Crimson Bird 2

by L B Keen

  “You are searching for the Lady of Carthage.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

  Fitz sent him an annoyed look as he reached out, taking a flute of champagne from a passing servant tray. “You could be wrong. I could be searching for the next female who shall warm my bed.”

  Lord Chase chuckled. “Oh, don’t be trite. Everyone here knows your affection for her. There’s even a bet at Whites. In the books, there is a bet on whether you’ll spend your time between her thighs in your brother’s absence… After all, between those pretty lily white thighs sits the throne and a very, very powerful family.”

  Taking a deep drink of his champagne, although he dearly wished for something stronger, Fitzwilliam’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Chase, I’ve no qualms with shoving your head into any one of these many potted plants.”

  “I mean no insult,” Chase said, his voice drawling. “But you’ve limited time. Your brother will return, and when he does, he will take his throne. The House of Echimedes cannot allow for our only chance at the throne to slip through our fingers again.”

  Fitzwilliam scoffed. “It is funny that a mere year ago, no one held any expectation of me or my time. No one cared whether I showed my face or not, yet…at the sudden disappearance of the second prince, I’ve been saddled with carrying the fate of one of the most hated houses in Britain.” Chuckling still, he quaffed back the rest of his drink and set the flute onto another servant’s tray.

  Giving a short bow to Lord Chase, he excused himself, having spotted Gwen, who had just entered the ball. She was being escorted by her mother. She looked riveting in a gown of deep golden color. It was light and revealed her curves splendidly. Fitzwilliam watched as she smiled, greeting those she knew. She was truly beautiful. Her violet eyes shined from the lights of the candles that hung high in the candelabra.

  He drifted through the crowd, following her as she continued to make her rounds. How he ached to own her and to make her his. He hadn’t intended on leaving her side, ever. He’d been prepared to make her his with his entire being.

  He held no love for his family, nor did he have an obligation. He’d been prepared and eager to call her wife, but with one letter, his entire future became derailed. And in an instant, Gwen, his lovely Gwen, had become a prized key to the throne.

  Her radiant beauty hadn’t dulled. He, unlike his eldest brother, didn’t truly need her for the throne. Especially if Talon died. He would be the only one left. His father, though the man loosely wore the title, would have no other choice but to give him the throne.

  Stopping next to the refreshment table, he didn’t notice the tension of the wallflowers at his sudden appearance. They shifted, straightening at their skirts and batting their eyelashes.

  Fitzwilliam didn’t spare them a glance. His hand curled into a fist at his side. His brother was leagues away and here he stood, ready and willing to take her from everything that would harm her, but… He gazed at an older man who stood to her left. He was tall and thin, but his body leaked an authority that on immediate contact most bowed to. His black eyes showed mild amusement, nothing more, and his swept back greying hair gave him a youth-like appearance.

  Lord Asher of the House of Echimedes was the true reason he’d been stuck. The man wished for his daughter to marry a king. Nothing less was an option. His ambition was as strong as his own mother’s. Both were distant cousins and both were focused on getting their house’s blood on the throne.

  Seeing that Gwen had excused herself from her party, he quickly followed her from the glittering ballroom to the low-lit hallways. She didn’t go to the powder room as he’d assumed. Instead, she made her way deeper into the large townhouse. When she’d reached what felt like the very end of the hallway, and the music had dimmed to a distant hum, she stopped and with a low whimper, she covered her face and cried.

  He froze, unsure of what to do. The woman he professed to love was crying, and here he stood watching in stony silence. After a moment, he ignored his conscious warning and marched forward. He grabbed her arm, jerking her around to face him.

  Her bright violet eyes stared up at him before they widened in shock. “Fitz—”

  Before she could finish his name, his lips met hers in a hungry kiss. It was desperate and held all his longing. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her wrist fast and didn’t slacken his hold. Moving her face, she shoved him hard. Retreating only a few steps, Fitz and she stared at each other, the panting exhalation the only sound in the dark hallway.

