by Barb Hendee
Captain Maddox held Rochelle in his arms. She wore the same dove gray dress from breakfast, so Céline believed she was seeing something that would happen later this same day.
“You cannot stay here,” Maddox said, holding her against his chest. His voice was agonized. “You cannot do this. You cannot tie your life to that prince.”
“I have no choice,” she answered, pulling back far enough to reach up and touch his face. “We both know that.”
“I know nothing of the sort!” he whispered harshly. “I’ll take you away from here. You need only agree to come with me. I can get us out the gate. We’ll ride to Belaski and make a life there. You know I will care for you.”
Céline’s shock deepened. Maddox was asking Rochelle to run away with him. Céline had suspected he had feelings for Rochelle . . . but she’d not anticipated this.
“And bring shame to my family?” Rochelle asked. “To my mother? I can’t! Please, please don’t ask me to do this! You only torture us both. If you loved me, you would let me do my duty.”
She pushed him away, and he let her.
Then she ran up the stairwell. After watching her go, he turned and leaned his forehead against the wall.
The scene vanished, and the mists closed in again, pulling Céline backward this time.
She opened her eyes and stared at Maddox. At the sight of her expression, he shifted in discomfort.
This time, it was more difficult for Céline to fake a sense of calm, but somehow when she spoke she managed to sound apologetic.
“Forgive me, Captain. I saw nothing. This happens sometimes if there is nothing to be seen.”
He wasn’t a fool, and he studied her face. After a moment, he nodded.
“So he’s been cleared?” Lizbeth asked anxiously.
“Yes, he’s been cleared.” Céline glanced at Anton. She had a good deal to tell him once they were alone.
Lizbeth rushed over and took the captain’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Miss Céline thought this would be the best way.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Maddox answered. “But you come to the hall with me now.”
“Of course.” Lizbeth looked back. “My lord . . . Céline, are you coming?”
Céline smiled reassuringly. “Right behind you.”
Chapter Eight
The better part of the day passed quickly, although nothing else of note occurred. Upon leaving the stables, Céline, Lizbeth, Anton, and Maddox returned to the great hall. Damek did not make an appearance. Neither did Lady Helena. Around midday, Lady Saorise excused herself politely and departed for her rooms.
Had their host been anyone but Damek, Céline would have been surprised that he’d put no effort into planning amusements for his guests. It seemed he slept much of the day and paced the castle much of the night. Perhaps he was so self-involved that it never occurred to him to put himself out or alter his normal habits, even for his future bride’s family.
So Céline, Amelie, and Anton remained in the hall with Rochelle, Heath, and Lizbeth.
No one mentioned Lord Hamish, and it didn’t appear that his nieces or nephew would engage in a false display of mourning, so Céline decided to help pass the time as pleasantly as possible. No further progress could be made in the investigation until Damek was awake and she could have him order a few of his people to submit to a reading. She would have liked to read both Heath and Rochelle, but it was not the right time to ask, and she feared doing so might destroy any trust she and Amelie had established.
And . . . in truth, Céline had a difficult time seeing either of them as the killer. Although Rochelle might have a motive, to keep from marrying Damek, she did not seem averse to the prospect, and she did seem determined to do honor to her family.
Heath seemed almost incapable of taking any sort of action.
“Perhaps a game of cards?” Céline suggested to Amelie. “Something fun?”
Amelie organized a lively card game called Catch the Queen that provided a surprising amount of laughter. Three queens were removed from the deck, leaving only one, and then the entire deck was dealt. The players passed cards to the person on their left as everyone tried to match pairs and lay them down. When someone’s hand was empty, he or she won the game, and was loudly pronounced “the winner,” and whoever was holding the queen at the time was loudly pronounced “the loser.” It was lighthearted and simple, and Anton was dubbed the loser most often. Lizbeth found this particularly amusing and proceeded to tease him—which he took with good grace.
