“You have an audience with the queen and your father. After that, the day is yours. Though I would venture a guess Lord Dennsmore would like to have a word with you.”
Killian looked up to see Lord Jeffery Dennsmore, standing at the end of the long table watching the exchange between the other two men.
The prince sighed and fought to keep tears from his eyes. “Lord Dennsmore, how may I help you?”
“I would appreciate your attention for a moment, Highness.” The older man picked up his papers and started walking toward Killian and Ryan.
“I am sorry, my lord, but I have a meeting with my grandmother, the queen. I am afraid I cannot be late.”
Lord Dennsmore nodded and dropped something on the table. “I had hoped you would see things differently.” He turned and started to walk out of the room. “That truly is a pity. She has such faith in you.”
Killian reached out and picked up the necklace Dennsmore had dropped. Emeralds and opals, dear Gods. “Davies. Do not allow Lord Dennsmore to leave. We have some business.”
A moment later, Davies stepped into the room using nothing but her presence to force Lord Dennsmore back into the room ahead of her. The older man turned around to see the prince standing at the side of the table, the necklace draped over his hand.
“Where is she?” Killian’s voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper. His hand closed around the pendant, but a fine tremor shook his grip.
“She is well enough, for now.” Dennsmore shrugged, and a slight smile curled his lips.
“I do not think you heard me.” Killian crossed to the lord and grabbed the front of his coat. “Allow me to make myself clear. You are going to tell me where Serena is before I hand you over to Sargent Ryan. If you continue to refuse, I will take my anger out on you until you do… or you are dead.”
“You might want to reconsider that threat, your Highness,” Lord Dennsmore said with a condescending sneer. “If I do not send word, your Serena will languish and die.”
“What?” Killian pushed the other man away and stumbled back a step.
“When I left her, she was in need of supplies, including salves and bandages to treat injuries she received trying to escape. If I do not give my people permission to return, she will not get the treatment she requires, and I am afraid she will die. Judging by her condition when I left, it will not be an easy death.” The lord shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
“You cruel bastard,” Ryan growled, taking an exaggerated step toward the other man.
Killian closed his eyes as a look of agony passed over his face. “I need to know she is alive and has been treated well. This.” He threw the pendant on the table and said, “is not sufficient. I want a letter, written in her own hand. Only when I have that, will I discuss terms.” He picked up the necklace, and pushed past Dennsmore, stalking out of the room.
Lord Dennsmore straightened his waistcoat and shirt, composing himself and his thoughts before leaving. The meeting hadn’t gone as hoped, but the prince’s reaction should have been expected and something Dennsmore had already planned for, just in case. He smiled because it was time to let Killian fret over his ladylove’s fate awhile longer. When he turned to leave, he came face to face with the guard.
“Out of my way,” Dennsmore demanded, his tone imperious.
“No,” Ryan answered.
“I am a lord, a member of the court, and you take orders from me.”
“I am a member of Her Royal Majesty’s Guard. I do not take orders from common nobles.” Menace filled the air around the other man though his tone was even, reasonable. “Know this, nobility or not, if Lady Serena comes to harm, I will personally repay each injury three-fold before I allow you to die.” Ryan turned on his heels and walked out of the room, taking the promise of violence with him.
Jeffery Dennsmore leaned against the table and clutched one hand to his chest. He had known the prince wasn’t going to take the threat to Serena well, but he hadn’t expected the response of the guard. The girl was reaching well above even her elevated station; why couldn’t the royal guards see he was doing the royal family a favor? He took a deep breath and stepped away from the table, squared his shoulders and left the room.
Killian stalked through the halls to the royal wing of the castle, making his way to his apartments. He ignored several attempts to get his attention and though hot tears streamed down his face, he didn’t care. He crashed through the doors to his suite, letting them slam closed behind him. Looking around the room, he noticed the expensive trappings of his social status everywhere, from the opulent furniture to the vibrant wall hangings covering the rough castle walls, and the shelves of books. None of them meant a thing. The one thing he wanted, no amount of wealth or power could buy. His mother had been stolen from him when he was eight years old. Ten years later, he felt Serena being ripped away too. He clutched his chest and had trouble pulling enough air into his lungs. Thomas entered the study and paused, frowning at the prince.
“Leave me.” Killian’s words were tight. He pulled at the collar of his shirt feeling it clutch his throat like a noose.
“Your Highness?”
“Go now, Thomas. I do not require your assistance tonight.”
“What about the meeting with the queen and your father?”
Killian nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Inform them I have taken ill and have retired for the evening.”
“As you wish, your Highness.” Thomas bowed and left the room.
Alone, Killian leaned against the door and sank to the floor. He clutched at the pendant, holding it to his heart, allowing himself to give into the grief that threatened to drown him. He sobbed until his eyes burned and his throat ached. Not knowing how long he sat on the floor, eventually, his grief had wrung itself out, and Killian pushed to his feet and staggered into his bedchamber. He whispered a prayer to the Gods, asking for a dreamless sleep. He couldn’t take seeing her again, not when he couldn’t hold her in reality. Killian dropped onto the bed without even pulling off his boots.
