Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy

by Amy Miles

I emerge from the dungeon and out into the courtyard to find winter has arrived early and with a vengeance. Blustery winds batter against the windows of the great hall overhead. The glass rattles loudly in its wooden frames. The howling of the winds races from across the castle grounds like wolves braying in the dark of night.

  The ground is slick with ice, as are the tree limbs that dangle low over the castle walls. Snapped pine branches litter the ground before me. Icicles dangle from eaves and arched doorways, some nearly twice the length of my hand. As I pass, I notice the water in the trough beside the barn is frozen solid. None of the animals are visible. All have been locked away, leaving the courtyard barren and lifeless.

  I clutch the stranger’s cloak tightly around myself as I step across the frozen stone yard. The bottoms of my bare feet sting from the cold. The woolen hood offers little protection from the bitter winds, though it affords the opportunity for my eyes to adjust. Despite the gray overcast of the sky, it takes several moments before I no longer have to squint.

  As I step through a side door that leads into the kitchens, I discover an uncomfortable chill has settled over the castle. It is far too cold for a human to survive if stranded outdoors for any length of time, though I suspect I would feel nothing more than mild discomfort.

  I walk through the empty kitchen and out into the deserted halls with silent steps, listening to talk of the horses that have fallen to the brutal ice storm that has seized the land. Soon they will be the main course on our dinner table.

  Night must be upon us for so many of my brethren to be awake. Odd that it does not feel so late though. My time spent in the dungeon must have displaced me from reality.

  “Roseline?” I turn at the voice, my fingers tightening instinctively around the folds of the stranger’s cloak.

  A man stands in the doorway of his chambers, his shoulders nearly as wide as the door. His skin is darker than most, almost as if he has spent far too much time out in the sun. His lips are pale and his eyes gleam with an amber hue, making his pupils seem void of all light.

  His tawny hair is full though cropped shorter than most, resting upon the tops of his shoulders instead of down his back. Not long after I arrived, I heard that Verity chopped Clement’s hair while he slept as a prank. Everyone within the castle knows of his love of staring into a mirror. Though I would not go so far as to call him an overly prideful man, he does take great pleasure in looking presentable at all times.

  Judging by the slightly uneven length to his hair, I am inclined to believe the tales. Verity does rather enjoy jabbing people where it hurts the most, or at least she did, I silently amend, remembering all too well her final moments in the boat shack.

  She had felt fear—of that I am sure. A part of me feels sorry for her, though I know if Lucien had not arrived, I would have been forced to endure her own form of torment. Though she implied she wanted to end my life, I know it was a ruse. No one with her keen love of torture would let their victim goes with such ease.

  I refocus my thoughts on Clement, noting that his clothes are made of fine velvet, a deep blue that makes his eyes appear to glow from within. I have always found him to be eccentric, though for the most part tame. Although Vladimir ridiculed his skill with a bow and arrow on my first night within the castle walls, I would not dare offer to be one of his targets.

  I am also not fool enough to assume that he is completely harmless. No, he would rip out my throat if he saw benefit in doing so. Luckily for me, that day has not yet come.

  “Clement.” I dip my head in somber greeting.

  He is a mask of mystery, revealing neither emotion nor thought. “The entire castle has been searching for you since Vladimir’s return.”

  “Have they?” I step closer so he can catch the full extent of my degraded state in the flickering light. “A pity no one thought to look for me in Lucien’s dungeon.”

  His lips peel back from his teeth as a low hiss rises in his throat. “It would be wise not to speak of such… deceptions. Vladimir does not take kindly to falsehoods against his brother.”

  I tilt my head to the side so he may take in the full view of my newly healed patch of scars that runs the length of my neck. In a day or so, all evidence of my time spent in the dungeon will be gone, yet even a cupful of blood is not enough for an instantaneous healing. “Do you think I did these to myself?”

  Clement steps forward, his imposing stance meant to make me cower. Perhaps before I would have. Now, I have no care to. His eyes narrow. “You have changed.”

  I nod in agreement. “Endless affliction has that effect on a person. You reach a point where pain no longer matters, where the only thing that means anything is a choice.”

