“Stay calm,” he repeated to himself, combing a hand through his hair, ruffling it in a very not-calm manner.
Downy snow flurried from the sky. Mikhail paused on the trail and turned his face upward, letting the flakes hit and sting his face. He needed it to cool his heated blood, his heated thoughts.
“Is that working?”
Mikhail snapped to a defensive stance, blade in hand, before he realized it was Dmitri. “Don’t sneak up on me, Brother.” He sheathed his dagger.
“I wasn’t.” He was leaning against a trunk, arms crossed. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why? Do we have news from Marius? From Cutters Cove?”
“Neither. I was wondering if you have news for me.”
“Regarding?” Mikhail rolled his shoulders and marched on down the path.
Dmitri stepped in line beside him. “Regarding the princess.”
“You’ll have to get straight to the point, if you have one.”
“All right. I wanted to speak to you regarding your intentions toward her.”
“I think that’s perfectly clear. Protect her till she takes her place as ruler of Arkadia.”
“Protect her? That’s all, Mikhail?”
He jerked to a stop. “What the hell are you getting at, Dmitri?”
Unperturbed as always, his younger brother replied simply, “I’m wondering if you’re falling in love with her. And if so, does that mean you plan to be king at her side?”
Stupefied into silence for a moment, Mikhail finally found his voice. “Are you utterly mad?”
“Not at all. I’ve never seen you this way around a woman. You would be a good match. Perfect actually, with our family ancestry. It only seems—”
“She’s destined for a royal throne.”
“As are you, Brother. And you know you deserve it.”
“Stop it.” Mikhail marched back down the trail. “We won’t go down that road. Not now.”
He didn’t want to listen to Dmitri’s logic, because he was absolutely fucking right. It was as if they were destined for each other. As if that simple blood kiss in the tower wasn’t simple at all, but an ordained tap from Lady Fortune’s wand, saying “finally.” Mikhail stared up, unable to see the stars above the snowy clouds. The heavens seemed to mock him. Or they were forcing him down a path he’d never planned to travel. Of course he wanted to claim his birthright. But this wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t part of the plan.
“Why not?” Dmitri kept in step. “Right all wrongs. That’s what you told me this was about. The Bloodguard. Our training. Our living away from our home and fighting these bloody rogues. Our alliance with the duke and with the Black Lily.”
“And it still is. That has nothing to do with…with bloody marriage, becoming king, or for God’s sake, falling in love.”
“Falling? I believe you’re already there.”
“I’ve known the woman a week.”
“You can’t take your eyes off her. Won’t tolerate any of us getting too close. This is more than lust, Mikhail, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t consider—”
“I’m the goddamned captain of the Bloodguard,” he grit out. “I made a blood vow.”
Dmitri sobered, his smirk slipping, showing his tender-hearted brother beneath. “You’re right. You couldn’t be both.” He clasped Mikhail’s shoulder in a rare show of affection. “But one of us will eventually have to leave the Guard.” Snow fell in soft flakes, catching in Dmitri’s black hair. “One of us must have a family. We can’t let our line die, my brother.” Dmitri rarely ever spoke with such heavy emotion weighing his words. “It’s too important. You know that.”
Mikhail exhaled a heavy sigh, refusing to acknowledge the truth.
The truth. Something Mina wouldn’t let him walk away from. This was too much for him to face right now.
“What I know is I need a good feeding and a good fuck. And that is all.” He gestured in the direction of the encampment. “You’re in charge of the men tonight.”
Then he tore off toward Hiddleston in search of anything, anyone who’d wipe his memory of the fair-haired vixen who did indeed already have her hooks in deep. Entirely too deep.
Chapter Eleven
Mina finished lacing her boot, then settled in front of the vanity to tend to her hair. After brushing it thoroughly, she plaited a small braid to fall alongside her temple. And then on the other side, the same as she’d seen Allora wear her hair. A wildness stirred in her bosom, blossoming more each day. It had started the moment Mikhail had awakened her, the moment he challenged her to drink from him like a natural vampire.
Was that what was happening? She was finally giving into her primal urges and the beast was strengthening her will? She wasn’t sure.
