Mikhail stepped to the head of the line next to the dead guardsmen Mina recognized as the one who sparred with Yuri on her first day here.
In a clear voice, Mikhail said, “Farewell, Anton.” He lit the pyre at his feet.
The Bloodguard chorused in a low rumble. “Anton.”
Mikhail stepped to the next man, quiet and unassuming, but who tended to the horses in Harrison’s barn.
“Farewell, Ilya.”
The Bloodguard again chorused his name as Mikhail set his pyre aflame. Then the next man, Petyr. Then Stanislav and Sasha.
Finally, Mikhail stood before Aleksei. His grave, sharp-angled countenance softened for the briefest of seconds. No one could sense what Mina could—this proud, unshakeable warrior’s heart breaking in two—and for once in her life, she wished she didn’t have this gift. For to feel the man she loved—yes, loved—falling apart inside, and without the ability to run to him, to take it all away, cut her too deep.
Mikhail raised the torch. “Farewell, Aleksei.”
The final chorus echoed in the crystalline morning air. “Aleksei.”
Mikhail tossed the torch on his pyre, the flames licking up with a sharp crackle, rising into a conflagration, the heat pressing on Mina like the weight of emotion of every person here, pushing on her with need for release.
“Go in peace, brothers.” Mikhail’s deep voice resonated the final parting words of the Bloodguard. “Rest in the stars where you belong. Until we meet again.”
The remaining members of the Bloodguard thumped their fists once against their chests then slowly took their leave, one by one, not unlike they did the night of their pledge to Mina. Helena and Dmitri walked solemnly away with Caden, Emmett, and Jack toward their cottage, until those left were Arabelle, Marius, Sienna, Nikolai, Brenna, Friedrich, Mikhail, Grant, and Mina.
Silence stretched. Nothing but the pop of the dry oak logs burning and the whir of wind dancing through the flames. All of this devastation fell solely upon Queen Morgrid. How many lives had she destroyed in her quest for tyranny? How many more would fall and suffer at her hands?
Her army hadn’t marched into battle against the Black Lily but had crept up behind them by way of Hiddleston, like thieves in the night. No one had heard or sensed them coming. They’d all assumed the queen had used her black magic arts in some way to skirt the sentries without detection. However she’d gotten them through, it had worked. The Black Lily army was devastated, Hiddleston had been razed to the ground, innocent women and children were dead, and Izzy was gone.
The fury that had stirred Mina’s she-beast when she awoke in that tower rose within her once more.
Friedrich’s gaze shifted from the burning guardsmen to Mikhail. “Grant and I are leaving today to find Izzy.”
“I’m not sure if they kept her at the Glass Tower,” added Nikolai. “I went into Sylus covertly to see what one of my sources at the local tavern, the Silver Crown, could tell me. He’s seen movement of many troops, heading north, including the queen’s royal carriage.”
“That’s not surprising,” sighed Friedrich. “Probably bringing her to Izeling Tower.” Brenna made a small, choking sound. Friedrich pulled her close. “He won’t hurt her, kitten. He’ll be using her to bargain something from us.”
“But what?” asked Brenna. “Surrender? They’ve already defeated our army.”
Friedrich’s expression tightened. Brenna was the first to say aloud what no one else could admit.
Arabelle turned her face into Marius’s shoulder. This was her revolution that appeared to die last night with the fallen. Not if Mina could help it.
Marius lifted her into his arms. “I need to get Arabelle to bed. She’s still too weak.” Then he sped away with her in his arms.
Mikhail stepped toward Friedrich, his expression pensive. “I’ll bring Gregoravich. He can detect where they might have taken Izzy if we can find their tracks.”
“No.” All eyes swiveled to Mina. “That’s what they want.”
“Your Highness,” said Mikhail, keeping her at a distance by using her title. “Regardless of—”
“No,” she quipped in a sharp tone. “We won’t do what the queen wants. Or what King Dominik wants.”
