Atticus jerked away from my hand and glared back at me. “She will not entertain the company of men. Ever again. Until I say so.” His voice ebbed with jealousy and he stared at me as if I were the one who had arranged it all.
I held up my hands demonstrating the lack of objection.
“Go fetch Messiah and tell him to escort her to the Villa,” he impatiently snapped.
Chalice
I struggled to keep up with Isabella’s demanding pace. The spiked slippers were not meant for hastiness, nor was my temper. I fought the urge to wrench myself free and fling her as far away as I could. Moments later, that’s exactly what she did to me.
She presented me none to gracefully to a man who stood at least a foot taller than me. He was built like a fucking mountain. Without a word, Isabella pushed and coerced us onto the dancefloor.
I just sort of floated along with it. He helped me place my arms on his muscular shoulders. I had never danced with anyone before, let alone a stranger twice my size.
He was as big as the mountain, but his voice was twice as gentle.
“Lady Chalice is it?” he asked in an accent I couldn’t place. It was thick and his voice deep, but he spoke each word in the proper refined manner of Rochambeau wealth.
I glanced up at him and gave a nod of confirmation, before shaking my head and laughing. “Yes. Chalice Krypt.” It felt funny saying it. The effect it had on me was undeniable. A sliver of a rush that helped me stand up straighter and find his big brown eyes.
“Keifer Kantor,” he offered with a hint of a smile. The sides of his head were shaved and groomed so that it transitioned smoothly into a well kempt beard. I gazed into his eyes and somehow found my steps naturally falling along with his. Soon, I wasn’t worried about looking foolish or that I was dangerously close to a man I didn’t know. A man my “family” considered the enemy.
The man before me was nice enough. He seemed much like Ender, with the laid back demeaner and easy smile. But none of that mattered. All that screamed through my mind was the possibility that this was some attempt to find me a suitor. Was I being used like Reverie? Is this what Messiah meant?
The smile started to hurt my cheeks in the way that only a facade could. The tempo of the music sped up, and the space between us closed.
“You don’t seem like a Krypt,” he quietly observed.
I wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not, but before I could decide, the song came to an end and he arched me against him and bent with his face close to mine. He helped me back up, and I let out a breath I had been holding captive.
“Here she is. Chalice, this is Lady Nayana’s special guest. Sir Julven is the brother of Lady Nayana’s daughter-in-law,” Isabella rambled, indicating the slender man beside her. His long mousy blond hair concealed half his face, and he couldn’t manage to meet my gaze.
She took my hand off Keifer’s shoulder and gave it to Julven. Our palms kissed but for a moment before something strong and solid slid around my waist and I was airborne. My heels tapped against the soil, and I rolled violently only to be confronted with a face full of Messiah’s long dreadlocks.
“Pardon. Lady Chalice is indisposed,” he quietly informed those around me, then gave a polite grabby style wave toward the group, escorting me out of the garden.
It was by far the craziest birthday I had ever had. This was what adulthood was? Being passed from one suitor to the next until someone escorted me back to my pen? I stayed quiet for the duration of the trip, but oh, how I seethed inside.
Once we reached the Villa, he finally slowed his pace.
“Why did you do that? Do you know how embarrassing that was?” I felt like screaming, but somehow, when the words reached my lips, they fell in a way that begged to understand. I couldn’t bring myself to yell at Messiah. The man whose presence always brought a comfort and sense of peace.
“More embarrassing than being swooned by the enemy of your house?” he softly asked.
“I didn’t choose to dance with him,” I countered on a whisper, unwilling to trust my voice not to quake.
“Neither did I choose to do what I did,” he admitted before giving my hand a squeeze and helping me up the steps of the Villa.
I wasn’t sure what to say. The idea that he, too, was simply acting on Krypt commands hadn’t occurred to me. Fated Few, the idea that anyone could order him to do anything was beyond me.
