Indignation tossed and turned until I was seething inside. A peasant girl, no more than sixteen, stepped beside me and carefully filled a wine glass. I gave her an appreciative nod, and eagerly began to sip it.
I couldn’t very well be indulged in conversation if I had a mouthful, now could I?
Two sips later and the thing was empty. Taryn and Rekkon were both staring at me with odd expressions. The girl came forward again and filled my cup to the brim.
“Where did you come from?” Rekkon’s brow lofted and his smile stretched like a cat.
“What makes you so sure I am not from Rochambeau?” I smiled, before bringing the glass up to my mouth again, passively trying to signal that I was entertained enough without his assistance. I had half the glass emptied in one clean swig before Isabella snatched my upper arm in a vice.
“Because only slaves and peasants drink wine like that. It is meant to be sampled and savored, you slurp it down like a barn animal,” she hissed against my ear. She loosened her grip, leaving four crescent shapes on my flesh where her nails had dug.
“Icarus,” Isabella purred.
I sat up so straight my back ached, and I concentrated as hard as I could to keep my hands from balling into fists. I tried to watch the speaker and hunt for Reverie, but the truth was, it was all I could do not to let my anger flow down my cheeks.
Was this what Reverie was dealing with? All those tears and curses? I nodded to myself, it explained everything perfectly well. I knew I wasn’t going willingly with the likes of Taryn or Rekkon. Contract be damned.
Icarus and Isabella were deep in conversations and slowly gravitating toward the shadows at the edge of the room. I kept my eyes straight ahead, too ashamed to look at either of the men. Their insults had rubbed me the wrong way, but it was Isabella’s infantizing that truly cut me. I admired her so much.
“Pardon,” a deep honeyed voice murmured behind me. Messiah squeezed himself sideways between me and Taryn. He squatted down so that Taryn was forced to move or suffer Messiah’s ass in his face.
I smiled and quietly laughed over the sob I had been keeping in check. Messiah’s long arm stretched around me and tugged me into a side hug. He pointed across the room, and I noticed Reverie sitting like a statue beside her new husband.
Her new husband leaned in to kiss her and she flinched, squinting half her face up in misery until his lips left her cheek. It was the only thing she would allow him to plant them on.
“Let’s get outta here,” Messiah suggested.
I scrambled from my chair so fast, one heel gave out and I wound up wrenching my ankle in the process. I hissed in air through clenched teeth, determined not to be the cause of another scene. Messiah patted my arm and adjusted his grip on me, so he could help me walk.
“Good thinking, now we have an excuse.” He softly laughed.
My smile fell instantly, which only made him laugh all the harder. No one paid him any mind. Even when he brushed against the other guests on the way past. They gave brief glances and hastily returned their attention to their food.
The fresh mountain air was something else at night and the stars were positively majestic. I wrapped my arms around myself and hurriedly followed him outside, craning my neck now and again to appreciate the sky.
We climbed a set of stairs that led to a bridge and perched on the center. I was so happy to be away from all the noise. It was overwhelming. I was used to being alone with only me and mother. I had barely been given time to get adjusted to the Krypt Villa and its occupants.
Messiah seemed to sense my need for peace and quiet. He, too, appeared content to laze and soak up the tranquility of the stream below. Once I was grounded enough, I noticed the voices trickling out of the city hall building.
“Who is that?” I asked pointing to the people below.
The woman, I recognized; she was the Lady of House Kantor. Her heels clicked noisily over the cobblestone as she approached with a stocky, much younger man at her side. Her lips moved fervently, the pitch of her voice was high and shrill, but I couldn’t distinguish what she was saying. However, the way she snapped her neck toward the man and occasionally jabbed her finger into his chest, left no doubt that they were fussing.
Messiah leaned across the railing, elongating his neck before me so he could peek under the bridge as they passed. Stubble lined his throat, I’m not sure why that stood out to me, but it did. I wanted to reach out and run my hand across it.
