“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He laid a kiss on her cheek. “In fact, I have discussed this girl with my grandmother.”
“Oh dear. You’ve spoken to your grandmother?” Serena’s expression shifted, the smile left, but mischief remained in her eyes. “It sounds as though you’re serious about her.”
“I am.” When she didn’t respond, Killian took the opportunity to tip her chin up and kiss her. “She should know how serious, in spite of my grandmother’s warning.”
“That sounds as though your grandmother hasn’t come around to your way of thinking.” She sipped more of the wine and offered the goblet to Killian, who refused with a shake of his head.
“The queen says she approves of the young lady but has advised me not to rush into anything.” Killian closed his eyes as though he wasn’t able to look her in the eye when he broke the news to her.
“So, your grandmother wants you to consider all offers before you chose.”
“There is no choice to be made.” Killian tilted his head and kissed her. “Never has been. My heart is set.” His hand slipped into his coat pocket where he felt the smooth, cool metal of his mother’s ring. His fingers wrapped around, ready to withdraw it, drop to one knee and ask her to be his wife.
“Perhaps, but it would be political suicide if you do not appear to at least consider the other offers,” Serena said, happy her voice sounded neutral.
“I don’t care. I want something in my life that is mine… my choice, and has nothing to do with being second in line for my grandmother’s throne.”
“Enough of this talk.” Serena brushed a kiss over his lips. “This is supposed to be a night of celebration, and so shall it be.” She turned and set the empty wine goblet on the banister, certain one of the servants would find it.
“Just don’t leave me alone with them.” There was a note of pleading in Killian’s tone that made Serena chuckle.
“As my prince commands, I must obey.” She stepped back and curtsied low. He offered her his hand.
“But you do not always obey,” he teased.
“I do,” she said, giving him a coy smile and fluttering her eyelashes, “when it suits me.”
“And that is why I love you.” Killian slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her close for a lingering, passionate kiss. The couple didn’t break apart until a strong cough from Ryan interrupted them. Laughing, they linked arms and strolled back into the ballroom. They spent the rest of the evening dancing and mingling with the other members of the royal court.
Serena stepped into her suite and shut the door behind her, leaning against it with her eyes closed for several long moments. She took as deep a breath as the corset would allow and opened her eyes, frowning and pushing away from the wall as she dropped her shawl on the floor near the door.
“Clara?” she called out, knowing the woman should be near at hand. When there was no response, Serena pulled her gloves off while entering the room. Her heart sped up in her chest as she looked around. All of her personal effects were gone; the room held nothing more than a few pieces of furniture covered with heavy canvas. Praying to the Gods her weapons were still in place and cursing the decision not to hide one on her person, she tiptoed toward the bedroom. Not wanting to give anyone who might be lurking a way to track her, Serena didn’t light any candles, relying on her memory of the layout as she crept through the spaces. When she was close to the doors of the bedchamber, she froze, a shadow within what should have been the empty room caught her eye. A sliver of fear slipped into her heart.
Serena remained, frozen in place for a few uncertain seconds before she reached behind her, grabbed a fistful of her skirt, lifting the small train out of the way and started to back toward the main doors. She had heard a soft exclamation from inside the bedchamber before a light flared, a bright flash and then gone in an instant, leaving her blinking as her eyes tried to readjust to the darkness.
“The lord wants her alive,” a gruff man’s voice said with the accent of the lower city. The words growled from inside the bedchamber, sending a chill down Serena’s spine.
She spun and started running as at least two men swore and footsteps pounded behind her. Serena reached the door and had her hand on the wrought-iron handle when someone slammed into her from behind. Her lungs excelled all the air in a rush, and her vision swam in and out of focus as she pushed against the person, but he was bigger and stronger. A large-muscled arm snaked around her waist and another across her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. The man lifted Serena off her feet. She kicked out, but the skirt tangled in her legs and stole most of her power. She inhaled to scream, but the arms tightened and stole what little breath she was able to pull into her lungs.
“I can’t hold her much longer,” the man said, his voice strained.
Serena continued thrashing, twisting her upper body as much as possible, kicking in spite of the accursed dress. She wanted to scream but what little air she got only produced weak squeaks and whimpers.
“Keep her still,” a second male voice said.
“Just get in there. I can’t do any more. You’ll have to earn your gold.”
Serena caught movement in the dark and saw a shape emerge but couldn’t make out features. The other man was holding something out in front of him. Before her mind could register what it was, someone smothered her nose and mouth with a wet cloth.
A sickeningly sweet smell assaulted her, and her limbs started tingling with the first signs of numbness. She knew what was coming next, all trainees who wanted to become Royal Guards were subjected to every type of potion and elixir known to render a person unconscious. She had a few more seconds before the concoction would drag her down.
Shall we see how you like this? With the last bit of her strength, Serena threw her head back.