  His brow furrows. “A choice between what?”

  I smile, feeling the first ounce of empowerment I have felt since arriving in this horrid place. “Between merely existing and living.”

  I turn on my heel and walk past, leaving him to mull this over in silence. As I reach the steps to the second floor, I hear the latch on his door catch and exhale a tiny breath of relief. Although I managed to come across as confident, I am far from it. It is true that I have changed from the whimpering girl who first entered Lucien’s dungeon. He broke me, though not in the way he had hoped.

  He wanted me to fight back. I simply realized that to do so would be to mean that I care… which I do not. Death has been plucked from my hands, though I will not give up reaching for it. I know now what this life has to offer me and I want no part of it. No, I will seek death with every ounce of my being. Vladimir, and his wicked brother, will have no control over me. I will see to that as well.

  The climb to my chambers is long and arduous. My heart feels heavier with each step I take. I know what awaits me at the top of the stairs. By now Vladimir will be aware of my return. I made no effort to conceal my voice below or the sound of my steps as I rise toward my turret. The only question is… will Lucien be waiting there for me as well?

  As I step past my door, an unconscious tremble begins in my fingers. I have never willingly gone to Vladimir before, never seen the interior of his room. Up to this point, he has preferred to defile me in my own room. I suspect this has been a symbol that I am not safe anywhere.

  I reach out to push open Vladimir’s door and note the growing tremble in my fingers. I draw my hand back, clutching it to my chest as I will myself not to give in to the fear. To push it aside completely.

  You do not fear death, a voice in my mind whispers. You fear living.

  As I reach out toward the door once more, it flings open. Vladimir stands before me, his face darkened with anger. “Where have you been?”

  Before I can speak, my husband grasps my wrist and pulls me through the doorway. I am only vaguely aware that the door slams behind me as I sprawl to the floor. Pain flares along my right hip from where I land upon the hard floor, though I hardly take notice. It is a mere annoyance after the days of torture I have recently endured.

  A fire spits in the hearth nearby. A wide and tall metal grate has been placed before it, forcing the majority of the heat back up through the hole above the fire, allowing only enough heat into the room to take the chill off the air. All the furniture in the room has been shoved to the opposite side, despite the screen. Vladimir has always shown a great sensitivity to heat, I muse, storing that information for later use.

  Lucien sits in one of the finely upholstered chairs beside the window, his leg lazily crossed over his knee. He lifts his gaze to mine and I can see the depths to which his anger has grown buried in his eyes.

  I almost smile when I realize he was unaware of my release. Perhaps he is not as intelligent as he supposes.

  “I asked you a question,” Vladimir roars as he yanks me up from the floor and shoves me into a chair. It rocks back onto two legs, threatening to spill me backward, but my husband places his boot on one chair leg and slams me back to the ground.

  My head spins for a moment as I am thrust forward. I dig my
nails into the fabric to remain rooted in place.

  “Isn’t it obvious, dear brother?” Lucien says with utmost boredom. He flicks the tip of his dagger, unearthing dirt or perhaps my blood from beneath his fingernails. “She has attempted to escape. Just look at how filthy she has become.”

  My lips curl back from my teeth as a low growl begins to rumble deep within my chest. “You lie!”

  “Careful girl,” Vladimir warns as he paces before me. His gaze drifts over my matted hair and unkempt decor. “That is my brother to whom you speak.”

  “No.” I shake my head as I lift my chin to stare back at him. “That is a demon.”

  For a moment there is no sound in the room; then great bellowing laughter seizes Vladimir and Lucien. I watch as tears stream from their eyes, as if I have just presented the best joke known to man. Their laughter vexes me. I dig deep trenches into the cushion of the chair yet remain silent.

  Vladimir wipes his eyes and walks over to stand beside Lucien. They both look at me, sizing me up. “Apparently your attempts have failed, brother. She should have slit your throat the moment she discovered your presence in the room.”

  “Yes, that would have been impressive.” The corner of Lucien’s lip twitches. “Apparently we will have to try again.”

