Henrik's eyes softened ever so slightly. "If you obey me," he said, gently removing her hands from his tunic, "then, in a year's time, I may allow you to visit our child. I am sorry, Seanna, I am, but be grateful I am not ordering your execution."
Henrik turned abruptly on his heel and left. Seanna sank onto the couch and rubbed her belly, letting herself be overcome by heaving sobs. Her babe. Her only child, taken from her. And for what? For seeking love the only place she could find it?
Yet even that love had abandoned her. First Larka, then Maeria. Even for my sins, could the gods not have granted me some mercy? Her child should have been the one person she could rely on for unconditional affection, and now she would lose him, too.
In the mirror across the room, Seanna saw not a noble queen with a royal bearing, but a small woman with red eyes and a shuddering lip.
Chapter Forty-Two
Cara
PROWLERS PLAGUED Cara's dreams. Sometimes they chased her, and no matter how she tried, the beast would not answer her call. In other dreams, her friends became prowlers, their faces distorted by monstrous features. In the worst ones, Cara herself was a prowler, hunting down those she loved.
In the darkest hours before dawn, the Hooded Man and his large monster crept into her sleep. The Hooded Man's chill laughter seeped into her bones as the monster beat her, its large fists swatting her as if she were no larger than a mouse. She felt helpless, her beast unresponsive, her muscles small and weak.
For once, Alex had stayed with her until morning, his bright eyes full of worry when she woke.
"You tossed and turned all night," he said, one hand cupping her cheek. "Bad dreams?"
"Awful." Cara cuddled up against him, shivering despite the warm sheets. "I don't think I can face the Hooded Man."
"You can, and you will," he said. His soothing voice reached past her fears and wrapped around her heart, and she relaxed in his arms. He continued, "You're stronger than you know, and you have mastery over the beast. Twice now you've used it in battle against enemies and brought no harm to innocents."
"But what if it doesn't answer my call? What if–"
"Shh." He ended her protests with a kiss. "You won't be alone. Druam and I are with you, and the Realm's Protectors are sworn to help us."
Slowly, as his words penetrated her, she let her fears fade away. Though they lingered in the back of her mind, she felt more like she could face the morning.
As Alex dressed, he said, "Try to rest today. I've sent for tailors to make you a dress for the Masque; enjoy it, and imagine dancing the night away soon." He bent down and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. "With me."
"I only know rustic reels," Cara said teasingly. "You'd be ashamed of having me as a partner."
"Never." He grinned, then departed, leaving behind his clean scent of soap and pine.
Though Cara tried to rest, her thoughts drifted again and again to the prowlers. How had they gained entry to the palace? It was no coincidence that those monsters had found their way to the queen's chambers. Someone can control them, Cara realized with a jolt. And the only person I know who has such dark powers is the Hooded Man. That meant that he was there, in Riverfen!
Cara's nerves thrilled with anticipation. She would start at Bertha's Bosun, the tavern by the docks that Mavian had told her about. From there, she would hunt him as she would any dangerous predator.
She tolerated the tailor's visit, and even cooed over his fine clothing choices. He presented her with an array of beautiful dresses, but the one she kept returning to had light skirts that split at the sides, under which she could wear breeches. It was far simpler than the others, but she felt more comfortable in it. I am a country girl no matter the jewels they drape on me.
By the time the tailor left, the sun had begun its slow descent. Cara ate her supper quickly, then left a note for Alex: I'll be back late tonight; following a hint into the city. Don't wait up for me. She paused, considering how to sign it, before she finally just put her name. They had yet to express love, and she didn't feel right using that word. He's a lord, and you're a rustic. This fairytale can only last so long.
With that, Cara dressed in her old traveling clothes, strapped a dagger to her hip, pocketed a letter from the earl proving her identity, and left. Stewards and nobles gave her odd looks as she left the palace, but she didn't care. For the first time since her arrival, she felt herself.