He didn’t say anything at all, he simply passed a glance my way and then one up to the moon.
“It is officially your day, Chalice of House Krypt,” he mused, coming to a halt at the top step. I tilted my head and smiled toward the full moon. In the span of a two-minute exchange, he had melted my anger and conquered my mood.
“Come. Let us celebrate with a drink before the others arrive, hmm?” If there was someone alive who could refuse his toothy smile and hazel eyes, it wasn’t me. I wanted to hug him and blanket myself within the powerful arms that had plucked me from the garden.
He started walking, not letting go of my hand. I stumbled after him a few steps but managed to find my pace without breaking my neck. The ceilings of the Villa were high, and the doorways regally arched. We travelled from one room to the next until we arrived at a small reception room. Well, it was small by the measure of all the other hall-sized rooms. It could still have easily seated thirty people and had room for the choir.
Though the hour was late, fresh bread, cheese, and wine lay in wait of the family’s return. Grapes and cashews were available in decorative patterns.
“Surprise,” he whispered, bobbling his head. He snatched the wine bottle before the servant could grab it and flicked his fingers toward the door dismissively. He pulled the cork and filled each of us a glass, giving me the chance to study his jawline and full lips.
“Perhaps they could fetch Reverie…” I began, but the way he abruptly stopped and stared made me swallow the rest of my suggestion.
“It would be improper. She was only widowed today.” He sighed.
I felt like Isabella with my hand at my throat. Though I knew, on some level, what he had meant during our earlier conversation. there had at least been room for denial. Now…
“You kil…” I started but he spoke over my shaky voice.
“I keep to myself. I do not poke around with information that does not serve me. Nor do I speak of matters best left to silence and the shadows.” His hazel hues held and challenged me. “You would be wise to do the same. It is the Krypt way.”
The glass I hid behind was against my lip. Shocked by the exchange, I had practically emptied the thing with a single swig. He placed his hand around mine, steadying the stem of my glass and refilled it just as voices started to emerge from the other end of the house.
The door slammed so hard it rattled the china in the cabinet nearby. I nearly lost the damn glass when Atticus’ voice began to boom.
“I don’t need two wombs to bargain with. I need a fucking Queen.”
A slap was the only response I heard. Messiah scooted a chair out and bid me to sit while taking the seat next to it. I cautiously lowered myself and peered around, eager to see who would be joining us or what the source of the upset was.
Aella rounded the corner first. She walked to the other side of the table, keeping her eyes on me even when it required her to turn her head to maintain the aggressive eye contact. Demetri arrived next and claimed the seat next to Messiah.
Isabella and Atticus entered behind him, shifting the energy of the room so quickly it gave me goosebumps. Her chin was parallel to the floor, and she afforded us all a tight, fake smile. Atticus, on the other hand, made no effort to pretend. He took his seat at the head of the table with a scowl, his wife’s handprint still staining his rugged features.
Down the hall, something thundered against the floor. It found a rhythm as the sound advanced toward us. I glanced nervously around the table, but all I found were smiles. The glow of the hall shifted with shadows, and Ender rounded the corner. A lo
ng, black staff in hand. He twirled and stepped with it, slamming the top against the floor now and then for effect. He spun it like a baton, struck the spiked ball atop it against the floor again, and stared at me expectantly.
My hand shook as I reached for it. No one had ever given me a gift like that. I ran my fingers down the slick black stem and tipped it so that I could inspect the weapon end of it. Just as I suspected, it was the piece from Dagma’s flail. The majestic clacking spikes had been broken down to from a whole new weapon. One spiked ball now rested atop my staff.
“I saw you eyeing it at the forge that night. It was nice but would have required you to be at a very close proximity to use it. This on the other hand…” Ender smiled, motioning to the staff.
I used it to pull myself from the chair and stood beside it. I knew myself to be tall for a woman. Nearly six-foot, Mother had once guesstimated. The staff was tall enough I could rest my cheek on the spiked ball while I stood.
