“That makes no sense, Father. Why would she tell Serban she was helping the rebels? It sounds like nonsense to me.” Dimitri rubbed his jaw.
The king smacked the table. “I am not asking you, I am asking your sister.” Dimitri glared at their father, but said no more. “Answer me, girl. Is the baron telling the truth or not?”
Pepca tightened her lips and said no more.
The king leaned back in his chair and looked into her eyes. “I see, so there is at least some truth to the accusations.” He tapped his lips with his finger for a moment then sat forward and drummed the table with his knuckles. “Maybe this groom Julian put you up to it. Maybe he even tricked you into helping him and the other conspirators?”
It would be easy to agree and play ignorant to the crime. Dmitri looked down at her and raised his eyebrows. It was clear what he wanted her to do.
If she lied, her father could say she was just a little fool who was deceived by the crafty renegades and duped into aiding their cause. She would be declared blameless, her only crime being that she was too stupid to see she was being used in the rebel conspiracy. The thought made her angry, especially when she knew everyone would easily believe the tale of poor dim-witted Pepca.
She just couldn’t do it; she wouldn’t betray Julian a second time. Besides, her offense was minor, and she didn’t believe her father would allow her to be harmed or imprisoned for it.
“No, Father, no one tricked me. All I told them was the baron would be attending the ball, but I would have done more if I could have. Julian and the other rebels are not our enemies. If the baron was deposed, I know they would again swear their allegiance to the throne. They love Trimenia just like you and I do. They are just fighting to rid our land of the sickness that has claimed it. Baron Serban is poisoning your kingdom with tyranny, Father, and Trimenia will die if his reign of terror is allowed to continue. Please, sire, you must do something.” Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened as Pepca realized she was out of her seat and shouting at her father.
The king’s jaw tightened as he came to his feet.
“You know nothing, child. There are things that must be done to keep everyone safe. Do you even realize the enormity of what you have done?” He went on before she could answer. Pepca had never seen her father so upset. “You have jeopardized our alliance with Warmark and perhaps even your sister’s betrothal. King Mayson is still trying to decide if he will allow the marriage to take place at all. Not to mention the position you have put me in.” King Petru sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands. Looking at Dimitri for solace, she found her brother staring at their father with pity.
The king slowly lifted his head. His anger had drained away; now his expression was slack and his eyes dull. “Baron Serban wants you executed with the others. I told him you would never have helped these traitors with their conspiracies, but now you stand before me with confessions of treachery falling from your lips. How can I save you now, Pepca?”
“Fight him, Father. You know it’s the right thing to do,” she said quietly. “You are the king, and your word is law.”
“Neither of you understand what is happening in this kingdom. I can’t afford to defy the baron’s wishes, not if I want to keep Trimenia and my family safe.”
“If you can’t stand up to him, let me,” Dimitri said, stepping forward. “I would rather die than permit that fiend to destroy our homeland and he holds no sway over me.”
The king shook his head sadly. “He does, son, and you don’t even know it. And even if the attack on the baron was something that would have helped our country, it failed. He is a noble under my protection and an attack on him is an attack on me. My God, Pepca, too much hangs in the balance; I just can’t let this go.”
Pepca stepped around the table and knelt at her father’s feet. “I know there is something you’re afraid of, but you, Dimitri, and I can face it together. Please, Father, do this for me. If not for me, do it for Trimenia.” She kissed both his hands and looked up into the face of the first man she had ever loved. “If you can’t be brave this time, Father, allow us to be brave for you.”
He reached down and touched her cheek, tears welling in his eyes. “I wish I had as much courage in my heart as you do, Pepca, and I praise God for giving it to you, for you will need it now.” He straightened in his chair. “Guards!” The two guardsmen came in and saluted. “Take Pepca and lock her up with the others,” the king said, his voice breaking.
