“What is it?” he asked, once we’d pulled away.
“I was just wondering what changed your mind last night with the old woman? It was so sudden.”
“Feel this,” he said, taking my hand and rubbing it over a mole on his scalp. “My kindermädchen mentioned it once when I was a boy. She said Großmutter was worried by the shape, so I wore a cap until my hair covered it. That’s why I sent the woman away from you. In my heart I know you are no witch—no more than I—and I don’t care even if you are. I didn’t want to risk her finding a mark like mine on you, even though I didn’t see any myself.” His eyes lit up mischievously. “Although, perhaps I should look again.”
I laughed.
“People are quite superstitious in this time, aren’t they?”
“They aren’t in your time?”
“Well, yes, but not in the same way. There’s no real danger to superstitions. It’s more for fun—to scare ourselves.”
He looked puzzled. “Why would anyone want to scare themselves?”
“It sounds silly, doesn’t it?” I burrowed into the warm curve of his shoulder.
“We have so much to learn about one another, it will be fun.”
“Ja, mein lieber.” He sighed and smiled ruefully, down at me. Then he cupped either side of my face, brushing away a loose tear with his thumb, before kissing me gently. I relaxed against him, matching his slow kisses with my own.
After a moment, he pulled away, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Come now, let’s enjoy the celebration before we have to travel. I trust you did not enjoy that part very much.”
“No, travel is much nicer where I come from. It doesn’t require a saddle. We have automobiles and planes that fly so it makes the journey much faster.”
“The sky, you say? Like a bird.”
I nodded.
“Are you sure you will be happy here? We have no birds to fly on.”
“I can make due, but perhaps we could consider a carriage.”
TWENTY
I t was several hours past dark when the carriage came to a stop. I moved the curtain and peeked out the window. Monaco Palace loomed before us like a giant beast from a nightmare. Solid, silent and lit up, despite the hour. It was the last place I wanted to return.
The door was tugged open. The coachman’s sullen face peered in.
A few trees clustered about the drive, struggling to make a barricade against the rising wind. Thunder cracked, and I could see black clouds settling in against the darkening horizon.
“I don’t like this,” Conrad said.
“Yes, it’s very foreboding, but too late. We already decided this is the way it has to happen.”
Conrad had reluctantly agreed, after several hours of arguing, to drop me off at the front door and return to his cousins to await my signal. I didn’t think he would ever give in, being the dominant male that he was, but my saving grace had been the fact that the history books stated I would not be murdered for another week. I didn’t bring up the conflicting notations, and I didn’t have a death wish but I figured showing up on the doorstep after missing for who knows how long with a man in tow might not be well received.
“Be careful,” he whispered, pulling me tight to his chest. “If anything feels wrong—even slightly—get out of there. Come to Herr Franz’s. I’ll be keeping watch.”
“Of course,” I nodded, more to appease him.
“All right, then?” the coachman said, swinging up to his box. “Shall we be off then, sir?”
That earned him a nasty look from Conrad, who was not about to be rushed. The moonlight played across his face.
“We’ll see the lady to the door.” His gaze was pure stone, and the coachman could see it would be useless to argue.
The darkened windows set into the stone facade indicated there were fires burning and lamps lit inside. Someone was in residence. “No. You’d better stay here. I don’t want to have to explain you,” I said, quickly placing my hand on his chest.
He nodded. I wanted to kiss him but under the watchful eye of the guards I decided against it. Instead, I marched up the wide, shallow stone steps to the huge wooden doors just as the rain started to pour. A porte cochère arch, dark with age, loomed overhead.
I stood on the stoop and lifted the bronze door knocker and let it drop. The sound of the metal echoed inside. I let the door knocker fall again. Light from the outer lamp glinted off the golden metal. The door opened and I turned to wave goodbye as the noise of the carriage rumbled away. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold in all my life, and I quickly crossed the threshold.
