The king grinned wide, his lips lined with the blood of the man dying on his floor. With both hands, the king pressed the flat of the bloody sword, Friedrich’s family heirloom, to his chest.
“Don’t fret, my boy.” He turned for the door and barked over his shoulder, “Kostya! Have these men clean it up.” He kept marching, thank the stars, but turned at the entryway. “I’m returning to my castle for a time. But you’ll be expected to attend a ball in the coming weeks.”
“A special occasion?” Friedrich ignored the sound of the two savage huntsmen being torn from their prey.
“The queen insists. She has a special announcement to make. And my mother never does anything without a royal celebration and audience. Till then, Nephew.”
His men marched into two parallel lines behind him, the last two dragging by the collar the bloody-mouthed huntsmen. Kostya stopped in front of Friedrich with the corpse tossed over one shoulder and the severed arm over the other. “You might want to get a maid to get the rest of that before it stains. Your Grace.”
Friedrich bit back a string of blasphemous words as they filed down the short staircase to the front door where his butler Holloman held it open.
The duke gave a knowing nod to his loyal servant. No one wanted to delay the king’s leaving.
When the door closed, Friedrich returned to the ballroom, glanced down at the smear of dark blood before the fireplace, then kept walking to the window. His uncle snapped orders to his troops as they saddled up. Mikhail sidled up next to him and watched as well, cold anger simmering around the typically in-control captain.
“Captain, I don’t know what you’ve been told about my uncle, but let us refrain from discussion of his…flamboyant display just now.”
“King Dominik has a reputation that precedes him.” A biting observation, though his voice remained even and steady.
“I imagine so.”
“There is little else I can say about him, Your Grace. Only this. The king doesn’t trust you.”
Below, Dominik shared close words with his lieutenant, that weasel who’d slung the corpse of the huntsmen in the back of their armory cart, then they both mounted their horses.
“I know.”
“I’m not sure that you do,” added Mikhail.
Curious, Friedrich drew his attention away from the window and to his captain of the guard. “What do you mean?”
“I—” He paused, hesitant to confess whatever he planned to confess. “I get a sense of these things. I can tell you that it’s not simply distrust. He already thinks you a traitor.”
Friedrich knew of vampires who had gifts beyond the norm of their kind, but he hadn’t known he’d employed one. This could be dangerous. Or advantageous.
“He’ll find no evidence to back up his suspicions. Whatever they might be.” He watched his uncle’s dark figure gallop down the path away from Winter Hill, his troops in his wake, the red banner with black dragon sigil whipping in the wind.
“That may be,” added Mikhail. “But I implore you to take extra precaution in the near future.”
Friedrich flinched. Did he know of his involvement with the Black Lily? “Are you threatening me?”
Mikhail glanced to the floor and shuffled back a step. “No, Your Grace. I am your captain. It is my duty to protect you at all costs. I only want you to understand the king has plans to find the truth. By stealth or trickery.”
“You got all that with your gift of intuition?” Friedrich’s voice was light, but his thoughts were dark. Mikhail could betray him to the king and that would be all the proof he needed.
“Yes. As I’ve gotten much more with my…intuition.”
Well, bloody hell. “And what are your plans, Mikhail?” His tone hardened. “Do you want more money?”
“No, Your Grace. You don’t understand. I am telling you this…in order that you might trust me.” He held his gaze with unwavering confidence. “I am on your side.”
“Are you now?” He’d kept his dealings as secret as he could from his guard, from everyone except Grant. But it appeared he’d not fooled his captain. “And what side is that exactly?”
“The one against the king.” His jaw clenched with anger. “And Queen Morgrid.”
That’s when the captain’s usually calm exterior hardened to adamant, reminding Friedrich why the Bloodguard were known as the most lethal mercenaries across the land.
“And why would you say such traitorous things?” He had to be cautious.
“Because.” He turned his lethal stare out the window toward the king disappearing into the distance. “My mother was from Kellswater.”
