Winter's Scorching Kisses

by Lily Thomas

  She grasped the goblet firmly in a hand and raised the edge of the cup to her lips. The spicy liquid hit her tongue, but there was something else. She swallowed. “Is this wine?”

  “Drink the rest.” Edmund urged pushing his hand to the bottom of the goblet, tipping the cup towards her.

  She raised the glass to her lips again, and then before she even knew what was happening a shadow stepped out from the darkness of the room, stepping up behind Lord Gothar.

  “Behind...”

  But it was too late, the shadow surged forward, and Lord Gothar grunted in pain. A grunt that set the hairs on her head on end. She’d never heard anything quite like it, and she never wanted to hear it again.

  Then all of a sudden, Edmund started choking. Blood sprayed out from his mouth as he clutched at the tip of a sword that had pierced his stomach. Adorra let out a high pitched scream of terror as she stared in wide-eyed shock at her husband. She was too frozen to do anything but scream.

  Her mind had trouble processing what was going on in front of her. It was too unbelievable! It had to be a nightmare. That was it! She must have fallen asleep before Edmund had shown up. She was asleep.

  Hot blood splattered against her face, and her screaming renewed. An ear-shattering scream of pure terror as she stared in horror at her gurgling husband.

  Adorra turned her eyes away from Edmund and to the shadow who was towering over them. Was she going to be killed next?

  Her eyes skimmed over the tall frame of the shadow. Whoever this was, he was impressive and most definitely a warrior. She was frozen, even with Edmund gurgling right beside her. None of her limbs would move, not that she figured it would do her any good. If this shadow wanted her dead, she had no chance.

  The shadow quickly slipped away and out an open window that she hadn’t noticed was open. The intruder must have been in her room the whole time!

  As Lord Gothar fell over on the bed, she quickly raised herself to a sitting position. The goblet finally slipped from her hand tumbling to the stone floor in a clatter of metal. She put her hands over Edmund’s gaping wound trying to keep the blood from pouring out of him, but it flowed out of him in a steady hot sticky stream.

  “Help! Please, come quickly!” Adorra screamed from the top of her lungs. She didn't care who came. She just needed someone to come, because she had no idea what to do. She had no idea if anyone could do anything about such a mortal wound.

  Edmund continued to gurgle as his life slowly ebbed away. His eyes were wide in the dark, surprised his life was coming to an end. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do. She knew that, but she refused to believe it at the same time.

  “I’ll be right back!” Adorra screamed at him as she bundled the covers of the bed up and pressed them against the wound, placing his hands against the blankets to hold them in place.

  She couldn’t lose her husband. She couldn’t! Tears ran down her face as she tripped over her feet to reach the door, and once there she ripped open her chamber door.

  “Help! Someone! Please!” Adorra tripped over her feet as her nightgown got caught around her legs. She threw out her bloody hands and caught herself as she fell to her hands and knees. The stone floor scraped at her knees, but she ignored the pain.

  Glancing at her hands, she paused briefly as the lit sconces in the hallway reflect off the crimson blood on her hands. She gaped at her crimson covered fingers.

  Pushing herself back onto her feet, she continued to sprint through the hall. Her feet smacked hollowly against the cold stone floors.

  “Help!” Adorra sobbed out the cry, her mind still unable to process what was going on. It was like her life wouldn’t go right, like she was unable to have anything happy and perfect. Her delirious mind tried in vain to hang onto the idea that this would all just be a horrible dream, even though her heart knew differently.

  “My lady!” A soldier rushed up to her side his eyes wide as he took in the sight she must present. “Is this blood on you?” He clasped a hand around her wrist and brought it up to his face so he could get a better look.

  “It’s not mine!” She sobbed as she collapsed to the ground in a sobbing heap, the weight on her shoulders finally pushing her down. “Edmund, he’s been killed!” She pointed towards her open door.

  “The lord?”

  “Yes!” She screamed, hysteria finally taking over.

  The soldier left her side as a few more guards tore through the hall, rushing for her chamber. Their metal armor clattered as they rushed by to see to Edmund. But there was nothing they could do. No healer could make this right, even through the trauma she knew that much.

  Adorra turned to watch as the last of the men sprinted into her chamber. Their gasps of horror echoing through the stone corridor.

  “Call a doctor!” One of the men yelled.

  A soldier raced out of her chamber and disappeared from sight, but she could hear his boots driving a rhythm against the stone steps as he rushed to do the biding of the other soldiers.

  Slowly, Adorra pushed herself to her feet and stumbled towards her room. As she neared the room, she placed an arm against the doorway as she looked in. Someone had lit several candles, the light flickering over the room, that damn room.

  Tears continued to stream down her face, rolling down her cheeks until they plummeted to the floor beneath her feet. Her throat was a bit raw from her previous screaming. Otherwise, she’d still be whimpering.

  A doctor brushed past her as he sprinted into her room. She watched in vain from the sidelines as the doctor did his best to stem the flow of blood, but it was too little too late.

  “What happened in here?” The doctor asked as he continued to try to save Edmund, but even in the flicking candlelight, Adorra could see the light had faded out of those sea-green eyes.