The wind sifted the leaves of the bushes and carried a smell that was to die for. I may have swigged the wine, so what? When it came to scents, I was a connoisseur. Many of my younger days were spent mixing up my own recipes of herbs and essences. I inhaled sharply, unwilling to miss a chance for a second taste. That’s exactly what it was. The scent of his bath oils was so perfectly blended, I wanted to lick it off him. It was spicy but toned with amber and sandalwood. There was something else that I couldn’t quite place and gave up trying to when I noticed that I had been all but drinking in the scent of him with my eyes closed.
The only reason I noticed was because he was perched with an elbow on the rail and his eyes trained on my face. Heat flew from my toes to the apples of my cheeks so fast it tingled. I looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
Heels echoed from under the bridge.
“You will do… as you are bid.” The woman’s voice made my skin crawl. I wanted to cower from her, and it wasn’t even me she was addressing. Her presence brought a foulness with it that lingered in the air and polluted the mood of everything around her.
“Klarissa Kantor and her son Keifer Kantor,” Messiah said.
“W… Why do they all have K names?” I squinted
Messiah snorted and quickly quipped, “Tradition… Likely the only thing their dirt asses have to pass on.”
Laughter crawled out of me before I could contain it. My fingers covered my mouth until my cheeks ached, and I could feel the happy lines at the edges of my eye.
“Their... dirt asses?” I tried before shaking my head and giving up.
He hefted his brows in the air and nodded in confirmation before nudging my arm and crooking his out. “Come, the hour is late, and the streets grow dark.”
I glanced about and realized that only the Painted Ladies remained on the streets. I forced back the excitement to go and see one up close. I wanted to know if all that paint really concealed who they were. Their faces were brightly colored with war masks and exaggerated pouts. Some boasted diamond patterns that lay over each eye, others used kohl to contour their features and give the illusion of cat’s eyes.
I started to ask after them but caught the warning in Messiah’s eyes. Instead, I placed my hand on his arm and was rewarded with an approving hmm.
“You are a Krypt now. You must carry yourself as such. A proper woman of high birth. You mustn’t associate yourself with painted ladies, or any of the scoundrels that blow about like rubbish on these streets. Do not let Atticus think that you are a foolish young thing like Reverie. He uses people for what they are worth… So be careful of what standard you set for yourself. You don’t want to be carted off like Reverie, now, do you?”
I shook my head, unable to speak.
“That’s my girl,” he smiled.
Chapter Nine
Duty and Dysfunction
Messiah
It’d been a long time since we took in a prospect. That’s what Isabella called them, prospects, as if the entire thing became acceptable if a pleasant title was used. I shook my head as the thoughts flooded one after another. I had made it a point not to get attached. I couldn’t afford to. So, why did I save her? Why hadn’t I just left her where Icarus and Isabella had placed her?
I could torture myself creating questions all day, but it would only be denying the obvious. Chalice’s long, fine black hair, deep tan and golden-brown eyes had caught my attention at once. She was the spitting image of my Lisette. Even her size and shape were the same tall slender frame. The sig
ht of her had ripped me back to the day of my intended’s execution. The day I was branded and forced to watch my future be swallowed by Lake Last. Did anyone ever really forget the day they became a Krypt?
“Messiah! Hurry, we mustn’t waste any time. Only the Fated Few know how long it will take to transform her into—” Isabella rambled, over the clatter of the breakfast table being cleaned.
It had been unnatural starting the day without Reverie jabbering at full speed. Now Isabella was in a hurry to toss Chalice into the center of Rochambeau’s cesspool of suitors.
“She doesn’t need transforming.” My voice ebbed with an impatience that even her Fated Few wouldn’t have dared to mock her with. The back of her elegant bejeweled hand cracked against my sternum, and a brow spiked toward her shiny black updo.
I glanced down to the imprint of her hand for several long moments before dragging my attention back to her. Her brow slowly settled, and she hurriedly tried to redirect me.