Captain Maddox stood by the wall, watching, as did Rurik. But while Rurik smiled on occasion, Maddox did not.
Once the card game was exhausted, Céline told a few stories—comedies or adventures—and inspired by her performance, Heath ran to his room and came back with a lute. He played a number of songs for them, and Céline found him to be quite skilled. He must have had a good music master.
In the midafternoon, a servant came down to tell Rochelle that her mother was awake. Rochelle excused herself, and Maddox followed her out. Céline watched them go, and she wondered if the scene she’d read in the captain’s future was about to take place.
Should she do something to stop it or let it happen? Should Rochelle be allowed to know that she had a way out should she decide to take it? Céline’s ability differed from Amelie’s. Whatever Amelie saw in the past was set in stone. But the future was still mutable. If Céline decided to take action, she could change it.
Indecision held her back, and she remained in the hall.
Rurik came over and spent some time teaching Lizbeth a dice game, and after that, Céline felt it was late enough in the afternoon that they might excuse themselves to rest for a while before dinner. If what she’d seen in Maddox’s future had taken place in the stairwell, it was over by now.
“All right,” she said, “I think we should all have a rest before dressing for dinner.”
“Oh, just a little longer,” Lizbeth begged. “This is the first fun we’ve had since arriving.”
“No, Miss Céline is right,” Heath said. “Come along, Lizbeth.”
But he sounded regretful, too, and it seemed sad that two wealthy young nobles should find such pleasure in playing at cards and engaging in simple amusements for a few hours.
“We’ll just clean up the card game,” Céline said.
Heath and Lizbeth left the hall, heading for the stairwell in the east tower. Once they’d been given time to reach it, Céline, Anton, Amelie, and Rurik all left the hall together. This was the first opportunity that Céline had had to speak with them alone, and in the passageway along the back of the castle, she tried to fill them in as quickly as possible on what she’d learned that morning.
She left out the details of why Lady Helena was so certain Damek would be the next grand prince, but she related any news of the family dynamics she’d learned. She told them what she’d seen in the reading of Lizbeth, and then had to assure Anton twice that there was no clue to the identity of the man the girl had found dead. Finally, she told them of Captain Maddox asking Rochelle to run away with him.
Aghast, Anton stopped walking. “What?”
“It’s true.”
She described her vision, and although she couldn’t be sure, it sounded as if Maddox believed Rochelle cared for him enough to consider fleeing this castle and making a life with him in Belaski.
“That does give him a solid motive,” she finished.
Their quartet began walking again, and soon, they reached the stairwell.
“I don’t know,” Amelie said quietly. “Maddox doesn’t strike me as the type to kill from afar.”
“I agree,” said Rurik.
He’d been rather quiet on this venture, but Céline thought them both to be correct. Maddox didn’t strike her as the type to employ poison or the arcane arts, either.
All four of them climbed the east tower stairs to the second level and walked down the passage to their rooms. Céline and Amelie’s roo
m came first.
“We’ll see you both at dinner,” Céline said to the men as she and Amelie slipped inside.
Helga was fast asleep on their bed. Her scarf half covered her face, and she snored loudly.
“Helga,” Amelie said, sounding mildly annoyed.
The old woman sputtered a few times and opened her eyes, sitting up. “There you are. I wondered if you were ever coming back up.”
Céline couldn’t blame her for napping on their bed. There wasn’t much else for her to do. It was not as if Amelie and Céline needed a ladies’ maid.
“Did you learn anything in the kitchen?” Céline asked.
“Not anything that would help you,” Helga answered, climbing off the bed. She gave a shiver. “Or anything you want to hear. But there are rumors aplenty about Prince Damek and a goodly number of missing girls and missing dogs.”
Céline raised a hand. “Do spare us those. Since Prince Damek is not the one trying to sabotage his own wedding, we don’t need to investigate him. The less we know about him, the better.”
Helga nodded, but her face was bleak. Poor thing. Céline couldn’t imagine having to listen to dark rumors about Prince Damek—which were all probably true.
