by Cara Coe
Lord Lennox walked over to her and brushed his hand against her cheek. Amelie resisted the urge to bite him. As if he knew this, his smile widened sickeningly and he snapped the pendant from her neck. “I must attend to my guests now. Don’t bother screaming. No one can hear you and the servants are otherwise engaged in necessary activities. No, my dear, the next thing you’ll see is my face in the carriage tomorrow morning.” He paused and gave a slight chuckle. “Or tomorrow night since I increased the dose ten-fold.”
He pocketed the pendant, turned on his heel and strode out of the library. Amelie went to work quickly. Sir Duncan gave her regular doses of known poisons in small amounts to build her immunity, but the after taste of this liquid was unknown to her and her eyes were already drooping.
Using her chin, Amelie pushed the collar of her dress away from her neck and turned her mouth into the opening. Then she clenched her abdomen while expelling quick bursts of air until she vomited into her dress. She cringed at the slimy feel against her breasts, but she couldn’t risk Lord Lennox seeing it on the floor next to her chair. She spent the rest her lucidity working against the binds in her rope. She just needed them loose enough to slip off when she came to. She felt some progress on the knots, but blackness took her and the world slipped away.
* * *
Amelie sat in front of her vanity running a brush down the length of her hair. The act helped to calm her. She was still shaking after Henry, the baker, cornered her in the back kitchens with a gleam in his eye.
“So pretty, so pretty…” he repeated it over and over. He raised a lock of her hair and took a deep breath. Amelie trembled. “So pretty, so pretty.” He reached forward and squeezed her breast. Amelie finally found her voice and screamed. Henry’s eyes clouded angrily and he scooped her into a hard embrace, pinning her arms at her side. She averted her head as he tried to kiss her.
Phillip had been coming back from the stables past the kitchen door when he heard her. He burst into the kitchen and grabbed Henry by the throat. His eyes held such confusion. He was torn. Amelie understood. Henry had always been there since they were children, slipping them treats, telling them stories. He was always kind to them. She looked up to him like a beloved uncle. Amelie had been frozen in shock when Henry advanced on her.
“Go to your quarters!” Phillip barked at her before shoving Henry to the ground. She darted around the two men and climbed the stairs to her quarters, tears flowing.
Amelie came to her senses groggily. Her arms ached and her head hurt with a furious pounding. The house seemed still but she knew the thickness of the library meant she couldn’t hear the rest of the manor. Amelie patiently waited, straining to hear for sounds of anyone approaching. Whatever Rankor instructed Lord Lennox to do, it must have been of the upmost secrecy to not even assign one servant to watch her. It was either that or the lord was grossly overestimating his ability to hold her.
She felt her wrist slip easily out of the rope. She paused a moment, biting her lower lip and running through her options. She could duck out now, find Millie who was probably frantic with worry, and ride like the wind back to Candor. Or if Lord Lennox really needed to work on his own, she would have the opportunity in a one-on-one fight to overtake him and rake him over the coals to find out information, possibly even dispatch him since his knowledge of her powers could endanger future missions.
She hadn’t time to deliberate further. The creaking of the door sealed her decision and she lolled her head to the side and closed her eyes to feign a deep sleep.
The lord crept to her silently, fingering a loose tendril of her hair. She felt his contemplation and used this moment to slip from the rope and cut a blow to the side of his neck with the straight edge of her hand. His voice burst from him in short coughs as he tried to recover with gulps of air.
Amelie braced both hands on the chair and swung up and over it, using the power of the momentum behind the swing to kick his face, nose up. He stumbled backwards, blood streaming from his nostrils.
She landed crouched quickly scanning for a weapon in the dark room. Lord Lennox staggered to his feet and attempted to flee to the door but Amelie rolled to him and swiped his feet out from under him with her leg. His head thudded near the fireplace and she grabbed the fire poker used to knock her out hours earlier and pressed the length of it to his neck.
“What does Rankor want with me?” she demanded.
He returned her question with a slimy grin. “You must come with me to find out.”
Swiftly, Amelie twirled the poker and jammed it into his hand, plunging heavily through muscle and crunching bones. His cry was inhuman.
She returned the poker to his neck. “What does Rankor want with me?”
“You…you aren’t supposed to be,” he gasped painfully. “You weren’t meant to be born a mage. You have the key.”
“My mother hired a crazy old witch while pregnant and now I’m cursed. If Rankor knows of my curse, he knows I have no key. Try again.”
She pressed the poker deeper into his throat. He struggled to swallow. “Moon powder. She would have needed moon powder to transform you. Rankor needs it.”
“What in Angel’s name is moon powder?”
Despite his pain, Lord Lennox’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You really don’t know,” he choked out.
Amelie used one hand to search his clothing and found a sealed note in his breast pocket. She tucked it into the collar of her dress.
“No, I don’t know, but maybe this note may be of some help,” she said smugly, glaring into his eyes. Before Amelie could press him about this moon powder, Lord Lennox brought up his free hand and pressed a stone into her side. The burn was intense and caused Amelie to arch back in pain. Lennox seized this opportunity to kick her off of him and grab the fire poker. He swung it, connecting solidly with her back. She raised herself shakily, bent on all fours. Lennox towered over her and spat blood near her head.
