by Brenna Lyons
“Halt,” a gruff voice ordered. “What are you doing here?”
She faltered, looking back at the soldier in shock, half turning toward him. His uniform was unlike any she’d seen before. The insignia of a captain was easy enough to pick out, but there were other symbols, ones she couldn’t identify.
Amber moved a step away, as he started to advance, trying to understand his challenge of her. The morning after such an affair, people would be stumbling and sauntering away in trickles. What was it that made him challenge her?
“I told you to halt, girl.”
He drew his sword, and Amber’s heart stuttered in fear. Though it was ceremonial, she knew it was functional as well...lethal, if needs be. Words deserted her.
“You’ll have to come with me.” The sword moved in a menacing arc, down to a fighting position instead of a warning one.
Amber stumbled a few steps further, all but tripping over her skirt and landing in a heap. Why was he taking a fighting stance? She hadn’t threatened him. She hadn’t shown a weapon. This was all wrong. His reactions weren’t protocol, as she knew it from her father.
His expression hardened. “I gave you an order, girl.” His grip changed, a clear sign that he was readying the sword for use.
She was certain this spelled disaster. Even if the threat of Mora wasn’t hanging over her head, the soldier was treating her as a criminal, an enemy of some sort, someone that posed a danger. Goddess only knew why or what he’d consider his duty in such a situation.
Her logic extended that far and no further. Only one thought was clear to her. Going with the soldier is not an option. She turned and bolted away.
“Halt! I said— Goddess take it!”
Heavy footsteps pounded after her. They weren’t gaining, but Amber laid on speed all the same. The bustier slipped, the satin trailing off of her arm. She didn’t stop for it, didn’t even slow. If she did, the soldier would catch her, and it was a given that he wouldn’t be pleased that she’d run from him.
The footsteps stopped, and she chanced a look back, wincing at the sight of the soldier scooping up the bustier from the dew-coated grass. He turned and ran for the house with the costume in his hand.
Though she didn’t understand the sudden change, Amber didn’t question it. The soldier wasn’t chasing her, and she had a solid chance of making it off the grounds before he managed to raise the alarm.
The sight of Keane’s battered vehicle wrenched a sob from her. She launched into it and slammed the door behind her, holding the cloak shut with one hand.
Keane startled awake. “Was that necessary?” he snapped.
“Yes. We have to hurry, Keane. It’s nearly sunrise.”
“Why should we hurry? Mora and the beasts are still inside.”
Amber searched the remaining vehicles, staring at Nana’s car in relief. “We still have to hurry,” she managed woodenly.
“As you wish,” he replied, starting the engine.
She didn’t breathe easily, until they’d passed the gates without incident.
* * * *
“Highness!”
Edward groaned, burying his face in the pillow, his brow furrowing. What was on his face? A mask?
“Thank the Goddess.” The voice sounded of relief.
“I would thank Her for more sleep,” he grumbled, still working at the mask problem. He was nude, which was normal, but what was the mask about?
A blast of cold air shocked Edward awake, and he reached for the quilt pooled low on his chest. Other hands were there first, dragging the cover the wrong direction, exposing more of Edward to the frosty air. A curse followed, and someone started shouting for a doctor.
Edward grasped the quilt and yanked it over himself, shivering. He opened his eyes to the sight of the frantic captain leaning over him.
“A doctor should be here soon, Highness,” he rattled on.
“Doctor? I don’t need a—”
The captain reached for the quilt again. “Let me see where you’re bleeding from.”
“Bleeding? I’m not bleeding.” None of this made sense. “Did you leave a door open somewhere? Close it,” he ordered. Maybe then, this insanity would end and he could get back to sleep.
“Highness, please...”
Edward grimaced at the sticky feeling along his thighs and abdomen, the sensation of matted pubic hairs...and it all came together. Blood! Her maiden’s blood. Cinder.
He turned to the empty side of the bed, his heart pounding. “Cinder? Where is she?” Edward whipped off the suede mask and looked to the captain for an answer.
“The girl?” he asked dumbly.
“Of course, the woman.” A flutter of movement drew Edward’s eyes down to the bustier in the captain’s hand. His stomach rebelled. Edward grasped at it, extracting it from the other man’s grip. He shook it at the captain in warning. “Where is she?” Goddess help me, if they’ve harmed her, I will—
“You were my first concern,” the captain replied.
“Meaning?” Was it impossible to get a speedy, coherent answer from the fool?
“I stopped pursuing her to return to you.”
“You let her leave?” he demanded.
“My first—”
“Find her! I want Cinder delivered to me within the hour, unharmed and unmolested, not so much as a hair disturbed.” How he retained the presence of mind to make that last part clear was beyond him, but he knew he had to. “Tell one of the other men to wake Hein Darren and Jason. I’ll need Lord Elmstead and the guest list immediately...in his study.”
The guard hesitated, seemingly dumbfounded by this turn of events.
“Now, Captain,” he roared. “If I do not have her within the hour, you will pay the price of failure, personally.”
“Yes, Highness.” The guard bolted away, shouting more orders.
Edward pushed from the bed, seeking out a pair of lounging pants to start the day. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted to start it, that much was certain.