Céline and Amelie rested for a while as Helga fussed about with gowns and silk shoes and stockings.
“All right, you two,” Helga finally said, “time to get fancied up for dinner.”
It seemed strange to Céline that after what had happened last night, they were all going to dress in their finest and go downstairs for wine and dinner again . . . but apparently, that was the plan. Helga picked out a satin gown of deep rose with a square neckline for Céline, and a midnight blue velvet gown with a scoop neck for Amelie.
Both young women were dressed and Helga was just finishing Amelie’s hair when a quick, purposeful knock sounded on the door. Puzzled, Céline went to open it and found the diminutive Master Lionel on the other side. She hadn’t seen him or Johanna all day.
“Yes?”
“Prince Damek has summoned you and your sister to his private chambers. You will come with me.”
Céline had no intention of allowing herself and Amelie to be trapped alone with Damek in his rooms, but then she leaned farther out and saw Anton and Rurik both waiting. Anton nodded to her once.
She turned and looked back inside the room. “Amelie, you’d better come.”
* * *
As Amelie once more passed through the door of Damek’s private chambers—following Céline, Anton, and Rurik—she wished she were not wearing this ridiculous velvet gown. She didn’t feel like herself when she was forced to put on these costumes.
Had she been allowed to wear her pants and canvas jacket and openly show her sheathed dagger on her hip, she could have faced anything.
Inside, Damek was fully dressed, and he stood waiting with his arms crossed by the hearth. Captain Kochè was there as well. Amelie noted that Damek did not make eye contact with either Céline or Anton, and he was more agitated than usual.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Well what?” Anton returned.
“Don’t play with me. What progress have your seers made today? Have they uncovered the killer? Or are we about to be treated to someone else dropping dead at dinner tonight?”
Amelie’s mouth fell half-open. How could anyone have a rational conversation with him?
But Céline answered in a measured tone, “Amelie and I have begun putting together a list of people with a possible motive or who have been behaving strangely. I did find a way to read Captain Maddox.”
“Maddox?” Damek repeated, but he didn’t seem surprised. “And?”
“I saw nothing to suggest he has anything to do with these murders.”
“Then what good are you?” Damek asked. “Start reading the others on your list. I insist you get to the bottom of this tonight!”
With both Carlotta and Lord Hamish gone, Amelie guessed that the Lady Helena would take over with the marriage negotiations, and she wanted to wrap things up as fast as possible. Damek probably wished to accommodate her.
“My lord,” Céline answered. “This is not quite so simple a process as you—”
“You want us to start reading people?” Amelie interrupted, and then added, “My lord.”
Damek stiffened, and Anton shot her a glance of warning, but she didn’t care.
“Let us start with him,” Amelie finished, pointing to Kochè.
Captain Kochè’s expression shifted first to shock and then to outrage. He took a step toward her, and she got ready to pull the dagger from her right sleeve.
But Anton stepped between them, and Kochè stopped, panting in rage
Prince Damek asked, “Why him?”
“Because he cannot walk past Rochelle without glaring at her,” Céline answered.
At this, Damek met her eyes, and he appeared to be absorbing what she’d just said. Then he looked to Kochè and pointed to a chair. “Sit down.”
“My lord!” Kochè protested.
“Now!”
Glowering, even shaking slightly, Kochè walked to the chair and sat down.
“His future or his past?” Anton asked quietly.
“Past,” Amelie decided without even consulting Céline, and then she pulled a chair up in front of Kochè. The thought of touching him was so revolting that she wavered at first, but then she steeled herself and touched his hand, closing her eyes and focusing on the spark of his spirit.
Again, this time she wanted to go back only as an outside observer, and she tried to focus on the reason for his hatred of Rochelle.
The first jolt hit, and she gripped the arm of her chair with her free hand. The second jolt hit immediately, and she found herself swept backward in the swirling mists.