Once she made it down from the plateau and into the streets, Cara reveled in her regained anonymity. No one here cared who she was. She stopped at the shop stalls and peered into window displays. She had never seen such a wide array of goods for sale: exotic pets, seeds, fashionable hats, walking canes, fruit pastries, vegetables, meats, wooden toys, jewelry, clothes, magic totems, all presented as if the merchant had scoured the earth for his wares.
Cara continued to the slums. Though most lanterns here were made of paper, every so often one was crafted from blown glass molded into fantastic shapes. Cara paused at each one, craning her neck to see the details.
One caught her eye and she gazed at it for a few minutes. It was a red dragon, its eyes lit and its tail curling around its body. The maker was clever, designing it so that the candle smoke was let out from the dragon's nose, making the thing seem alive. Cara circled it, looking from all sides, before moving on.
Cara followed the smell of fish to the docks. There, she found a crate to perch on to watch the working sailors. A large caravel had just come in, and men scurried up and down the gangplanks unloading its cargo. In the berth next to it, a series of small fishing boats had been tied up. Even at this late hour, laborers shouted to each other, dock handlers checked each berth, and prostitutes materialized at alley entrances, their faces painted with white cosmetics and their dresses pulled down to show the tops of their breasts.
Not wanting to be perceived as a harlot, Cara left the docks and began to look for Bertha's Bosun. In this part of town, even the beauty of the lanterns could not disguise the smell of shit.
It didn't take her long to find the tavern. It hummed with activity, patrons coming and going as the street echoed with laughter and shouting. Cara squeezed her way inside, paid the man attending the door, and took her bearings. A brawl took place in the center of the tavern as the crowd threw out bets and called encouragement to their fighters. Some tables had gamblers, and the bar was full of men throwing back drinks.
Cara edged around the room, her senses assailed from every direction. Sweat and spilled ale filled her nostrils, her ears thrummed with the noise, and people bumped into her from every direction. Her heart beat rapidly, and the beast clamored for her to join in the tumult. She quelled it uneasily and went to the bar.
As she stepped up to the counter, the barkeep eyed her.
"You the new girl?" he asked.
"What?" Cara said.
"You're supposed to be working the back rooms," he said. "Get there and make the customers happy."
Cara drew herself up. "I'm no harlot, sir, I'm–"
"I didn't say whore yourself out, just make sure that the poppin keeps flowing." The barkeep shoved a pouch at her and led her to a set of doors at the back of the establishment. She tried to protest, but he ignored her. Through the doors, Cara saw a long hallway.
The barkeep left her abruptly. Cara thought a moment about dumping the pouch and leaving, but then stepped forward. This hall was far quieter than the rowdy tavern room; if the Hooded Man conducted business in this establishment, wouldn't he do it where no one could see him? Cara went to the first door, knocked, and opened it. She found a room filled with cushions and rugs, with an elaborate water pipe in the center. Men lounged around, inhaling the smoke from their individual tubes. They grinned lazily at her as she refilled the bowl and backed away.
As Cara went along the hallway, she noticed tendrils of smoke creeping under the doors. None of the people in the lounges spoke to each other. Music players sometimes serenaded them, but otherwise she detected nothing out of
the ordinary.
Near the end of the hall, Cara noticed a door with very little smoke drifting out. She paused, her heart galloping in her chest. If he is here, he wouldn't be imbibing. Too dangerous. With one hand on her dagger, Cara opened the door.
This room was darker than the others, with only one lantern in the far corner throwing shadows across the room. The water pipe still smoked, but very little, as if it hadn't been refilled in some time.
Two dark figures lay on the couch opposite her, one leaning over the other, close enough to kiss. At first Cara thought she had intruded on an intimate moment, but the beast stirred within her belly. Then she smelled it, at first imperceptible, then stronger once she noticed it: blood. Her neck tingled, jolting shivers traveling down her spine.
The door creaked as Cara pushed it farther open. The figure on top snapped its head up and turned toward her.
Cara gasped and dropped the pouch, poppin powder flying out into the room. She stumbled back, hardly daring to trust her own eyes.
Alex.
His face was contorted by a ridged brow and heightened cheekbones, his eyes glowing red in the dim light. Blood dotted his chin and coated the long fangs that curled over his lips.