“What would you have us do, Your Highness?” asked Friedrich. “Give up? We’ve already lost—”
“Too much.” Her voice broke with fury as she settled on Brenna. “We’ve lost too much. Hiddleston. Half our army. The precious lives of those we loved.” She gestured back to the burning pyre.
No one said a word, the air crackling with Mina’s ire. Mikhail didn’t take his eyes from her.
Her tenor vibrated as she enunciated clearly, “I am the rightful Queen of Arkadia. I am going home to get my army.” She felt his piercing gaze but didn’t look at him. “Then we’ll go to Izeling Tower and take Izzy back. And be rid of the damned queen and her son once and for all.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Grant finally spoke, his jaw tight.
“Aye,” agreed Brenna.
“Indeed,” added Friedrich.
Mina turned to Sienna and Nikolai, who nodded. Sienna smiled like a woman who understood the depth of Mina’s need for justice. Finally, Mina turned her gaze up at Mikhail, who’d inched closer to her side. She raised her brow in question.
His grief-weary expression—deep grooves seemingly fixed in his forehead—transformed to one she hadn’t expected to see. One of hesitant hope. His wide mouth ticked up on one side before his soft rumble reached inside and quickened her pulse.
“Aye.”
Chapter Eighteen
The horses slowed as they evened out onto flatter, smoother roads. They were in the valley, closer to Lord Rathbone’s home in Devonshire. Mina remembered his palatial estate from one visit many years ago with Steward Thorwald. Mikhail led the line of riders off the main road and through the silver-plated gateway and under the name of Rathbone’s home, Sommersby, in perfect script.
Mina rode atop Friedrich’s Arkadian mare, Asphodel, a white beauty, reminding her how many resources her kingdom could offer the Black Lily. Once she’d truly claimed it, that is.
“Don’t tell Brennalyn this,” said Friedrich as he rode beside her on his massive black, “but you look more natural on that horse than anyone who’s ever rode her.”
Mina smiled, leaning forward to brush her neck. “She’s uncommonly beautiful. And has such easy manners.”
“Indeed.”
Yuri’s chatter continued a few paces behind while Gavril remained silent and listening at his side. Gregoravich’s baritone chimed in every now and then, but it was mostly the talkative, easygoing Yuri keeping their conversation lively.
“Perfect mount for you, Princess,” added Grant with a wink, riding on the other side of Mina. “Though I daresay your beauty exceeds sweet Asphodel here. Watching you ride the past three days has been a pleasure all its own.”
Mikhail cast a brief but dark look over his shoulder at Grant, then galloped ahead as they closed in toward the estate manor. Mina arched a brow at Grant, trying not to grin at his impropriety. He couldn’t help himself. He seemed to glory in breaking etiquette in the most devilish ways.
“I’m not sure if I should say thank you to such a compliment.”
“No, you should not.” Grant placed the hand not holding the reins over his heart. “I should be thanking you. For I’m the one who has enjoyed the view.”
Friedrich chuckled for the first time since that night Denny almost died and Izzy was taken.
“Best watch yourself, Brother. You’ll rile the captain. I don’t believe he likes you flirting with his lady.”
Mina’s pulse jolted at that. He knew? Not that she felt much like his lady anymore. Since the attack, he’d not been alone with her once. Nor had he given her any assurance that the fragile bond they’d forged just before the attack was still intact. She wondered whether Mikhail regretted saying such words now, whether he felt guilt for being with her that night
when he could’ve been on guard. No one could’ve been prepared for what happened, but she felt his deliberate distance keenly.
“Hmph. The captain needs riling if you ask me.” Grant tilted his handsome face toward Mina. Even bruised from the battle, the man could make a nun swoon with those eyes. “Besides, the princess is going to be a queen soon. She may want to hire a personal bodyguard. Or better yet, her personal bleeder.” He waggled his eyebrows at the last.
Friedrich laughed louder. Mina sensed Grant’s bad behavior was partly to entertain and revive his brother from his deep melancholy. She loved the scoundrel for it, then her gaze flicked to Mikhail. He’d slowed his horse’s gait farther ahead, but still she caught the stiffening of his back.
