“Was that wise, Sire?”
“What can they do? He has no allies here, excepting those who were taken with him and the princess has remained secluded behind closed doors since her capture. She is a foolish girl with ideas of grandeur,” Diamand derided but his countenance paled when he noticed the fury on Padiskan’s face.
“I will advise you to be more careful with your descriptions of my fiancée, and your future queen,” Padiskan warned as his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. “She is young and once Malachi is dead, she will turn to me for guidance and support.”
Although Roz stood silently listening to their conversation, she gave no impression that she heard a word until Diamand pointed a stubby finger in her direction.
Chapter Nine
“Why is this woman here? Do you have need of protection from one of us?” He glared at her as she were the reason Padiskan had berated him. She glanced his way once but kept her expression blank. She didn’t care what he thought of her.
“Do you have a problem with a beautiful woman’s presence, Diamand?” Padiskan chuckled as he observed the pleasure the other men seemed to garner whenever he singled Diamand out for a reprimand. “I like the look of her. She graces this gathering with her beauty and gives me something else to look at when I tire of your faces.”
They laughed, all but Diamand whose face froze in contempt, his top lip curling back and displaying his uneven teeth.
“But can you trust her?” Diamand glowered.
“About as much as I trust you,” Padiskan replied with a cruel smile. “Rozalaine, what about you?”
“Sire?” she asked, confused by his question.
“What do you think should happen in this land?” Padiskan sat back, steepled his fingers together, his eyes on Diamand’s still reddening face and waited for her answer.
“I believe there is only one man entitled to rule the land,” she replied honestly, and by Padiskan’s widening smile, he believed she referred to him. “The other should be killed in the most painful manner possible.”
“Do you see now?” Padiskan clapped his hands together. “Not only is she beautiful, she is one of us!”
Diamand didn’t reply but his furious expression plainly showed that he didn’t believe Roz to be one of them.
“Maybe we could now discuss the manner of the coronation.” A man dressed solely in bright scarlet, stood and addressed the gathering. He bowed low to Padiskan as though he had just arrived. “I would advise that after the former prince’s unfortunate demise, we push ahead with the coronation as soon as possible. The country needs a firm hand in control, and once you are its duly appointed ruler, the troubles will subside.”
Others stood now, their hands waving at the figure in red as though his presence had given them the right to contend his statement. Some wanted the whispers of revolt and rebellion quelled before the Prince became their undisputed leader while others believed it would lessen the thoughts of an insurgency.
Roz didn't care because either way there would be no coronation taking place with any of these men present. She wouldn't see it either.
She took a deep breath, it was time to end this farce. She reached into the inner lining of her trousers, fingering the scrap of leather to feel the burning on the pads of her fingertips from the concealed rocks.
"I think it's time for a break." Padiskan waved his hand as Roz leaned over, filling the ornate cup to the brim with the dark Damascian wine he favored. The first strike of the cathedral's clock brought her hand back just before the red wine began to pour over the rim. "They're just men, my dear Rozalaine." The Prince's hand on hers brought her eyes to his smiling face, as he believed her clumsiness was due to nerves. "No matter how good and great, we're still just men." His face told of his knowledge; he thought he'd found her weakness, the point he could use to bend her, but it was too late. Any power he'd had over her would dissolve into the air in a moment or two.
She dropped one of the stones at his feet and only she heard the fizz of the invisible, deadly vapor beginning to devour the air in the chamber.
“Here.” Diamand held out his own goblet, stained and dour next to the Prince's. It was the only one he used for fear of someone poisoning him. How little did he know? She stepped around the table to fill Diamand's goblet, dropping a stone at his feet but Roz was determined to be sure of his death. The dagger hidden in her low-cut waistcoat would ensure his end. She would die happy if she could see his corpse.
She swayed, reaching for the edge of the table as her eyes grew heavy and the room began to spin. She monitored her breathing, fighting the insidious, untraceable miasma as her lungs battled for air and her mind screamed for life. She pulled out her favorite dagger and leaned over, the mass of her weight behind the blow, forcing it deep into Diamand's chest. His mouth formed into a circle, a scream in his throat which never escaped as his limbs stiffened and his mouth froze in a terrible grimace. He died before his head tumbled to the wooden table top, his goblet and its ruby contents mixing wonderfully with the spread of his blood.
Panic began to build in the room as the other man witnessed the death of one of their own by a trusted protector but the gas had already invaded their systems, their conversations had allowed it deeper in their bloodstreams than hers. They were already dead. It was all over bar the choking.
“Roz?” Padiskan stood, grabbing at the air, his fingers finally finding stability in the table’s edge. His eyes wide and panicked as though unable to believe the inevitable.
"You should have listened to him," Roz spat, feeling the burning at her throat. She waited only a moment, relishing the look of terror on the usurper's face before allowing herself to slide to her knees on the marble floor.