“She will need a corset, gown, slippers… oh, and don’t forget those…” She rubbed her fingers together like she was sampling something silky. “…the stockings. The ferals always pay more attention to how they sit and walk when they wear them the first few times. See that she does.”
“Look, Mother,” I patiently began. My eyes were clamped shut and my fingers danced over the bridge of my nose. Only for a moment. That was all it took for Isabella to prance back across the room and square up to me, chest to chest. Her long black lashes blinked, as if it was she who was affording the patience.
“Mind yourself, Messiah. You’re powerful, beautiful… but you are still my son. Not. My. Equal.” Her gaze rolled over me dismissively before she twirled around and began to gather the items she had prescribed.
Meanwhile, I forced myself to take a few deep breaths. What the fuck was I thinking, disrespecting the Mistress of House Krypt, even if she had adopted me? I shook my head and found her staring at me expectantly.
“Apologies, Mother. I’ve not been myself…” I attempted, but she pierced the air with her finger and her dark exotic eyes flashed before narrowing on me.
“You… of course, Messiah. Surely, it is more difficult for you than me. I was only Lisette’s mother, after all,” she clipped before giving a nasally laugh. “Oh please. You didn’t think that the rest of us were blind to it, did you?”
How could anyone have missed it? I thought to myself before swallowing the sentiment
“I didn’t mean… it’s just… I’ve been distracted with the memories.” Only Isabella could make my voice crack. Be it through seduction or fear, she made men bare themselves in a way that served her. It had for decades now, up here on the Mountain of Rochambeau.
And just like that, the storm passed, and I was blanketed with the calm comfort of her embrace. Though I stood a good head and a half taller than her, she wrapped her hand behind my neck and lured me down to her shoulder.
“We all miss her. We always will, but we must go on. Do you think it would honor Lisette to know that her death was the cause of our House’s demise?”
I hated when she did that, but I couldn’t argue her point. Nor could I bring myself to voice an interest in the prospect that even I didn’t understand.
“Tell me you didn’t take her for pawn…” I whispered, disgusted with myself for even speaking of such things. I knew I looked weak, but I also knew I couldn’t watch Lisette die a second time… and that is exactly what it’d be like if Chalice failed as a prospect.
“Lisette was gorgeous. Men came far and wide before you stole her…” Isabella began.
“I stole nothing.” I kept my voice flat, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about the rage that burned in my eyes. I held her gaze until my jaw started to set, only realizing the dare I had nonverbally issued when her hand crawled up to massage her throat.
“Her beauty was worth much,” she relented before shoving the heap of dress, stockings and corset onto my arms. I almost couldn’t see over it all. “Now, off with you. If you are so worried about our little mascot, then teach her to sit pretty so we can union her nicely”
“Union her.” I laughed on a sigh. “You don’t even know her middle name. How do you propose to round up anything of true value?”
She winked and patted my ass like I was a child she was shooing off. “I’ll fetch Aella and meet you there.”
I at least managed to get my back to the woman before I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. I carried the mound of clothing down the hallway, rolling my shoulders and trying to relax myself. It was a habit. One that reminded me of just how much I owed to Isabella and Atticus.
The door to Chalice’s chamber was open. I walked in hesitantly and found her back to me. Her attention was fixated on something outside the window. The noise from the street below trickled up. Joyous, hopeful tones that were eager to find a day’s wage.
“I prefer the tranquility of watching the sunrise. It’s quiet. Serene. Much more appealing than seeing the beggars and peasants set about their day,” I teased.
She screamed and nearly climbed the wall, it all happened so fast. All I had time to call was, “Have a care!” She was too far for me to grasp, but thankfully, caught herself on the side frame.
“What’s the matter with you! Sneaking up on a…” she scolded, wide eyed.