Dawning swept over Friedrich at once. When he hired this man and his band of forty men who’d worked as independent guards for a nobleman in Korinth, he’d been told by Mikhail’s last employer that he was half-blood. His father had been a respected Legionnaire for King Stephanus in the east. That was why he’d come so highly recommended. His mother had been a human from the north.
“I see.” Vampires could only be born of two vampires, so his mother must’ve been changed before Mikhail’s birth. “Your mother was human, you say?”
“Yes,” he clipped. “She met and fell in love with my father when her family moved from Kellswater to Korinth. King Stephanus awarded her the transformation to vampirism as a gift to my father’s long dedication and loyalty. But we had extended family, human relations, still living in Kellswater. Until recently.”
The deadly tone of Mikhail’s voice actually comforted Friedrich. Fortune smiled on him the day the Bloodguard showed on his doorstep. For they didn’t work for just any man. Only men they respected. And trusted. The irony being that Friedrich had trusted no one but Grant, since he’d essentially turned traitor to his royal family. All except Marius.
And now Friedrich knew Mikhail’s mother was from the town that had been attacked and enslaved by the king. Only no one knew where he’d taken the people. Hundreds, even thousands had gone missing, according to a map he’d been keeping, marking where villages were vanishing all at once.
“I’ve also noticed, Your Grace, that you often refer to your uncle, Marius, as your cousin.”
Still distrustful, Friedrich furrowed his brow. “And what of it?”
“This would imply that you had a close relationship with Prince Marius. Both of you of a similar age, it is quite normal to call him cousin, when he is indeed your uncle. Like King Dominik.”
With a sharp shake of the head, he replied, “Not like King Dominik.”
“That is what I’d hoped,” he added, his sharp eyes—one blue and one green—glinting bright with a supernatural flare. “I’d also hoped that your relationship with your outcast uncle, Marius, might still be intact.”
“I see,” continued Friedrich, studying him for a long moment. “Well, then, Captain Mikhail. It seems we have much to discuss.”
He dipped his head in a slight bow. “I’ve been waiting to have this conversation for some time.”
“I wonder now.” Friedrich crossed his arms, raising an imperious brow. “Did you instigate the recommendation from your former employer to come work here?”
Mikhail studied him for a blink then gave a deferential nod. “King Dominik may have spies in the north, Your Grace, but the Bloodguard has them everywhere.”
Friedrich smiled. It wasn’t simply a stroke of good fortune that had sent them here at all. The Bloodguard had a mission of their own. And it appeared to align with that of the Black Lily.
“Let’s go have a talk, Captain.”
Chapter Five
“You run along with Helena, Izzy. I have some work left to do here.”
“But, Mimi,” she protested, using the affectionate name all her orphan children used. “Helena makes me do so many chores,” Izzy whined, her blond ringlets bobbing when she stomped her foot, only making her pouty face more precious. “And she acts like she’s the boss of me.”
Brennalyn smiled and knelt before her youngest child, lifting
her chin so she could see her clear sky-blue gaze. “Helena is the oldest. With that comes great responsibilities. It is a difficult job to be in charge, Izzy. You must mind her when I’m not at home. One day, you’ll have a household of your own and you’ll understand.”
With a small sigh, she said, “All wight. But when I have my own household, I won’t be as hawd as Helena.”
“We shall see. Now run along.”
“Come on, Izzy!” came Helena’s stern voice from the schoolyard.
Izzy’s eyes narrowed and, with a huff, she shouldered her school pack and stomped out to meet her. Brennalyn followed, noting that Helena, now eighteen, held Caden and Emmett at arm’s length, giving the two a scolding for doing something wrong. Probably wrestling again. Those two couldn’t go five minutes without swordplay or an imaginary skirmish of some kind.
“Helena!” she called.