  Before, as if something that had too long been held back snapped, and they came together in a rush of violence and need. Their hands pulled and yanked at each other’s clothing. Fitz growled in satisfaction, jerking her dress down to reveal the pale skin beneath. His lips and teeth brushed over her skin as her hands worked at his pants. She widened her legs as he lifted her. His pants fell so that his member was free.

  Moaning, she wrapped her arms around him as she panted for him to move faster and take her. Fitz didn’t need telling twice. As soon as he was free, he staggered them back so that her back was pressed against the wall. Entering her, he watched as her eyes fluttered and she released a sigh of relief before she began to kiss him again, her lips capturing his attention until he couldn’t ignore the need to move any longer. With one powerful thrust, her heat wrapped around him and his knees nearly buckled. She cried out in pleasure as he continued to move savagely between her thighs.

  “F-Fitz! Harder!” she cried as her nails raked over his back. Their lovemaking was rough, hard and desperate. The pounding of her heart sounded in her head. She wrapped her leg around her waist in an effort to pull him closer. She gritted her teeth as slowly the wave hit her, her toes curling.

  At every pound of his body against hers, Gwen felt more able to breathe. She had felt close to losing her mind as she smiled and laughed. Every word like a knife at each congratulation for her upcoming nuptials. Talon didn’t love her. He didn’t even like her, she was sure. They, too, were both trapped by the demands of their fathers.

  She allowed Fitz to scratch his teeth along her throat. She felt her lips curl at the feeling of finally owning her destiny. He wanted her and would do anything for her. Gwen leaned forward, seeing her dark gaze in the mirror. If Talon did not wish to be hers, then she would be his brother’s.

  He grunted. She could feel him growing larger within her. As Gwen tightened her legs around Fitz, she knew what she had already set in motion.

  The day prior, she’d had a private meeting with the queen that had come as a revelation.

  ***

  “You are a hindrance,” Queen Anne said, lowering the teacup to her table. They were currently observing the new roses that had been brought from Spain. The hot house was Queen Anne’s most loved place in the castle. She’d laid every plant with care and precision. Her cold, golden like eyes met Gwen’s. “My son, he will not hear my demands, nor will he follow my orders. I wish for him to become king. What is it you wish for, Lady of Carthage?”

  Gwen, taken aback by the queen’s blunt words, settled her teacup upon the dish in her lap. “I-I have all that I wish for. Talon—”

  “Lies,” Queen Anne said, her voice hard, and her expression dark. “You’ve no love for my stepson. I’ve no illusion as to why you sit before me with the title betroth.” She narrowed her eyes on Gwen. “My cousin has yet to lose our family’s power and he has every intention, as do I, to have an heir with our family’s blood sit on the throne. Only, he wishes it to be someone he can control, while in my opinion, it should be one who is powerful in his own right and needs not curry favor with parliament or the house from whence I come.”

  She leaned back, her posture straight and her tone turning consoling. “Come now, dear. Let’s be honest. It will be a long and cold marriage if you continue to stubbornly stay by Talon’s side. He will abandon once your purpose has been served. Has he not yet proven it?” She smiled. Queen Anne knew the girl’s weakness and she was willing to use it.
“He groveled after a mere damphir, ignoring you and his duties. Do you think he will not do so again?”

  “He wouldn’t abandon,” Gwen said, her voice emotionless. Finding some ground, she met the queen’s stare head on. “As your son did so callously.”

  They shared a long look before Queen Anne clicked her tongue and reached for the teapot. “Shame, really. If it were not for Talon, Fitzwilliam would not have had to carry this burden. You see,” she started as she lifted the pot and poured the steaming, rosy blood tea into her cup. “My eldest wished to find a balance between his father and me.” She set the pot down on the table abruptly. “It was a simple wish of mine to have him represent us in the eastern quarters. He was charismatic and would have been welcomed. He was already showing promise with parliament.”