  One of the soldiers glanced over at her, saw her state of distress, and answered for her. “From the wound, it appears someone stabbed him from behind.”

  The doctor glanced over at her.

  “It couldn’t have been her.” The soldier reassured the doctor. “You can see her outline on the bed from when he was stabbed. Someone else had to have been in the room.”

  A demon.

  The doctor studied the outline, heaved a sigh, and then walked over to her, the candlelight flickering over him. Adorra’s eyes stared at the blood that had soaked his clothes in the brief time he’d been inside her room.

  “I’m sorry my lady.” The doctor shook his head his grey frizzy hair standing on end. “There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do. The wound was too severe.”

  Adorra nodded dumbly. She knew enough about battle wounds to realize it would have been a miracle if her husband survived, but she’d hoped. She couldn’t help but hope.

  Her most romantic day had just turned into the longest most tragic day of her life. Suddenly, she was reliving the moment she’d been told about her parents’ death. She’d only been a child, and it’d taken her a couple of weeks to realize her parents were never coming back. Even after attending their funeral, it hadn’t really sunk into her young mind.

  “Adorra?” A familiar voice said from behind her.

  Adorra spun around to see Isabel coming straight for her. “Isabel.” She choked out around her sore throat.

  “What has happened?” Isabel took her into her arms.

  “Your dress. I don’t want to ruin it.” Adorra muttered as she attempted to pull away.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Isabel’s arms tightened around her, not letting her go. “A ruined dress is the least of my concerns.”

  The doctor faced Isabel. “Lord Gothar has been killed.”

  Adorra heard Isabel suck in a harsh breath. “How?”

  “The guards suspect an intruder.”

  Isabel’s hands moved over Adorra’s back in comforting strokes as she listened to the doctor.

  “I want a bath.” Adorra managed to get out.

  “Of course you do.” Isa
bel guided her away from the room and through the manor, avoiding the merrymaking that could still be heard going on in the great hall. Soon it would all come to an abrupt end as they heard the news, but for now, they were dancing around and having a good time.

  Isabel stopped a maid that they passed. The young woman’s eyes widened as the flickering candlelight in the corridor revealed all the crimson blood covering Adorra.

  “Draw us a bath in my chambers,” Isabel ordered the young woman.

  The woman stood there like she was frozen as she continued to stare openly at Adorra.

  “Now!” Isabel barked, her brown eyes flashed in irritation, and even Adorra was a bit startled by the sudden change in her friend.

  Casting her eyes down, the maid scurried away.

  Then Isabel gently coaxed Adorra back through the halls of the manor until they arrived at Isabel’s chambers.

  “Here,” Isabel guided her over to the tub that was quickly being filled by several servants, “let’s get you out of your nightgown.”

  Adorra nodded numbly. Her mind had shut down as she attempted to piece together everything that had happened to her.

  Isabel quickly whipped off Adorra’s clothes and ushered her into the warm water in the tub. Adorra sank down into the gentle caress of the water, and Isabel began washing the blood off of her with a washcloth.

  “Thank you.” Adorra looked up at her friend who was carefully making sure all the blood was washed off her body.

  “I can’t imagine what you just went through.” Isabel shook her head. “On your wedding night.” She sounded as appalled by the idea as Adorra felt.

  “Do you think they’ll catch the man?” She swallowed, trying to wet her raw throat.

  Isabel took a second before reassuring Adorra. “The guards will do their best. Unless the man is a ghost, he’ll be found and held accountable for his actions. He can’t hide what he did forever.”

  “He was huge.” Adorra closed her eyes as she recalled the moment before Edmund had been speared through his gut. “Almost like those giants we’re told stories about when we’re children.”

  Isabel snorted as she worked on wiping the blood off Adorra’s face with gentle strokes. “Doubtful. Why would a giant want to kill Lord Gothar? It’s most likely a jealous suitor of yours or an enemy we never knew Lord Gothar had.”

  “He didn’t have enemies.” Lord Gothar had been loved by everyone. What could she say? He’d always known what to say to get people to like him… it was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him so quickly. He’d always known how to make her feel special.

  “He must have.” Isabel insisted. “No one can be friends with everyone.”

  Isabel was wrong. Adorra had seen him interact with so many different people, and he appeared to be able to win over anyone and everyone at court, except her sister. Jasmine had to be the only person Lord Gothar had been unable to win over with his charm.

  “Will I ever be happy?” She turned her eyes back to Isabel who was still wiping a wet cloth over her skin.

  Isabel sighed as she rung the cloth out in the bath water, which was slowly turning red. “Life seems to be dealing you an unfair deck of cards, but it can’t last forever. At some point, it will turn around. Perhaps life is just preparing you for something greater, something that will happen soon that you will need a tough exterior to handle.”

  That didn’t sound very appealing. Adorra didn’t want to be faced with any more challenges. All she wanted was a happy life, with the man she loved, and the possibility of children. A family to call her own.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of movement as Isabel stayed with her all night and helped to answer questions the guards needed to know. It was everything Adorra needed as she felt shell-shocked by the events of the night. She just prayed this night wouldn’t shape her for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 4

  Adorra sat in the manor library sipping her tea while her maids did some sewing around her. Her hand trembled as she set her teacup down. The cup rattled against the saucer as she tried to settle the shaking of her hand. It had been a month since she had witnessed her husband's brutal murder, but it hadn’t lessened the nightmare.

