by Renee Peters
“I doubt it will suffice,” Dorian said flatly. “My ears are still ringing for the cause of empty hands on our last return from London.” He glanced Lian’s way. “But she will be pleased for a trinket — though entertainments will do little to chase the dirge that must play if we are to be trapped in Anowen’s walls for the duration of Eromerde’s war.”
“Perhaps a dog.” Lian offered, only partly in jest. He tried not to let his unease drift through his melody, but his keys still played a discordant echo of the furrow of his brows. The elder straightened. “It cannot last forever. The last did not.”
And in only ten years since Eromerde’s latest upheaval, another Sovereign had fallen.
The reminder drifting through Lian’s thoughts did little to settle his song, so he fell quiet instead. His brother did not try to ease him from his mood, and by the time the coach had slowed in the town’s center, both their melodies were the worse for the journey.
It was not a dog that Lian found for Eden, but a hinged walnut with a painting of a bird within that he knew she would enjoy less.
He took more care as he drifted between the workshops in search of a gift for Celia; long enough that his brother grew bored with the wait and the sour music and left him to his browsing to head for the Baron’s Arms pub.
Eventually, the elder found a carved wooden comb he was not satisfied with but gave the carver three pence for it anyway.
Lian did not leave to collect Dorian immediately. Instead, he strolled toward the tavern along the River’s walk. Idly, the lord traveled the length of the uneven road, as if carried on the currents of the waters that held his attention. They did not hold the answer he wanted.
That Nevirnum was not the only way to set things right.
A whisper of a thought, one with the age of centuries crisping it like an autumn breeze, drifted through his head. He knew the minds of the Aegeans, as different from mortals in their feel as silk was to wool, and Lian turned toward the sound of approaching horse hooves.
From the open doorway of a gilded coach, he saw the black fabric of her gown before he ever saw the paleness of her face or the darkness of her eyes. The Arch Queen was a beauty, as they all were, with gracefully carved features framed by a pile of black curls. He did not know her, this Queen, but the red signet she wore was unmistakable. She made sure he saw it when she lifted a slender hand to curl her fingers against the door of her coach. It was the only thing of color on her person. Even the pearls around her neck were black, rattling against one another as she leaned forward.
Lian bowed, respectfully as he must.
“My Lady,” he greeted.
“Lian Redmond.” She spoke the greeting of his name in a manner that hovered between coolness and the barest of civility; though her lips lifted into something that attempted at the semblance of a smile. “How fortuitous. Tell me there is somewhere in this hovel that does not stink of blood and treachery, and I might find myself in your debt.”
Straightening, he managed a small smile. “I fear the scent will never fade, my Lady, and there is little else here for the comforts of a Queen.”
Her pale fingers reached out to pass through the air in a summons. “You will join me.” It was not a request.
Lian bowed his head again but spared a dismissive lift of his hand for her footman when he shuffled around the vehicle to assist. He could do little more or less than as she bid, and he climbed into a seat before her — near enough that his leg pressed against the metal cage of her dress. He could smell the parchment scent of age and the spiced perfume she wore.
With a jerk of wheels turning over the cobblestones, the coach began to move forward again, and Lian found himself under the study of a pair of dark eyes.
“You do not look like a fool, though most take you for one after your performance before the Royal Council,” she said easily. “I find myself curious, rogue. What did you hope to achieve, truly?”
“My concern is first for my children, my Lady,” he answered. “In a hundred such meetings, I have been meted the same answer to my requests. Yet, I cannot doubt that some took pleasure in seeing a Freeborn rogue speak to the Heirs in such a manner. Or something else besides, if I am in the presence now of an Arch Queen.”
“If you are not a fool Redmond, neither am I.” Her smile curved a little warmer and almost reached her eyes. “You are not without enemies born of jealousy — even among the Royal Heirs. You have managed, in your generations, what others have not.” She flipped open a fan but used it only to mask her expression as she spoke. Her dark-eyed gaze grew sharper over its frills. “You desire the best for your children. This gives me cause to believe you shall be pleased with my news.”
Lian grew more still. There was safety here, before an Immortal who could not hear his wariness creep into a crescendo through his song. He smiled politely, as he had once done in the courts, and folded his hands over his lap.
“My Lady has honored me already with her presence. No doubt her news will do the same if she has traveled to deliver it personally.”
She barked a laugh. “Does it gall you entirely, Redmond, to have to swallow your tongue in our presence? It would be pleasant, would it not, to walk as one truly Free among our kind.” She set her fan aside. “But such deep matters are best discussed in more pleasant surrounds. I do not know how you abide this place.” She extended her hand and signet for his salute. “I am Vanessa, daughter of Jaime’s bloodline and Queen of House Delresus. You will attend me in one week at my estate in York. We shall discuss my proposal there.”
His hand slipped around hers, and he lowered a kiss to her ring. “There are few things more pleasant, Lady Vanessa, than an invitation by a beautiful Queen to her estate.”
Lian smiled as he released her, but his music was a wrench of harpsichord strings as wariness turned to an instinctual alarm. There could be no refusal here, even if the scent of blood was heavy on the air from the nearby war.
