Kiss Me Deadly

by Trisha Telep

  “My marriage contract is in order,” Elise said, allowing her tone to betray no hint of her annoyance. “My father signed it the day before his accident.”

  “Your father no doubt expected to live to see you bear him a grandson.” Adolphe cast his eyes about the room. Elise wondered if he was sizing up her belongings, setting a price on every vase and handkerchief. “But now...”

  “Nothing has changed.” Elise’s voice wavered slightly. How she wished he would not address her without the Vicomte or her other friends present! The Vicomte had been most specific about what she was and was not allowed to say to Adolphe Dufosset. “And when I am married, the contract will be executed as my father intended. Will that not be nice?” she asked hopefully. “To see his last wishes carried out?”

  Adolphe did not respond and as the silence stretched, Elise began to grow uneasy. Bisou darted out from underneath the upholstery and pounced on the scrap of meat. Adolphe looked at the pup with disdain, and Elise frowned.

  “I believe I am a bit tired, sir. Perhaps I should rest.”

  “Indeed.” But he did not move to stand. “So much weight on your shoulders, my dear cousin.”

  Elise swallowed.

  “It’s a wonder you have not been overwhelmed by it all. Indeed, it seems you hardly know which way to turn, now that your father is gone.”

  Elise kept her eyes on her lap. “I trust in the opinion of the Vicomte. He was my father’s dearest friend, and he will be my father, too, once I am married.”

  “The Vicomte would add you to his collection, and include our family lands if he can. Elise, do you not see this? It’s impossible that you are so stupid that you cannot.”

  The stem of the flower crushed beneath Elise’s fingers. “I want only to fulfill my father’s wishes,” she said, though it felt as if her own throat was equally mangled.

  Adolphe’s shadow fell across the silk of her dress. “We shall see, my dear cousin. We shall see if you marry this boy of the Vicomte’s, and we shall see, if you do, whether you take with you this estate.”

  Elise raised her head. “Monsieur Dufosset, you would do well to remember that you are here on my invitation.”

  “I am at that,” he replied evenly. “How curious that you fashion yourself the mistress of this house.”

  She caught her breath at the rage burning behind Adolphe’s placid expression. Her father had refused to see the man during his lifetime. Elise didn’t know the exact nature of their quarrel, but at the very least she understood from the Vicomte that Adolphe’s claim to their estate was not as valid as Adolphe would have her believe.

  “It’s ... best that you leave now,” was all she managed to say.

  “You think this is your home, that you can tell me where I may or may not go?” he asked, his tone turning dangerous. “That this is your room? Your china? Your dinner?” He shoved at her tray, and the glasses clinked. He was practically shouting now, and Elise shrank back against the cushions of her chair. “Do you think this is your dog?”

  And with that, he snatched up Bisou and threw him against the wall.

  Elise shrieked as the dog bounced off the plaster and landed on the carpet. “Bisou!” She threw herself from the chair to the floor. The dog tried to raise itself and fell, whimpering. “ Mon petit chien! Bisou!”

  The door to her room opened and in rushed her maid, along with one of her father’s old valets. “My lady, is everything well?”

  Bisou crawled toward her, crying pitifully. He dragged his back leg. Elise scooped the animal up in her arms. “My poor sweet thing...” she bawled. “My angel.”

  Adolphe let out a little snort. “Pathetic.”

  “Leave me,” she whispered.

  “Sir,” said the valet. “You shall depart my mistress’s chambers at once.”

  The maid crouched near Elise. “My lady, let me see to it for you.”

  Elise tightened her grip. “No. Bring me bandages. Bring me ... something.” A splint? Could a dog’s leg be healed once broken? Above her, the valet was attempting to force Adolphe from the room.

  “Remove your hands from me, filth,” said Adolphe as he was shoved into the hall. “Or you shall know my wrath once I am master of this house.”

  The valet slammed the door and threw the bolt. Then he joined them near the floor. “My lady, I shall send for the Vicomte’s men at once. We will install a guard at your door. We must drive this usurper out before it is too late.”

  Elise’s eyes began to burn, but the tears did not spill onto her cheeks, just stayed there, stinging her with their salt. Oh, what did it matter who had this house? Let the Vicomte and Adolphe battle it out, and divide the tenants and servants amongst themselves. Why couldn’t they just let her be? She knelt there, on the carpet, and curved herself around the body of her poor dog, wondering if she could spiral tight enough to disappear altogether.

  ***

  As morning broke over the horizon, Gitta stood on the edge of the forest and waited for Elise to arrive. Dawn was probably far too early for the poor, pampered princess. Gitta wondered if Elise had ever seen a sunrise in her spoiled life.