The good and the great, the unluckier ones pounded on the door, yanking on the heavy chain holding the huge padlock in place but to no point. She had been handed the key and had placed it in her other pocket although none of them seemed to realize that.
She grinned as Padiskan hit the floor, his head slamming against the cold hard marble, his hand waving although not quite as majestically. She fingered the key in her pocket knowing no one would escape that way. She watched as one after the other slid to the floor, hands clasped around their throats, all thoughts of murdering the true Prince gone from their minds. She hoped Malachi’s father, King Michael awaited them with his own form of revenge.
Her eyes began to close as the room grew silent, as the labored breathing of the men ceased. She knew it would be only a matter of time before she died as the air in her lungs festered until the touch of warm fingers on her face forced her eyes open.
She didn't recognise him as one of her tribe. He looked too fair, too skinny although she assumed her father had sent him. Was she dead already?
He lifted her up into his arms, a thick piece of striped cloth tied around his mouth. His cheeks bulged with the effort of holding his breath, although his eyes seemed merry enough.
He carried her in a run, his feet light and barely touching the floor through to the back of the room, into an antechamber where refreshments were prepared but had been abandoned and then into another room which led into a kitchen garden and fresh air.
She hadn’t thought of this, none of them had. Of course, the servants needed access, albeit concealed. How else had food been transported? She’d never been into the Gathering chamber before, how could she have known and none of the assembled leaders has given it a thought. Servants were not to be noticed, unless they did something wrong.
The boy, for he was barely a man, laid her down gently next to a flowing fountain as he whisked off the cloth to take deep, healing breaths. She bent forward, coughing violently, her lungs filling with coolness.
A man, dark skinned but with the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen knelt by her side, and with a nod, he held a small vial of a foul-tasting potion to her lips. Surely, both men were angels sent from Heaven to aid her on her journey.
“Is she alive?”
&n
bsp; The boy nodded and hands slapped at his back as he broke into heaving coughs to clear his lungs.
Roz looked up into dark eyes framed by fair eyebrows and a mop of unruly fair hair. His skin had been tanned by the summer sun and a relieved smile crossed lips that looked good enough to kiss.
“My name is Malachi, I am Prince of this land and we all have a lot to thank you for.” Malachi knelt by the woman’s side as his hand reached for hers. He noticed the blush on her cheek which was nothing to do with the remaindering effects of the poison. “I have a land to rebuild, Rozalaine of the Assidian and I want you there by my side.”
Roz nodded, barely noticing the grins of the men surrounding them, listening their Prince's soft words. The touch of Malachi's warm lips on hers made her very glad she hadn't died today, and although she was sure her parents waited for her, proud of her deeds, she didn’t think they would mind waiting a little longer while she investigated the possibilities of a fresh beginning with this Prince in this old land and the chance, the opportunity of happiness and the sense of belonging.
She took the hand offered to her as he led her onto the first steps to a new life.
“YOU DON’T LIKE IT?” Malachi asked, although Roz had kept her back turned to him.
“I didn’t say that,” she muttered, but still she wouldn’t face him. How could he do this to her? She didn’t know what to say.
“I thought you would like it,” he sighed as he wrapped his arms around her tummy and pulled her back against him. He rested his head on hers as he waited for a response.
“I do like it, but...” she paused as though her words had dried up.
“We can change it. You can have anything you want,” he told her as he gently turned her to face him. She wore a stunning floor-length gown in his favorite shade, his royal purple. It hugged her curves as though it had no other job than to intensify her beauty, which it did very well. Her deep red hair hung in natural curls to her shoulder emphasising the glory of her eyes.
“I don’t want anything else but...”
He lifted her chin with one finger to catch her gorgeous blue-green eyes. He would never tire of staring into them. He offered an uncertain lopsided grin which always made her smile, although this time it didn’t seem to work.
“You keep saying but. You’re not telling me what’s wrong with it.”
“Malachi, I’m a simple woman. I’ve never possessed riches or nor wanted to. This beautiful, incredible ring is too good for me.”
Malachi laughed in relief.
“Roz, I want you to be my wife and as Queen of this country, you deserve all the jewels I can give you. This ring belonged to my mother, and she gave it to me on her deathbed to give to my wife. You are the most courageous woman I have even known and you, only you, gave my throne and my kingdom back to me.”
“You don’t have to give me gifts, nor do you have marry me just because I killed Padiskan,” she protested, finding that Malachi’s arms refused to allow her to turn away from his concerned face. She lifted a hand to brush his unruly mop of hair from his furrowed brow, knowing he refused to have it trimmed because she loved it so much.
“That’s part of why I love you,” he told her, capturing her hand and raising to his lips. “I don’t have to give you anything. Doesn’t that make you wonder why I do it?”
She nodded, a soft blush flowing across her face.
“I want to give you the world, Roz, just like you’ve done for me,” he paused while she absorbed the words he’d said so many times already. Maybe, one day she would start to believe him, and then, perhaps she would accept his proposal of marriage. He couldn’t wait for that day, but he wouldn’t rush her. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.