Having never had the urge to bite anyone in all her life, now she just wanted to sink her fangs into his muscular form. Anywhere. Everywhere.
Blowing out a breath, she lifted her cloak and tied it on before opening the door to find the prettiest little girl she’d ever seen sitting on a stump. She popped off, her blond ringlets bouncing, and smiled up at Mina.
“Good morning. Have you been waiting for me?”
“Yes. Are you weally a pwinthess?” asked the little girl. Her speech impediment only made her more adorable.
“Yes. And who may I have the pleasure of meeting this fine morning?”
“I’m Isabelle. But evewyone calls me Izzy. Come on!” She grabbed Mina’s hand and pulled her along the stone-stepped path to the two-story cottage nearby. “My Mimi wants to meet you. She made me pwomise I wouldn’t wake you.” Izzy suddenly stopped, her sky-blue eyes rounding in fear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. I feel quite refreshed. If I must tell you, I’ve never slept in a more comfortable bed.”
And that was the truth. Mina wasn’t sure who was fashioning the beds around here, but the warm quilts and comfy down pillows were divine.
Izzy smiled again and tugged Mina along the trail toward the back door. “Well, we’ve got bweakfast all weady for you.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Oh, wait.” Izzy paused again, a despondent look sinking her pretty eyes into despair. “Do you eat bweakfast? You’re a vampire pwinthess.”
“I do,” she assured her. “I love human food. Especially scones.” Mina could smell the delicious aroma of cinnamon scones coming from the house. Perhaps with winterberries? “Does your Mimi make those?”
“Oh, my Mimi doesn’t cook. It’s my sister, Beatwice. And Olog helps sometimes when he’s not cooking for the soldiers down near Mr. Hawwison’s farm.”
“Olog? Is that one of your brothers?”
Izzy giggled, shaking her head, her curls brushing her shoulders. “No. Olog was my Papa’s cook back at Winter Hill. But he came with us when we wan away.” She turned at the door and glanced to her left and then her right before she whispered, “Can I tell you a secwet?”
Mina leaned down, entranced by the little girl. “Of course. What is it?”
“We wan away in the middle of the night. Took a secwet passage out of the castle and the vampire guards cawwied us on their backs.” She grinned as she finished the last.
“Wow. That must’ve been a great adventure.”
“Mm-hmm.” She opened the door and yelled, “I’ve got Pwinthess Mina, Mimi!”
“Heavens, Izzy, stop shouting.” A petite and lovely dark-haired woman rushed over to greet Mina. When she drew closer, Mina realized she was more beautiful close up. The young woman’s rich, brown eyes sparked with gold. This was certainly the beauty who’d captured the Duke of Winter Hill, Friedrich Volya, the grandson of the evil Queen Morgrid. His mother had been the queen’s only daughter.
“Welcome, Your Highness. I am Brennalyn Snow.” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip a second, then said, “Actually, I am Brennalyn Volya now. I’m still getting used to it.”
“Oh,” said Mina, realizing something she hadn’t expected
when her eyes flared supernaturally. “You’re a vampire.”
Izzy, who was still holding Mina’s hand, said, “My Papa had to save her from the evil King Dominik. So now my Mimi is a vampire. She even drinks blood.” Izzy shivered. “Gwoss.”
“And hot chocolate and warm tea on occasion.” She smirked. “Would you like some mint tea? Beatrice has just finished cooking breakfast.” Brennalyn waved her hand toward the table.
“I hope you like scones, Your Highness,” said a young girl with honey-blond hair. She set a second platter of golden-baked pastries on the table next to a plate of jellies and another of hard cheese slices next to ripe purple winterberries.
“She does,” belted out Izzy, popping a berry into her mouth.
“Forgive Izzy,” said another pretty-faced girl on the verge of womanhood, with black hair like Brennalyn. “She was apparently raised by wild wolves.”
“Hart wolves!” screamed Izzy with a pudgy fist in the air.
“If you’d been raised by hart wolves,” said the younger girl with the apron on, “you might be more civilized.”
