Deadly Lovers (The Prussia Series)

by Karisha Prescott

  "As he was my husband," said Lydia very flatly, "I think I know better than most what he would have done with a list like that,"

  I waited a moment for her to finish but she didn't. Leave it to Lydia to soak up the attention and ramp up the theatrics. But I did want to know. I wanted to know what the person that had previously held this position would have done, would have thought would be fair. I rolled my eyes and played along. I took the list out of my pocket, my hand still coated in a dead Lord's blood, now reduced to ashes, and held it over my head. What little blood had been still wet on my hands began to streak down my arm toward my elbow.

  "Tell me then, Lady Lydia," I tried to command an official voice but it sounded more hollow than I had intended, probably a result of such a large room with an echo that played off of the walls, "What would your late husband do with a list like this, a list that is said to contain the name of every traitor and threat to the Queen that hides within our royal court?"

  Lydia stepped up a few steps so that more of the court could see her and she turned to them all, looking not at me but at them. And as the fear lay over the court like a curtain of mourning and pain, I could tell by the slope of Lydia's thin shoulders that they weighed heavy with her own memories of the late Chancellor.

  "That's easy," Lydia said loudly to the crowd, "He would have tortured them out of pleasure with no rhyme or reason to it and then execute them, without question."

  I watched as heads nodded and a quiet and careful murmur, still cloaked in fear, rippled around the room and echoed back to me. It crushed me to see the amount of fear in them all, these monsters I had hated and feared myself for so long. What kind of monster could have instilled such fear in them?

  "If he got more names out of them," said Lydia, with a disgusted smile on her face, "He would have been thrilled, whether they were guilty or not,"

  I could see the coldness in her eyes, the hate that burned there for her late husband, and in that look I could see that he had probably deserved to die. Lydia had a hate in her eyes that didn't come from simply seeing the injustices of a court official. I could relate to only a small degree and it made me wonder what had put that fire in her eyes. It made me wonder what had really happened.

  I pulled my hand out of the air and unfolded the list. I had known the name as soon as I had read it and I hadn't doubted the possibility of its truth in the least. Looking down at the scrawling list of names I found Lydia's name at the top. I looked back at Lydia, now climbing slowly down the steps with her head down back to her spot just at the base of the steps. When she turned back she had her head high. I couldn't ignore the list. But I couldn't follow in the footsteps of a corrupt Chancellor, either. I looked back at the list and knew that it would be very difficult to tell who had or who hadn't been working against the Queen. It would be almost impossible. But there had to be a way.

  "I offer immunity," I said.

  I looked back up to the faces shrouded in fear and saw the flicker of shock.

  "You can't be serious," said Lydia from the bottom of the steps, her gaze unbelieving, "Treason is death, everyone knows that,"

  "I give my word," I said, "Any person on this list that comes forward with information on treason against the Queen, names of others are welcome but not needed, will be offered immunity and pardon,"

  "Do you really think that wise?" asked Queen Victoria from behind me, her voice full of disapproval.

  The room lost a bit of air all at once as the people watching waited to see how the Queen felt about my promise.

  I turned around to face the Queen and kept my back straight, my face as emotionless as possible, and tried to match her graceful demeanor.

  "I've heard whispers and seen documents that point to an extreme corruption of the man that previously held the office of Chancellor," I said, loud enough so that the court could hear as well, "And I wouldn't be surprised if the voices raising up to remove you from the throne were really a means to an end. To the end of the Chancellor that enacted his own brand of justice for too long without question or challenge,"

  I watched as Queen Victoria's eyes went from a gracefully pleasant neutral to offended.

  "I personally selected the Chancellor as I found him to be the most honest and trustworthy politician I have known my entire life. He-" but the Queen didn't finish.

  "Any one that precedes the word politician with the word trustworthy is out of touch with reality," I said, cutting the Queen off.

  I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I might have pushed just a little too far. I kept my back straight and found that even if I had wanted to, I couldn't move. I found myself holding my breath. I didn't want to turn my back on Victoria and find that my life really could be ended while I looked elsewhere. I waited for her to lash out at me, to have me taken off to a dark room and tortured until she was satisfied, much like the Duke. But after a moment I saw her face relax. In my stomach, I didn't feel like that meant I should relax too. It felt like the calm before the storm.

  "I respectfully disagree," said Queen Victoria, "But I placed the justice of this court in your hand and I hope that leniency does not become the legacy of your time in this court,"

  I wanted the Queen to leave and half expected her to. It seemed her favorite way to leave a room, with a grand statement that held finality to it. But instead, Queen Victoria came to stand behind me as I stood in front of the podium. I turned to face the court and still the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I didn't feel more at ease. I felt as though I had triggered a watchful eye, one that had decided to stand right next to me and remind me of her own vision for her court if I needed to be reminded. I tried to recompose myself. Small whisperers continued to be exchanged between the lords and ladies in the room and I used the only thing I really had to use, the list of people that were offered up as other spies in the court.