A bright flash filled her eyes accompanied by the sickening sound of bones cracking, followed by a loud gurgling cry. Her attacker held on tight, but they fell, landing in a tangled heap of bodies and what felt like miles of cloth from her skirt alone. She rolled to the ground, pulling more air than she thought the corset would allow into her lungs, tears streaming down her cheeks. She rolled to her hands and knees, starting to crawl to the door when another prayer to the Gods fell from her lips. The drug slowed her reactions. Her attackers were faster, a knee in her side sent her sprawling. She curled up when white-hot pain flashed from the impact. Large hands held her down, rolling her onto her back, a knee in her stomach, pressing the stays of her corset into the soft flesh. She tried to fight, but her limbs seemed to be made of stone.
The sickly smell returned. She thrashed, screaming at the top of her lungs. A large, rough hand gripped her chin and held her in place and securing the cloth covering her mouth and nose. Serena held her breath. Her lungs ached, and she closed her hands into fists, her usual fighting instincts. Eyes shut and relaxed, she let out some of the air in her lungs. Maybe if they think I’ve succumbed to the drug, they might leave me an opening.
“Be careful,” one of the men said, “the lord wants her alive.”
“She fights like a wildcat,” the second voice said.
Serena felt a hand clamp over her mouth and nose, holding the rag tighter in place as she was lifted off the ground. Her lungs burned, and blackness crept in on all sides. Finally, she was forced to take a breath. The drug won. She lost feeling in her hands and feet, and the numbing sensation inched up her arms and legs. One of the thugs pulled her arms behind her back and secured them with a length of rough rope.
Before she slipped into oblivion, Serena heard one of her attackers say, “Be sure you make it tight.” He laughed, though his chuckle lacked mirth even though the ropes already bit into her flesh. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to fight with this one again when she comes around.”
Chapter 8
The morning after the ball, Killian woke, stretching. He reached out to his bedside table and found the intricately carved ring Serena had given him before they p
arted. With a smile, he slipped it on his finger, remembering how she had waited until they were alone to present the gift. In his mind’s eye, he could see her crooked smile, the lock of red hair that had fallen across her face. She hadn’t even bothered brushing it away. Killian smiled while remembering the way her whole face lit up when she told him to close his eyes. He could still feel her fingers on his as she’d slipped the ring on his right index finger. He’d come very close to presenting her with his proposal but wanted the moment to be special, so he held back.
A knock on his chamber door snapped Killian out of his pleasant musings. “Your Highness?” Thomas called without opening the door.
“Come,” Killian called out as he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed. Daydreams were lovely, but he knew it was time to begin the day.
About an hour later, Killian sat at his desk looking over some papers his grandmother had sent with Thomas. They included a list of duties and functions the queen wanted him to take on now that he had reached his majority. Of course, that also meant a schedule of meetings to fill most of his day. I’ll be lucky if I can get out to the practice area to train. Before he finished his thought, he heard a loud knock at the main door to his suite.
“Come,” he again called. Footsteps across the sitting room stopped a few feet short of his desk. He didn’t glance up, focused on his grandmother’s instructions.
“Your Highness, might I have a word?” Ryan asked.
“Of course,” Killian was surprised to see him. “What can I do for you?” A thin thread of fear slipped into his mind because the captain of his guard was supposed to be out hunting with Serena.
“Have you seen Serena this morning?” Ryan asked, a frown creasing his brow.
“No. I have not seen her since we parted after the ball late last night.” Killian set the papers down and turned his full attention to the guard.
“We were supposed to go on a hunt today.” Ryan swallowed hard. “But she is gone.”
“What do you mean… gone?”
Ryan alternated between appearing confused and apologetic. “There’s no trace of her in the suite your grandmother gave her.”
“Nothing?”
“I am sorry, Highness…” He would have said more, but the prince stood, grabbed his long coat and was rushing out of his chambers.
Killian looked like a madman running through the halls, taking no notice of anyone he passed, and ignoring those who tried to catch his attention. He sidestepped several nobles who were brave or foolish enough to put themselves in his path. For once in his life, the prince didn’t care about how it appeared since his only thought was to see proof of what Ryan had reported. He couldn’t believe Serena was gone.
A few minutes later, he skidded to a stop in the center of the small sitting room, his arms flailing as he fought to catch his balance while staring in disbelief. The suite appeared as though Serena had never occupied the rooms. All the personal items she’d used for decorating the suite were gone. The place was as it had been when the queen had asked him for his approval. He swallowed the cry threatening to escape his lips. Some part of him knew it would never do for him to show such emotion in front anyone who might pass it along as court gossip.
Several moments later, or maybe it was lifetimes, when he found his voice again, he spoke in a clear, commanding tone. “Alert the guards in the castle and the city. Have them watch for Lady Harlowe. If she is found, they are to bring her back here… to me personally.” He forced his expression into neutrality. “Ryan, I know you are not on duty today, however, I would consider it a personal favor if you would take the lead in this matter.” When the guardsman answered with a nod, Killian continued, “Thank you. Question anyone who was on duty or might have been in these passages last night, and send word to her estates in Lakeshire. Find out if she’s gone there. I want to know what happened.”
“Yes, Highness,” Ryan said before turning and striding away to carry out his orders.