He continued easily. “And it is a kindness to allow for time to see to my children and set my affairs in order.”
Vanessa withdrew her hand. “You will discover that I can show even greater kindnesses to those who prove worthy, Lian Redmond. And your little family will have a greater benefit for it. You may descend.” It served as her dismissal.
The coach lurched to a stop, and Lian lingered outside to bow once more in the Queen’s direction before it rolled away again.
Only when he had turned toward the pub and the approaching song of his brother, did the elder allow his expression to furrow with the worry he had been unable to show.
Chapter 6
On the fourth night after Lady Vanessa’s invitation, Lian was out of time to stall his journey.
He could not deny her summons, though his music had grown sour. It was not only for his wary anticipation of her request, but also for the growing stench of blood on the wind. The coven reflected it in their own symphony, a strange mechanical sound that cranked beneath their collective harmony and in the choler that had descended over them.
They decided it best to move from Anowen upon his return.
Lian decided it best to move from Anowen upon his return. His Council had another idea in mind for what was best; no doubt for Mercedes’s influence in their ears. She only tapped her fan against her knee as they convened that night; watchful, as if the longer she looked, the more likely his resolve was to break.
It did not.
Firming himself before his siblings, Lian left no room for disagreement. By the time they separated for the night, everyone’s music was darker still. A part of him knew his stubbornness was foolish.
The queen’s blood matted her golden hair and stained her dress....
Lian pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to steady the rise of darkness he felt in his blood as he left the chambers. If he went to Nevirnum, if he woke his Mother, then his coven would be protected by the pacts — and beyond that, he could be revered as Sovereign.
His father’s blood.
The elder stopped walking and leaned against a pillar in the castle corridor. He had learned the pacts; that one did not kill that which was not their own — that wars were declared only before the Imperial Council. The pacts determined territories and treaties between Houses, but they only had as much worth as the Councils were willing to give. In Europe there had been stability in the offering of the pacts. In England, they seemed to mean nothing.
When Hadrian had killed Lian’s sire, when Hadrian had killed his sister, he had been meted no punishment from those who should have sought blood for blood.
Even Mother had done nothing in the wake of her mate’s death; she had never returned to England after he was slain. The English Houses, left to rule at their own will, had kept the Free Immortals beneath their thumb and destroyed themselves through their infighting. Or through luring hunters to their doors.
Dunstan had not given him the ring for a wasted opportunity at a better life, Lian knew, and he wondered if it would disappoint his sire that he could not claim the Sovereignty for his siblings.
That he would not.
He resumed his walk along the corridor. That night, Celia helped Lian pack for his travels. Her concern for Vanessa’s intentions was in her music, and her trust was in her touch.
He spent the night in her embrace, and with the dawn of the fifth morning took his finest coach and headed for York.
Chapter 7
Delresus Estate, York
Lian arrived at the iron gates of Delresus Estate in the late afternoon of the seventh day. The Estate was newly constructed and stood three stories tall, with a smooth stone facade. Beyond the fence, Lian noted smaller, similar servant houses dotting the property, and humans attending their duties.
It was not until his coach rattled up the paved drive and he ascended the stairs to the large front door that he discovered the nature of the mortal servants. The human who opened the door was pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes.
Lian knew the sickness. The servant was a thrall; a human addicted to the pleasure of Immortal bites, and a slave to his own cravings as much as those of his Aegean masters. The elder paused, turning a glance beyond the well-manicured yard to study the other humans in view and saw the signs of their illness. Humans with the disease rarely lasted longer than a few years at a time.
“Milord,” the mortal at the door urged politely. “We do not long leave the doors open when the sun is up.”
“My apologies.” Lian refocused, stepping through to the foyer. The man led him through starkly furnished corridors and a gallery that smelled of fresh paint, and left Lian in a red-walled drawing room, with the same sparse furnishing and plush rugs.
The Immortal settled in an armchair, waving away a female servant who approached to extend her wrist for the sake of refreshment. He tried to ignore the disappointment on the woman’s face and turned his attention back to his study of the room.
There was not much to look at. It was as if Delresus Estate had been built and intended to be filled before the means to do so had been realized. It had enough thralls to tend a large family of Immortals and the grounds, but until the sun neared the horizon and the faint sounds of bodies stirring on the floors above began to grow, the Estate was all but silent.
Lady Vanessa arrived with the sunset, dressed in a red-and-gold gown with black trim, glittering like a jewel.
Lian unfolded to a stand and removed his cap. Bowing, the elder touched a kiss to her signet as she offered it. “My Lady Vanessa.”
“Redmond,” she greeted. “I wondered, ever so briefly, if you would actually come.” Her lips curved. “One can never be too sure when rogues will suddenly find it convenient to take it upon themselves to be Free-spirited. How pleasant to be proven wrong in my thinking. It bodes well for our … arrangement.”
“My Lady knows how to keep one in suspense.” He spoke the words pleasantly and turned a slight smile upon her. “I fear I shall not last much longer amid the intrigue you offer. If the Lady would be so kind as to enlighten me as to what our arrangement may be.”