  She let her thumb and pointed finger play with the handle of the delicate china cup, the white porcelain resembling her coloring. “Sadly, he gained the notice of Talon, who quickly and efficiently caused him to lose not only his favor but…his life.” She lifted the cup and took a sip. Lowering it, she cut her eyes towards Gwen, whose expression had become drawn at her announcement. “After we receive news of his death on the 17th of April, Fitzwilliam knew he had no control of his life then. He was called by his father to be told the news along with Talon.

  She took another sip, her eyes observing the well-painted doves that floated along the side. “You also were chosen due to his machinations,” she smirked. “Talon has every intention of taking anything and everything from his brothers until they are craven and mad. He suggested, knowing Fitzwilliam cherished you, that the one that gained your hand in marriage would be king.”

  She was trembling. Gwen could not withhold the gasp she released as she thought of all the times she’d believed him to be kind and attentive. Tears dropped onto the back of her hands that were holding the tea cup.

  Setting her teacup down, Queen Anne observed the young woman, feeling only mild pity. If her son would not do what was necessary and follow her demands, she would then manipulate the one he desired to do so.

  “Why?” was all Gwen could get out past the feeling of choking. “Why would you tell me such a thing?” Her reddened eyes met Anne’s. “How do I know it to be truth?”

  Slowly, Anne’s lips stretched into a mocking smile. “Because, dear girl…I am the one who killed his mother.” She tilted her head, her expression turning beatific. “I would know more than anyone else his need for revenge.”

  Gwen cried out when she felt the warm seed of Fitzwilliam release deep within her, as his teeth pierced her throat. Her chest thrust up, and her body trembled. Slowly closing her eyes, she allowed the bond to be set deep between them. She would avenge herself upon the one who’d stolen her happiness, and her freedom. As she re-opened her eyes, she met her own gaze in the mirror; it was cold and dead, resembling that of Queen Anne’s.

  Chapter Eleven

  Katari…

  A week later, Talon reluctantly accepted an invitation to dine from the French dignitary. The man was filled with more than just wine. He was a large man with pale and sweating skin. Though he claimed relation to the royal Selkie family, Talon had yet to see anything graceful, or handsome about him.

  The dinner table held other ambassadors and their wives. All of them seeming desperate to return to the rule they were acquainted with, such as china dishes and tallow candles. The servants moved in silence in the background, serving the guests. The first thing to be served was a cold pea soup.

  He barely could stand it. The dull conversation persisted, as the man spoke of sports to be found in the local area of R’or, and the women chattered about their children and their hardship in finding good help.

  By the third course, Talon wished that he could think of a good enough emergency to be removed.

  “Is it true about the royal family?”

  Catching this, Talon turned his gaze to Mrs. Dupre. She was thin as her husband was round. She spoke in a nasal tone that no one could miss hearing, no matter the distance she stood. She was not a handsome woman, with narrow features and too curly brown hair. “Is it true that the king is married to two women?” She said this with a gasp, her astonished gaze meeting the smirking gaze of the Spaniard. A…Signor Gutierrez. “How barbaric.”

  The Spaniard lazily lifted his glass for more wine. “Yes, is it not? It seems that the current queen was married for political reasons, but the second wife was chosen for love, before she mysteriously disappeared.”

  “Well, I never heard of such a thing.” She turned her astonished gaze towards her husband. “Mr. Dupre, is this true?”

  Leaning back, Mr. Dupre seemed put out on having to confirm it. “I’m afraid so, my dear, but, they are heathens. It is not our business to care about what they may do.” He glanced at those who shared their table. “Our only interest is those mines and the metal they contain.”

  “But the daughter from their union is a beauty,” the German spoke up, his smile turning greasy. “She, unlike the others, does not wear the scarf. Her eyes are like amethyst hidden in the night. I wonder if it true what they say of sirens—”

  “Hrm!” Dupre cleared his throat, giving Wilhelm a hard look. “I believe it is time for us to adjourn to the billiards room.” He motioned to his wife, “Dear.”

  She nodded, nodding to the other women who all stood and laying their napkins upon their plates, retreated to her parlor.

