by K. E. Drake
Cassius growled at his stupidity, the noise filling the empty library.
He would have to think of some way to keep her quiet. Or... he could get rid of her before the wedding.
No, that wouldn’t work. If he did, Monet may become stricken with grief and would likely postpone the wedding, or worse, she may decide not to marry him at all.
He couldn’t let that happen, not after all he had gone through to get where he was now.
He pondered a few moments, then suddenly a thought came to him and a slow grin curled his lips. I know just how to take care of Monet.
That just leaves the princess. Cassius turned and started to pace the width of the library as he thought of how to quickly and discreetly kill the princess. He would have to make it look like an accident, so nobody would suspect that he had anything to do with her death.
The emerald around his throat hummed and shone an eerie green with an anxious need to be free.
Cassius stopped his pacing to turn and face one of the ceiling high bookshelves. He raised his hand as if holding a goblet of water. A small stream of green smoke poured out from the jewel, crept over his right shoulder, and down his arm to twine around his open fingers.
A worn leather book slid off of the shelf and fell towards the floor only to be picked up by an invisible force and carried over to the open palm of the king. He closed his fingers around the thick book and sighed at the small sense of satisfaction he felt when he released his magic.
The emerald had stopped glowing, but he could still sense the thrum of the power within it that only he could feel. He reveled in that power as he flicked the pages of the book underneath his fingers.
He had hardly been able to release his magic since he had come to Omrie, to be sure no one would witness the magic he possessed, the power he held. Cassius couldn’t take that chance. But when he was sure that he was alone, he would release some of the pent-up power. It calmed the pendant down, if only for a short time.
Cassius held his left hand open with the old book in it. He released more magic, and the book began to float up off of his hand to its previous resting place on the bookshelf. He watched as it glided through the air and slid back into the empty space on the bookshelf.
He then turned on his heel and went back to his place at the window.
The prince of Avon was still talking to the queen of Omrie. A few moments and Prince Samuel took the queen’s hand and kissed it. He then moved past her and laid a kiss on the princess’ hand. He said something to her and then went back to his waiting carriage and climbed in. The driver urged the horses forward and the prince was gone, heading back to Avon where he belonged.
Cassius watched the ladies turn to come back into the castle. As they walked up the stairs, Melody looked up at the palace and saw him standing at the second story library window, watching them. He narrowed his eyes and turned up the corners of his mouth into a grin as the princess quickly tore her eyes away, pretending not to have noticed him.
Yes, Cassius decided. He would have to get rid of the princess, quickly and quietly. But how?
The queen on the other hand… She reminded him of his late wife, Claire. Queen Monet had the same golden hair, petite figure, and young at heart nature.
He was almost sorry he had to kill her.
Chapter Eight
A New Plan
It was three days before the royal wedding of Queen Monet and King Cassius that Lyall Monroe paced in the study of his estate in the woods, deep in thought.
“We have to keep that ceremony from taking place.” He muttered as he paced past the front of his mahogany desk that stood in front of the broad window that opened to a view of the forest.
“I will not let it happen!” Lyall promised out loud. He came to an abrupt halt and turned to face the man sitting in one of the four blue, overstuffed armchairs in the center of the study.
“I know you won’t.” James Prescott, ever the patient listener, agreed. “The question is, how?” he mused and took a sip of tea before setting the cup back on the saucer.
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself since I heard the news of the wedding,” Lyall admitted to the older man. He pushed a hand through his brown curls and then continued his pacing.
James watched Lyall walk from one side of the room to the other. Finally, he gave a sigh and set his tea down on the table with a slight clatter. “Sit down, Lyall. You’re going to wear out your legs and my neck.”
Lyall stopped walking again and looked to the man who had been like a father to him these last two years. He nodded once, still troubled as he sat down in the chair across from James.
James poured a second cup of tea and set it in front of Lyall on the table between them.
“Thank you.” He accepted the cup and took a sip of the steaming tea. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, setting the cup of tea back down. “The queen cannot be allowed to marry that corrupt sorcerer. There’s no telling what kind of plans he has in mind for her. The queen and the kingdom must be protected from the same suffering Cassius has put Glendower through under his reign.” Lyall leaned back in his chair and let out a deep sigh. “The only way I can see that happening is for the king to die.”
James studied Lyall as he contemplated the young man’s words. “Is killing the king the only solution to this mess?”
“You can’t kill something that’s already dead.” Lyall stated darkly. “We would only be putting a stop to the pain he’s inflicted and the trouble he’s sure to cause if we do nothing about him.” He took a moment to consider the situation. “His emerald is his life source. All the power he possesses is the power of that pendant. We just have to get that jewel and Cassius will be stopped.”
“It will be dangerous. How do you plan to do that?” James pondered.
Lyall blew out a breath. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“It will come to you,” James assured. “Just remember, Lyall, trust your heart and trust your instincts.”
Lyall gave a nod and got back to his feet. “I’m going to go on a walk.”
“Going to meet a lady?” James teased.