The two soldiers crossed the room and pulled her to her feet. She could do nothing but stare at her father, the terrible sting of betrayal ripping through her soul like a whirlwind.
“Do you rule or does Serban, Father?” Dimitri shouted furiously.
“Be silent, son. There is nothing I can do for her now. You don’t understand, but she is saving your life and the lives of your mother and sister, perhaps even the entire kingdom.”
Pepca looked at her brother wild-eyed. The prince looked murderously at the two guards and she thought Dimitri might move against them, but instead he squeezed her shoulder. “This isn’t over.” He glared at their father and stormed out of the room.
“Father,” she pleaded quietly.
Petru’s arms dropped to his sides and he would not meet her gaze. “I am truly sorry, Pepca, but you have left me little choice. May God be merciful,” he said as the guards pulled her from the room.
She stood before the empty cell while one of the guards fumbled with a large set of keys, trying to find the right one. Once he opened cell door, the guardsmen unceremoniously shoved her inside and slammed it behind her. It was dank and cold. She hugged herself, quickly feeling the goosebumps spreading up her arms. The whole dungeon smelled of stale urine and feces. A pile of rotten straw and an old wooden bucket were the cell’s only furnishings. Pepca slid down the iron bars of her new room on to the damp stone floor.
She felt numb all over and her throat was choked with sobs. How could her father have done this? Hadn’t she loved him enough? Pepca knew her mother’s disdain for her ran deep. The queen had always made it clear she never wanted another child after Danika. The scorn her mother felt for her youngest child was never in doubt, but her father? He had always seemed a little disappointed, but she thought he loved her.
She sniffed hard, trying to cut off her tears. A tiny spark of anger started to burn in her chest. They were prepared to sacrifice her without hesitation. If what her father said was true and the lives of the rest of her family were in danger, it was no surprise that her mother and father would let her go to her death to spare the rest of the family. They would still have their perfect Danika.
It was Dimitri who had astonished her. He had tried to help her, standing up to Father for her sake. Pepca never knew her older brother cared the least bit about her welfare. Dimitri had done nothing but ignore or tease her in the past, but now risked his standing with their mother and father on her behalf.
Rubbing her eyes, she got up from the floor and pushed the hair out of her face. She would not sit and whimper; she would stay strong for her brother. It would be what he wanted her to do.
“Pepca, is that you?”
Peering across the dungeon’s dark corridor, Pepca saw Julian clutching the iron bars of his own cell and squinting at her in the dim light of the prison. As her eyes adjusted, she could see another man sitting against the wall in the back of the groom’s cell. His long dark hair and beard hid his features from her scrutiny. Pepca assumed it must be the other would-be assassin.
“It is me,” she said, reaching through the bars of cell.
Julian looked at her bewildered. “Why are you down here?”
Pepca proceeded to tell him what had happened. She left nothing out except for what her mother and sister had said to her.
When she finished, Julian looked over his shoulder at the man in the cell. “The rumors must be true. Serban rules Trimenia, not the king.”
“That doesn’t make King Petru any less guilty, Juli
an. He is no more than a coward that has betrayed his people, and now his own daughter.”
“Who is that?” Pepca asked more hotly than she intended. Even after what had happened, she didn’t like the way the stranger spoke about her father.
“His name is Vladimir, and he is a friend.”
“My father hasn’t a choice; I believe the baron has threatened my family’s lives if he doesn’t do as the baron asks.” She directed her statement to the man in the back of the cell.
Julian glanced back at his dark companion, and Pepca could tell something unspoken passed between them. “We have thought as much.”
“He danced with me at Danika’s party, and somehow he made me betray your intentions and confess what I had done.” She looked at her feet, unable to look at the young man she loved, and said softly, “I am sorry, Julian. I don’t know how he made me tell him; I just couldn’t stop myself.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for, and nothing you did put us here. It is I who should apologize to you. I am the one who talked you in to doing this, though I never thought your father would have you imprisoned. Serban’s hold on him is stronger than was rumored.”