"No," Cara whispered. Her fingers dangled limply at her sides. She fell against the door, sure she must be hallucinating. It's the poppin powder, she thought. I accidentally inhaled it, and now I'm seeing visions.
Alex quickly wiped his mouth. His face shifted and transformed back to human. But he still had a red glimmer in his eyes and blood droplets on his chin. He pushed off the couch, but Cara backed away.
"You're a prowler," she managed to say. Her whole body buzzed, all other thoughts swept from her mind. This isn't a vision. This is real, and he's a monster.
Alex shook his head. "No, I'm–"
Instinct overcame all of Cara's other senses. She ran away from his pleading hands and begging shouts, up the hallway and into the crowded tavern. Men shouted at her, but she bulled through them without care. Her numb fingers found the door latch, and she ran out into the street. She panted, her legs burning, as she sprinted from the dockside districts, through the stately merchants' streets, and all the way to the palace gates. There she stopped and bent over to regain her breath. The guards looked at her apprehensively.
"Maid?" One of the guards stepped forward. "Are you well?"
Cara nodded. What could she say? Your lord is a monster. No one is safe. She felt sick, as if all the fine food she'd eaten that day had turned rotten in her stomach.
"Maid?" The guard asked again. Cara fumbled for the parchment in her pocket and held it out. He scanned it, then offered his arm. "Let me escort you back to your rooms."
Cara gratefully accepted his arm. She leaned on him as he took her back to her room. He bowed, then left her outside her door. Now that she was there, though, Cara didn't want to go back inside. Inside was where she and Alex had shared a bed, where he'd comforted her and spoken to her as if he had no secrets from her.
No wonder he knew so much about prowlers. Away from the shock, Cara reviewed what she'd seen. He's not a prowler, he can turn back into a man. Is he like me? No, I don't drink blood. She shuddered, remembering the beast's thirst. At least, I don't yet. Then she remembered Alex's lessons about the fampir. He's not a prowler, and he's not like me. He's fampir.
Her first thought was to run away. She could find a small village, start anew; no one would stop her. But that would be cowardice. I'm not a simple rustic anymore.
Alex was one of the enemy. Who knew what treasons he could work, what horrors he could bring to the innocent folk of the city? All this time, he'd pretended to care for her, but it was all a lie.
I have to tell someone, Cara thought. The earl would want to know about his brother, but what proof did Cara have? He wouldn't believe a country girl over his own blood. The king. Yet without the earl's help, Cara couldn't get an audience with the king, and certainly not that day. Someone needs to be told tonight.
She remembered Mavian and his interest in the prowlers. He'd been the one who told her about Bertha's Bosun. Could it be he suspected something, and so sent her to investigate? Did he know of a connection between fampir and the Hooded Man?
Despite the late hour, Cara went straight to Mavian's chambers. If he was the only one who might listen to her, she had no choice but to tell him.
And if I stay alone too long, I'll have to listen to my broken heart. Every kiss, every small moment, had been brought into question. Just like with Sandu. But this betrayal hurt her far more, because she felt like she had finally found a true kindred spirit in Alex. As a rustic girl, she hadn't ever thought she would meet a man who wasn't afraid of her strength. Did he ever care for me? she wondered. The truth could be too painful, and so she pushed it away.
When she reached Mavian's door, she knocked briefly and entered without waiting for an answer. Rude, certainly, but she couldn't wait. She descended the staircase, then halted at the bottom.
The lord wasn't there. Cara halted, her fevered mind unsure what to do. Should I wait for his return? Then movement from a side room distracted her, and she turned, ready to tell Mavian what she'd seen. The words died on her lips, and her fractured heart nearly broke again.
"Renna," Cara breathed. After so long, her lady stood before her, beautiful as the day Cara had last seen her. Renna wore midnight blue with clear jewels, her golden hair curled perfectly around her lovely face.
Renna stopped, too, her mouth hanging in a little 'o' as she stared at Cara. After a moment, she recovered herself and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Renna!" Cara said again, rushing forward to embrace her lady. So many long nights, so much loss and betrayal, and now Renna was here. She wasn't a dream, but flesh and blood. Cara laughed as she hugged her old friend. "I thought I'd lost you forever!"