Izzy’s response was to stuff her mouth with half a scone.
“Girls, enough. Your Highness, you’ve met my youngest daughter, Izzy, of course. These are my other two, Beatrice and Helena.” They each gave polite curtsies, then took their seats.
A flurry of five boys ran down the staircase, making a hellacious racket like thundering hooves.
“Stop.” Brennalyn’s one sharp word stopped the line of them at the door, the eldest with his hand on the knob.
They turned at once, guilt shadowing their adorable faces.
“Your Highness, may I introduce my four boys, and a fifth who has joined the wild pack? The eldest, Caden.”
He dipped a bow, still holding onto the door, his long, gangly frame that of a teenager lacking the muscles of a man, though his keen eyes said he was wiser than his years.
“And this is Emmett and Jack.” The next two in line bowed like Caden. Mina could see a blood resemblance in these three with familiar facial structure and brown mops of hair. “And my youngest son is Denny.”
Denny was closer in age to Izzy, perhaps a few years older, his black hair and fair skin setting him apart from the other three boys.
“And that rascal is Nate. His father is one of the founding members of the Black Lily.”
Nate, a russet-haired boy with dirt on his nose and mischief in his eyes, made an exaggerated bow, nearly sweeping his head to the floor. “Pleased to meet ya, Yer ’ighness.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Nate. To meet you all.”
Brenna leaned close to Mina. “Nate is actually one of the undercover couriers for the Black Lily. Arabelle holds him in very high regard.”
Nate preened, puffing his skinny little chest out.
“Well, we are so grateful for your service,” added Mina with a bow of her head.
He waved a hand. “Aw, it’s nothin’. I like being sneaky. Best fun there is.”
Denny and the other boys laughed.
“I’m sure you do,” added Brenna, raising a brow. “Now, have you boys eaten breakfast? I don’t want you at the training camp without any food in your bellies.”
The four youngest looked to Caden, who sighed. “No, Mimi. But we can’t be late. Grant and Dmitri are showing us how to use a bow and arrow today.”
Brennalyn pointed to the table. “Food.”
Their shoulders slumped at once as they dragged their feet toward the table.
“Heaven forbid.” Brennalyn tsked. “Just grab some and go.”
Like a pack of wild animals, they leaped at the table, each grabbing a handful of scones and berries and running out the partially opened door.
“The door, for heaven’s sake!” shouted Brennalyn, picking up a scone they’d dropped on the floor.
A moment’s pause, then the kind-faced one, Denny, popped his head back in and smiled at Brennalyn.
“Thank you, darling,” she said. He nodded and closed the door. Their boyish whoops and shouts faded as they fled into the woods.
“They are quite active, your boys,” said Mina.
“Quite,” agreed Brennalyn.
“Animals,” muttered Beatrice, sweeping the crumbs they left behind onto a napkin. “Whenever we return to Winter Hill and away from the training camp, I hope Papa gets a tutor to teach them to be gentlemen.”
Helena took the steaming pot of tea from Brennalyn after she’d poured a cup for both Mina and herself. “Leaving the training camp won’t change their behavior. They’ll just spend all day in the sparring yard with Captain Mikhail and his men.”
Mina’s pulse rocketed at the sound of his name.
Brennalyn’s dark eyes glanced in Mina’s direction over the rim of her teacup before aiming her response at Helena. “Once we are back at Winter Hill, they’ll be taking up their studies again. And yes, Beatrice, I suspect you’ll all be receiving tutors in the proper etiquette of both gentlemen and ladies.”
Mina’s heart swelled at the thought of Friedrich Volya, the Duke of Winter Hill, taking in these seven orphans as his own children. “And may I ask how you girls feel about that? Becoming ladies of the gentry?” She finished off her buttery scone.
Helena dipped her poised chin. “I am very happy at the prospect. Though I’m not so sure Beatrice is.”
Beatrice twisted her hands in her apron in her lap and bit her lip before eyeing Brennalyn. “My only fear is I’ll not be able to cook if I become a proper lady.”
“Beatrice, you know the duke wouldn’t allow you to be unhappy. He only wants what’s best for you.”