They cleared, and she found herself in an alcove with a stone bench. Damek and Rochelle were sitting on the bench and he gently gripped her hand. Amelie had not seen them like this before. She’d only seen them together last night, and while they’d each been exceedingly polite to the other, the only emotion Damek had displayed was pride. Now . . . now he looked more like a would-be groom wooing his lady.
“I know he is uncouth,” Damek murmured, “but he is useful to me.”
“Please, my lord,” Rochelle whispered. “I’ve asked for nothing else. I cannot live in any place with so vile a creature. I feel ill, and I cannot eat if he enters the room. He must be sent away.”
Though Damek’s expression was troubled, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “All right, my love. I did not think you quite so delicate, but I understand. Kochè will be gone before you come to live here. I do swear.”
Her face melted into gratitude. “Thank you. I know it is a sacrifice, but it means so much to me.”
“I’ll find another captain.”
Amelie had never seen Damek so accommodating to anyone, but she also wondered why she was witnessing this scene from Kochè’s past. He was not here. Inside the vision, she moved from the alcove and found herself in the courtyard. It was twilight. She looked to her left.
There stood Kochè, his face awash in disbelief. He’d heard every word.
The scene vanished and the mists rushed back in. Amelie was pulled forward again, and she opened her eyes, staring at Kochè’s stringy mustache. He watched her warily. Although she’d protected Johanna, she had no compunction about exposing Kochè.
Looking to Prince Damek, she said, “He overheard you promising Rochelle that you’d get rid of him before she came to live here permanently.”
Damek stiffened again, and Kochè jumped to his feet. For a second or two, Amelie thought he would strike her, and she braced for a defense, but he contained himself.
“Spying at keyholes?” Damek hissed at Kochè. “Have you worked against my marriage plans?”
“No, my lord! I’ve done nothing. I think that girl you want to wed is more trouble than you know, but I’ve done nothing.” Kochè stepped closer to Damek. “And if you wan
t to seek out who is capable of casting spells to shut off someone else’s breath, you ought to start with that witch!”
At first, Amelie thought Kochè was calling Rochelle a witch, but then she realized he meant someone else.
“Do you mean Lady Saorise?” she asked.
“Yes, you gypsy whore,” Kochè breathed, running a hand over his face. “Why don’t you go and read her?”
“Kochè . . . ,” Damek said slowly. His tone dripped with warning.
Anton, Céline, and Rurik had been watching all this in silence, but now Céline looked to Damek. “My lord . . . perhaps you ought to summon the Lady Sao—”
A pounding on the door cut her off.
“Prince Damek!” Heath’s voice called from the outer passage. “Come down to the courtyard at once. Summon your guards. Captain Maddox and my sister are gone. He’s abducted her!”
* * *
Anton felt rushed along on a wave he couldn’t stop as he found himself down in the courtyard with Céline, Amelie, and Rurik beside him.
Darkness had fallen, and large braziers on the courtyard walls provided enough light to see.
Everyone was out here.
Even Lady Helena was present, wearing a fine gown, but she must not have had time to put her hair up before the alarm was sounded, and it hung around her drawn face. Poor Lizbeth stood beside her, staring at Anton as if she thought he might be able to fix this crisis.
Väränj guards were already leading out saddled horses, but at least twenty Kimovesk guards stood around at a loss, as Kochè had not yet given the order to saddle up. Instead, he’d headed off to the stable.
Damek’s expression was dark, angry, and thoughtful . . . all of which made Anton nervous.
“I am telling you, Baron,” Damek said to Heath with icy manners. “They are still here on castle grounds. None of my men would have allowed your captain to drag my betrothed out the front gate. You must see that.”
“And I’m telling you they are gone,” Heath shot back, grabbing the reins of a horse and swinging up. He wore a fine gray cloak clasped at his throat. “Maddox was a captain in the forces of the house of Äntes before he came to us. Do you really think he would abduct my sister and then hole up somewhere in this castle?”