“Your highness!” Anais shrieked, grabbing my arm, her face creased with a medley of emotions.” She dug her fingernails into my skin and pulled me inside the lavish vestibule.
“What is all the racket about, Anais? You know—” Seeing me, Lisabetta stopped talking.
“It’s the Princess, she’s returned.” Anais told the older woman.
“Of course, she did,” she said as she grabbed on to me, “you poor child, your skin is like ice. Where on earth have you been?” Her kindness, the warmth of the palace with the flickering fire in the hearth brought me close to tears, but I held back. “I want to hug you and shake you all at the same time.
“Just keep in mind, I bruise easily.” I got a glance at her cheekbone; it looked dark. “Speaking of bruises. Where did you get that?”
“Never you mind,” said as she took me in her arms and began to fuss over me, pulling the damp shawl off my shoulders and brushing my hair off my face.
She tugged me and I allowed myself to be escorted up the staircase, where we were once again in the Princess’s suite. Where have you been all this time?” Her arms enveloped me, and she stroked my back as if she were soothing a child. “The Comte de Chalais has been tearing the countryside apart searching for you.”
“So, I heard.”
“Yes, and I’ve been worried sick!”
I pulled away, and she paused long enough to look me over.
“It’s a long story, and no one would believe me anyway.”
“Now don’t go lumping me in with most people.” She frowned, looking around the room. “Anais!” she yelled, waving a hand. “Bring some warm cider before the princess catches her death.”
Anais glanced at the door and then at me before shuffling quickly into the vestibule.
“And don’t forget the whiskey to chase the dampness from her bones.”
“Yes, Madam.”
“And then you can finish drawing her a nice, warm bath. I’ll get it started.”
“Will that be all?”
“Yes, now go.” Lisabetta stood still, eyes fixed on me, until she heard the door close. Her face showed lines of strain, and shadows of sleeplessness smudged her eyes. In an instant I felt guilty, realizing that these women truly cared about Sapphira. I had been thoughtless to take off on them. Although what choice had there been?
Lisabetta came toward me and began to undo my laces.
“Come now, Sapphira, let’s get you out of those damp clothes.” Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she stripped the wet petticoats away.
She disappeared into the bathroom—or the water closet, as she called it—and returned with a robe.
“You said Henri was worried. Where is he now?” I mumbled, as she filled the tub.
“I said he was out searching the hills for you. I said I was worried,” she corrected. There was something funny about the remark and the way she said it, but before I could ask her about it, she was out the door, soiled clothes and all. I had a feeling she’d flaked on purpose to avoid an explanation. Well, she won’t avoid it for long.
I sat down to sift through the pristinely polished, mahogany desk but a light tapping broke my concentration.
“Come in” I called, glancing at the door. It creaked open and Anais bustled in. “Here’s your cider, mademoiselle.” She set down the laden tray full of goodies.
“Thank you, Anais. That’s ve
ry thoughtful,” I answered, sauntering over to the great hearth.
“Shall I pour it for you now, Princess, or would you prefer to wait?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” I answered, smiling at her.
I glimpsed out the window, wondering what Conrad was doing, and smiled politely as she handed me the cup and saucer.
“I’m sorry if we upset you earlier, mademoiselle, but we were anxious over your disappearance,” Anais exclaimed, setting the pot down. “And Monsieur Le Comte was so vexed.”
“No worries, Anais. I get it. I sent the palace into a tizzy. Are my mother and Nico home? I must see them at once,” I said, taking a sip and letting the warm whisky-cider heat my insides.
“Just a minute, Your Highness. I need to finish filling your bath or Lisabetta will have my hide.”
I smiled, knowing that was probably the truth of it. That woman ran a tight ship. She vanished while I hopped in the water and then both she and Lisabetta returned. I immediately faced them.
“So, what’s going on?”
They shared a look.
“I can sense there’s something wrong. Don’t try to deny it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare deny it, mademoiselle.” Lisabetta frowned.