Izzy set her empty glass of water on the table. “You’ll have to learn to be a pwoper duchess, too, Mimi.”
Brennalyn’s teacup rattled as she set it in the saucer. “Don’t remind me. Let’s just get past this war first, then we’ll worry about all the rest. For now, this is our home. And we’ll try to make the boys behave as best we can.” She wiped her hands on her napkin in her lap. “Though it is hard when they are living out their dreams to become warriors.”
Helena tossed her head with a little laugh. “Or soldiers or pirates or any manly occupation that allows them to wield a sword and stick something with it.”
They all laughed at that. Even Mina.
“Here we are, prattling on about ourselves. Forgive me, Your Highness. How are you feeling after your journey? And after—” Brennalyn stopped herself.
“It’s all right. I’m doing quite well, if you must know. But apparently, I was in the most capable of hands under the protection of Captain Mikhail.”
“He’s the bestest evew,” said Izzy with a gleam in her eyes. “Except Papa, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Mina, smiling at Brennalyn.
“Mimi, can we go watch the boys shoot bows and awows?” she asked.
“I don’t think Princess Mina wants to go and watch a bunch of boys and men learning archery.”
“Actually,” said Mina, folding her napkin on her plate. “I’d like nothing better. Archery was one of my favorite pastimes at Briar Rose.”
“A princess—I mean, a lady can learn archery?” asked Beatrice, incredulous, wide-eyed with excitement at the prospect.
“Oh, yes. I was quite good.” She smiled. “I’m afraid I spent many hours learning such skills and few in the company of others. My steward was very protective.” She frowned with a flicker of memory.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” asked Brennalyn.
“Yes.” She wiped away her frown, but the bitter memory of her lonely life at Briar Rose stuck. She rose from her chair with new vigor, “I say we go and see what all the boys are up to.”
“Yay!” shouted Izzy, rushing for the door.
They laughed and filed out in a more ladylike fashion. Mina smiled, but that memory pricked like thorns. Steward Thorwald had pretended to show her the greatest respect, presenting her to the House, but making them all bow and never allowing her to h
ave a voice. Then he’d send her off to a ball or the theater, fully chaperoned by Legionnaires and Kathleen, before shuffling her back to Briar Rose. For the first time, she saw the reality of what he’d done. Cut her off, shut her up, cast her out of her rightful domain. The monarch of Arkadia was the leader of the House. But she’d only ever been so in name. Steward Thorwald had ousted her and taken that right when she was a young orphan and had never allowed her the opportunity to reclaim that role.
Mikhail was right. She must garner her strength. Prepare for the inevitable. For the time was near when she’d need her voice to be heard, whether Steward Thorwald wanted to hear her or not. Whether the lords of Arkadia wanted to hear her or not.
“Yes, ladies.” Mina took Izzy’s outstretched hand. “Let us go show the boys how a proper bow and arrow is to be shot.”
They smiled in feminine conspiracy, their laughter rolling up into the boughs of Silvane Forest. Once more, Mina inhaled deep of the magic here, as if it were calling her toward her destiny. Guiding her to a fate she never knew would be hers but had been intended for her all along.
Chapter Twelve
“When will the last troops come over?” asked Aleksei.
Mikhail observed the archers from his stance behind them, arms crossed and mood foul. “In a fortnight, I imagine. Nikolai’s cousin Riker will lead them across the Cimmaron Sea and leave the families in the safety of Cutters Cove.”
Aleksei nodded, his own countenance grave as he glanced up at the mass of clouds growing heavy. “Is Riker healed enough to fight?”
“Nikolai says so.”
Mikhail heard Friedrich’s boys tromping through the woods before he saw them launch onto the training field. Nate, the wild one whose father forged weapons for the Black Lily, was with them, as usual. Caden thrust an arm out to stop them from running out like fools in front of the line of archers. He’d be a good leader one day.
“Those fucking Legionnaires at the Glass Tower did a number on him,” he continued. “They should’ve killed him when they had the chance. According to Nikolai, he’s full of fire and fury, ready for combat.”
The Emerald Lily Page 10