“If you are so little use, bitch, then maybe I shall take you and make this whole damn night worth something.”
He clawed at her dress, ripping the collar down to her left breast and exposing her undergarments. She scratched him across the face and brought elbow up to his chin. He clocked her again with the fire poker sending her to the ground, her cheek on fire. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She heard the metal of his buckles as he loosened his belt and let his pants drop. Her head swam dizzily as she tried to stand. He kicked her back over and pinned her to the rug with his sheer size.
Her short hair fanned around her head, her plaits coming loose in tangles. Amelie’s hands were above her head on the floor and she used her fingers to feel around her braids until she clutched one of the pins that had held her hair in place. Lord Lennox squeezed her neck, digging his fingers into her throat and cutting off her air. His knee pushed into the space between her thighs, forcing her legs apart. His eyes were wild with desire and fury. Amelie fought the black spots in her peripheral as she struggled to take in air. She took the hand that held the pin and drove it into the side of his neck.
The door burst open at that moment in time for the new intruder to see Lord Lennox clutch his neck with his hand, blood spurting between his long fingers. He slumped over onto Amelie who quickly wriggled out from underneath his body and spun to assess her new challenge.
Prince Seth stood there in shock, sword drawn, taking in the scene before him.
Amelie froze, unsure of how to proceed. The prince recovered from his shock. He held the sword to Amelie’s neck.
“Explain.” His voice was steel.
“He tried to rape me.”
“You seemed quite able to hold him off,” the prince noted. “He has a hair pin in his neck and his hand is mangled. His injuries are severe and still he wanted to get off on a good time with a pretty maiden.”
“Perhaps he is not right in the head.”
Prince Seth stepped forward and stripped the note from her dress. In its rip, the note’s corner had be
en exposed. Amelie scowled.
“And you carry a note with his seal in a most intimate area. I’ll repeat myself and believe me madam I rarely afford anyone that luxury. Explain.”
Amelie set her gaze past him at the wall and her mouth in a tight line. She had nothing more to say. He sheathed his sword.
“Walk with me. I have your golden haired friend.”’
Amelie shot a surprised glare at him. The prince acknowledged her anger with a grave face.
“She is unharmed. We caught her hiding in a tree with your equipment. I’m just a prince looking for answers. Walk with me.”
Without much of a choice left, Amelie followed the prince to the library door. He paused in the threshold to drape his cloak over her torn dress. They made their way through the quiet hallways of the manor. They encountered a soldier on the route wearing the royal colors of green and silver. Prince Seth stopped him and leaned in to speak to him quietly.
“Lord Lennox is deceased in his library. See to him and rectify the disturbance done to the room. I want you and Griffith to stay behind and handle the manor and affairs.”
“Yes my lord,” the soldier said reverently and immediately set off to complete the task.
The prince led Amelie to a barn at the edge of Lord Lennox’s property. Millie stood at the entrance between two burly, oversized royal guards were also adorned with green and silver tunics. One of them pressed a dagger, one of Amelie’s own daggers, to Millie’s throat.
With a strangled cry, Amelie lunged for them, but a third guard caught her around the shoulder and held squarely onto her. The knifepoint pressed in further and Amelie trembled with anger, but did not resist. The prince stood quietly for several moments, reading the content of Lord Lennox’s note. He finally looked up and fixed his gaze on her.
“What do you want?” she asked hoarsely.
“Who are you?” The prince demanded.
“What does the note tell you?”
“I didn’t ask Lord Lennox, I asked you. Who are you?”
“No one of consequence.”
“Lord Lennox thought otherwise. You are a mage working with Rankor?”
Amelie spit. “I would never work with that monster!”
Prince Seth smiled. “Well, Amelie, if that is your name, you are a mage but you are not from Draeden.”
Amelie’s eyebrows drew together and she looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Make your assumptions, I will not cooperate.”
“Oh, but you already did,” the Prince said thoughtfully. “You are not Draeden for the people of this kingdom cannot fathom tolerating magic and would have denied the accusation of being a mage with as much passion as you denied being linked to Rankor. So, not only do you possess the magic Lord Lennox describes in this letter, but you are also from another kingdom.” His eyes narrowed angrily. “Which one?”
Amelie stood firm, crossing her arms.
Prince Seth turned to Millie. “Perhaps you will be wiser and answer the question, my lady.” Millie narrowed her eyes and shot Amelie a glance, pleading for direction.
The guard on the right pricked blood on Millie’s neck.
“Candor! Damn you! Let her go!” Amelie yelled.
The prince nodded curtly to the guards. “Secure the spy. She rides with us. Take the woman to the one of the main roads, a busy one but not too busy, bind her, and leave her there. And don’t you ever harm anyone without my order.” His glare narrowed to the guard on the right who drew blood from Millie’s neck. “I will have you back in the castle on ditch duty the next time you cross that line, Unger.”
“My apologies, my Lord.” The large brute bowed his head.
“Apologize to her, Unger, not me.” He turned his attention to Millie. “Your companion will answer for espionage and possible murder under Draeden law. I suspect from her manner and education she is of noble birth.”