He wanted to make her smile, to take away the shadows behind her eyes from her past. He wanted to take her to the shores of the Bedarisus Ocean because she had never seen the sea.
“You don’t have to,” she whispered, staring up into her eyes.
“You keep saying that. I do it because seeing you in my colors, wearing the dresses I love, makes my heart sing. Please, don’t refuse me these simple pleasures.”
“Simple pleasures?” she gasped, opening her left hand revealing an exquisite azure diamond and white ice ring. She trembled at the touch of his fingers on her right shoulder as he caressed the scar where Diamand had tried to murder her.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, holding her hand and staring up at her.
“You are the only person in the world who can reduce me to a quivering idiot. Please accept my mother’s ring as a small token of my love and say you’ll marry me.”
“Small token?” Roz replied but something in his eyes seemed to stall her next words. She nodded.
“I promise you will never regret this.” Malachi leaped to his feet, and one adroit movement pushed the ornate ring over her knuckles before pulling Roz into a heartfelt kiss.
“Do you have to do that in public? It’s disgusting.” A loud voice behind them caught their attention. Princess Lisabeth stood with hands on hips like an irate mother. Just behind her, Gareff grinned.
“Did she accept this time?” he asked, as his grin widened.
Malachi nodded, his smile mirroring Gareff’s.
“This is the perfect time. Your gift for Roz has arrived,” Gareff told them both and returned to the door where he and Lisabeth had entered.
“Oh, my goodness,” Lisabeth rushed toward the happy couple, hugging them as she squealed in excitement. “You’ll be my sister for real now.”
Malachi watched the sadness in Roz’s amazing eyes return as she remembered the family she had lost. While, he couldn’t bring back the dead, he hoped he had found a way to replace her sorrow with a little joy.
“Another gift?” Roz frowned. “You can’t keep giving me things. I don’t need them.”
“You’ll want this,” he promised before taking her hand and leading her into the throne room where a crowd of Malachi’s faithful soldiers waited.
The crowd parted as the royal couple entered followed by Lisabeth who didn’t seem able to contain her excitement. Roz peered back at her, a frown crossing her brown as Malachi urged her forward.
“Today,” he began, addressing the people there. The room fell silent as eager faces awaited his next words. “My beautiful Rozalaine has finally agreed to be my wife and your queen. This truly is a day for celebrations.”
A soft round of applause echoed around the chamber as Malachi drew Roz’s hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on her palm.
“But we are not yet finished with our good news yet.” Malachi nodded at Gareff who led a female through the crowd. She stood nearly as tall as he although her features were covered by her long, grey hooded cloak.
They stopped at the foot of the dais where the Prince and his love waited.
“Prince Malachi, My Lady Rozalaine, may I have the pleasure of introducing to you, Azure Domnaster.” He bowed before stepping backward, leaving the female standing before Roz.
Pale white hands reached up to push back the woven hood and a mass of red hair appeared. Familiar blue-green eyes stared back at Roz.
“Reya?” Roz gasped, one hand reaching for Azure’s hand while still holding on to Malachi as though for support.
“My name is Azure.” The girl spoke with a clear cool accent. “But I’m told I have a sister who also survived the tragedy of my family’s murder. I have always doubted the story but as I look into eyes the same as mine, I know I have found the truth.” She stepped forward, gathering Roz into her arms.
The two women, so similar in stature and looks, hugged as though the world had no meaning in time for them. Two broad smiles greeted Malachi when Roz pulled him closer.
“This is my baby sister,” Roz told him although his nodding head explained how he knew this already.
“Less of the baby,” Azure complained. “I’m a grown woman.”
“You sound just like a sister.” Lisabeth, who stood on
ly as tall as her shoulder, told her. “And now that Roz has finally accepted my brother’s ring, we will be sisters also.”
“Twos sisters?” Azure grinned. “At home, I have only brothers and they are more trouble than they are worth.”
“I know that well,” Lisabeth agreed, linking arms with her in a show of sisterhood. “I can’t tell you how annoying Malachi can be but he’s the Prince of this land and thinks he knows it all.”
Gareff laughed at Malachi’s peeved expression.
“Looks like you’re going to have your work cut out for you,” he sniggered.
Roz enjoyed the excited interaction of Lisabeth and her newly-found sister before turning to Malachi who, in turn, watched her face.
“Do you like your gift?” he asked, seeing how the shadows in her eyes had been replaced by joy.
“How do I ever thank you for this?” she asked, stepping into his arms, her lips touching his.
“Consider us even,” he whispered, returning her kiss and remembering the time when he’d first seen her on the dais standing before Padiskan.
She was his red-haired lady and he would never let her go. Together they would rebuild the land torn apart by war, and repair it with love and honor.
Malachi could hardly wait.
The End
The Red-Haired Assassin Page 5