  It haunted her every day and every night. It took her hours to fall asleep at night because she still worried Lord Gothar hadn’t been the only target that night. Her whole life was now a living torture. When she dragged herself from her bed every morning, she felt like she was the living dead. Her eyes always felt like sandpaper from a restless night of tossing and turning.

  She had been covered in Lord Gothar's blood that night, and no matter how many baths she took she felt like she could never get it to come off. It was always there, lingering, haunting.

  She was still unable to believe Edmund was dead and that she would never see him again. She felt as though life was against her. It was as though she would never be happy, never allowed to have a family. It wasn’t like she was asking for much.

  Looking up from her cup of tea, Adorra glanced over at the guards who had been posted to watch over her ever since that horrible night. Her advisors had suggested she keep guards around just in case the murderer came back for her. No one had any idea if the person who had killed Lord Gothar would come back to kill her.

  She did wonder why the murderer hadn’t killed her. She’d been right there, nothing more than a sitting duck. If the killer wanted to kill her, he would have done so.

  Adorra had been in that room alone for most of the night while she’d waited for Lord Gothar. If she’d been targeted, the killer would’ve had the perfect opportunity to off her, but she was willing to put up with the guards for now. Just in case her advisors were right about the killer’s motives.

  With a sigh, Adorra leaned towards the closest window so she could look out at the bright and sunny day. People bustled around going about their daily chores around the manor. She was envious of them. None of them had been affected by her recent ill luck.

  Was she always going to have such ill fortune? Perhaps she was destined to be alone for the rest of her days.

  She sighed. That was an unpleasant thought.

  Her parents had died, her sister was missing and probably dead, and now she was a widow at a young age. It was as though life was telling her to give up already, and she was starting to take the hint.

  Adorra hadn't left the manor since Lord Gothar choked and died on his own blood in her chamber. She wasn’t ready to go back to court and face the wagging tongues of the ladies there. Rumors would be floating around. There were always rumors at court, and she needed the ladies of the court to have something else to talk about before she went back.

  She also refused to go anywhere near her old chamber ever again. For now, she remained in another room on the other side of the manor. She’d ordered a new wardrobe and everything. Nothing in that room was ever going to be touched by her again. She just couldn’t. All those objects would just bring back her nightmares.

  People had tried to convince her to leave the manor for court, but despite the horrors she’d experienced here at her home, she wasn’t ready to face the ever-watching eyes and prying ladies at court. She needed this to die down before she could face the ladies of the court. How they’d love to sink their teeth into her tender flesh and rip chunks out. And in her tender condition, she would be easy prey.

  Shifting her gaze back to the guards, she frowned.

  No one had believed the way she’d described the shadow. When she had said the shadow had been at least seven feet tall, eyebrows had been raised. She didn't know why they weren't taking what she said as the truth. She had been there after all. The shadow had been swift, yet built heavily like a man.

  They all believed she’d been exaggerating what had happened. That she had been too delirious to recall what had happened accurately. She rolled her eyes. She may have gone insane afterward, but she knew what she’d seen. It wasn’t like anyone could forget it.

  If the killer was still out
there, she was sure he wouldn't go unseen. There couldn't be too many men built like that roaming around. There was still the persistent question of why he killed Edmund and why the killer couldn’t have waited until after her wedding night.

  Although, there were some theories about that as well. The guards believed the killer had struck then because the wing of the manor was essentially empty of people to give the new couple privacy. Which meant it would allow the killer more time to slip in and out without drawing attention to himself.

  Adorra still wasn’t sure what the killer had gained from her husband’s death though. It wasn’t like this mysterious man had gained something… if anything, she’d been the one to gain something.

  She knew there were some people who thought she did it, but thankfully most didn't think she would have been able to take down a man let alone lift the type of sword that would’ve been used to deal such a wound, but that wouldn’t stop the rumors.

  Every day there were people around her yet every day she felt completely isolated. Isabel had tried to cheer her up by suggesting a ride to put some distance between her and the manor, but Adorra had declined. So far the only place she enjoyed being was in the library where the silence of the books eased her mind. Their stories took her away from the cruel realities of life and brought her closer to Jasmine.

  “Adorra!” A voice penetrated her thoughts. “There you are. I have been searching the whole manor trying to find you.” Isabel exclaimed as she exploded through the library doors in a rustle of fabric.

  So much for the idea of having some silence in the library. Now she knew how Jasmine felt every time Adorra had found her reading away in some nook or cranny.

  “Yes, here I am.”

  “Don't look so sour, Adorra.” Isabel plopped a seat down next to Adorra on the couch cushion.

  “Why should I not be sour?” She shifted slightly on her seat to give Isabel some more room.

  “There will be other men and other chances for a happily ever after. Lord Gothar was a great man, but there are more like him, I promise you.” Isabel’s hands landed on hers, and they gave her a comforting squeeze.