The pretty, dark-haired girl looked up and strode over with one more finger-wag at Caden. Brenna wondered if she was ruining the poor girl of ever having a life of her own. But then, Helena was a natural at running the household when Brenna wasn’t around to do it herself, taking to the job like a mother twice her age. Whatever man won her heart would be winning a gem. Of course, Helena had already given her heart to Reggie. A fact that dismayed Brenna, for there may be no future there.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I won’t be long, dear. Just a few papers I must see to before I head home. There’s a bit of venison left in cold storage. Beatrice can help you prepare it for dinner. She knows how.”
“Actually, I’ll be the one helping her,” she said lightly. “Beatrice knows more than I do about the kitchen, and she’s only twelve. How will I ever manage when I have a home of my own?”
“Oh, I think you will.” Brenna wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed as they made their way to the gate. “Truth be told,” she whispered low, “Beatrice is a better cook than I am.”
“Marjorie said a man won’t stay with you if you can’t cook a good meal. Says the way to his heart is through his stomach.”
Brenna inwardly cringed. These young girls knew nothing about what would keep a man. Or make him leave. She swallowed the bitterness swelling in her chest.
“Well, sweetheart, Marjorie is a fool. The man who catches you will never let you go.”
Brenna had thought the same of Elliott. But she was wrong.
“Don’t tell Marjorie I said so.” Brenna squeezed the girl closer. “I don’t want another conference with her overbearing mother.”
“I won’t.” Helena laughed, jarring her from her brief melancholy, just as a familiar carriage rolled up the lane toward the schoolhouse. “Oh, how lovely. I wonder who that could be.”
Brenna knew the carriage. If not, she certainly recognized the man escorting alongside—the grave vampire who was captain of the duke’s personal guard. He neared the gate just as she did.
“Good afternoon.” He nodded, sweeping his gaze to both Brennalyn and Helena.
“Good afternoon, Captain.” Brenna couldn’t help but look at the carriage door, waiting for the duke to step out. He didn’t.
“I’ve been asked to escort you back to Winter Hill, Miss Snow.”
“Pardon?”
He cinched in the reins, his sleek gray tossing her head. “His Grace has sent me to escort you back for your appointment.”
“You have an appointment with the duke at Winter Hill?” asked Helena, her hazel eyes growing wide. “At the castle?”
The children had never known she’d been there before. The duke was somewhat of a mystery. Unless you were delivering goods to the back door, no one in town ever ventured to the great castle atop the hill. That is, except for a lovely woman venturing to the Rose Courtyard. Or a spy for the underground resistance.
“I—well—he was supposed to come here,” stammered Brenna. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be shut up in his private parlor again where she’d nearly lost her head the other night and begged him to bite her. His magnetism was powerful. And though she was sensible, she was only a flesh-and-blood woman. “I’m sorry, Captain, but you’ll have to tell the duke I’m unable to attend.”
By now, the other school children had gone home and her seven still in the yard had meandered to the gate, ogling the lovely carriage with silver wheels and a satin-coated finish that gleamed with the reflection of the snowy embankment. Izzy tucked herself by Brenna’s side. The captain dismounted and moved forward, pulling a note from his inside coat, then handed it across the fence. His expression remained passive while he waited.
Brenna unfolded the letter and read the neat, masculine scrawl.
Dearest Miss Snow,
I had a feeling you might reject my request to accompany Captain Mikhail back to Winter Hill for our appointment. Let me be quite clear. I know that you did not stumble into the Rose Courtyard to get my attention for a wood stove, though I have provided this for you and the children nevertheless. I require your presence. You will willingly get into the carriage and come to me now, or the captain will forcibly lift you and put you in the carriage himself. The choice is yours.
I look forward to seeing you soon.
Affectionately,
Friedrich
Heat flushed her cheeks halfway through the reading.
“Are you all right?” asked Helena, soft concern in her voice.