  Enyo stood waiting patiently by her side. She’d let the animal hunt in the night, and judging from the remains she’d found strewn near their little camp, the unicorn had found a vole’s nest. It would satisfy her for a while, but she hoped Enyo had the opportunity for a real meal before she had to kill her. A stag, perhaps, or a nice, fat wild sow. Gitta would help, if necessary, since she knew the unicorn was not as fast as she had once been. Enyo deserved it.

  Enyo lifted her head, and Gitta felt the unicorn softening in anticipation. Another unicorn hunter approached. After a moment, Gitta could hear the most horrid clomping through the underbrush, and then Elise came, dressed in the same clothes from their meeting yesterday, but with the addition of a pair of sturdier boots.

  “These are most uncomfortable,” Elise said abruptly. “They were my father’s, and they’re much too big, though I stuffed the toes with rags as you advised.”

  “Better this than tearing your feet to shreds on brambles,” said Gitta.

  The younger girl’s eyes were shadowed with dark circles this morning. So this is what happened when such perfect creatures were not allowed to sleep until noon?

  Enyo was already bowing before Elise. Gitta sighed and waited for the unicorn to finish her ritual. If only Enyo understood the truth of Elise’s presence, she would not be so deferential. But such was the sad destiny of all her kind—helpless to control their love for maidens of the blood, overcome with adoration even as the maidens turned and slew them.

  “Come,” Gitta said. “We’ll go practice in the spot where the hunt is to take place. You won’t be able to learn quickly enough to command Enyo as I do, but I’ll teach you to keep her calm and to get her into your lap as tradition requires.”

  Elise said nothing, just smoothed her apron over her skirt, no doubt imagining how Enyo’s blood would soil her clothing. Gitta dismissed the unicorn and led Elise away.

  They eventually reached the tree Gitta had chosen. It had a large trunk, and a rough pattern of bark that would make it easy enough for Gitta to scale to the lowest branches and lie in wait for the “festivities,” such as they were, to begin.

  “You shall sit here,” she said, pointing at a patch of moss near the root. But Elise was nowhere to be seen. Gitta spun around, filtering through the unicorn’s thoughts until she found the younger girl kneeling near an outcrop of greens.

  “Wild asparagus!” Elise cried, holding up a bunch. “Oh, isn’t it lovely!” She caught Gitta’s look and straightened, stuffing the stalks into an apron pocket. “Sorry, I was distracted by the plants. I so rarely get a chance to gather wild herbs.”

  “You like ... plants?” Gitta asked.

  “Very much. You should see my garden.” Elise returned and sat obediently at the base of the tree, arranging her skirts around herself like a queen at a picnic.

  Too bad she hadn’t bee
n sent to the Order, thought Gitta. Many of her Sisters focused on herbalism in their work to make cures when the demand for the unicorn’s magical Remedy outweighed the supply.

  “What do I do now?” Elise asked.

  “You wait,” said Gitta. “Your natural abilities will draw the unicorn to you. It would help,” she added, “if you tried your best to think attractive thoughts.”

  Elise closed her eyes and screwed up her features. Did it hurt this much, Gitta wondered, for the fool to think?

  Judging from Enyo’s indifferent response, out there in the forest, Elise’s thoughts were not particularly inviting.

  Gitta nearly groaned. An actual daughter of the blood on her hands, and she was still forced to treat her like any other girl. Gitta knew she could sit in the tree herself and call the unicorn to her, but Elise had the magic as well. She wanted to at least attempt to treat this hunt as something more than mere playacting.

  “No,” said Gitta, and Elise’s eyes popped open. “You must ... call her to you.”

  “Enyo!” cried Elise.

  “No. Within yourself.”

  Elise looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  Gitta rubbed at her temples. “Do you ever—” How could she explain? After thirteen years, the magic was a second nature. “With your pug. Do you ever turn to it and wish it would come to you, and it does?”

  To Gitta’s surprise, Elise’s eyes began to water. “No,” she said. “Bisou knows his name. He—” She looked at her lap.

  A moment later, the unicorn came rushing out of the woods and stopped at Elise’s side.

  Gitta started in surprise. Enyo had come so quickly, she’d hardly felt the change in the animal’s intentions.

  Elise barely moved as Enyo softly nudged her snout against the girl’s arm until the unicorn could slide her head beneath it and settle down in her lap.

  “There, there,” murmured Elise, as tears fell onto the unicorn’s mane. “Ma petite licorne.”

  “My lady,” Gitta said in wonder. “You did it.”

  The girl did not look up.

  Gitta tasted the unicorn’s thoughts. Pity, deep as a river. What a stupid beast, to pity the instrument of its destruction. Gitta scowled.

  Enyo turned in Elise’s lap and bleated at Gitta, then went quiet again, closing her cloudy eyes and relaxing in the girl’s arms.

