Interesting. “Perhaps I can discover your identities through a process of elimination.” He already had an idea about the older man. He sounded like a friend of his father’s who’d shared his passion for vintage Italian race cars.
“What exactly do you do to protect the monarchy and the…” He stopped himself before saying sacred legacy with a sneer in his voice.
“Not enough, clearly,” said a man who sounded about Darias’s own age. “There have always been forces around Altaleone—other nations at our borders, landowners, business rivals, those who seek our riches. In a global economy, perhaps the legion of enemies has grown while we’ve slept.”
Darias lifted a brow. “There are probably more cutthroats on one block in New York City than in all of Altaleone.”
“It only takes one,” said the young woman.
“You think one person murdered my father and grandmother?”
There was a pause. “No.” Another man spoke. “We think there were at least two. We think they were murdered at the same time.”
“Seduced, according to their…proclivities, then murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Why would they allow someone to lead them into such a ridiculous predicament?”
“They thought they were among us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Darias stared around the group. “They thought they were going to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence because he had no idea what he would say.
“We have…rituals. We’re a very exclusive group.” The older woman. “All of us belong to the region’s aristocracy, and we are sworn to secrecy until we die—or members of the group will dispatch us to death.”
The older man stepped forward. “It’s not easy for royals to enjoy the pleasures that others take for granted, so we provide a safe environment for mutual enjoyment.”
Darias felt his hackles rising again. “So this whole secret cloak-and-dagger society is really just a kinky sex club?”
“No.” An older man spoke quietly. “It’s more than that. It’s for the nourishment and protection of the monarchy.”
“Well, I can protect myself, thanks, so I think I’m going to turn in my membership.” He wished he had that damned ruby cross right here so he could throw it at them. “Listen, I don’t have any problem with people exploring their desires and doing whatever they want on their own time, but I have no interest in that kind of thing and clearly your role as bodyguards is lacking. So I’ll take it from here.”
He wondered how to gracefully show a group of people out the door.
But damn it, he still hadn’t figured out who most of them were. He needed more footage.
“We need to protect you. It’s our sworn duty.”
He wondered if—as monarch—he could insist they dispatch each other to death for failing in their duty to his dad and grandma. “And how do you propose to do that?”
“Has anyone contacted you?” The oldest man.
“Everyone in the goddamn world has contacted me. I just got married and crowned king.”
The masked man cleared his throat. “Anyone…of interest.”
“Well, there was the man with a firework who threw himself in front of my carriage. And my wife opened a mysterious note. My security chief recognized it as being from a French text, threatening something or other.”
“Do you remember the words?” The young woman.
Darias sighed. “The queen is gone, her secrets kept / Her son so close behind her / The brave new heir does hope to rule / But battle brings the sound of thunder.” He stared at them, daring them to find meaning in the pointless old words.
The older man straightened his back. “Distracted by a maiden fair, the king will lose his all.”
“And tyranny will rule the lands again before the fall,” continued the young woman.
“You all know this poem?” Darias found that odd. “It’s not even from Altaleone. It’s French.”
“Not all of us, perhaps,” said the older man. “But it is part of our educational legacy. It was written for your ancestor Charlemagne.”
“Ah.” Everything came back to Charlemagne sooner or later. Sometimes Darias wished he’d had less illustrious forebears. “I can assure you that I’m not distracted by a maiden fair, despite appearances to the contrary. And why did you send someone to jump in front of my carriage? You could have injured her or myself.”
“We didn’t.” At least two of them spoke at once.
“What?” He frowned. “But he said—”
“That he wanted you to join us?” The young woman again.
“Yes. And frankly, that was when I decided that I needed to. If you didn’t know that, how did you send Gemma Cressi with the cross.”
“Gemma is not one of us either. The cross was stolen at the time of the murders.”
Now Darias stared. “So they’re both part of some criminal conspiracy?”
Or these people are.
“Take off your masks. As your king, I command you.”
Emma had changed out of her dress and into pajamas, but she couldn’t relax enough to go to bed. Or even sit down in a chair. Yes, she’d promised to stay out of the way, but how could she leave Darias alone down there with a bunch of masked strangers who might have murdered his family members?
Maybe she could just sneak back and peek through the keyhole. Sure, her movements might well be recorded on a hidden video camera set up somewhere, but it wasn’t like she was planning to do anything criminal or even bad.
She just cared about her husband.
“My husband.” She said it aloud, feeling for the strangeness of the word. Was he really her husband, even for a year, when the vows they’d so carefully repeated were merely part of a contractual obligation?
The more time they spent together—sleeping in each other’s arms like a real husband and wife—the more he felt like her husband where it counted, in her heart.
Damn it, I am going down there. She couldn’t stay locked up there when he might be getting his throat slit, or worse.
She dressed again, this time in black leggings and a black top, like a cat burglar. She put on her quietest sneakers and tied her hair in a braid down her back. If anyone surprised her, she’d say she was looking for her book. This was her home, after all.