  "I offer immunity," I repeated, trying to keep my voice strong and not hollow with the Queen behind me now, "But you must come forward in the next 6 hours and confess any wrong doing. Anyone on this list that does not come forward will be investigated fully and thoroughly, though fairly,"

  The room stayed silent. I could see some talking among the small groups created within the crowd but they talked so quietly that I couldn't hear them. Doubts crept in about how wise this really was. We were on the verge of war. There would be no telling when that war would take place and every traitor we had in the court presented us with an internal threat we couldn't afford, not now.

  "Define fair," called a man from the back.

  I heard a few agreeing shouts and saw a lot of heads nodding, waiting on an answer. I licked my lips and tried my best to answer and define what I saw to be fair.

  "Fair means a trial. Fair means a fair trial with a defense," I said, small cheers going up around the room, "But that also means a guilty verdict results in the maximum sentence for an offense for any on this list,"

  I heard a rustle behind me and I turned to see a smile on the face of Queen Victoria. I turned back to the court and saw heads nodding and the murmurs became loud.

  "The maximum sentence is the true death," shouted someone.

  I nodded my head and decided to take a play from the Queen's own playbook.

  "True death to any that fail to choose immunity and are then found to have been plotting against the Queen," I said, "Those of you on that list have 6 hours. I will be in my office,"

  I walked away from the podium and made a beeline for my office. I welcomed the sanctuary away from prying eyes and craning necks with super hearing. I closed the door and rested my back against it. The door was solid and my only defense against the persistent problems that surrounded this court that might some day be mine. I had mixed feelings when I gave my mind time enough to think about that concept, becoming a Queen. I couldn’t imagine it. I couldn’t imagine past today, past each day.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the steady beating of my heart. I really had no idea what it took to be a judge. I
had no idea how to rule over anyone. I barely had the capacity to rule over myself and had even died only to wake just as terrified and weak. Whatever I had become didn’t mean anything. I didn’t have claws or talons, fangs or speed, strength or agility. I patted myself on the back when I maneuvered a room without breaking some priceless vase or other useless decoration in this polished and excessive castle.

  And as my heart returned to a steady pace and my mind tried to settle. I felt a repetitious thud through the door right through my body. I opened my eyes and looked at the velvet curtains that hung, blocking the light from the windows across from me at the other side of the room. My dimly lit office had been a chamber of slaughter in years past and I could still make out the passing smell of ash. Something told me that smell had lingered in this office for years. Something told me, judging by the number of visitors my door had seen since becoming Chancellor, that this room might as well have the mark of death on the door. Which only piqued my curiosity as to who might pound on it so quickly after hardly any visitors at all.

  I placed my hand on the door knob and opened it as I turned around to see who had decided to request an audience. As the door swung wide, I had barely a moment to process as her long hair streaked past me and right into my office. She faced my desk and didn’t look at me. She didn’t take a seat at either of the two chairs provided but instead stood and tapped her foot more out of nervousness than out of impatience.

  “Are you waiting for someone else to waltz on in or are you going to close that door?” asked Lydia, giving me a very aggressive and annoyed look.

  I could tell she wasn't annoyed with me or even angry with me. Sure that’s how she looked but more than her anger or her tapping foot, I could see the fidgeting of her hands as she tapped her fingers against her sleeveless arm. I watched her gaze shift continuously to different areas of the large bookcase that took up the entire wall behind my desk. She didn’t care about any of the books. Her mind had her reeling. And I hadn’t actually expected her to show up. Not for the list I had in my pocket with some of the late Duke’s blood on it, not ever, for anything.

  “How can I help you?” I asked Lydia.

  I closed the door slowly as I tried to figure out the best way to keep my cool, to bite my tongue, to be fair even to this person in front of me that I disliked so much. I didn’t want to lead with the list. I didn’t want to push her. I didn’t want to make assumptions, especially given her currently distressed state and our history together.

  “Look,” said Lydia, looking at me finally and pointing a polished fingernail at me that followed me as I walked behind my desk and paused before taking a seat, “I didn’t just know the Chancellor, I was married to him. I know that you’re the Queen’s favorite little Princess but don’t get yourself killed playing politics. Promising vampires immunity and then serving them up to the Queen to be tortured for years without end is cruel. You could quickly end up like the last Chancellor,”

  Lydia huffed as she worked through her passionate speech. Her shoulders came up and down, her finger jabbed in the air with every emphasized word and her lips curled around her finishing threat. My eyebrows pulled up at the abruptness of it all.

  “Are you finished?” I asked.

  I sat down in the chair and made a motion for Lydia to also sit but she waved a dismissive hand at me and continued standing. Her attitude began to get on my nerves. I tried to tell myself that Lydia still had a human element that she clung to, that human element seemed to be the ability to be disrespectful with ease. I let it go. I had more important things to worry about. I had to think about my future. I had plans to make. I had no time for games.

