The fellow scrambled onto the coachman’s seat and gathered up the reins with trembling hands. Aria continued to whine and weep.
“Very well,” Cort said. “You can go.”
“No!” von Losontz cried.
“You have made a wise decision,” di Reinardus said, ignoring the Carantian. “Tell the coachman to move.”
Cort gave the signal. “Farewell, Princess,” he said. “I am sorry it has come to this.”
The carriage lurched into motion. Di Reinardus smiled through the window.
“Auf Wiedersehen,” he said. “Though we shall not meet aga—”
His face turned crimson, and he gagged. His hands clawed at the rope biting into his throat. Aria’s face appeared behind his, her expression grim with purpose.
Running beside the carriage, Cort yanked open the door. Di Reinardus fell forward, Aria clinging to his back. Just as the duke recovered and was turning on Aria with his fist clenched to strike, the carriage shuddered to a stop. Cort seized di Reinardus’s collar and dragged him out the door. Aria jumped out after him, throwing the rope aside. The driver had jumped from his seat and was running as fast as his two human feet would carry him.
If there was anything civilized left of Cort in that moment, it was too deeply buried to matter. Di Reinardus had no chance. He died as a man, his last expression one of utter disbelief that he had been defeated at last.
When he was done, Cort turned to look for Aria. She had gone to the other carriage and was standing with Babette, supporting the older woman as she sobbed uncontrollably. Von Losontz waited a short distance away, while von Mir knelt beside Josef Dreher’s body. Alphonse and the villagers still stood guard over di Reinardus’s men, but it was clear the captives were bewildered and anxious to understand what had happened.
Cort went to join them, pausing to look at Yuri’s body. His treachery had caused so much suffering, and yet he had paid the ultimate price for his mistakes. Just like his master.
At least Cort had not been forced to kill him. Someone else had done the job. But he still had to face the consequences of his own unforgivable errors.
He met Freiherr von Mir halfway to the other carriage.
“Di Reinardus?” the Carantian asked, his face pinched with grief for his fallen friend.
“Dead.”
Von Mir hurried past him toward the body, undoubtedly to confirm Cort’s assertion.
Aria was helping Babette into the Renier carriage. She straightened when she saw Cort.
“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her face and body for injuries. “Did di Reinardus…?”
“He didn’t hurt me.” She met his gaze directly, but there was nothing in her eyes but deep sadness. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay to help, but I knew you didn’t need me.”
Need her to kill di Reinardus, she meant. He must have looked like a monster, likely to turn on anything or anyone who got in his way.
He swallowed. “Aria, I didn’t know you had come after me. I am responsible for this. My mistakes have—”
“We have all made mistakes,” she said quietly. She closed the carriage door and turned to look at Dreher’s still form, which von Mir had arranged into gentle repose and covered with his own coat. “That young man is dead because of me.”
“No, Your Highness.” Von Losontz joined them, naked as all the other loups-garous but clothed in a kind of dignity no human garment could give him. “We never dreamed that di Reinardus was still a threat, or that he was here in New Orleans. If we had suspected…”
“I believed he was dead,” Cort said. “There is a great deal I didn’t tell you about myself and how I came to be with the princess. If not for my stupidity—”
“Assez!” Aria cried. “Enough!” She faced von Losontz. “I am not who you think I am,” she said. “I am as much a fraud as Cort ever was. I have brought you grief, monsieur, and I can never be what you want me to be.”
Von Losontz’s face creased with distress. “Your Royal Highness…”
“I was never raised to be a lady,” Aria said. “My guardian never told me that I was of royal blood. Almost none of what I led you to believe is true.”
As Cort’s kin quietly gathered around to listen and von Mir rejoined them, she told the Carantians her story. She omitted the part about Cort winning her in the poker tournament and how close their relationship had become. Never did she suggest that Cort was to blame for anything that had happened, even his failure to make certain that di Reinardus was dead. He had been a perfect gentleman every moment he was with her, committed to protecting her and doing what he could to prepare her for her meeting with the family she had never known existed.
“Whatever he may have done in the past,” she said, “he has more than atoned for it. And as for myself…” She looked beyond the Carantians, south and west toward the wilderness. “I may be Alese’s sister, but I am nothing like her. It was all make-believe.” She glanced at Cort, tears in her eyes. “Almost all of it.”
Cort held his arms rigidly at his sides, knowing that if he let go of his self-control even for a moment he would take her in his embrace and carry her away, back to Bayou Gris, where she would never have to pretend again, never face the danger of fighting for a throne she didn’t want. He was still ready to do it. If she would have him. One word…
“Your Highness,” von Losontz said, his voice shaking, “I thank you for your honesty. I understand why you were driven to act as you did. I regret the circumstances that robbed you of your rightful privileges. But it changes nothing. You are still our princess by blood and nature.”