Heart thumping so loud she could practically hear it, she eased out of the bedroom and crept toward the stairs. Luckily, the stone steps would never creak, so she hurried down with confidence, then paused to listen at the bottom.
She could hear voices coming from the great hall, even though all the doors to it were now closed. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, though. She couldn’t even understand it. As she moved closer, ears pricked, she realized they were now speaking in a different language, probably the local dialect of Altaleone, which was a confusing hybrid of Italian and German.
The door she’d left through was ancient, made of carved oak boards, and had a good-sized keyhole, with no key in it since the doors had all been fitted with a latch at some point in the twentieth century.
She snuck closer and lowered herself until she was eye level with the hole. Holding her breath, she leaned closer and peered in, and what she saw made a scream rise in her throat.
Darias lay on the long dining table in the middle of the room, and the masked and cloaked strangers stood around him, swords and daggers of various sizes in their raised hands, literally hovering over him, ready to plunge into him.
But what stopped her from screaming, or bursting through the door, was his expression. He looked calm, intrigued, even, studying their masked faces.
Emma cursed herself for not bringing her phone down with her. She couldn’t call for help right now except with her own feeble voice. But would Darias want her to?
As she watched, heart now racing with terror, each of the masked men and women raised their left hand and pushed their mask back, revealing their face.
Her eyes raced around the group, hoping for rec
ognition. She could swear she’d seen one of the middle-aged men before and the oldest woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen them. They must have been guests at either the wedding or the coronation, or both.
They still held their weapons high, as Darias looked around the group, dark eyes keen, drinking in all the information around him. They lowered their masks, covering their faces, then their blades.
“You’ve seen us now.” The oldest man spoke in English again. “You trusted us not to kill you when we had the chance, and we trusted you with our identities. No one else must ever know who we are.” He spoke the word ever with a chilling emphasis that made Emma shrink back from the keyhole, afraid the shine in her eye might give her away.
Why had Darias decided to trust them? One woman extended her hand, and Darias took it and raised himself up from the hard surface of the table. “Now I understand,” he murmured, so low she could barely hear him. “Each of you has as much to lose as I do.”
“We’ve all vowed to risk our lives to protect you,” said a woman. Emma could still see her hauntingly beautiful face.
“And I pledge my silence to protect you.” He sighed. “What should I do about the boy in my cells?”
“Let him go. Follow him to his source.”
“Then I lose his value as a hostage.”
“He has no value as a hostage if his life is no longer important to them. These people have killed a queen and her heir. We must assume life has little value to them. Let him show us who they are and what they want.”
Darias nodded. “I’ll have his movements tracked.”
“And don’t assume they aren’t doing the same to you with the cross.”
Emma watched as Darias’s face paled. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that the ruby studded cross might have been tampered with.
“I appreciate the warning. How do I get in touch with you?”
“We will stay in touch with you.” The oldest woman, who had piercing blue eyes and looked like a queen herself, at least she had during the brief glimpse that Emma had stolen of her. “For now we must leave. We can never stay anywhere so long that our absence from somewhere else is noticed and the identity of our group discovered.
They left much as they’d arrived, the remaining guests now hovering around the drinks and snacks but not eating them as their masks covered their whole faces, including their mouths. Emma reflected that the hole for speech was probably large enough to take a straw, but who drank wine with a straw?
She was getting punchy and her thoughts running away with her. She’d better get away before someone decided to try this door, which led upstairs into the castle. At least she’d been reassured that Darias—probably—wasn’t about to be murdered, despite all appearances to the contrary.
She crept back upstairs as fast as she could and closed the bedroom door behind her.
When she heard footsteps on the stairs her heart quickened in anticipation of seeing Darias—then quickened further at the awful thought that it might be someone else.
She sat up in bed, pulling the covers around her as the lock clicked open. Relief rushed over her in a hot wave at the sight of Darias—larger than life and ten times as handsome—standing in the doorway.
“Thank goodness that’s over!” She jumped out of bed, rushed toward him and threw her arms around him. “I was scared.”
Darias kissed her and rubbed her warmly with his arms. “Nothing to be scared about. But interesting. Apparently, it wasn’t they who gave me the gold cross…”
“I know. I was listening at the door.” Her confession rushed out. She couldn’t bear to lie to him.
“Why?”
“To make sure you were safe. I had my doubts when they all pulled swords and daggers on you.”
A hollow laugh shook his chest. “That was an expression of mutual trust. These people are leaders and oligarchs from around our region—not just Altaleone. They see Altaleone as the keystone of peace and prosperity in our region—and are determined to protect the country and its monarchy at all costs. They want me to release the boy that threw the firework, then follow him to his source.”
Her gut clenched at the idea of letting someone with evil intentions go free. “I suspect that’s what he wants, too. He told you to join the Cross of Blood, and you did. Doesn’t it seem a bit fishy?”