  I struggle to comprehend this sadistic twist in the plot. Vladimir knew what Lucien was doing to me. He probably asked him to do it. My stomach turns bitter as I lower my gaze. My eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. I refuse to give them the satisfaction.

  They did this to me. Both of them. I was a fool to think Vladimir would be furious over his brother’s actions. It was all a ploy, a sick, perverted game for them.

  “No.” Vladimir shakes his head and moves toward a side table. He reaches for a golden pitcher and pours himself a drink. My stomach clenches at the sweet scent of blood. My throat burns with need, yet I refuse to let them see it. “She has been gone far too long.”

  Lucien turns in his seat. His former pleasure vanishes, only to be replaced by something that might be considered desperation. “Do not let your lusts cloud your judgment, Vladimir. The girl only needs more time.”

  Vladimir takes a long, slow drink. His gaze never leaves mine. I can see him weighing his options. The hollowness within me spills forth as I realize the depths to which this betrayal affects me. It is not just my husband and Lucien that have betrayed me, yet the stranger as well.

  They must have sent him to me, knowing I would cling to the hope of a savior. My chest clenches as a single tear slips from the corner of my eye. I wipe it away, though I can still feel the damning moisture against my cheekbone. He is just as much a monster as these two are. I am a fool.

  “What of Verity?” I ask as Vladimir turns away. I cannot bear the thought of being dismissed so easily. Not without answers. “Was her death a ruse as well?”

  “Oh no.” Lucien grins as he returns to his administrations of cleaning his nails. “She deserved her death.”

  Vladimir’s laugh is cruel and filled with more ice than clings to the trees upon the castle grounds. “She was no longer useful to me. Her jealousy would only seek to endanger your life and I could not allow that to be. Besides, Lucien was growing restless. I felt her passing would give him proper… motivation with his time spent with you.”

  A quake begins within me as anger pools in my abdomen. “And what of Cassius? Surely he will seek revenge. He dearly loved his sister.”

  A slow grin spreads along Lucien’s lips, almost as if he relishes the thought. “Cassius is a good dog. He does as he is told, unlike his sister. He will play the part well.”

  Could this be true? Could Cassius truly be that naïve, or does his own fear of death force him to accept a fate that is less than he would have liked? He knew of his sister’s exploits. The entire castle knew, though I doubt that gave him any solace when he watched her body burn upon a funeral pyre… if they even gave her one.

  I sit up straighter in my chair. “And what is my part to be, then?”

  Vladimir’s eyebrows rise with surprise. “Have I not made that clear yet, my dear?”

  He sets down his glass and approaches. When he reaches the side of my chair, I have to force myself not to draw back from him. He snatches my chin between his fingers and leans in so close all I can see are the flames of the fire mirrored within his glassy eyes. “You are mine to mount whenever and in any manner I so please. Your body is mine.”

  “So I am to be your whore?” I spit back at him, repulsed by the thought that I am nothing more than a piece of meat for him to play with at his every whim. Surely my family was slaughtered and my mortality stolen for a purpose greater than mere lust. It is abominable to think otherwise.

  “Not just his.” Lucien chuckles as he rises to his feet. I shift my gaze to the side, straining to see him as Vladimir tightens his grip on my chin so I cannot move my head. “You will be shared among the men, in time.”

  “No!” Vladimir’s grip loosens as he turns on his brother. “This one is mine.”

  “Come, come, dear brother. Your brethren will not be pleased with this. It is the way of things.” The way he speaks so freely of my imminent rape chills me to the bone. There is hardly any emotion to his words. Certainly not any lust of his own. No, Lucien is not interested in my body. He longs to possess my soul.

  Vladimir shoves me back as he rises to face off with Lucien. “I forged the rules. I possess the ability to amend them.”

  Lucien’s pale skin flushes with anger. I turn my head to watch him as spittle flies from his lips. “Do not be a fool, brother. The men will demand their time with her. If you refuse, there will be trouble. She is a girl, nothing more.”

  “If that is true, then why did you select her for me? It is unlike you to hand select a girl for my bed.” Vladimir takes a step forward to challenge Lucien. “I know you too well, dear brother. You have a personal interest in this one. She is special. You said so yourself, so why must you force this issue with me?”