“I knew what I was doing,” she said, trying to smile.
Julian pushed back his hair and put his face between the bars. “What of Danika?”
A flash of anger hit her and she wanted to chastise Julian for even asking about her hateful sister, but she held her tongue. “She is still to marry Henry in the spring, though now the ceremony may be in Warmark. The last thing she said to me was that she hoped I died.”
Julian lowered his eyes and spit into the corridor of his cell. “She is truly lost to us, Pep. I am sorry.”
She shrugged at Julian’s sympathy. Danika had been lost to her for a long time. She was just glad Julian finally felt the same way.
Stepping away from the bars, Julian and his companion conversed quietly for a moment in the back of their cell. When they finished, the stablehand returned to the bars. “You say Serban is returning to the palace tonight?”
“Yes, that’s what Father said. He wants to watch the executions.”
“If we are taken before the baron tonight, we might still have a chance to send him to hell. So I want you to be prepared if…strange things happen. Just remember, no matter what you see, you’ll be safe.”
Pepca marveled at Julian’s insane optimism. “How are you going to do anything? You will be unarmed and bound, and the baron will most likely have sent for his own men by now.”
“There are things you don’t know, Pepca, but you must trust me. Unless they have taken steps to prevent it, Vladimir and I will break free.”
Julian was being ridiculous, but Pepca thought she would play along. What could it hurt? “I will be ready, but do not underestimate Baron Serban, Julian. He is a monster.”
“He is more of a monster than you know, Pepca. I never told you how I came to work for your father, have I?”
She shook her. “No”
“When I was a boy, Serban killed my father and took his lands, and just like many of the other young women of Trimenia, my mother disappeared behind his castle walls never to be heard from again. With no home, I went to live with my wretched uncle, who took up banditry after his own lands were taken. The drunken fool was a poor brigand and managed to get himself and my cousins killed when he chose the wrong man to fleece. Their killer took mercy on me. He let me travel with him south to Phlosha, and finding a village that would take me in, he left me there. It wasn’t a bad place, but it wasn’t my home. I returned to Trimenia and swore vengeance on the creature that ruined my life. Serban must be destroyed, Pep, no matter what the cost.”
Pepca’s brows furrowed. “So that is why you came to work at the palace stable. But I don’t understand what you mean by creature?”
“Serban is a blood drinker, a vampire. Why do you think he avoids the capital and is only seen after dark? He is a demon that pretends to be a man. He is using his powers to bring Trimenia under his thumb. How do you think he got you to tell him what you knew?”
Pepca’s hand went to her mouth. She was well acquainted with the stories of those who walked beyond the grave. The Tinkers told stories of powerful vampires that lived high in the mountains of her country that preyed on those who tarried after dark, or roamed the shadowy woods of Trimenia alone. She had always believed them just tales to frighten children.
Heavy footfalls and the jingle of keys stopped her flood of questions. Dimitri came into the row of cells, a torch in hand. He hurriedly unlocked Pepca’s door.
“I have cleared the way. A few soldiers that are loyal to me watch the stairs and the entry to the servant’s quarters. Head for the kitchens and out the door where the crofters deliver the food. Don’t go near Brova. It is too dangerous; Serban has spies everywhere inside the city. Go south and don’t stop till you’re out of Trimenia.”
She blinked, astounded by her brother’s rescue.
“Go now,” he said, giving her a gentle push.
“I won’t go without Julian,” Pepca blurted out.
“I thought I was the stubborn one; take the dammed rebels with you if you please. Just get going. Once Father has had time to think, he will take steps to stop me from freeing you. After our conversation, he must know I won’t stand for this.”
The prince unlocked Julian and Vladimir’s door. Both men hurried out of their cell. “I won’t forget this, Highness,” Julian said.
Dimitri raised his chin. “I do this for my sister and for Trimenia, but if you want to repay me, see Pepca safely away from here.”