Grant leaned his torso toward her with a hand braced on his thigh and whispered conspiratorially. “Come on, Your Highness. Brenna says I taste awfully good.”
“I swear, one of these days I’m going to beat you senseless,” the duke added casually.
“You can try. But everyone knows I’m the better warrior.”
Mina found her voice finally. “Is that so? Better than the Bloodguard?”
Grant straightened with confidence, not that he ever looked less than confident. “I’m as good as any of them. Ask Friedrich.”
The duke heaved out a sigh and rolled his eyes.
“Even as a human?” asked Mina.
“Well, I don’t have preternatural speed. Hell, when I am a vampire, I’ll be better than your captain.”
Mina glanced toward the man himself. “He’s not my captain,” she said low.
Grant chuckled with a shake of the head. “Oh, yes, he is. Whether the bastard likes it or not.”
Mina made no reply as the lane opened to a circular drive, the gravel finer than on the entry road, leading to a pristine white-stone manor stretching wide and tall. A thick-trunked, gold-leafed elm stood oddly alone to one side, as if the owner couldn’t bear to chop it down when he built the home. Mikhail tethered his horse on a low branch and drew close to the portico as their party made their way to the entrance. His stern expression revealed his temper hadn’t softened at all on their journey. She wondered whether he’d hardened his heart to her as well. She longed to speak with him alone. It would have to wait.
Now, she must meet with Lord Rathbone and hope he’d support her claim.
…
Mikhail watched as Friedrich held his stallion Ramiel’s reins, saying something to Mina while she nodded and stroked her hand down his muzzle. Her slender, pale fingers against the coal-black coat was a pretty sight.
She was always a pretty sight.
“We’ll take the horses to the stables, then encircle the estate,” said Gregoravich at his side.
“Good. Be sure to scout Rathbone’s estate for rogues. Or spies.”
Grant walked up. “Do you believe Rathbone may already be allied to King Dominik?”
“Possibly. But from what we gathered in Izeling, Rathbone wasn’t eager to get into bed with a power-hungry tyrant set on expanding into his territory.”
Gregory grunted. “But he signed a contract with the king, you said.”
Mikhail gave him a wry look. “Contracts can be broken.”
“Aye then. We’ll keep watch out here.” Gregory followed the rest of the Bloodguard toward the stables.
“Where’s Dmitri?” asked Grant, ever watchful.
He wished the bastard would stop watching Mina quite so closely. But he also knew the damn man just enjoyed getting under people’s skin. It had become apparent to him, as well as others, that Mikhail’s protectiveness of Mina extended beyond mere duty.
He actually had a notion to invite Grant to join the Bloodguard when Friedrich transformed him to vampire, which was to happen soon. Friedrich had confided that he’d held out keeping his brother human long enough. Too long. The duke wanted to take care of it before they traveled to Arkadia, leaving Grant behind. But he would have none of it.
“Dmitri’s gone ahead of us.”
“Fine,” Grant heaved a sigh. “Don’t tell me. I’ll set up a perimeter with Gregory. And leave the bowing and scraping to your lot.”
“My lot?”
“You’re a gentleman, Captain.”
“And you’re the son of a duke.” Though Friedrich’s father had never claimed his bastard son, he still bore noble blood.
Grant grinned like the cat who stole the cream. “That doesn’t make me a gentleman.”
“Tell me, what do you know of Izzy’s parents?”
Seeming stumped by the change in conversation, Grant remained pensive a moment. “Actually, we know nothing about them. Brenna said that someone she knew in Korinth found an abandoned child outside the city, so she made arrangements for the child to be brought to her home in the north, where she’s had her ever since.” Grant flicked his gaze from Mina and Friedrich to him. “Why? Do you suspect something?”
“Not exactly. Just rationalizing Queen Morgrid’s motives.”
“You don’t think she was taken to force Friedrich to heel?”