Aria seemed not to hear. She met Cort’s gaze, and he waited, his heart in his throat.
“Monsieur Renier,” she said, “may I speak with you?”
She walked away, and Cort followed. They were still within earshot of the loups-garous, but Aria showed no signs of concern that the others might overhear.
“How did you know where I—”
“Why did you come after me?” Cort asked, speaking over her words.
They stared at each other. Aria almost smiled.
“You know why I came,” she said.
Always honesty from her, even when her pride and heart and future were at stake.
“How did you know di Reinardus had found me?” she asked.
He offered a crooked smile of his own. “Because I was coming back for you,” he said.
She took a step toward him. “Why?”
“You know why.”
The rest of the world went away. Aria held out her hands, and he took them.
“Who are these people with you?” she asked.
; “My kin. My father. My family.”
“And you were coming to take me to them?”
“To my home. To the place I never should have left. The only place I belong.”
“It is a strange world, your home.”
“You could learn to love it.”
“Is that what you want, Cort?”
“If you can forgive me.”
“Can you doubt it?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but a firm hand on his arm stopped him.
“Monsieur,” von Losontz said softly. “You do not know what you do.”
Von Mir joined them, as grave and grim as his compatriot. “If we may speak to you alone…”
“Whatever you wish to say to Cort may be said in my presence,” Aria said, her smile gone.
“Very well, Your Highness.” The elder Carantian faced Cort again. “You have no stake in our country. You have no knowledge of it, or what the return of the true heir will mean to us. Before the deposition of our rightful king and queen, Carantia was on the path to becoming a modern country, free of superstition and feudal cruelty. Before König Wilhelm came to the throne, the wehrwölfe nobles were a law unto themselves, and humans like Josef were treated as little better than slaves. Wilhelm changed that.”
“He gave the hope of equality to the humans of Carantia,” von Mir said. “He introduced the sciences and medicine to cure human illnesses that could not be helped by the Change. He established just laws, standing firm against the aristocrats who would oppose them.”
“Until di Reinardus fomented rebellion,” von Losontz said. “He succeeded in murdering our king and queen. And when he was exiled, his cousin took the throne by default…a weak and unstable ruler who let the nobles have their way and returned the country to the dark, benighted place it had been before.”
“But the people and some of the nobles will rally behind a true heir,” von Mir said. “Carantia can be what it was meant to be. But only if the princess returns with us.” He raised clasped hands. “I beg you to think of all those who will suffer if Her Highness leaves with you.”
“It is not my choice,” Cort said. But his throat ached and his stomach clenched with the knowledge that Aria, too, had heard every word the Carantians had spoken.
“She will be loved,” von Losontz said. Tears leaked from the old man’s eyes. “Fifty thousand people, humans and wehrwölfe alike, wait to adore her. To be free again. Give her back to us.”
Slowly Cort looked at Aria. Her eyes, too, were wet. She was too good, too generous, not to be moved by the Carantians’ plea.
And it was tearing her apart.
“Tell me,” Cort said thickly. “What was your bargain with the Reniers regarding Alese?”
Von Losontz cleared his throat. “That Henri be permitted to accompany the princess to Carantia and pay court to her.”
“Marry her?”
“Become her consort, if she would have him.”
Aria made a choked sound. “I would never have married him,” she said.
“That would never be asked of you,” von Mir said. “Only think of what great good you can do for so many….”
Aria’s eyes were full of anguish. She looked at Cort and then away. He knew that if he asked her, she would come with him. She would let him make the decision for her. And she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life.
He had told her that the bayou was the only place he belonged. And he had meant it. To go out into the world again would mean returning to his failure. Taking up the mask that had made a mockery of his life, and betrayed Aria time and again.
He could tell himself that he could let Aria go. He might eventually learn to live without her. And Aria would do her duty. She wouldn’t ask him to come with her, knowing he had chosen his path. She would learn to become Queen Aria di Reinardus, because she could do anything and be anyone she chose.
But she would be alone. No matter what the Carantians said, she would always be alone.
Silently, he held out his hand to Aria. She took it. They stood for an endless moment without speaking, pinned beneath the curious and anxious stares of loups-garous from two worlds that could never meet.
“I never stopped wanting you to marry me,” Cort said at last.
“Nor I you.” She tried to smile. It was a brave effort. “I didn’t want to let you go.”
He cradled her hands in his. “But you will, for their sakes.”
“They…they need me,” she whispered. “I may be the only one who can make things right in Carantia.”
“I know.”
She pulled her hands away. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking care of me. For…” She stepped out of his reach. “I’ll never forget.”
“How can you forget,” Cort said, “when I will be there to remind you?”