Millie glared at him. “If that is how we draw conclusions here, then you must be of very low birth and pedigree,” she snapped.
The prince’s mouth remained tense but amusement sparked in his eyes. “The two of you must be very close indeed,” he mused. “To be so alike.”
The humor left his expression and became serious once more as he addressed Millie. “Get to Candor as fast as you can to bring who you must.” He pulled a rolled parchment from one of the soldier’s sacks, pressed with a green seal and handed it to her “This is the royal seal. Carry it with you and her party of representatives will be guaranteed safe passage.” He spared a sidelong look at Amelie. “Our people know little of each other, but we are not barbarians.”
One of the guards marched Millie through the fields and out of sight of Amelie.
The man holding Amelie roughly bound her hands together in front of her. She sighed and decided she’d learned all she could from this group. It was time to go. Amelie allowed her influence to waft from her pores. She felt the pull of these men around her, though it was slight. She pulsed it strongly, to speed up their taking and get herself and Millie on their way. The prince stopped in his progress to a large brown horse and turned to cock his head at her.
“What are you doing?”
Amelie stared back at him, shocked. No one ever felt her use her magic, they just subtly began to succumb. Everything about this prince was irritating and fascinating her at the same time.
“You are trying to use your magic.”
He walked right up to her, close enough that if he tipped his head and leaned in just a hair, he could have kissed her.
“You are a cruel man to put a helpless woman on the road.”
“If she’s anything like you, and I suspect she is, she is far from helpless.”
“You’ve bound her.”
“There will be travelers on the road. Not many, but enough that she won’t starve before she’s released. It will buy us enough time to leave for the palace without the risk of her tracking us. I will allow your people to speak for you, but for now you are under arrest. Other kingdoms would have been much more severe, yours included if I’m not mistaken. The death of one of Draeden’s nobles is on your hands.”
“I merely defended myself, my lord. He attacked me.”
“You caused it with your witchery.”
“I cannot cast aside who I am.”
“If it was merely defense, why are his strategic notes on your person?”
Amelie gave a wry smile. “I’m an opportunist, my lord, as I suspect you would be.”
“Perhaps. But you are in my kingdom and have assaulted my people so your opportunity unfortunately means you will return to the palace for a proper trial. Your title alone keeps me from exacting your punishment here and now.”
Amelie gave a bitter laugh. “Good thing I’m not a sheep herder then, isn’t it? I’d hate to be less of a person in your kingdom. Unworthy of a trial because I labor for a living.”
Her snide remark caused Prince Seth to draw his eyes into a furrowed glare, but its direction was not so much at her as an inward response.
Amelie tugged at her binding, tired of restraints after her long night in the lord’s library. “Your men will release me by morning.”
Prince Seth once again leaned in close so she could see the glower in his eyes. “My men’s will is stronger than you like to think. And I am impervious to magic so you will have no effect on me.”
Amelie narrowed her eyes as she realized she indeed had no pull on the prince. She could not feel a stir of desire in him in the slightest, despite the close proximity of their faces.
He hoisted her onto a small white mare and tethered the reigns to his own steed. “Just to ensure an uneventful trip, you will be my riding companion.” His smile was grim and uninviting.
Amelie said nothing as he gloved her hands twice in leather sacks and knotted her ties to the mare. The thickness of the material robbed her of any dexterity and the ropes were so tight she feared her hands might go numb.
“Your men were thorough in the bindings,” she commented,
casting her eyes towards the tree line. She hated asking for mercy, but the tingling sensation had moved to her forearm. “I cannot feel my hands.”
Prince Seth stared at her hard for a moment before loosening the ropes. His stare fixed to her again until Amelie tore her eyes away from the trees and returned it.
“With all the tricks you play, I’ll never know what is genuine.”
His voice held a note of regret and Amelie instantly knew he was not referring to her current request but to their dance last night. Despite her hardened resolve against these men, she felt a wild need to assure him that the connection was no trick. It was a silly thing to fret about in her current situation but it was the first time she’d experienced anything like that.
She set her mouth in a hard line and returned his piercing stare. She had no words to offer and his expression took on a stony quality before he finished off the last knot and strode briskly to his horse. Silly or not, she held onto the dance anyway content enough to remember its magic for both of them. The only magic that was real. The only kind that wasn’t conjured up by schemes and potions and practice.
The party assembled around them and they made their way into the trees, deeper in Draeden territory.
Chapter 9
Amelie
The sun beat down on Amelie’s back. She was still in her green ball gown and draped in Prince Seth’s cloak. Swimming in all this extra material brought the flush of heat more quickly and Amelie shifted uncomfortably atop her white mare. She spared a glance at the prince. He rode next her, her mare’s reins secured tightly to his saddle with a long rope. She scowled at his dark brown steed. Earlier she’d nudged her horse into a faster trot to dislodge the prince or at least startle him, but the steed simply sped up smoothly, keeping pace as if Prince Seth hauled in prisoners this way all the time.
He probably does, she thought bitterly. She was upset and rigid, not used to having so little influence on her situation.