“Let her go?” Nikolai paused and shook his head in disbelief. “What in heavens for?”
“It’s complicated.”
Nikolai stared forward, still shaking his head. “All right. Then were you able to interrogate her about the cache of gold, where they’re hiding it?”
“No. I was hoping to do that back at the palace. Our conversation led elsewhere.”
Marius kept his eyes forward, knowing his friend examined him closely.
“Good God, Marius.”
“What?”
“That look on your face. Are you in love with this peasant woman?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Good. Because you’re marrying Vilhelmina of Arkadia in three days’ time. Unless you’ve forgotten. Of course, you could take the peasant as a blood concubine, though it would be slightly unorthodox. No one does unorthodox better than you.”
“She would never consent to being my blood concubine.”
Marius blew out a heavy breath, wishing Arabelle would consent to such a thing. Or did he? Somehow, he knew a woman like her would break at being a kept woman in the palace, waiting to serve her master. She’d lose that light in her eyes he’d seen as she spoke of freedom and a brighter future. The thought of breaking her sickened him. He’d never do that to her. The irony being that he wanted exactly that the first second he met her at the ball. He didn’t know her then. He only knew that her scent drove him mad with desire, that he’d have done anything to sink his fangs into her pretty pale skin. He wanted her more now, but he didn’t want a puppet. He wanted Arabelle.
“Why ever not?” asked Nikolai, jarring him back to the question at hand. “You’re a prince. Of course she’d want to be your concubine.”
Marius chuckled. “You don’t know her.”
“And you do?”
Marius glanced at Nikolai, disliking his expression of disapproval.
“One thing I did find out was why all the palace servants are terrified.”
“Oh? What did you discover?”
“She made an accusation that I find more than a little troubling. Mostly because I think it could be true.”
They came out upon Chance Crossing, where the skirmish had taken place yesterday, the horses’ hooves splashing as they passed through the creek. Marius measured how far away Riker and the other men were.
“Whoa.” He pulled back on the reins.
Nikolai stopped his mount alongside him.
“What is it, Marius? Tell me now, for that look of concern and conspiracy on your face has me alarmed.”
He cleared his throat. “She said that there are corpses of peasants showing up in Larkin Wood with their throats torn out. Not a few, Nikolai. Dozens, maybe hundreds, and it’s been going on for years.”
Nikolai’s jaw dropped.
“If you know this to be true, you are bound to tell me here and now. I’m demanding this as your prince, but also as your friend.”
“Marius, I mean, Your Highness—”
“Stop with the title, will you. Tell me true! Did you know this?”
Marius’s ire flamed through his chest, thinking his closest friend might’ve kept something dire like this from him.
“No. I didn’t. But it can’t be true. She must be lying. I would’ve known.”
A weight dropped from Marius’s chest, and he felt as if he could breathe again. Nikolai was his most trusted friend. His angry reaction was turned inward on himself.
“She isn’t lying.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Though I don’t know if it’s as bad as she says it is.”
“How do you know she isn’t lying?”
“It’s the entire reason she formed the Black Lily.”
“She formed it? A peasant girl?”
No, she wasn’t a girl. Marius recalled her voluptuous form when she’d stepped from the pool, stunningly beautiful by the moon’s pale light. His cock hardened at the thought. He wasn’t accustomed to waiting for what he wanted, but he’d wait for eternity to spend a night with Arabelle. And there it was. Finally, the admission to himself that he didn’t want her for mere interrogations and retribution for trying to kill him. He wanted her for entirely different reasons.
“Nikolai, we must discover who it is and how many are infected by the blood madness. If she is right, then we have an infection of sanguine furorem in our midst. It is not only against our law, but it is the very reason we now have peasants organizing assassinations and this upstart rebellion. If we can find the perpetrators and bring them to justice, then we might end this uprising before it begins.”
And end the bloodshed that is bound to occur should this uprising truly turn into a revolution.
They passed out of Larkin Wood and into the open field bordering Sylus. From here, they could see laborers in the wheat field swinging their scythes, the morning sun gilding the landscape. Six men loaded bales into a cart pulled by hulking oxen.
“Your mother will want justice for those at Chance Crossing. As well as for the threat on your life.”
“Did the soldiers die of their wounds?”
Nikolai veered his horse onto the gravel road leading through Sylus toward the palace.
“One did. The gold poisoned his blood. He was young, only fifty years old.”
Marius knew his father would stop at nothing to find that cache of gold. His pulse raced, thinking of Arabelle in danger of being hunted by the Legionnaires. But how could he stop them? And why should he? They held the power to murder many more vampires if their rebellion escalated to outright war.
“We must find whoever has sanguine furorem, Nikolai.”
“You mean if someone has it.”
Marius knew Arabelle hadn’t lied to him. He was sure of it.
“It will spread,” he said, leveling his gaze on his friend. “And when it does, we could all fall back into darkness.”
Nikolai clenched his jaw, certainly considering the repercussions of such a tragedy.
“If she’s right,” continued Marius, “then we have a duty to stop it before it infects us all.”