“You have my word,” Julian said.
Pepca threw her arms around her brother. “They will know it was you who set me free.”
“I know.”
“But you will be branded a traitor or maybe worse.”
“You were right,” he said, reaching down to stroke her cheek. “It is time someone in our house stood up to Serban. If Father can’t do it, I will.”
She touched his hand. “There is something you must know. Julian says Serban is a vampire.”
Dimitri scoffed at her. “Superstitious foolishness, the peasants will believe anything.”
“I believe it’s true. Tell me you will at least consider the possibility?”
“Fine, just go before it’s too late.”
Pepca stood on her toes and kissed her brother’s cheek, then she fled after the two rebels as fast as her legs would carry her.
Once out of the palace, they quickly stole horses from the stables. Concealing themselves as best they could with old cloaks they pilfered from the kitchens, they rode out the gate before any alarm had sounded. Julian and his companion were leading her south as quickly as their mounts would carry them.
“We should try to find the others,” Vladimir yelled over the clatter of the horses.
Julian pursed his lips and nodded his agreement.
Pepca looked over her shoulder at the palace. Her home was quickly fading in the distance. Tonight, she would say a prayer for her brother.
The black smoke stood out in stark contrast to the light gray clouds that hid the early morning sun. The Tinkers he’d passed a few miles back had told him that five people had been condemned by a local priest. The old wanderer said their wagons had passed through the village not more than an hour ago, and their own community was making ready to burn them at the stake. The elderly leader of the Tinkers’ small procession of wagons wanted no part of the executions and had moved on before their children witnessed the terrible display. The rising smoke ahead told Kian that the wanderer’s tale was not unfounded.
The hood of his cloak fell back as the swordsman sprinted through the trees, freeing his long black hair as he raced towards the small Trimenian hamlet. The warrior’s golden eyes darted left and right, searching the forest’s shadows for any possible ambush. Vaulting over a fallen oak, Kian broke into the settlement’s clearing. His sharp eyes rapidly assessed the scene.
A small crowd gawked at the growing flames while their village priest bellowed a prayer of exorcism in the hopes of consigning the imagined demons inside his prisoners to Hell. Two adults and three children had been tied to crude posts in the center of the little town, the pyres beneath them set ablaze only moments ago. What the Tinker had said was true. The pope’s holy flames had even reached this far north, but by the gods, he wasn’t going to have it.
A roar issued from deep in his chest as he tore Silence from its scabbard. He felt the dark sword soundlessly come to life in his hand. It had already discerned that fire and death was close at hand, and yearned for a taste. Kian would have to be careful; the blade’s appetite had been wetted and the monster inside him stirred. If he lost control of either, there would be a bloodbath.
The priest and the villagers turned in unison, their eyes taking in the man who had interrupted their execution. Many of the women screamed in fright, while others held up three fingers and touched their head, mouth, and heart in the sign of their god’s protection. More than half the crowd fled at the sight of the dark warrior and his ominous blade.
The portly priest held up his hand and began reciting scripture from the Holy Tome, hoping that the word of God would drive him away. Kian ignored the holy man and made for the victims of the priest’s self-righteous judgment. He quickly discerned all but the smallest child on the far end had already succumbed to the fire. Kian could hear her fading coughs as the smoke snaked into little girl’s lungs. The brush and wood under the priest’s smallest victim had not blazed up like the other pyres. Although she was blanketed in a cloud of the deadly black vapor, she had not yet burned.
Kicking away the brush and logs of the smoldering bonfire as best he could, Kian stepped into the heat and smoke. As he cut the child free, his wary eyes caught sight of a villager to his left flank, a crossbow in his hands. The girl pitched forward as her ropes came free. Heedless of the danger to himself, Kian snatched the little girl up before she could fall into the red hot coals of the smoky blaze. Shielding the child, he turned his back to the crossbow.
The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3) Page 5