It was a promising looking weapon. The business end, where it turned to spikes, was slightly larger than a man’s fist.
For the first time, I wasn’t embarrassed by the emotions that welled in my eyes. His long arm snaked around me and pulled me toward his shoulder.
“Welcome to the Krypt,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to the top of my ear. Heat flooded my face, and I made a fuss over smoothing my hair.
Flustered beyond belief over a chaste kiss, I completely forgot my conversation with Messiah.
“Perhaps, Reverie…” I rambled.
“Reverie is getting her beauty sleep. She has to look her best for her new intended.” Atticus dismissed.
My fingers went limp and the staff almost fell. I fumbled with it until Ender reached out and righted it.
“In... intended… but she is only widowed today?” I stammered.
Atticus sighed and gave a superior smile toward Messiah. “See your new sister to her room. The excitement has taken its toll.”
Chapter Eleven
In a Pinch
Ender
“I don’t give a rats ass how it makes you feel. What the fuck does that even mean? Do you hear yourself? It’s disgusting,” Atticus raged atop me. The high-backed velvet chair of his office held me captive while he bent so that his face was inches away from mine. His entire face was red, his eyes were bloodshot, and spittle baptized me to the point I could no longer contain the twisting of my own face.
What the fuck was going on? I possessed the ability to kill a man without leaving a trace of malice. My position as dentist and surgeon in Rochambeau afforded me the power to rule things homicide or natural, but even that wasn’t enough to inspire hesitation or fear in Atticus Krypt.
Thoughts of extended torture and all the things that would satisfy the creature I was inside, passed one by one, but somehow, I found the ability to turn my neck and dismiss the smug mother fucker without incident.
I stood up, my body grazing his until I was looking down at him. His nostrils flared, and he stepped back until he could look at me without having to tip his head.
“Get. It. Done,” he loudly enunciated.
Fated Few, how I wanted to piece him up. He knew it, too. His eyes shone with victory, even before I had turned and slipped politely past him. I had patients to see, papers to forge, so many other things that I could be doing.
But no.
Today, as per Atticus’ orders, I would drag our already traumatized and beyond emotionally exhausted Reverie to the docks. I would place her in the care of Uncle Icarus and watch her set sail for the Iron Inlet. As if that weren’t bad enough punishment for his plans being thwarted with the Kantors, she was completely unaware and being sent alone.
No matter how many deep breaths I drew, I couldn’t stop the pounding in my head. The guilt. The knowledge of what scene lay in wait.
I closed my eyes, brought my hand up, and lightly rapped on her door. A few moments later, it opened an inch or two, before hesitantly allowing me admittance.
I made sure my body was inside before I met her eye. “I need you to dress, Reverie. Warmly.”
I had all of two seconds to duck before a vase careened past my head and smashed on the floor beyond. Atticus did this shit on purpose. He knew if I came and fetched her the anger would be aimed at me. Every time she reflected on the memory, it would be me that she connected with the pain.
I dodged two more ceramics before I finally managed to secure her wrist and tug her into my arms. I smothered her with my body and rocked until the wailing stopped and we were both collapsed on the floor.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. You promised you would take care of it, Ender! You promised.”
I had promised. Messiah and I both had, but neither of us could have foreseen this madness. The insult to her reputation and person was beyond catastrophic.
“I should not have promised what I couldn’t have full control over. I…” Apologies were never my strong point, so I placed a kiss to the top of her head and rubbed her upper arm instead. “Come, before he plots both our deaths,” I mumbled, helping her to her feet. I could feel the resignation in her body. The limp posture of her shoulders and vacant nature of her once bright blue eyes.
She stood like one of my demented patients, allowing me to remove her night clothes and fit her with suitable travelling wear. It wasn’t compliance, not really; she had removed herself from the world around her entirely.
“Rev…” I attempted, once I had her dressed and her hair pinned up. “I love you, Reverie.”