Her body stiffened. “I don’t— Cort, I can’t—”
“I have no ambition to become the consort of a queen,” he said with a wry smile. “I’m no prince. I’m not even a gentleman. But I can stay by your side. I can be whatever you want me to be, even if we never—”
“You would do that for me?” She glanced at Cort’s father, at the other bayou Reniers who listened so intently. “But your home, your family…”
“They will understand. I turned my back on them once, but they know I’ll never leave them again. Not here.” He touched his chest. “My father would think I was mad to let you go. If you’ll have me.”
Her face lit up brighter than the rising sun. “I will. But only under one condition.” Chin high, she marched back to the anxious Carantians. “You will have your princess,” she said, “if she may marry whom she chooses.”
Von Losontz had no need to ask what she meant. He shifted uneasily and glanced at Cort. “It is…most unusual….”
“You would have let Henri marry the Queen,” she said, all but bristling with wolfish challenge. “Cort is a thousand times the man Henri is. Henri or any one of those fine New Orleans Reniers.”
The old man’s face flushed. “But Your Highness…”
“You want Carantia to change, become what you call a modern country,” she said. “I don’t know anything about that. But if you want people to be equal, you can start with us.”
The battle was brief, and in the end the Carantians recognized their defeat. “He cannot be king,” von Losontz said gruffly. “At best, he will be your consort.”
“I’ve no objection,” Cort said, coming to stand beside Aria. “As long as I have all husbandly privileges.”
Like the spirited girl she had been when he’d first brought her home, Aria flung herself into his arms and kissed him soundly. “I can’t wait,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”
“And I love you,” he said. “I always have.”
The physical consequences of their embrace might have proved embarrassing had there not been a very timely interruption. A second carriage bearing the Renier crest arrived, coming to a stop behind the others. Henri Renier climbed out, his gaze taking in the scene with astonishment and chagrin. He stared at Aria.
“Your Highness?” he said. “Thank God you are safe! I followed you when you left Belle Lune, but the carriage was mired in the…” He noticed Cort. “You? What are you—”
“Monsieur,” Aria said with a little lilt of triumph, “may I present my fiancé, Cortland Beauregard Renier?”
Henri gaped. Alphonse approached Cort and Aria, trailing Cort’s curious cousins.
“My father,” Cort said hastily. “Alphonse Renier.”
The old man bowed to Aria with courtly grace. “My son does not deserve a lady of such great courage, sense and beauty,” he said.
Aria blushed, offering her hand. “I am greatly honored, Monsieur Renier.”
Alphonse grinned and kissed her fingers. “I believe you may be the only one on this earth who can keep him honest,” he said with a sly glance at Cort.
“I shall do my best, sir.”
He squeezed her hand. �
�Perhaps you can spare a little time before you return to your home, mademoiselle. I would like you to meet the rest of Beau’s kin.”
“Beau,” she said, giving Cort a sly glance of her own. “It suits you, mon amour.”
Cort winced. “I’ve become rather used to Cort,” he said. He swallowed. “Papa, will you give us your blessing?”
Alphonse held out his other hand. Cort took it and knelt. Aria knelt beside him.
“My blessing on these young folk,” Alphonse said, as the other villagers bowed their heads. “May God watch over them and keep them in the palm of his hand.”
Taking Aria’s hand, Cort rose. “Merci, Papa,” he said. “I only wish that Maman—”
“Do not think she will not see you,” Alphonse said. He winked at Aria. “Is there any reason you cannot be married at Bayou Gris, ma fille?”
Von Losontz coughed loudly. “Your Highness!”
“None at all,” Aria said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “May I call you Papa, too? I never knew my own father.”
“Ma chérie,” he said, “you make this old man very happy.”
“What is going on?” Henri demanded as he burst into their little circle of happiness. “What have you done, Aria?”
“I will tell you,” Babette said, very pale but steady on her feet as she came to join them. “If you will hear the story from one such as I.”
Henri groaned. Aria pulled Babette close.
“You are coming to Carantia with us, of course,” she said.
Babette smiled sadly. “I can be of no use to you there, Aria. Do not worry about me. Like a cat, I always land on my feet.”
“Then you can land on your feet in Carantia,” Aria said. “If you don’t come, I might forget how to be a lady.”
Babette’s eyes filled with tears. “If you are certain…?”
“Don’t argue with her,” Cort said. “You can’t possibly win.”
THERE WAS ONLY a brief conversation after that, a discussion of practical matters that finally concluded when Aria refused Henri’s stilted offer of lodging at Belle Lune, and insisted on accompanying Cort and his kin directly to Bayou Gris. After binding the prisoners, the villagers and Carantians stuffed them into the second Renier carriage, where they would remain until the Carantians arranged a more permanent solution. Di Reinardus’s body was tossed into the nearest bayou for the alligators to devour at will.
Luck of the Wolf Page 31