  Gitta’s brow furrowed. And then she felt a tug at the edge of her consciousness, an awareness of something stirring in the woods. It was as if the very trees breathed, their leaves spinning fast in a world gone suddenly still.

  “Elise,” she said softly. “Are you sure there are no unicorns in these woods?”

  Elise lifted her head. “Of course. Not for decades. Used to be many, though. So many. In fact—”

  But the feeling was gone. Gitta searched again, but it was as if she’d caught a note of a song too distant to hear. Perhaps it had merely been the remnants of Elise’s nascent magic that had her confused. Elise’s call to the unicorn had to have been a strong one, to bring Enyo there so fast.

  “So,” said Gitta. “That is how you will do it. And then, you must hold tight to her, for the men with their spears will make her angry.”

  “Angry?” Elise asked.

  Gitta nodded. “Yes. She will wish to protect you. So just continue to be calm, and soothing, no matter what. I shall be hiding in the tree above in case anything happens, and at the right time, I shall shoot her, and then it will be over.”

  “You will shoot an arrow at us? But what if you miss?”

  “I never miss.”

  “What if it passes through Enyo’s body and kills me?” said Elise.

  “I never miss,” Gitta repeated, annoyed. “I would prefer not to do it at all, but your cousin insisted—”

  “You didn’t present him with options.” Elise rose and dusted off her dress. The unicorn remained by her side. “You could have suggested we end the ceremony with the presentation of the body of a white kid, or a fawn. But instead you just stood there and drove up the price. He would not hesitate to spend my money—”

  Elise hadn’t presented any options, either. Gitta narrowed her eyes. “I have haggled with your kind before. The only time they ever back down is when there is money—”

  “You do not want to kill the unicorn!” exclaimed Elise. “I can see it writ on your face.”

  Gitta turned and walked into the woods.

  “Stop!” Elise came clomping through the underbrush behind her. “Sister Maria Brig—”

  Gitta began to run.

  ***

  Who needed the ill-mannered nun anyway? Elise yanked up another weed from her flower bed, then tore off its leaves in a fit of frustration. She’d called Elise a prig. She’d called her illiterate. She’d doubted the de Commarque claim to unicorn hunting; she’d doubted Elise’s own powers. She knew nothing—nothing of Elise, nothing of her family, nothing of anything except how to dress badly and eat with a knife and sharpen a sword and name a bunch of naked, pagan gods.

  And Elise had it on good authority that the hunter hadn’t even been sleeping in the house. Her maid had informed her that the scullery quarters had apparently not been good enough for this foreign nun and she’d taken off. Sleeping in the mud, perhaps. Would explain the smell at least.

  Why should Elise bother to speak to her at all? Just get through the ceremony, give the ugly git her mark of gold, and send her on her way. Why should she even try to help the nun with her vicious, peacock-killing Enyo? Elise had problems of her own.

  She moved on to the parsley beds. Since when did a commitment to God require a woman to forget herself in matters of personal grooming? So the hunter didn’t need to catch a man. She should at least consider shaping her eyebrows. God created the world in beauty. He had to appreciate it in His servants.

  By the time she reached the mint, Elise had worked herself into quite a froth. These beds were a mess. She’d been neglecting them too much. She’d been neglecting the entire estate while she waited for the dust to settle. First, the shock of her father’s death, and then the stress of Adolphe’s arrival, the Vicomte’s dire predictions about her future, and the preparations for the wedding. Even now, Elise would rather be up in her room, nursing poor Bisou. She and the maid had tied up his leg in a splint, but getting him to lie still had proven to be an even bigger challenge. In the end, they’d had to bring in an old birdcage and shut him inside. He’d spent the whole night crying, growing even more agitated when the Vicomte’s men had arrived and set up camp outside her door. This morning, he’d been wan and listless. He wouldn’t eat and when he tried to drink, he’d vomited yellow foam all over the floor.

  The only comfort of the day had been those few fleeting moments when the unicorn had laid its head in Elise’s lap. Then, it had seemed as if all her cares had melted, that there was nothing but the unicorn and the smell of moss and wood and ash and earth. It was thrilling and restful all at once. And so, Elise did not want to see Enyo killed—particularly not for the pleasure of a person like Adolphe.

  The unicorn hunter could rot for all Elise cared. But what of the unicorn?

  She’d almost finished her work when the sound of clanging metal rang out over the garden, followed by shouts. She stood and hurried toward the courtyard and the origin of the sounds. Had a fight broken out between the Vicomte’s men and Adolphe’s?

  When she arrived, however, it was to see members of both groups watching and jeering as two figures sparred in the courtyard. The air shimmered with dust and swords as the two people whirled about each other, their bodies clashing and retreating. Elise stopped under the arch, horrified to realize that one of the figures was the unicorn hunter—and the other was Bernard de Veyrac.