When he was alone in the empty rooms, Killian drifted through the spaces, running his fingers over surfaces. He saw ghosts of the seamstresses fussing over Serena. When he blinked, the scene had changed, and he watched her seated at the desk in the study, pouring over papers sent by her steward. In his mind’s eye, he saw her admiring the necklace, fingers lingering on the stones even though she knew she was sending them back. He turned, expecting her to walk through the doors, take him in her arms and soothe away his fears. Then, drifting into the study, he spotted something gold glinting on the top of the otherwise empty desk. He frowned. The shawl she’d worn to the ball was draped over the back of the chair. There is something very wrong here. His thoughts seemed to move through a dream. Walking over to the wrap, he draped the shawl over his arm and picked up the ring from the desk. Turning it over, Killian knew what he would see, a rose intertwined with thorns, the personal sigil that Serena had chosen a short time after being raised to the nobility. He clutched the ring in his fist, hard enough that the metal pressed into his flesh hard enough to hurt.
“Where have you gone, my love?”
Several hours later, Killian was in the audience chamber with his father, grandmother, and the commander of the Royal Guard. Physically, he felt wrung out and wanted nothing more than to return to his private rooms and be alone. Serena’s signet ring hung from a chain around his neck and lay close to his heart. The initial search of castle and grounds had turned up no trace of her, although several of the servants recalled seeing her return to her chambers. No one saw Lady Harlowe leave again. When asked if they had noticed anyone moving belongings from her room, the answers were no more helpful. As far as anyone knew, sometime after returning from the ball, Serena and all of her belongings slipped out of the castle unnoticed, and disappeared into the night.
“The palace guards have found no trace?” his father asked, incredulity lacing his tone.
Killian closed his eyes and bit back the harsh retort as it formed on his tongue. “Yes, Father. Both the palace and royal guards have conducted an extensive search of the castle and are moving out into the city. Their reports show no sign of the lady, save the shawl and signet ring we found in her apartments.” Killian turned the ring she’d given him around on his finger, staring at it.
“How is that possible?” the queen asked.
“I do not know, Grandmother.” Killian yawned. “Now. If there is nothing more.” He waited for the queen to nod before continuing. “If you will pardon me, it has been a very long and trying day. I would like to retire for the evening.”
The queen nodded, concern for her grandson softening her features for a moment. “Very well, you are dismissed. I will have Captains Ryan and Donnavon keep you informed of any developments.”
“Thank you.” Killian stood, offered a perfunctory bow and forced himself to walk out of the room when all he really wanted to do was go in search of the woman he loved.
The queen watched her grandson leave, knowing the lad’s heart was breaking. Once the doors closed behind him, she rose and started pacing. “This situation could turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”
“Why do you say that, Mother?”
“The boy was never going to give her up. With Serena out of the way, he is free to make a more,” she paused, considering her words for a few seconds, “shall we say, advantageous match.”
“But, that girl,” crown Prince Mathias said, “as you call her, is the heir to the throne of the Dragon Fey people.”
“Heir to a crown that, as far as the world knows, no longer exists. She will bring no dowry, no power and if what the guard has found is true, may be a target and could endanger Killian.”
“You’re saying she was the target of the assassination? Not Killian?”
“That is exactly what I am saying, my son.” She spoke in an imperious tone more suited to speaking to a servant, not her son and heir.
Mathias ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “She deserves to know who she truly is.” He paused, comin
g to a decision. “He deserves to know.”
“If she returns, we will tell her. However, your son and heir must be encouraged to set his sights on a proper young lady. One with the correct breeding, power, and most importantly, wealth to bring to the marriage.”
“Why did you raise the girl if you did not want Killian to marry her?”
“I had hoped the novelty would wear off once the stigma of being a commoner was removed.” She sank into her chair with an exhausted sigh. If only the boy could be made to see reason. A dalliance with an apparent commoner is acceptable. Marriage is not.
Mathias shook his head. “It appears you were mistaken, Mother.”
“So it would seem.” She folded her hands on the desk in front of her, “However, you and I must take advantage of the situation that has been presented to us. We must do what we can to encourage his interest in other, more suitable, ladies.”
“And you prefer Lord Dennsmore’s daughter?”
She leveled a scathing look at her son and nodded. “Of course. Southreach is a small, but well-connected province. Rumors indicate the family has recently come into a large sum of gold and gems. They speak of a trade deal with one of the Western Territories that has paid handsomely.”
“All true.” The crown prince nodded. “Lord Dennsmore is a wise and frugal man. He wants more than just power, though. He wants the one thing his money cannot buy. The prestige of an ancient name.”
“Yes.”
“So the daughter will marry my son. The lord’s name will be linked to ours.” His fingers tapped an uneven cadence on the arm of his chair. “Dennsmore’s grandchildren will not only bear the Rhys name, but one will inherit the throne. All will bear royal blood and marry suitable matches.”
Anastasia nodded, completing his thought. “And the crown gets a much-needed influx of gold.”
“Killian will be married off to a young woman who wants only the power and prestige his name offers.” Mathias rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
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