He considered for a moment. “As a matter of fact, yes, I am.” Lyall answered. He went to the door and left his study on his way to go to the castle and pay another visit to his princess.
It had been eleven days since Prince Samuel had left Omrie. It was only three days until the royal wedding was to take place, and Melody still had not been able to tell Monet about the king.
After Samuel left, Monet had been busy with preparations for the wedding, everything from the dishes that were to be served to details of the queen’s wedding gown. In the excitement over the wedding, Monet had neglected her queenly duties, so today she had spent all morning in the throne room doing everything from granting boons to the villagers of Omrie to inviting more guests to the wedding.
It was now mid afternoon, and Melody stood in the castle kitchens, the sleeves of her maid’s gown rolled up to her elbows and an apron tied around her waist. She had worked around the castle all morning, and she was just about to finish her daily tasks. The kitchen was empty at the time. It was after the midday meal, so the chef was on break and the other maids were off cleaning various rooms in the palace.
Melody scrubbed the last dirty pot in the wash tub, but she hardly paid attention to her work as her mind wandered to thoughts of Devon.
He and Melody had talked every evening in the gardens after sunset for the past eleven evenings. Melody had told him about how she had come to live and work at the castle, about her mother’s death, and how she had become princess.
She asked Devon about his enchantment a time or two, but he was unable to say anything about it. They talked late into the evening each night and enjoyed each other’s company until Melody had to go back to the castle. And each night Devon walked with her to the door where Melody bid him goodnight and slipped back inside.
Placing the pot that she had just finished washing into
the rinsing tub, Melody smiled at the thought of Devon and how her heart would give an odd flutter when she saw the silver wolf every night.
Melody finished rinsing the pot and then dried it off and stored it on a shelf with the rest of the newly washed dishes.
She turned around then and the smile fell from her face when she noticed a stack of unwashed plates she had failed to notice before.
Her stomach gave a growl and she breathed a weary sigh but went to the stack of dishes. She had only eaten an apple for lunch because she had decided to skip the noon meal so she could finish her chores while avoiding the king. Melody picked a plate from the top of the stack, went back to the wash tub, and started to scrub the plate when Lyall walked in through the servant’s entrance.
“Good day, princess. Hard at work, I see.”
Melody startled and the plate slipped from her fingers. It fell to the floor and broke with a crash.
She turned to see who made her drop the dish and saw Lyall standing there. He came further into the kitchen and knelt to pick up the larger pieces of the broken plate. He smiled up at her with an apologetic look on his features.
“Good day to you too, sir,” Melody dryly replied. Shaking her head, she went to retrieve the straw broom that stood in the corner and then went back to Lyall again.
“Forgive me, Melody. I’ll have this cleaned up in no time.” Lyall stood with most of the plate gathered in his hands.
Without a word, Melody propped the broom up against a counter and held up her apron. Lyall placed the glass in the cloth and then picked up the broom to start sweeping the rest of the mess.
A small smile turned up Melody’s lips, but she turned away before he could see it and she went outside through the kitchen door to dispose of the glass. She shook the glass from the apron into a bucket and then turned back to the doorway to see Lyall sweeping the rest of the glass out the kitchen and onto the dirt. He scanned the floor to make sure he got all the glass out, and Melody came to stand a few steps from the door.
“Do you do that often?” she asked the young lord.
He looked up from his sweeping and a sparkle glinted in his eyes. “Do what? Break plates?”
“No,” Melody laughed softly. “Sweep floors.”
“I do. When I was young, the cook at my estate, Gabrielle, taught me how to clean and do chores. I still help her now and then.”
“I see,” Melody fell quiet and considered Lyall as he finished the sweeping. She peered up at the afternoon sky and gave a sigh. “I have to finish my chores,” Melody stated and stepped past Lyall back into the kitchen, dusting off her apron and pushing her sleeves further up her arms. She grabbed a plate and dunked it into the soapy water as Lyall came into the kitchen after her and stood at her side. He rolled up the sleeves of his deep-blue shirt, grabbed a plate from the stack, and started to wash it.
Melody watched him a moment. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he assured her with a smile and turned his focus back to the plat he cleaned. A lock of rich, chocolate hair fell to his forehead above his left eye.
Melody watched him as he rinsed the dish and then put it aside. Her gaze fell to his lips and her heart skipped a beat. Her mind went back to when he kissed her. She wanted him to do it again.
She blushed at the thought and quickly looked away from the handsome man beside her, scrubbing the plate she washed even harder, trying to clear her head of the nonsense running through it.
Lyall picked up another plate and began washing it. He had noticed that Melody was staring at him and wondered what she was thinking about when she hurriedly tore her gaze away, her cheeks a fetching shade of pink.
When they finished washing the plates, Melody didn’t even look at Lyall as she dried her hands on her apron and then reached behind her back to undo the bow securing it. She pulled the apron off and set it on the cabinet. She then picked up an empty water bucket and walked out the kitchen door without a word.