Chapter 10
“Killian,” Serena screamed, feeling her throat tighten further. Her voice ragged, raw as panic rose when she stumbled through the unnatural darkness shrouding the castle. Her shriek echoed back to her, taunting, repeating his name into silence.
“Serena,” he shouted, fracturing the silence, the sound bounced off the walls so she couldn’t discern where it was coming from.
“Killian, where are you?”
“Serena.” Killian’s cry changed to a high-pitched shriek of terror, bordering on inhuman and ended abruptly while at its loudest.
“No. Killian.” Her harsh panting breath filled her ears as all around deafening silence settled over everything. “Killian,” she cried out, feeling the spark of hope in her heart waver. “Please, Killian, answer me, Killian.” She stretched out his name, pushing her voice as loud and as long as she could. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Killian? No,” she whispered and dropped to the ground.
Serena’s knees met solid ground with a squishing, wet sound. Warm liquid seeped through the fabric of her skirt. She reached down and touched the substance. It was tacky, and when she brought her fingertips to her nose, she caught the unmistakable scent of fresh blood.
“Oh, Gods, no.” She closed her eyes and begged for mercy, for some reprieve. Taking a shuddering breath, she kept her eyes closed and used her hands to search for the source of the blood.
She lost track of time, not knowing how long she crawled following the trail of blood, but what had begun warm and sticky was cold and had begun to dry. Choking on her tears, Serena’s questing fingers brushed up against something soft and flexible covering a solid object. She opened her eyes and cried out as bright light lanced into her head. What she’d seen was enough. It was Killian, or what was left of him.
His face was the only thing she’d been able to recognize. The rest of him appeared torn apart by some frenzied wild beast.
“No.” Serena cradled his face in
her hands. Her eyes traced every contour, committing his features to memory.
“You. Did. This.” Deliah’s trembling voice echoed out of the darkness.
“No.” Serena turned her head to see the specter of Killian’s mother. She was draped in the death shroud, though, her face was uncovered. “I only ever tried to make him happy.”
“Look at your hands, covered in his blood. My son’s blood.”
“I followed it here.”
“You did this to him.” Deliah’s beautiful face, so much like Killian’s, twisted into a mask of pain. “Your hands are covered. Your clothes splattered. You. Killed. Him.”
Serena stood, studying her hands, turning them over, again and again. They couldn’t be her hands, but they were. The nails and tips of her fingers had elongated in gore-soaked ends. Her hands shook, and Serena looked down. The front of her outfit was drenched with blood. Bits of other matter clung to the leather.
“He trusted you, and you sank your claws into him.” Serena looked up at the other woman as bile burned her throat. “You ripped his flesh apart. Stole the life from him.”
Serena tried to catch her breath, but no matter how hard she tried, it was as though her lungs took in no fresh air.
“He loved you.” Deliah’s voice came closer. “He trusted you.”
“I love him. I’m sorry I couldn’t…” Serena’s voice trailed off, her throat closing on a choking sob.
The dead woman’s lips brushed against Serena’s flesh, and she whispered, “You killed him.”
Serena opened her eyes, forced herself to look at Killian.
His eyes snapped open, a milky white film obscuring their normal bright blue color. She met his gaze as he reached up and cupped her cheek. His hand was wet with his own blood. Chunks of flesh were missing or hung in ribbons. “Why?” His voice was rough, his throat ripped and open. “Why, Serena?”
She screamed and fell back, scrambling away from the thing that had been Killian.
“Will you shut up?” A man’s voice had shouted a moment before scalding water drenched her.
Serena shivered as the water began to cool when it hit her. It was a nightmare. Nothing more.
She didn’t know how long she sat in the corner of the dank cell, her knees pulled up to her chest, feeling the darkness swallowing her piece by piece, day by day. The nightmares were getting worse and came with more frequency. A loud crash at the end of the corridor snapped her out of her dark musings, and she stood, refusing to face her captors while on her knees or cowering in a corner. Killian’s gift, the ballgown, still clung to her frame, the fine cloth stained and torn. She held her head high and squared her shoulders, saying a silent prayer to the Gods, asking for strength and whispering the faltering hope she would see him again.
The door to her cell opened, hinges shrieking in protest, to reveal Lord Jeffery Dennsmore. He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, coughed in a most delicate way, and stepped into the cell.
“I would offer you a place to sit, my lord. However, as you can see, the accommodations here are rather spartan,” she said, speaking first and hoping to catch Dennsmore off guard.
“If you would just capitulate, cooperate, and follow my orders, I am certain your accommodations could be more to your liking.” He shrugged and lifted a perfumed handkerchief to his nose.
“No,” Serena whispered.
“You have not heard my request.”
“I do not wish to.”
“Well, then. I suppose I will leave you in the tender care of my men for a time. Perhaps you will be more open to hearing my request once they have completed their work.” Dennsmore turned and took a step toward the door of the cell.
“What is it?” Serena asked in a low whisper.
“I beg your pardon. I am afraid I did not hear you.” He stopped but didn’t turn to face her.