  “The immunity stands,” I said firmly, “and that had nothing to do with Queen Victoria who had no idea about my intentions with the list and hasn’t even seen it. Queen Victoria was not present for the interrogation of the Duke,”

  Even as I said the words I could tell that Lydia didn’t believe me. Her skepticism remained all over her face, not hidden in the least with a slight tinge of disgust that I would lie so beautifully to her face.

  “You can’t really expect the court to believe that,” said Lydia, “You’re not going to have one person walk in here and confess to treason on the flimsy promise of a...whatever you are, that slept her way to the top,”

  I knew it would be coming, the words that were always a favorite of women more than men it seemed. And Lydia knew the words well because I’m certain they had been used against her for many, many years.

  “It’s said that you slept your way to the top, too,” I countered, trying to still keep my cool.

  “That’s because I did,” Lydia spit the words out at me in disgust.

  But that disgust wasn’t aimed at me. She said the words as if they were made of poison but they were her own poison, her own doing to herself.

  “You walked in here,” I said more quietly.

  “That’s because I…” said Lydia, her eyes dropped to the floor, anger dissipated and that heavy shroud of fear wrapped tightly around her. She fidgeted less, moved around less, made eye contact less, and that’s when I realized in that moment that she resembled me, a rabbit. For a brief moment I saw what I must have looked like every time I stood terrified, waiting for the blow to come, for the pain to follow, for death to release me from it all, and always failing.

  “The Duke named you almost immediately,” I said finally, realizing that Lydia had in fact finished with her ranting and insults, “and I can’t say I wasn’t pleased. Is that a confirmation, then, of activity that would be considered treasonous to the Queen?”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at me and placed a hand on my desk, leaning forward and breaking that unspoken barrier that the desk created. I was on my side of my desk and Lydia on her side of my desk. But now she had leaned into that sweet Switzerland that hovered over my desk, that neutral space that two angry parties, two terrified parties, should never reach into unless they’re ready to break that respectful tradition of staying on their side of the desk. When Switzerland is invaded there is no telling what might follow. I stood up slowly, also placing my hands on my desk but not leaning as far across the wooden desktop as Lydia had ventured. We shared that moment with our eyes locked and the sound of our breathing fluctuating, trying to remain in control but threatening to break into chaos at any moment.

  “Yes,” said Lydia, finally.

  She broke my gaze but didn’t remove both of her hands from the neutral area of my desktop. Instead, she turned her back partially to me and leaned a hip against it, almost sitting but mostly perching precariously against it.

  “That’s all I needed to hear to make my day,” said a woman’s voice.

  I looked at Lydia but didn’t even need to ask. Lydia hadn’t said it. I looked to the door which had been closed this entire time and still remained closed. It hadn’t come from there either. It had sounded as though it had come from the windows that still had heavy drapes blocking them but I knew those windows had been permanently shut from the inside and reinforced from the outside.

  Lydia sprang up from where she leaned against my desk and crouched, hands in front of her and fingers spread out as though she were part cat and preparing for a fight. I followed Lydia’s gaze to the far corner of the room. Out from the darkest corner of the entire room, from behind a heavy drape that had concealed her completely, stepped a woman dressed in form fitting black.

  “Who are you?” I asked, the woman’s ninja-like face covering obscuring all but her eyes.

  Instead of an answer the woman gave me a smile. It didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I didn’t move from my power stance behind my desk, leaning forward with both of my hands on the desktop. I wanted to move. I just couldn’t. I had become the rabbit once more. And my heart beat in frenzy as I realized this woman, whoever she turned out to be, wasn’t here to admit to any treason charges or opt for a chance at immunity. The woman whipped her mask off with one fluid motion of her hand, which also held a knife.


  As a flurry of hair escaped the tight fitting face covering and began to settle around her shoulders, I knew exactly who had stepped out from the curtains.

  “Josephine,” whispered Lydia.

  I looked at Lydia with wide eyes but Lydia didn’t look at me. Lydia only had eyes for Josephine who now walked with slow and calculated steps toward us both.

  “I told the Queen you were not to be trusted,” said Josephine, her smile contorted into a snarl as she focused her attention on Lydia, “But this is just perfect. Lydia runs to seek forgiveness just as I’ve come to line the fireplace with the ash of the Old Queen. It must be my birthday,”

  Josephine now looked at me. I wasn’t supposed to be here. As far as Josephine had known, I had died.

  “Who says you’ll make it out of here alive?” asked Lydia, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  I watched as Josephine stopped, only a dozen feet from Lydia, and her head fell back and she laughed in a way that could only sway a person to run or have her committed into a mental health institution. I lost my power stance in that moment. I immediately took a step to the side of my desk, away from Josephine and towards the door. But I hadn’t escaped Josephine’s observation. Her eyes snapped to me immediately and her laugh died as though she had never laughed at all. I slowly dropped behind the desk as her eyes burned with hatred into me.