“Not likely. They don’t need him anymore. They’ve built a strong army without his Varis blood to help create it.” Clenching his jaw, he shifted his attention to Grant, knowing the man’s intellect reasoned the way his did. “Why would an all-powerful queen who practiced black magic need an unspoiled innocent child?”
Grant’s thoughtful expression darkened to a murderous scowl. “Blood sacrifice,” he hissed with disgust.
“Aye,” agreed Mikhail, shifting back to Mina and Friedrich as they approached. “Don’t mention this to Friedrich.”
“Not on your life.” Countenance stormy now that he saw what hell might await them if they ever caught up to Izzy, he nodded toward Mina and the duke. “You enjoy yourself. Friedrich says Rathbone is a nice piece of work.” He strode off after Gregoravich.
Mikhail followed behind Mina as Friedrich led their party to the door. He couldn’t help but admire the svelte line of her neck. He preferred when she wore her hair down, but he also enjoyed getting a full view of her moon-white skin, reminding him too well how it felt beneath his fingers, his lips.
He was well and truly caught. With the Black Lily having fallen—on a night when he should’ve been more on guard, not absorbed in Mina—he tried to maintain focus on their goal. And yet, he knew that was impossible. He could no longer look at her and see anything but a woman he longed for even more than he cared to avenge his family’s betrayal that stretched back long before he was born. None of it seemed to have meaning when she stood within his sight. All that mattered was…Mina.
The door swung open, snapping Mikhail from his trance. A waif of a man with thinning hair and a large nose, the butler, bowed at the site of gentry at the door, though Mikhail chose to remain in his mercenary garb. He wanted the earl to understand his purpose at this meeting right away.
“Good afternoon, my lord. May I tell Lord Rathbone who is calling upon him?”
“Yes.” Friedrich took the dominant position at the front, carrying himself with the arrogant confidence of his station. “You can tell Rathbone that Friedrich Volya, Duke of Winter Hill, is on his doorstep.”
The butler’s squinty eyes popped open as he gulped down two swallows of air. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he bowed deeply, then swung wide the door. “Please, please come in. You can wait in the blue parlor.” He stepped lively on his long legs, giving him the look of a loping praying mantis.
Friedrich quirked a brow at us with a lopsided smile and whispered, “I believe we were unexpected.”
They followed the butler through the foyer with a dangling crystal chandelier, where he gestured toward the first parlor on the left.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, um—” Friedrich paused with his hand aloft, waiting for the man to fill in his name.
“Graves, Your Grace. At your service. I’ll let Lord Rathbone know you’re here right away, Your Grace. And your lovely companion?
”
He didn’t recognize Mina for who she was.
“Introductions will be given in person,” said Mikhail, not wanting the earl to know who was standing in his parlor just in case he had thoughts of sending out an alarm in secret.
Though Mikhail’s men would have the entire estate surrounded and would intercept anyone trying to leave or enter the earl’s manor, he would take no chances. When the butler loped off to find his master, the three of them took in their surroundings.
“You have never been here before, Your Highness?” asked Friedrich. “I thought you said you’d visited once.”
“Yes. Once,” she confirmed. “But I was quite young.” She stood demurely, like the perfect princess, nodding to the door. “Though Graves may appear to be one step away from achieving his namesake, he is human and wasn’t even alive on my girlhood visit to Sommersby.”
“The blue room isn’t very blue,” observed Friedrich, tapping a finger on the sun-yellow drapery.
“It was once blue from floor to silk-papered ceiling,” came the smooth baritone of the Earl of Devonshire standing in the entrance.
His comely and well-fashioned appearance presented a vampire entirely unruffled by the surprise visit. Though his steady gaze on Mina ruffled Mikhail at once. The earl smiled in a way that put one on edge, rather than eased the tension.
“My, my. So the rumors were true.” He strode into the room before Mina and gave a regal bow. “I am happy to see you safe, Your Highness.”
“Are you?” she asked.
His smooth expression faltered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
The Emerald Lily Page 16