In the main room, he stared at the open door to the balcony, his heart aching. Why did she leave him?
* * * *
Amber crept into the house, shivering. Her shoes and the lower reaches of the skirt were soaked in dew, and without a layer beneath, her cloak wasn’t sufficient.
She toed off her shoes, leaving them near the heater to dry. Though they lit fires for ambiance and the mental equivalent of warmth, the heat came from more conventional means.
That accomplished, she hiked the skirt and sprinted for the bath she shared with Nana, still aching lightly. There was little chance Amber had time for leisure, but she had to wash. She stripped her few remaining clothes onto the floor while the tub ran, then sank into the water, wincing at the heat against her chilled and newly-used body.
A moment of peace was all she allowed herself. Then she scrubbed herself clean, let out the water, and dried off. The towel wrapped around her and the clothing held to her chest, she headed for her room, padding down the corridor.
Safety was almost her own.
“Amber?” Nana called.
She sighed. “Can we not tonight?” she inquired, letting her exhaustion show.
“But we must.”
She nodded, trudging into Nana’s room. The sooner they got past this, the sooner Amber could get back to her own miserable existence. She settled on the edge of Nana’s bed gingerly, crowding next to her grandmother’s frail, old legs.
“I see you met someone,” Nana stated confidently.
Amber looked up at her, horror dawning. Would everyone know? That would complicate things with Mora and the hens.
“The love bite,” Nana continued, motioning to Amber’s shoulder.
She nodded, touching the mark. At least her dresses would hide it.
“And how did it go?”
“The first time is not enjoyable.” Liar! Save that fateful thrust, it had been immensely enjoyable.
Nana smiled an all-too-knowing smile.
�
�For either of us,” Amber qualified, blinking back the tears burning at her eyes.
Her smile faded. “He didn’t make an offer?” She sounded as if the idea was incomprehensible to her.
“I didn’t satisfy him,” she admitted miserably. “Why would he?”
“But...what went wrong? A man—”
“I’d rather not,” Amber pleaded. Wasn’t living it bad enough? Now, Nana wanted to pick apart how she’d failed so miserably?
“Another time,” Nana conceded. “When it’s not so fresh in your mind and heart.”
Amber was certain that this sense of loss would never fade, but she nodded her agreement. Anything that ended this discussion and let Amber retreat to ease her wounds—literally—was fair game.
Nana plucked the skirt from her hand, her brow furrowing. “Where is the bustier?”
“I...lost it.” The other conversation I do not wish to have. But the costume was Nana’s, and she deserved an accounting of how it came to be lost.
“Lost? How could you lose such a thing?”
Amber groaned. “Must we, tonight?” She hardly understood it herself. Explaining it was going to be torture.
“Tell me,” she ordered.
“A soldier chased me from the grounds. I don’t know why he did, so please don’t ask it.”
Nana scrunched her nose in distaste. “What did he say?”
“Only that he meant to arrest me, and his sword was drawn. I panicked and ran...and lost the bustier I was carrying.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Nana complained. “Why did your young man not return you to your escort? Or home?”
Her face heated. “He fell asleep after the disaster...and I—”
“You left without waking him?”
Amber nodded.
“Then how could you know his intentions? Really, Amber.”
She sighed. Nana was rarely this exasperated with her. “He... He was angry at the way... Oh, what does it matter? I never got his title, so even if I wanted to apologize for the way I left him, it’s impossible. The only name I know him by is Christopher, his given name.”
Nana’s brow creased, as if she half-remembered something, which wasn’t uncommon. “I don’t think I know a Christopher, but I haven’t been socially active in more than a decade.”
“What difference does it make?” Amber repeated miserably. “I didn’t make a decent impression. Did I?”
“Leaving as you did? Probably not, but don’t worry. Young men are single-minded creatures. If he is of a mind to find you, he will.”
Amber’s stomach dropped out suddenly, but whether it was in excitement or dread, she couldn’t say.
Be realistic! There’s no chance he wants to find me.
* * * *
“How?” Edward growled, face to face with the captain who’d woken him. “How could you let her slip away?”
His expression showed discomfort at Edward’s anger, but he held himself at rigid attention. “You were my primary concern, Highness.”
“I was fine.”
“How could I know that?”
He couldn’t, and Edward couldn’t argue that. Still, the delay had cost them catching Cinder before she could make her escape. For that alone, Edward wanted the guard to pay dearly.
“Dear Goddess, Edward,” his father exploded, striding through the door in a dressing gown, no sign of lounging pants beneath. “What is this? A search of the grounds? People rousted out of bed? Talk of you coated in blood?”
“It wasn’t my blood,” Edward countered, letting his irritation show.
Darren strode in, clothed much as Edward was himself, soft lounging pants and nothing more. Elmstead was at his heels, dressed in a warm sweater and trousers, being one of the first woken and in charge of overseeing the search of the grounds in Edward’s stead.
“I never thought blood play was to your tastes,” his father offered, seemingly bewildered at the statement.
Edward speared him with a quelling look. “It’s not.”