Vanessa breathed a short laugh. “I am unkind. It is a privilege you might come to enjoy, I fear. It is the nature of our blood but not without its advantages — if one is able to appreciate them.” She turned toward the door in a rustle of skirts. “Walk with me, Lian Redmond of Castle Anowen.” She passed before him without a look his way, across the threshold, and into the halls. “A pretty name, if meaningless. Delresus is not quite a castle but it is not without potential, don’t you think?”
Lian followed a step behind her, as one should with those above their station. “It appears my Lady has spared no expense in its build. No doubt you will house many children comfortably within the walls of Delresus as your coven grows,” he answered.
“I am nothing if not forward thinking, Redmond. Eternity is quite a long time to plan for, and I am not as fond of relocating as some. Delresus will be my family’s home.” She glanced his way. “You find it pleasing?”
“It is impressive, my Lady. I think I should find no finer estate than what you have built here. Your family is fortunate to have you for a Queen and a mother.”
She led him past a large library with many empty shelves, and through a gallery with portraits of those he assumed were her High Council; the clothing the figures wore was not much older than a few decades. Hers was a newer coven, and she likely its only Elder, though Lian swore he could smell a hint of age and parchment in the air that did not belong. They passed a portrait of Jaime.
Lian did not comment on the painting. Despite her clear intention to showcase her lineage, Lady Vanessa did not mention it either.
By the time she brought him to the cultivated gardens in the estate’s rear, the moon had risen and her coven was astir. A few lords crossed onto the grounds with queens on their arm, chatting in the torchlight that lit the gardens. Their thoughts felt older than Lian might have assumed her coven could have, for as recent as the portraits seemed.
“It has become difficult for your family in Easthaven, has it not, Redmond? If your last visit to the Assembly is any indication. How unfortunate to have chosen Eromerde’s territory for a dwelling. That was not wisdom on your part.”
She nodded her head in a graceful acknowledgment of the greeting of a passing pair, and he felt the rise of their curiosity for his presence. “But perhaps you were not familiar with its history. You are not long arrived from the continent, I believe.”
Lian was all too familiar with the history of the traitor’s House. Well enough to be convinced that its choice of territory had been no accident.
“Eromerde claimed the territory after Anowen’s cornerstone was laid — at the behest of their Fae-blooded queen, I heard,” he said evenly. The Aegean child that Absalom had claimed for his queen would become the Queen of England’s Immortals now, if Eromerde’s usurper could retain his crown. “It has been our fortune that Eromerde remains distracted at best in the years it has been within Easthaven.”
He smiled. “But my Lady is correct. My family has arrived from Europe only within the last two hundred years. I have found that Empress Athanasia’s Houses have more excitement to offer than do those of her Emperor brother.”
Vanessa’s smile turned colder. “But not more than a rogue coven might find it in them to endure, I’m sure.”
It was not as if Lian had any choice but to endure the trouble his family caught in the wake of Eromerde’s instability.
“We face no such turbulence here.” The Queen continued in a more pleasant tone. “As you can see, the children of Delresus scarce need broach the streets for their meals, lest they find the need or grow weary of the estate’s fare.”
Their stroll had taken them into the heart of the lamp-lit garden paths, and it became increasingly clear they were not alone. Cushioned benches dotted alcoves nested beneath overhanging trees at intervals along the trail, and few of them were unoccupied. On most, Immortals fed at their l
eisure from wrists or throats — and, for those more brazen, from whatever else was offered up.
Even before the darkness of their thoughts had risen to broach Lian’s mind, he could hear the humans moaning. The bite of an Immortal offered sickness and pleasure both from those who gifted it, and Lian watched as an enthralled woman arched in the hold of a feeding queen. The human’s eyes rolled back, flashing white in the light, as she shivered and seized in the Immortal’s grip, reaching her climax.
But it was not all the music of bliss singing in the darkness. For some, the game of the hunt was one of predator and prey, and there were those guests upon the grounds who had arrived against their will, fated never to leave. Their cries mingled with those of the enthralled.
He tasted fear on the air with their blood and nearby a body crashed through the trimmed hedges. At Lian’s side, Lady Vanessa tsked her disapproval, but did nothing to stop the feast.
Lian’s coven did not make slaves of mortals, and only rarely did they kill. When they had to, it was mercifully swift, never a hunt that made animal cries of the humans’ screams. The blond elder watched, stone-faced and silent, if respectful, as the scent of blood and sex overpowered that of the garden flowers.
Satisfied, Lady Vanessa lifted her hand to indicate the direction from which they had come.
“But you are not here for the entertainments, are you, Redmond? It is past time we satisfy your curiosity.”
Without waiting to determine if he would follow, she turned with a swish of skirts on the terrace path to lead the way back to the Delresus Great House.
Chapter 8
Lian kept his eyes forward as he followed Lady Vanessa back to her drawing room.
He still tasted blood on his tongue as if he had partaken in the garden orgy and felt the rise of the darker beast their gift made of them twisting his veins like threads. He forced it down, along with the swirl of thoughts that echoed through his head.