“Fine, sweetheart.” She forced a smile and folded the letter, tucking it in the pocket of her skirt. “You run along and take the others. I’d forgotten about my meeting.”
“You forgot?” asked Helena in disbelief.
No, she hadn’t forgotten, but she’d planned on meeting him here at the schoolhouse where she felt safe. And now the arrogant, presumptuous man had bullied her into going back to his castle where he could interrogate her more. Up close and personal.
Heavens. He knew she was lying about her reason of being there last time. She’d have to come up with something else quickly. If she refused to keep their appointment, it would only make her appear guiltier than she already did.
“Yes. The duke had all these renovations done to the schoolhouse and we must discuss other needs for the school.”
Lies. She hated lying, especially to Helena who was so trusting of her.
“Miss Snow,” said the captain, holding the gate open and gesturing toward the carriage.
“Come on, everyone,” Helena called. “Caden, stop pulling Emmett’s hair.” She sauntered through the gate and dipped a curtsy to the captain. “Thank you, Captain.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled and bowed his head as the children filed out after her like ducklings. His gaze followed them then swiveled back to Brenna. “They will be all right on their own?”
“Yes.” She smiled at his concern. “Helena is quite capable. And this meeting won’t take long. Let us be off, Captain.”
She hopped into the carriage. He shut the door and tapped the side, the carriage jerking into motion. The sooner she got there, the sooner she could leave.
Willingly get into the carriage and come to me. Who the devil does he think he is? Commanding her around like she was his servant. The damned duke, that’s who.
This was the problem with the caste system. If there was no separation by class, she could refuse his damnable summons without threat of repercussions. But as it stood, she must obey. Though she’d never heard of the Duke of Winter Hill jailing someone for disobedience, she hadn’t known anyone in Terrington to refuse the damn charming man anything. That was the problem. He seemed to get whatever he wanted.
And then signing his letter with affectionately. As if they were in a relationship of some intimate fashion.
“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no one to benefit from her obvious rejection of that notion. The carriage rocked away as she felt the steady ascent of the great hill begin.
Then she remembered the way he’d played with her lock of hair. She’d worn it down that afternoon, thinking to onl
y see Sylvia on her day off. Every small tug of her hair pulled on something she’d shut away long ago. Stirring a forgotten longing.
After Elliott, she’d decided she didn’t need a man for any reason. Any reason. In the three years since she’d made that vow to herself, burying herself in the school, in raising the orphans, and more recently in her pursuits for the Black Lily, she’d thought to have killed that instinct with lethal precision. But no. In one brief and breathtaking interrogation, an old yearning awoke and burned low in her belly. Even now as they neared the castle, her hands trembled in her lap.
Good Lord, Brennalyn. Pull yourself together.
She’d been spying on the royal vampire, or doing her best, for well over a month now. Ever since he’d caught Izzy painting the black lily, a symbol she’d seen at home, Brenna had feared he’d set the royal Legionnaires upon the schoolhouse and have her arrested.
But he didn’t. No, he’d actually dismissed his own Legionnaires and acquired a personal guard that he appointed himself. Vampire mercenaries of the Bloodguard, a secretive sect rumored to be elusive and deadly. While the captain had been more than polite, there was a keen intelligence behind those watchful eyes that put one slightly on edge. It was highly unconventional for a Varis descendant to hire men like that as a personal guard.
The carriage rolled to a stop then shifted as the footman hopped down and opened the door. “Miss Snow.”
Wrapping her shawl tightly around her, she stepped down and across the cobblestone steps. The butler held the door open.
“Right this way, miss.”
Rather than lead her upstairs to the private parlor where she’d met him last, he took her down the front corridor lined with family portraits and tall gilt-framed landscapes to the very last room on the left. It opened up to a surprisingly bright and welcoming room. The pastel fabrics and large windows bathed the room in a cheerfulness. Far different from the dark and masculine tones of the duke’s parlor.
The White Lily (Vampire Blood series) Page 4