Darren howled in laughter, planting his hand on the stone fireplace, newly lit for the day by sleep-deprived servants. He took a cup of coffee from the tray headed for the table, still chuckling as he raised it for a sip.
Benjamin turned on his nephew. “And what is so amusing about this?”
Darren motioned to Edward with the cup. “Only he could go to a Bride Ball teaming with willing wantons and find the only unwilling virgin in the room.”
Edward felt his face heat. “She was willing. By the Goddess, she was willing.” Just the memory of how willing she’d been had him semi-erect again.
“Then where is she, cousin?” Darren mocked him.
He shrugged. It was one of the things he wished he knew. Why had she left him before daybreak and without waking him? How did she escape trained royal guards? Why did she—
Well, he knew why she ran from the guards. They’d likely frightened her to death.
His father took Edward by the shoulders, his expression grim. “You had her and then lost her?”
“I had her, but I think it more accurate to say that your guards lost her.”
The captain sighed. “My first duty—”
“Enough,” Edward roared at him. “I am sick of that excuse.”
And his head ached; the captain’s voice grated at it. Edward considered dismissing him, just to silence the fool. Then again, standing at attention for long periods of time was damned uncomfortable; the captain deserved a little discomfort in return for Edward’s. “Do not speak to me again, unless I address you directly. You should not acknowledge that order aloud.”
Blessed silence met him, thank the Goddess.
Benjamin shot a look of surprise at Edward, a look that pointed out his son was not acting at all like himself. “Would you recognize her?” he questioned, releasing Edward’s shoulders.
Edward scowled at him. “Since I’d intended to make her my wife, I should hope I would.” Reining in his sarcasm was poorly executed.
Elmstead cleared his throat. “If I may be so bold?”
“Be,” Edward barked. “Since there was no ‘Cinder’ on the guest list, you can hardly do worse than I have.”
Darren snickered into his coffee cup. “She used a false name? With you?”
“She...” He sighed. “She didn’t know who I was...precisely,” he admitted.
His father stared at him, working his jaw as if half-forming words.
“I want a woman that wants me, not my crown.”
“Your crown is part of who you are,” Benjamin insisted.
“My way. Remember?”
His father nodded his agreement, though he was clearly unhappy at giving it.
“Lord Elmstead,” Edward called out, without taking his eyes off of his father. He plucked a slice of bread with jam off an offered tray and bit into it, groaning at the burst of flavor washing over his tongue. He hadn’t realized how famished he was. He took another bite, a larger one, narrowly restraining himself from wolfing it down and grasping another.
“Yes,” Elmstead managed. “While it is impossible to say for certain, masks and all—”
Edward turned to him. “You know who she is? Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“I...” He cleared his throat. “I hadn’t realized there was some question of who she was. I thought the aim was to catch her before she fled the grounds. Admittedly, that did not go well. Still, I believe I can clear up the question of her identity.” He looked toward Edward’s chest. “In fact, if she is the lady I believe she is, she made that.”
He glanced down in confusion, his gaze settling on the slice of bread he’d been savoring. “The bread? Is she a servant in your household? A baker’s daughter?” She certainly worked for a living, based on the rough touch of her fingertips.
And if she was hiding within the manor...in servants’ quarters that might have been overlooked, her escape had been easily managed. It was enough to make him regret punishing the captain
. He glanced at the man in question. Almost enough.
“No. She isn’t my servant, and it was the jam she made...not the bread, though her bread is— Not that it is of importance.” Elmstead shifted nervously.
Edward stared him down. “How do you know her, Elmstead?”
“I met her when I delivered the invitations.” But he wouldn’t meet Edward’s eyes.
“And? You delivered well over a hundred invitations to hundreds of young women, not accounting for those delivered by your guards and servants, of course. Why would you remember this one woman, out of hundreds?”
Elmstead darkened. “I offered her a place as my mistress. You see, when her grandmother—”
“You what?” Fury coursed through Edward at the thought of Cinder in the hands of one who played the games as extensively as Elmstead did.
“I didn’t touch her, if that’s what—”
“Since she was virginal, I imagine whatever did happen—”
“She turned me down, altogether,” Elmstead inserted. “I told her to keep me in mind for when her grandmother passes. So...obviously, I kept her in mind, for just such an occasion. How could I know you would take an interest?”
Edward considered that. “When her grandmother... What of her grandmother?” Cinder had spoken several times of a grandmother. The woman had provided Cinder’s outfit for the ball. She’d pushed Cinder to attend, to find a husband or lover.
Elmstead’s voice broke him out of his train of thought. “She’s the daughter of a mistress. When her grandmother passes, she’ll likely be turned out of her home.”
If there was a chance that her granddaughter would be turned out... It fit nicely.
“Edward?” his father asked.
He ignored Benjamin, meeting Elmstead’s gaze instead. “What is her name?”
“Amber. Amber Oakmarch, daughter of the late Lord Marcus Oakmarch and his mistress, Xandra.”
Something pressed at his conscious mind, a memory of their brief conversation. “Did Marcus want to marry his mistress?”
Elmstead stared at him in shocked silence.
“He did.” Edward smiled, knowing now that he’d found her. “Of course, he did.” It explained everything.