Nikolai gave a stiff nod. They passed by the blacksmith’s shop, obviously empty and without its owner. Marius was more than relieved to know the man wasn’t Arabelle’s lover, clenching his reins tight in his fists. But he also knew that the smith hated him. Somehow, that didn’t settle well with him.
“Did we capture any of their men?” asked Marius.
“No. They covered their scents. We were unable to track them once we’d tended to the wounded. They planned well.”
Yes, she did.
They passed by the milliner’s, the grindstone working already, turning by power of the watermill in the brook along the back of the shop. The baker set out fresh loaves in his window. All seemed so peaceful. Quiet. And normal. But Marius knew otherwise.
“You never told me how she got away,” said Nikolai.
Marius laughed. His friend glanced his way as if he’d gone mad.
“Something humorous?”
“Yes. Quite.” They veered out of the village along the road leading up to the palace. “Funny thing, that.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense then.”
“We were set upon by a red-headed witch and her hart wolves.”
Nikolai pulled up short, casting a stunned expression at Marius. “Come again.”
Marius rested a hand on the pommel of his saddle and nodded for him to keep up.
“You heard me correctly. Now that I think of it, she wasn’t a witch at all. Though she seemed so at first, appearing suddenly out of the black oaks, red cape flaring and standing alongside those monstrous beasts as if they were merely domestic pets.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Marius laughed. “Do you believe I would make this up?”
“No. How could anyone make something like that up?” Nikolai clicked to his horse and they moved on. “A woman living alone in the Silvane Forest. Remarkable.”
>
“That’s what I thought.”
“But you could’ve overtaken the wolves.”
“Of course, but have you ever seen one?”
“Not up close,” Nikolai admitted. “We encountered a pack years ago while hunting stag deep inside Larkin Wood. Majestic creatures. Though terrifying.”
“Precisely. I could not kill those beasts. I would not.”
Nikolai smirked.
“Prince Marius, son of Varis, friend to wolves and”—he angled a devilish look toward Marius—“lover of peasant women.”
Marius scowled, not at all pleased with his insinuation. “She is more than a peasant,” he snapped. “And she is not my lover.”
Not yet.
A prickling tension separated the two for a long moment before Nikolai spoke up with an icy tone.
“I apologize, Your Highness.”
“Oh, damn you, Nikolai. Don’t start using my title to put distance between us. That’s a cheap shot.”
They crossed through the royal gate and made their way to the stables in silence. They dismounted and passed their reins to the stable boy who led their mounts into their stalls. Marius walked across the cobblestone toward the palace when Nikolai caught up to him and stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.
“You’re right. But it’s a strange business.”
“What is?”
“You’ve never been overly concerned for their welfare before. I mean, sure, you’ve tended to their needs as any prince would, visiting the villages from time to time, offering alms to those in need. But I don’t know quite what to make of this…of you. You’re changed. Ever since that woman stabbed you at the ball. I wonder now if the gold hasn’t poisoned your mind somehow.”
The deep frown and look of concern on his friend’s face softened Marius’s anger from before. He knew Nikolai to be a just, if not stern, man. Harder on himself and his own shortcomings than on anyone else. He clasped his friend’s shoulder.
“Nikolai, listen to me. Recent events have somehow opened my eyes. It is easy to believe the world is right when we live up here in the palace with want of nothing. But seeing how they live—no, how they survive—tells me I am not much of a monarch at all. I do not look after the welfare of my people as I should. A few visits into the village two or three times a year isn’t enough. And now that I know it’s even worse, that vampires could be running rampant with the blood madness and killing our people…”
“You don’t know that, Marius. It’s only an accusation at this point.”
Marius gave his shoulder a squeeze and straightened, glancing toward the palace.
“Right. But instinct tells me it is so. And we’re going to find out if there is truth to it. But we must do it by stealth. Should the guilty parties discover us before we discover them, it could get ugly.”
“Quite right,” said Nikolai in a lowered voice as they continued their walk into the courtyard. “The penalty for draining a bleeder is death.”
Nikolai needn’t remind Marius. Everyone knew the laws that governed the vampires, that kept their feeding in check and the balance between humans and immortals.
Only, though their lifespan extended century after century, they were indeed not immortal. Take the soldier that died at Chance Crossing for example. A mere babe at fifty years old and already gone. The Black Lily could do great harm to his kind. But apparently, his kind had done great harm to theirs already.
“First,” said Marius as they marched up the steps, a Legionnaire swinging one of the double doors open for them to enter, “we deal with my mother and father. Just follow my lead.”
Chapter Seventeen
All was silent along the periphery of the woodhouse. There seemed to be no sign of anyone within.
“I think it’s safe,” said Arabelle.
“Duchess would’ve let us know if there was danger.”
They urged the wolves forward into the yard. They both slid from the wolves’ backs and stepped quietly to the door. Arabelle entered first and peered inside. All was quiet and still.
She waved Sienna inside then crossed the room into the bedchamber and pushed open the door. The blanket on the bed was crumpled as if someone had slept here, not the way she had left it. One more step—then someone grabbed her from behind, squeezed the life out of her, and put a knife to her throat.