Renna didn't return the embrace. She stood stock-still in Cara's arms for a moment before gently removing herself and stepping back. Her cool blue eyes swept over Cara's disheveled appearance, and a slight frown puckered her lips.
"Come inside," Renna whispered, taking Cara's arm. Her eyes darted past Cara, but there was nothing there. Cara followed her old friend into the side room, her joy quickly turning to confusion. Renna shut the door behind them and whirled.
"What are you doing here?" Renna hissed.
"I...I came to rescue you," Cara said, wounded at Renna's fury. Why isn't she happy to see me?
Renna pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I don't need rescuing, Cara. As you can see, I'm perfectly safe. Now you should go, before–"
"But the Hooded Man!" Cara exclaimed. "He kidnapped you, he murdered Ulton and Merick!"
"I went with him willingly!" Renna shouted. Cara stepped back, her heart stinging, her flesh tingling as if she'd just been slapped.
"I don't understand," she said.
"Sit down before you hurt yourself." Renna poured them each a glass of wine and took a long drink. "If I had told you what I'd planned, you would have tried to stop me. It's better this way, though I am sorry for Ulton and Merick. They were good men."
The sincerity of Renna's words floundered under the lightness of her tone. Cara stared at her mistress in disbelief. "Those men served you faithfully for years! They're dead because of the Hooded Man. And I've had no easy journey to find you. All this time searching, and you wanted this?"
"Yes," Renna said simply. "Mavian and I met–"
"Mavian?" The truth crashed down on Cara: Mavian's smile at the mention of Renna, his hints of the tavern and the queen. Did he set me up?
Renna smiled. "Yes, Mavian. He was traveling through the fief when we met. Father had already betrothed me to that loathsome man, and Mavian gave me a way to escape that. He brought me here and spelled everyone to think that I was Maeria Westerburg, an heiress of a powerful family. His magic is incredible, Cara. You wouldn't believe–"
"Oh, I've seen it," Cara said, anger burning out her incredulousness. How dare Re
nna sit there smiling after all Cara had been through? The beast rumbled inside her, and Cara was sorely tempted to give into it. "He attacked innocent scholars from Mott, he poisoned Merick with dark magic and made him suffer a cruel death. You call that incredible?"
"You poor country girl," Renna simpered, her pink lips twisting in a false smile. "You wouldn't understand. With his power and my new wealth, we can change the world. He wants so many things, things that will help people like you. Libraries and councils for the rustics, a new system that would bring down the corrupt aristocracy."
"Can he control prowlers?" Cara asked bluntly.
"His dark power can do many things; that's one of them."
"So he tried to kill myself and the queen?" Cara shouted. "Did you know that he tried to murder me?"
"I did," Renna said coldly. "You both were becoming too meddlesome."
Cara stood up, the beast burning inside her. She built her mental walls around it, urging it to stay down. She asked, "And you didn't mind that I would be killed?"
"I was absolutely distraught, but I knew it was necessary. If you would just listen to me, you'd understand why it all has to be done."
"And why should I listen to you?" Cara demanded. "You abandoned us, you don't care if we were killed! Was there ever a day you loved me as I loved you?"
Real hurt showed in Renna's eyes. She stood, drew close to Cara, and took her hands. "Of course I loved you. I still do. But things have changed now. My loyalty is to Mavian above all others. I've heard what you can do; you can help us make the world better."
"I want nothing to do with him!" Cara shouted, pulling back.
Before Renna could respond, Cara felt a call, a magical tug on her heart that came from nearby: Help! She waited, but it didn't come again. Renna stared at her.
"Did you feel that?" Renna asked. Cara nodded.
Renna cursed and ran out the door. Still reeling from all she'd learned, Cara stood still. Even after all Renna had said, she wanted to believe that her lady felt some remorse for her actions. She couldn't believe that all the death and pain from the last month was intentional, that Renna didn't care for the harm done to her faithful followers.
The Lantern-Lit City Page 37