  Once the women had left out the door, shutting it behind them, Dupre sent Wilhelm an annoyed look. “I would appreciate it if you did not speak of such things in front of my wife.”

  Wilhelm shrugged, giving Dupre an amused look. “You would hide your midnight secrets from your wife?” He scoffed, setting his cup down.

  “What is it that’s been said of sirens?” Talon’s drawled question drew all the men’s attention. His finger slid along the edge of the glass. His eyes focused on his innocent movement. “I am merely curious, you understand?” He lifted his gaze, giving Wilhelm an easy smile. “The princess, Kahlia, carries such blood, right?”

  Wilhelm, feeling as though he’d found a friend, gave Talon a knowing smile. “Ja. They say sirens have a need for a men’s warmth. Born whores, they will let anyone fuck them. Even the ugliest Schwein would be given a chance as long as he carries a member.”

  For a moment, all was silent, as Wilhelm drew back, his expression smug. He turned his gaze away from Talon and met Dupre’s look. “If it were my own country, that heathen bitch would be bent over—urk!”

  Wilhelm’s eyes widened as he released his glass and scrabbled at his throat, his face quickly turning red as he tried to breathe. The other men had jerked back, all shocked at his sudden fit of choking.

  All except one.

  The Spaniard jumped up in order to help Wilhelm.

  “Don’t!”

  He halted, whipping his gaze towards Talon, and reared back at the glowing red eyes staring at him. The heat of hate and anger there forced him to retreat.

  Focusing his attention back to the fat, squealing Wilhelm, Talon tilted his head. “I do not know what the custom is in your country, but we British try not to insult those who are our host.” As his eyes grew brighter, Wilhelm struggled more, hitting his head against the table. The sound caused those in the room to cringe. “I would warn you against insulting them.” Talon, pushing his chair back, stood. Letting his finger trace along the edge of the table, he moved around it, over to Wilhelm’s side. Placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, his signet ring flashing, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Her name…never speak it again or I will do as my kind has done for centuries…Kill you.”

  Moving away from the nearly dead man whose tears and snot now covered his face, he released his hold and watched as the pig sucked in air. No one spoke. All eyes were on him in open fear and animosity. Turning towards his host, he gave a short bow. “It has been a pleasure, but it appears I’ve another engagement, excuse me.”

  Turning on his hee
l sharply, Talon left the dining room, making his way to the exit. He couldn’t calm the storm in his chest. That loathsome man had dared to insult his woman. He’d parted those swollen lips of his, and spoken her name with little respect.

  Barely acknowledging the butler who opened the door, Talon quickly descended the steps. Passing the sedan, he ignored them, wishing instead to walk off his anger. He marched along the lane of matching houses and high fences.

  Unlike the other dignitaries, Talon hadn’t opted to live in the quadrant of Sterah, the area known for the foreigners who lived there. Moving past the high lamps, he found himself among the yellow roofed houses, and high towers. The whisper of song from the praying monks in the high towers slowly calmed him down.

  In frustration, he stared at the night sky, seeking answers to what he should do.

  His desire for Bird was growing unmanageable. How long had it been since he’d seen her? Her bright smile and warm eyes that mocked and enchanted him. His delusions of her were returning and he sought refuge in them.

  Her arms outstretched, demanding him to come to her. Her soft body a puzzle he wished to explore and learn.

  Rubbing a hand over his face, he attempted to scrub away the desire he felt. He had kept his promise: he had not seen nary a glimpse of her. But, he knew she was there, just beyond his reach.

  Forlornly, he dropped his head, and turning around, he returned to his sedan, grateful that the man who carried it had waited. He could no longer deal with such torture. He would go to the engagement ball and that, that would be his last night in this country that held his greatest temptation. Failure was preferable to him ruining her life once more.

  ***

  “Why will you not allow me to leave?” Bird demanded angrily, her eyes narrowed on Dua. They had kept her within the palace gates for a week. She’d been forced to continue lessons with Fadi, though the woman had made it clear she hadn’t approved of being deceived.