“What do you want?”
“Tis a trifle.”
“Name it.”
He spun around, a feral smile curling his lips. “Write a letter to the prince. Tell him what I want him to know and nothing more. Once you have finished, I will see you are moved to more comfortable quarters and given a few luxuries.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. The thought of getting word to Killian that she lived, set her heart racing. “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell him you are well. That you have not been harmed overmuch. Both of which are true, are they not?”
Serena laughed, threw her head back and let out a loud peal of heartfelt laughter. “That depends on how you define the terms. I would consider being attacked and dragged from my home against my will by several brutes, being harmed. I also define being locked in a dank cell, given barely enough food and drink to remain alive as not being well.”
“Lie to him then,” he said with a shrug. “Write the letter and I swear that all you say will be true… should he comply.”
“Of course,” she shook her head, “if he also complies.”
“Be convincing.”
“No.” Serena lifted her chin, defiant, “I will not allow you to use me against Killian.”
Dennsmore’s smile changed, and a wicked gleam filled his eyes. “Perhaps we should change the terms? You will write the letter. You will tell Killian what I have told you. If you do not, I will order my men to keep you teetering on the edge of death long enough to bring him here. Once he arrives, I will have him tortured in front of you. You will hear every scream, listen to him beg and curse your name. He will die in front of your eyes, and before he breathes his last, he will see you fatally wounded. There will be no reprieve because he will die knowing you are dead too. Killian will die knowing you could have spared him with a simple letter.”
Her breath caught in her throat as denials died on her lips. He won’t follow through on every threat. Why? It makes no sense. He wants the throne for his daughter, his heirs. Taking Killian’s life would put an end to all of those plans.
“You’re considering whether or not I will go through with it. Thinking that somehow the Royal Guard will protect him. They couldn’t protect you.”
“I was not their charge,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t guess her true thoughts.
“What faith you have in your comrades to believe they are above reproach. Do you truly believe I might not have one or more man or woman who has infiltrated the Royal Guard? Do you believe they are all loyal to the crown?”
“You bastard.”
“It is your choice, my lady. Perhaps you would like some time to… reconsider.” He chuckled. “To prove I can be magnanimous. My offer of better accommodations stands.”
“If I do not?”
“You will remain here. As I said, Killian will be bought here. He will be tortured. You will witness it. He will know you could have prevented it. You will watch him die. Before he dies, he will see you fatally wounded.”
Serena hung her head, unable to see a way around it. Perhaps with time, she would be able to find another solution, but she didn’t have that luxury. “What do you want me to write?” she asked, already planning to leave off the signal she used to prove her messages were genuine. If Killian questions the authenticity of the letter, perhaps he will guess that I’ve been forced to write it.
“Good girl. However, before we begin, you need to be cleaned up.” He stepped out of the cell, and one of her jailers stalked toward her. “Consider making this easier on all of us, and do not resist,” Dennsmore called back.
Chapter 11
A week after Dennsmore delivered his threat, Killian walked through the castle corridors, not seeing his surroundings, his mind spinning with information from the audience he’d just left. None of it made any sense. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her signet ring on the chain, his thumb running over the beveled rose and thorns trying to find a moment’s peace. Dear Gods, keep her safe, bring her home. And if… if it is too late, take her into your graces and bring her pea
ce.
“Your Highness?” Ryan’s voice broke into Killian’s thoughts.
He shook his head and let go of the ring. “Yes?”
Ryan nodded to Davies, who had brought a small child forward. The boy was dirty, and his eyes were wide. “This young man said he was given a letter to deliver to you, your Highness.”
Killian frowned and waved them forward. The child followed behind the guard, clutching his cloak in one hand and a letter in the other. Killian knelt, so he was closer to the boy’s level. “I hear you have something for me?” he asked.
The boy looked up, breaking a smile at Davies who reciprocated the gesture. The child stepped forward, gave an awkward bow and handed Killian the letter.
“Thank you, young man.” Killian recognized the writing on the front. Gods. Serena. “Do you know who gave this to you?” he snapped, looking back at the boy.
The boy shrank back at the prince’s sharp tone and shook his head. His eyes seemed to grow even wider though Killian hadn’t thought it possible.
Killian took a deep breath and let it out, leashing his emotions.
You are a prince of the realm. It is not seemly to lash at those whose station is not as high as yours. His mother’s voice rang in his mind. Before Serena came into his life, Deliah had been the one to counsel her son to caution. She had shown him that although they were royalty, it didn’t mean they could treat commoners with contempt.
“I apologize. This letter looks like it’s from a friend of mine. She hasn’t been heard from in quite some time, and I am very worried about her. Anything you can tell me about the person who gave it to you will help me find out what has happened to my friend.” He held out a hand to the boy. “Will you help me?”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I did not see much.” The boy’s voice was uncertain and held the unmistakable tremor of fear.
Killian sat on the floor, tucking his legs up to one side. “Well, I believe you might know more than you think. May I ask you some questions?” He cracked a brief smile but felt his heart start beating again when the boy nodded. “Thank you. Now do you remember if it was a man or a woman?”
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