I rubbed her arms, until she blinked and sluggishly searched for my face. A mere half-hearted nod acknowledged what I had said. A half hour later, we handed her off to Icarus and watched as the boat disappeared into a speck on the horizon.
Messiah
Everything went dark in the days after Reverie left. Such things had a way of shaking the hive. Especially when they set precedent. Never had any of us been expelled in the name of family. The mountain was our focus, why the fuck would he send his bargaining pieces off to what may as well have been a third world country?
He had to know it wasn’t her that killed him. Reverie was a lot of things, but a murderer was not one of them. She was kept on the surface layer of family business as a shiny for a reason. She knew she belonged to a family that was powerful, wealthy, and shrouded in secrets. It made her feel special, in the loop, and more than a little prestigious. Much more than her previous life could have afforded, even in her wildest dreams.
A girl starved of attention and even the simplest of human affection, she had done whatever she could to maintain the place she had been given in the family. Ever the pleasant and obedient daughter. The gem. She had been pampered to the point of being spoiled.
Her mistake had been growing comfortable. She, like the rest of us, hadn’t anticipated the arrival of our Dark Jewel. Such a rare beauty, a priceless piece amongst Atticus’ collection, could not be tarnished by the cloudiness surrounding the original gem.
We all knew it. Well, all of us except possibly Reverie. I doubted she was even aware of the manipulative web she had been slowly cocooned in. She had been so proud and disillusioned by being a part of it, that she never realized the spider’s intent had always been the same.
I swigged from the bottle and tipped my head back, allowing the evening breeze to blow across my chest. It was my second bottle. I still hadn’t told Chalice that she wasn’t allowed to be in the company of men. I assumed Isabella had. Nevertheless, I dutifully kept watch of the Villa’s entrance. The steps lead out beneath my window so that no one came or went without my knowing it.
“What are you doing?” a gentle voice called on a laugh.
I turned to find Chalice leaning against the frame of my door. Instinct and decency demanded my hand fly to my waist and assure the linen was still wrapped securely around me.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. She jolted but seemed unable to command her own feet.
My amusement flew past its usual checkpoint, and
I openly chuckled at her. “Making sure you don’t run off and do something foolish and youthful.”
Her jaw dropped, and she stared across the room at me, momentarily distracted from her retreat.
“I am a woman now, in case your memory fails you.” Her chin tipped in a way that screamed of false confidence. Before I could call her on it, Blazian padded in from the side room without a stitch on her.
Chalice blinked manically, unable to return the greeting Blazian politely offered. I could tell from her tone that she and Chalice were fond of each other.
When Chalice whirled around and hurriedly left the room, all I could do was rub the back of my neck and suffer the feeling that somehow, I had hurt her.
Chalice
I’d never seen so much of a man before. His sheet was fashioned around his waist and folded in the center. The weight of the knot bore down against the fold, so that it dipped low enough to reveal a trail of tight curls. My mind immediately wondered what the rest of him looked like.
Why hadn’t I just walked past his room? Why wouldn’t my legs work like I desperately wished they would? Heat flooded my face until I was certain he knew what I had been thinking.
The sight of Blazian prowling nude in his presence was all the kick start I needed. I flew down the hall feeling stupid and just as youthful as he had charged me to be. I hated myself for the contempt I suddenly found toward Blazian. Fuck, with Reverie gone, she was likely the only semi-friend I had. Besides, I had no claim to him. He was family, part of this… cesspool. And now he was, what...my captor?
I ran my hands over my face and curled my fingers into my hair. The tension soothed me in an odd way, but it still didn’t clear my head.
One hall led to the next, until I found myself in front of a long staircase.
A tower!
I raced up the stairs and threw the door open. The only princess inside was Ender. He sat a few feet within, grinding a bit of Nirvana Root between his thumb and fingers. He nearly leapt off the sofa when I fell inside.
Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1) Page 8