“Is Henri angry?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“Did he hit you, Lisabetta?”
No reply.
“Well?” I asked, lifting my brow.
“That man,” Lisabetta huffed. “He could hold a candle to the devil,” she whispered, as if the walls could hear. “He was surely aggravated when you disappeared. He went out in search of you a week ago, returning last night in a terrible temper.”
“I’ll deal with him when he gets here, but first I need to see my mother or Nico.”
“They’re not here and I humbly caution you to watch your tongue when you see the Comte. I’ve never seen him so foul.”
Henri, I mused to myself after the ladies left. I could understand his frustration if he was worried, scouring the countryside for his—what was I to him anyway? He seemed to be in tight with Sapphira’s family. A cousin? Or just another man interested in courting Sapphira?
Surely, there was an explanation for his rash behavior—but to hit a woman. The bastard was probably terrified to explain to his Prince that he lost the Princess. That had to be it. But the more I thought about it the more suspicious I grew. Why should Henri be so furious?
TWENTY-ONE
T he next day, I heard Henri and his men arrive home on horseback. I hurried down the stairs, rehearsing the flawless explanation Lizzy and I’d come up with. Lizzy was my new personal nickname for Lisabetta. She did not approve but what could she do—I was the Princess. At least as far she knew.
I was still smiling thinking of that conversation when I caught sight of the fury on Henri’s face. So, not a good time then. I turned on my heels to head back upstairs.
“Stop right there!” Henri ordered.
Oh, sugar shack!
“Turn around!”
I turned and saw Lizzy by the edge of the doorway, her hands over her mouth, staring at me. A moment passed before I realized why. This asshole was actually pointing a sword at me.
“Where were you?” he bellowed.
“Ugh…” Shit! Everything we’d rehearsed flew straight out my head. A common side effect to swords, I guessed.
As I stood there, panic stricken like an elementary student with stage fright—minus the urine-soaked pants, he took two steps toward me and grabbed me roughly by the arm. “Answer me—now!” he raged, throwing his weapon aside. It stuck in a bureau not a foot away from where Lisabetta stood. I’d expected annoyance, but I was shocked by his grip.
I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I could speak. “I was spending time with a friend as intended.” I pulled away and tried to compose myself. If I was gonna pull this off, I was going to have to step up my acting skills
Henri gave me a strange look but made no response.
“M-mother was aware of this. I’m assuming she didn’t tell you.” I summoned the haughtiest voice I could muster.
“No, she didn’t. How could she? She isn’t here. Why didn’t any of the servants know? Or were they covering for you?” Henri demanded, turning his ominous glare to poor Lizzy. She dropped her head.
I could still make out the faint bruising. Pity washed over me, but I pushed it down and strolled to the window.
“What? Am I to answer to the servants all of a sudden?” I forced a haughty laugh. “Of course, they didn’t know. Why would I speak to them? What do you care, anyway? You’re hardly my keeper.”
Henri leaned forward, his face ablaze “You know very well I am your keeper.”
“Really? Well, that’s news to me. I’m going to my room to lie down—perhaps you’d like to write that down as not to over react later. As soon as my mother returns, please send for me.”
I stuck my chin out, hoping I hadn’t pushed it too far.
“As you wish,” he responded, in a calm but clipped tone. The devious look settling on his face made my nerves stand on end like a cat in a puddle. What does he have up his sleeve? I turned to climb the stairs ignoring the hair on my neck which was practically screaming at me.
“Oh, Princess.” Henri paused, smiling mischievously. “I will be up a little later to ask you a few more questions. Until then my friend Alastríona will be keeping an eye—I mean keeping you company. I hope you won’t mind.” He opened the door and headed back outside, leaving me pondering his next move.
I didn’t sleep that night and was informed at breakfast that Henri had a particular excursion he wished me to accompany him on. I met him downstairs, and he took my arm.
“Good morning, ma chèrie,” he said. “Shall we begin our adventure?”