  Lucien’s brow dips low and I tense, sure he will strike Vladimir. The intensity between them is nearly palpable. “The girl is to be shared. That is final.”

  He turns on his heel and walks toward the door. I hardly have time to blink before Vladimir leaps and tackles Lucien to the ground, scrambling to be on top. I see the glint of a blade a second before it comes to rest against Lucien’s neck. “No one will touch her without my permission. Is that clear?”

  Lucien snarls and sends his elbow barreling into Vladimir’s thigh. It is enough to rock him off balance. Lucien scrambles to his feet, crouched low. His lips peel back as he growls. “She makes you weak, brother. Let me have her for a time. I will break her and then unleash her. Once we have her as we want, then you may delve into your debauchery.”

  “You have already had your time with her and look what it has done.” He circles Lucien, keeping his dagger firmly gripped in his hand. “She is a mass of scars!”

  “She will heal,” Lucien inserts quickly. He stays low, his movements carefully measured. I draw my legs up into the chair, afraid to hinder their skirmish. I lift my prayers heavenward that one of them will die this night, though I am unsure which death I long for most. “She was broken. Can you not see it in her eyes?”

  The instant Vladimir shifts his gaze toward me, Lucien lunges. The sound of the two men clashing together is like a catapult launching stone against a castle’s battlements. They tumble end over end, rolling and scrabbling for purchase.

  Furniture smashes into slivers of wood as they slam into tables and chairs, fighting for the advantage. Lucien grabs a small table and brings it down over Vladimir’s back. I turn away as jagged shards explode into the air. My husband cries out as he slams to the floor. For a moment I think him defeated, though as Lucien approaches, he grabs a dresser drawer and rolls onto his side, slamming the corner of the wood into Lucien’s thigh.

  The two men tussle, their grunts and growls surely heard in the far reaches of the castle,
though no one would dare enter to stop the fight. I lift my feet from the floor as they roll under me. My chair shudders as they slam into the wall.

  I look to the floor in frantic search of the fallen dagger. I spy a glint of silver a second before Lucien cries out. I glance over my shoulder to find Lucien staggering to his feet, a wide gash pouring with blood over his right eye. A broken stool lies at his feet. Vladimir crouches low, preparing for his attack, though his movement is slightly slower than usual.

  I lick my lips, feeling parched yet buzzing with new energy from my earlier healing. The effects of the blood will not last long, though for now I have an advantage. The dagger sticks out from beneath the smashed armoire nearest the door. It would take two bounds to reach it, though Vladimir and Lucien are locked into a fierce battle before me.

  The four-poster bed groans as Lucien slams his brother’s head into the wide wooden frame. The instant Vladimir’s eyes roll back into his head, I leap from my chair and sprint for the dagger.

  Neither of them notices as I rise with the blade in hand. Vladimir grunts upon the floor. He takes a deep breath and flips onto his back, raising his leg to kick Lucien in the stomach. Lucien stumbles backward, surprised by the attack.

  I hear a guttural cry of alarm escape his lips as I bury the dagger deep into the back of his chest. I push until the four-inch blade is buried to the hilt. Blood pools over my hand as I twist the blade, snarling, as Lucien collapses to the ground, rolling onto his side with a pained groan.

  “What have you done?” Vladimir lurches to his hands and knees and crawls to Lucien’s side. He places a hand on his brother’s chest, closing his eyes as he listens.

  Lucien’s mouth opens and closes, mimicking speech, yet only strangled air passes through his lips. I smile and clutch the dagger tightly in my hand, enjoying the weight of the blade. Vengeance is sweeter than any blood I have tasted.

  “You’ve punctured his heart.” I watch as Vladimir hastily tears off his coat, sending golden buttons rolling across the floor. He rips the sleeves of his shirt back and bites deep into his wrist. With his teeth, he peels back the flesh and blood pours from the wound directly into Lucien’s mouth.

  Vladimir grunts as Lucien greedily sucks at his wrist. He grimaces as he pushes back against Lucien. I take a step back as my husband turns a look of unrepentant rage upon me. “You will pay for this.”

  SEVENTEEN