“Your door was open.” I jerked my thumb behind me but couldn’t bring myself to look in that direction. I was too busy studying the fullness of her lower lip and the most perfect button nose. Indeed, she and Lisette could have been twins in another life.
I was about to tell her that Isabella was coming.
Fair warning was the least I could do, but alas, the click of regal heels was already announcing her approach. Chalice leaned around me and peered toward the door.
“Isabella.” she exclaimed. It was an honest smile, one that met her eyes and betrayed her innocence to the world.
Yeah. I would be protecting that one for some time to come.
Chalice
A sigh escaped me before Messiah startled me so badly that had I choked on air. When Isabella followed in behind him, I was lost to the rush of having visitors. I was so happy, I snatched her into an honest embrace before bothering to question why two members of the Krypt were standing in my bedchamber at an hour most Rochambeau nobles didn’t even know existed. Her air kisses hailed either side of my cheek, reminding me at once exactly who it was that I stood before. In Rochambeau, the only persons who exchanged such gestures were dignitaries. Without the means to fresh water and medicine, the peasants feared disease and loss of work too much to even consider such familiar behavior.
The smile froze on my face, and I slung a sideways glance at Messiah. A distant, vacant expression lingered over his features. The strong jaw was slack, and his hazel eyes were heavily lidded and practically looking through me.
“Is he having a tremor spell? Sometimes they take hold like that and a person just…”
Messiah blinked and tilted his head as if it were I who was afflicted. “Don’t worry over me, love. I’ve survived more than the Ball of Winter’s First Kiss.” He winked and stepped toward the table in the center of my room, depositing a heap of clothing and shoes atop it.
The shoes weren’t actually shoes at all. They were slippers, with pointed toes and a spike under the heel. I backed away from them on instinct alone. My feet had liked to never stop burning after the dinner. I still had red tender spots on the side.
“What? What were you saying about Winter’s balls?” I squinted, trying to figure out the man’s meaning. He always sounded superior but in a way that made one want to be near and soaking up his knowledge and reserved insight.
His laughter was low and throaty. He contained it on an amused sigh and caste a glance and nod toward the table.
“The Ball of Winter’s First Kiss,” Isabella corrected. She reached for my waist as if we might embrace again, but instead, she grabbed the string that fashioned the length of it and gave a tug. My
nightgown was gone before I could even properly gasp, and she tossed it toward a corner. My hands scissored and danced before I managed to clutch my breast and shoot a hand south. No way could I chase after it, I would bare my ass to them both. Heat, indignation and more than a little anger boiled inside me when she turned to face me. It was her turn to gasp.
“Oh!” came the sharp response. “I uh. I am…I thought you were used to being attended.” Isabella’s hand worked over the base of her throat, and she averted her eyes like she was as uncomfortable as I was. The cold air rippled across me leaving goosebumps across my flesh.
“Great.” I managed. “Just give me the…”
The fact that I couldn’t recall the name of the corset left me gritting my teeth. Messiah was no doubt enjoying the show. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to reason and wrangle the volcano-like pressure that was building within me. A boiling pressure that simply would not give. It demanded escape and warred all the louder when it was denied. I curled my toes against the stone floor, desperate for anything to keep me from throttling her.
I admired her. She has been kind to me, I told myself against the quickening of my breath. The urge to react became so fierce the tension leaked down my arms until it found a form of escape in my trembling hands.
Messiah shifted and drew closer. With lightning speed, he snatched the corset from Isabella and closed the distance between us. I took a slow deep breath that drew my shaky fingers into a solid fist.
What was I doing? Why had I stayed here? In that moment, I became increasingly aware of just how vulnerable I was. Not physically—I was younger than her and could have taken her in a confrontation. My vulnerability came in not knowing who to trust. I was alone. Whether I was in the tent or here in Rochambeau… I could only trust myself.
He took a wide arc and came up behind me. When I tried to cover myself, he tipped his head to Isabella and softly called, “Slip. Let’s go, ladies, before she catches her death.”
Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1) Page 6