Adventure, hell no! I thought to myself. These days, I could do with a lot less adventure.
I straightened my shoulders and followed him to the travelling coach parked outside. Hey Henri. Cinderella called; she wants her flashy pumpkin back.
I chuckled to myself. It was a damn shame I had no one to share my true sparkling personality with here.
“Where are we going?” I asked
“The gardens of Saint Martin.”
That doesn’t sound so bad. Perhaps he was relieved to have me back and willing to overlook my disappearance. “Why the gardens?”
“You wanted to see your mother, didn’t you?”
“Yes!” Perfect. I could finally get back to Conrad.
As we approached, I noticed that high shrubbery walls on either side enclosed what appeared to be a fort. Trees, vines and flowers all ran amuck, almost as if hiding the cold stone walls.
I was led through numerous, dismal stone passages until we reached a large, subterranean hall. It was long and narrow; my hands and feet were freezing. The terror grew stronger, and my skin began to prickle. I’d read enough gothic romance to know nothing good came out of a dungeon scene Why would Princess Maria be a dungeon? Henri stood by the open door, looking grimmer than earlier, if that was possible. He was dressed in a sober, dark green uniform, hands folded in front, a clear display of arrogance and ruthlessness apparent in the set of his shoulders. Still, he smiled jovially enough and invited me to come closer.
“You lied to me. Mother is not down here.”
“I would never lie to you, my dear Sapphira,” he said. “It’s unpleasant, but trust me she is down here.”
I stepped inside, expecting the door to slam behind me. Instead, I was assaulted by the smell of vomit and feces and something else. In the corner a lump was curled in the darkness, keening and crying.
Blood. I realized the smell was blood.
Conrad. Where is Conrad?
I recoiled from the creature before me and looked at the Comte’s impassive face.
Princess Maria was dirty, disheveled and crying in the corner. She has come completely undone.
“What’s the meaning of this? Get her out of there.”<
br />
“I will as soon as you agree to my terms. Now come this way.” He tugged me so I was now in front of the next cell. “Of course, you know Herr Rochus Liebhauser.” The door to his cell was guarded but open.
At the sound of his name, the man in the corner turned his face to mine. I could not look upon what I saw there. I dropped my eyes to the floor, wet with fresh blood. Horror at what they had done to Rochus, mixed with relief that it was not Conrad, surged through my veins. I ran to him, though my stomach retched. He flinched as I put an arm around him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll get you out.”
I fled the cell then and vomited, comprehending what I had seen. One of his eyes had been cut out.
Footsteps came toward me, and I knew the Comte was hovering over me.
“You’re a monster!” I reached my hand up to smack him in the face, and he caught it in so forceful a grip I was sure it bruised.
“I’ll take that,” he said, and tugged my sapphire ring from my finger. “Your chamber maid Anais has gone home to her family,” he said. “We did not harm her, but I would like you to agree to marry me now.”
I stumbled back down the numerous passages toward the castle door and then sat silently in the carriage next to the monster, counting the minutes until I was alone again in my room. My shoulders sagged as exhaustion hit me. I was so tired. My head ached after all the retching. Poor Maria. Poor Rochus. I’d seen the panic in his eyes the day I had showed up at his home. I remembered how he had paled as he scolded me for coming myself. How could I have been so careless and naïve, not to realize what kind of monster I was up against. I vowed to somehow get him out of there and undo all of this. I prayed that Henri spoke the truth and that Anais had merely been banished, allowed to return to her family unharmed.
In despair, I went to the desk in Sapphira’s room. Had he searched it? No, the diary and map were still hidden. I opened the drawer and tucked them away. I couldn’t think. I sighed, sensing it would be useless to read the diary over right now in such an emotionally drained state. I lay down on the bed and dissolved into tears. The rain fell outside my window, and I felt like the world was crying with me. Finally, exhaustion overtook me and I lapsed into a dream.
Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1) Page 13