“No doubt. But I can’t just sit around waiting for the killer to fall into my lap. I need to take action.” He hugged her tight. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
“I’m more worried about you being safe.” She held him close, feeling the powerful beat of his brave heart.
“Don’t worry about me.” He kissed her again, extending it until heat flushed her core. “I can take care of myself.” He stroked her cheek. “But for now, I want to take care of you.” He slid his fingers lower, cupping her behind and nodding toward the bed.
And he did. He made love to her with slow precision—delicate work with fingers, lips and tongue—making her wait until she was practically panting and begging him to enter her. Then he slid inside her and moved just slowly enough to drive her almost to the brink of madness. Somehow he managed to find pleasure centers that she never knew existed.
When they finally came—always together—the explosive relief was so intense she could hardly breathe.
I love you, Darias. Once again, she managed not to say it. She knew instinctively that the confession would be too much and would drive him away. Their whole relationship rested on her knowing her place—really, she was a high-paid royal mistress, in a long tradition of kept women—and not stepping outside the bounds.
Even if it almost killed her.
When Darias went to the bathroom to clean up, she noticed that her phone was flashing. She must have missed a call while she was downstairs, then been too distracted and nervous to notice it when she came up. She pressed the button and listened to a message. Her heart swelled at the sound of her brother’s voice.
“Hey, sis, I miss you.” Her breath caught at the sound of his warm admission. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d said something nice to her. “My treatment’s going well, but I’m getting kind of restless in here. They seem to want me to stay almost forever, but you know me, I’m kind of a rolling stone.”
Yeah, that’s the problem. Her gut clenched at the thought of him checking himself out.
“Anyway, call me when you get the chance.”
“Is that your brother?” Darias asked, as he emerged from the bathroom, skin sparkling with fresh droplets from the shower.
“Yes, he wants to check himself out. Which is a terrible idea. He hasn’t been sober long enough to have formed new habits.”
“Let’s bring him here. Then we can keep a close eye on him and make sure he doesn’t drink or use drugs.” Darias toweled himself, displaying a distracting amount of rippling bicep and pectoral.
“I really don’t think so.” Everything in her recoiled at the prospect. “He’s…unpredictable.”
“He’s family.” Darias didn’t look worried. “We’ll manage.”
“But he’s not…” Not really family. I’m not really family. I’m just here for a year and then— “I’ll call him tomorrow and see if I can find out what’s going on.”
“All right, beautiful.” He hung his towel and climbed into bed. When he wrapped his arms around her, she forgot about her brother and the contract and everything else as she drifted to sleep in his arms.
“What is the meaning of this?” Liesel stood up and waved a newspaper at Emma and Darias as they arrived at the palace—their former home—for lunch.
“Liesel,” half-whispered Darias’s mom. “Don’t.”
“The meaning of what?” Darias strode forward, sounding as if he didn’t care much either way.
“You let him go! The man who tried to kill you.”
“I have my reasons.” He pulled back a chair for Emma, and she sat in it.
“He’s an enemy of the
crown.” Liesel looked scandalized.
“True, but it’s my crown so I must decide how to handle its enemies.” Darias kissed his mom on the cheek before sitting between her and Emma. “And it suits my purposes to let him go.”
“Well, don’t blame me if you’re found dead tomorrow.” Liesel was clearly fuming. Emma wondered why she cared so much. Maybe she just enjoyed having something to fuss and scold over.
“Emma and I have finally settled in enough to entertain at the old castle, so we’d like to invite you all over for little party on Saturday.”
His mom’s face burst into a smile. “That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it. Are we all invited?” She cast a doubtful glance at her sister.
“Of course. And I’ve invited all of us.”
“Your brothers and sisters?”
“Yes, though I don’t know how many will be able to get away when they were here so recently.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad you’re making an effort to get the family together regularly. I’d begun to feel you were all going to just drift away from me.”
A waiter passed around three different salads and some sliced chicken or duck.
“I apologize for spending so much time in New York over the last few years. I was so caught up in my art career and my life there that I almost forgot how my behavior must have looked from this side of the Atlantic.”
His mom waved her hand dismissively. “You know I was proud of you every moment, Darias. And so was your father.”
Emma’s phone rang, and she glanced at it. “Oh, it’s my brother. I’d better take it.” She excused herself and hurried out into the hallway. “Jonas, are you okay?”
“Never better, sis. I’m ready to be sprung.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. You’ve only been there a few weeks. And you had a relapse, remember?” She thought about what Darias had suggested. And rejected the idea out of hand. Jonas was far too unpredictable to be let loose in a royal household. She couldn’t even imagine what he’d reply to Liesel if she made one of her habitual sharp comments to him. “Let me see if I can come visit and talk to the doctors. We’ll see what they recommend.” She wasn’t sure if that was even a possibility, but at least it would hold him there while she figured out what to do.
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