When Melody made it outside, she took a deep breath of fresh air but blew it out on a huff when she heard footsteps a moment before Lyall appeared at her side.
“Running away again? Where to this time?” he smirked.
“I have to fetch water from the well.” She held up the bucket to show it to him, not slowing her trek towards the trees where the well was located.
“I’ll come with you,” Lyall offered.
Melody rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. She watched other maids working around the palace yards, smacking rugs and airing out linens. Something moved in the woods at the corner of her vision, but she dismissed it. Wild animals wouldn’t venture this far to the edge of the woods, especially in the middle of the day. And even if something did show up, Lyall would be with her.
They came to the edge of the woods and she walked in without a second thought, Lyall trailing right behind her.
“The well isn’t much further from here,” Melody told Lyall over her shoulder. She clutched her skirt with her free hand to step over a small log.
The well came into view past the trees. Melody and Lyall had come within a few steps of it when a snap sounded followed by a sharp whistle.
Melody cried out in pain when something sliced her left arm and gasped as an arrow embedded itself into the ground directly in front of her. The empty bucket fell lost to the forest floor and her hand flew to her arm. Warm liquid pooled from the wound and she pulled her hand away to see her fingers were red and sticky with her blood.
Lyall was at her side in a heartbeat. He placed his fingers gently above the gash before he snatched his hand away and scanned the area. He reached down into his boot and pulled out a small, sharp dagger. There was another whistle as a second arrow whizzed between the pair, narrowly missing striking Melody.
“Get down!” Lyall urgently whispered to her, placing his free hand on her back and pushing her towards the well.
Gripping her bleeding arm once again, Melody hurried to the well and ducked down behind the bricks.
Lyall scanned the forest and saw a figure move from behind one tree to another before another arrow was fired directly at Lyall. He lunged in the other direction, narrowly escaping the shot, and rolled on the ground, coming to a stop in a crouched position. He tightened his grip on the dagger and studied the line of trees.
A moment passed and the archer came out of hiding. His face was obscured by a mask and he had another arrow nocked on his bow and ready to fire. Lyall aimed his dagger at the archer’s steady hand and threw it.
The knife whizzed past the archer’s arm and sliced his wrist. He threw his bow on the ground and drew the sword that was strapped at his side.
Lyall reached for a large rock that lay near his feet and lunged at the archer, swinging the rock at his head and hitting the archer’s temple.
The man dropped his sword, and he and Lyall fell to the forest floor. Lyall threw the rock away to hold the archer down to the ground. The archer threw his fist at Lyall, but Lyall ducked his head just in time to miss the blow and then raised his arm and slammed his fist down into the archer’s jaw.
The archer’s head snapped to the side at the impact of the blow. Blood splattered from his nose and his eyes fell shut as he fell into unconsciousness.
Lyall exhaled a breath and put a hand to the archer’s throat, checking for his pulse.
Nodding in satisfaction, he got to his feet and hauled the archer’s limp form closer to the well, then set about unlatching the man’s belt from his waist. He looped the belt around a post by the well and then bound the man’s hands with the ends of the leather.
Lyall checked to make sure the bond was secure and then he stood and looked to Melody.
She still sat at the well and stared at Lyall with wide eyes, holding her arm as blood seeped between her trembling fingers.
He rushed to the princess and knelt down in front of her. “Are you all right?” He looked her over for further injury. “Were you hurt anywhere else?”
�
�No, I’m all right,” she assured him, though her voice shook. “Were you hurt?” Her eyes searched him, sweeping over his arms and chest.
“I’m fine, Melody.” He gravely promised her. His attention fell back to her injury and he gently removed Melody’s hand from her arm to look at it more closely. He brushed a finger under the cut and examined it through her torn sleeve. “It isn’t too deep, but it needs to be taken care of. You’ve lost too much blood already.”
Melody nodded, although she really didn’t hear him. Her arm tingled where Lyall touched her and she glanced past him to her attacker. “Who was that man?”
Lyall looked up from her injury, his eyes searching her face. “That was an assassin. A trained killer,” he explained with a look over his shoulder to make sure that the man was still unconscious. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his brow. “We need to bandage the wound before you lose any more blood.”
“We can go back to the palace. All the supplies we would need will be there.”
“No Melody, you can’t go back there. Not yet. Your life is in danger now. That killer was after you.” Lyall took a deep breath, hesitating before he told her the rest. “That man bears the symbol of Glendower. He was sent by King Cassius.”
Melody frowned at him, but Lyall saw the fear that flickered in her eyes. “If that man was sent by the king, that means my mother’s life could be in danger as well. We have to go back and warn her!”
Lyall shook his head. “Her life won’t be at risk until after the wedding. Until then, your mother will be safe.”
Melody opened her mouth to protest, but Lyall cut her short. “Right now, my first priority is to protect you.” He turned his back on her before she had a chance to argue.
He searched the ground for his lost dagger and found it lying a few feet away in a patch of grass beside a tree. He went to retrieve it and then went back to Melody. Her fair skin had turned pale, but she said nothing more.