Sienna was in the room at once. She swung her walking stick and whacked Arabelle’s captor on the head so hard he loosened his grip with a grunt. Arabelle elbowed him in the ribs and broke free. Sienna had knocked him to the ground with her stick by the time Arabelle made out the familiar figure.
“Stop, Sienna! For God’s sake, Deek!”
She knelt at his side and helped him into a sitting position. He groaned with the effort, rubbing his forehead.
“Damn, woman. You startled me.”
“Startled you?” She helped him to his feet with a laugh, so thankful to see he was safe and acting his ornery self. “You damn near cut my throat.”
“She damn near took off my head.”
“Sorry about that,” said Sienna with a smile. “I tend to react first when someone puts a knife to a friend’s throat.”
“Friend? I’ve never laid eyes on you before in my life, and I know all of her friends. Who is she, Arie?”
Arabelle sighed. “Stop calling me that nickname or I’ll let her go ahead and take off your head.” In truth, her chest squeezed with joy to be back with her dear friend, even if he was annoying her with that childish nickname she despised.
“And what are you wearing? My, that’s fine looking.” His gaze raked her from head to toe.
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, you oaf, you’re bleeding. We best sit down and talk.”
“Aye. I’d say so.”
Deek limped ahead of them into the other room and took a seat at the square dining table.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” asked Arabelle as she poured water from the pitcher next to the wash basin onto a cloth. She wrung out the cloth and walked to Deek, placing it on the small gash where Sienna’s stick had made contact with his forehead.
He winced and sucked air through his teeth.
“Oh, stop being a baby.”
“It’s tender. She opened a wound the Legionnaires gave me.”
“I apologize for that,” said Sienna sincerely.
Arabelle sobered as she took a seat next to him, noting the bruising around one eye, the nose, and now the gauzy wrapping around the fingers of the hand that held the rag to his head. “What did they do to you? Did they torture you?” Anger flared in her chest at the thought of those damned vampires torturing him. She wondered if the prince had been one of them.
Deek removed the cloth and noted the blotch of blood.
“Not too much.”
“Was the prince with them when they interrogated you?” Arabelle ignored Sienna when she arched a brow at her question.
“No. It was the soldiers left behind to do the dirty work. But to be true, they didn’t rough me up so bad. I gave them a bruise or two in the scuffle myself.”
She smiled. “I’m sure you did.”
He set the rag down and stared at her before finally giving her a crooked smile.
“I am glad to see you in one piece, girl.”
She smiled back. “You thought I couldn’t handle myself?”
“I thought you were bloody crazy to trade yourself for me.”
“Oh, come on, Deek. You had to know I had a plan. As if I’d just hand myself over for you. You’re not that good a blacksmith.” She winked.
He chuckled one of his deep barrel laughs. “Aye. But no one can lace steel with gold like I can.”
“That’s for sure,” admitted Arabelle.
“Gold? You have gold?” interrupted Sienna.
Deek eyed her with caution.
“It’s all right, Deek. She helped me escape the prince. She’s one of us now, whether she likes it or not.”
“I told you I was in, didn’
t I?”
Deek clasped his big hands together on the table.
“You’re not a peasant girl, are ye?”
Sienna narrowed her moss-green eyes, clearly taking the accusation as an insult. Arabelle placed a gentle hand on his forearm.
“She was born into a noble family. But she left them years ago. She lives on her own in Silvane Forest.”
“What?” he asked. “A woman alone in those woods? With hart wolves and all manner of monsters?”
Arabelle laughed heartily. Sienna arched a brow, with a superior expression spreading over her face.
“There are certainly wolves,” said Arabelle. “She has befriended a small pack. That was how we frightened the prince away.”
Deek gave her a suspicious look then waved a hand in the air. “Bah! I don’t believe it.”
“If you don’t believe me, take a look out that window.” Arabelle pointed.
Deek glanced and saw nothing. Shoving away from the table, scraping the chair legs, he loped over and peered outside.
“Holy heavenly light!”
Both women burst into laughter. Arabelle couldn’t remember ever seeing such a look of shock on her big friend’s face before, always the brooding blacksmith.
“Not often I see you surprised.”
Deek shook his head. “Not often I see a pair of hart wolves standing pretty as you please in the front yard. Damn, they’re big.”
Sienna cleared her throat. “Arabelle, they won’t stay for too much longer. They don’t like to leave Silvane. I’ll need to be going soon.”
With a nod, Arabelle said, “Right. Come have a seat, Deek. We need to discuss our next plan.”
He dragged himself from the window and spun a chair around backwards to straddle it. “What’s our next plan?”
“You missed our last meeting.”
“I was a bit tied up in the palace dungeon. Sorry to miss that.”
Sienna giggled.
“Not a problem,” said Arabelle. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to abduct the Princess of Arkadia.”
He leaned back and eyed her. “You’re mad, woman. Right after we tried to kill the prince, you’re going to kidnap his bride?” he asked, his voice booming in the small room. “No way, Arie. It’ll never work.”
The Black Lily (Tales of the Black Lily) Page 13
