Enshroud, Mosaic Chronicles Book Eight

by Pearson, Andrea

  The taller of the two looked at her. His gaze trailed slowly down her body before returning to hers. She gulped, holding a poker face despite the fear that radiated from her heart. She pulled her magic to herself again, so grateful it was with her here.

  Nicole tore her eyes away from the prince with effort. She knew she needed to be careful around him, but she had things to do, and fast. She glanced around the room, looking for the book she’d seen in an illustration the Fat Lady had shown her. It wasn’t there—at least, not out in the open.

  Of course it wouldn’t be. It was too valuable.

  A shadow fell over her before a hand on her arm made her jump. “When did we get a new maid?” the prince who gripped her elbow asked, his head facing his family.

  “Leave her be,” the queen said.

  “Why? If I don’t do it, Father will.”

  The queen flushed. “Do not speak of such things, Het. Not here, not now.”

  Het scoffed. “It’s not a secret, Mother.”

  The queen didn’t answer. She turned from her son, resigned. Nicole recognized from the curve of her shoulders that this was an argument the queen knew she wouldn’t win. Nicole felt a chill run down her back as Het turned his attention back to her, his dark, wide-set eyes staring at her chest. He grabbed the tie that gathered the fabric together there, tugging on it.

  “Why cover up?” he murmured.

  “Het, please,” the princess said. “Let’s just have our tea and—and leave the help alone.”

  Het growled, running the back of his fingers down Nicole’s neck and across her collarbones. “Fine,” he said, turning from her.

  The mood in the room suddenly shifted, lightening. Nicole released her breath. She hadn’t noticed that the others had apparently been holding their breaths too. Dmitri met eyes with her, shrugged, and turned to the princess.

  Nicole leaned against the cold stone behind her, feeling Mahesis do the same. A slight sniffling came from the girl. Nicole glanced at her, surprised to see that tears dripped down Mahesis’s face. Her expression was hard to read. Nicole couldn’t tell if the girl was in love with Het or if she was experiencing a flashback of some sort. Mahesis was probably used to Het’s behavior. It made Nicole’s stomach churn.

  The family chatted, sipping tea and lounging in their chairs. The mood was relaxed, calm. The princess and Dmitri laughed quietly together about something. The expression on Dmitri’s face was one of love and pride. He said something, his sister laughed, and his eyes lit up, a strong warmth radiating from them. Nicole’s heart was warmed too just watching them interact.

  The princess was adorable. She feigned surprise when Het and Isan began playfully competing with Dmitri for her attention. The queen smiled on, quietly sipping her tea.

  They’d nearly finished their wafers when a footman rushed into the room. “King Ramantus approaches.”

  The princess’s face transformed even more. Nicole was surprised to see her glowing, beaming, in anticipation. She slowly rose to her feet, her cheeks pink and her eyes even brighter now. Het and Isan laughed at her. Dmitri hesitated, his eyes on the doorway the footman had just vacated. He leaned forward in his chair. Only the queen looked dismayed by the news, even though she’d obviously known Ramantus was coming.

  Seconds later, King Keitus entered the room. Nicole shrank against the stone wall behind her—she couldn’t help it. His anger was almost palatable. It coiled and sprang off him as his body jerked to a stop. His eyes narrowed in on the queen. His arms shook, and a vessel popped out on his forehead.

  “Why did you do it?” he shrieked at her, spittle flying from his mouth. He strode into the room, stopping just in front of her.

  The queen faced him fully, obviously refusing to be cowed by her husband. Nicole felt a rush of pride for the woman who would probably face severe consequences for her actions later. “If I didn’t, no one would.”

  The brothers looked at each other, confused. Nicole was glad she wasn’t the only one who had no idea what was going on. The princess was still glowing with happiness. She bounced on her toes, her eyes on her father’s face, seemingly unaware of his mood.

  “Father, I have the best—”

  “Edyta, I am through!” Keitus yelled at the queen, his arms shaking even more, his neck and face bright red. “I am through with your meddling and inferior ways! They’re peasants! Peasants, Edyta, and my subjects. They only have one purpose!”

  “Each life is valuable, Ramantus,” she said quietly. “And there isn’t anything you can do to stop it now.”

  Keitus grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her out of her seat, holding her face level with his. “Your efforts will come to a halt when I toss you in the dungeon.”

  She didn’t respond, and Keitus threw her to the floor and kicked her in the stomach. She doubled over, arms tight across herself.

  Nicole gasped, backing up even more against the stone wall. Dmitri glowered at his father, his own anger rolling off him in waves. Nicole was sickened to see that Het and Isan looked bored.

  The princess’s mouth dropped, confusion on her face. “Father! Stop! What—?”

  “Shut your mouth, wench!” The king whirled on her, backhanding her so hard, she was flung across the room. Her head smacked against the stone wall next to Nicole with a sickening sound, and she crumpled to the floor.

  “No!” the queen screamed. “My baby!”

  Nicole tried to bend to check on the princess, but a pain in her chest forced her to stop. She fought against it, but nearly threw up. It wasn’t until then that she remembered Jacob saying his magic wouldn’t allow her to do anything that would change the outcome of the past.

  The princess began convulsing. Het and Isan rushed as one to her side, dropping to their knees and holding her so she didn’t injure herself. Neither paid any attention to Nicole.

  Dmitri’s jaw hardened, his face purple with anger. He hadn’t moved an inch. He stared at his father first, then his mother, and finally his sister. An internal war played across his face.

  What was his deal? Why wasn’t he helping them?

  Nicole glanced at Mahesis. Her eyes were screwed tight, her hand clutching the front of her dress. It occurred to Nicole that what she’d just witnessed happened regularly.

  “How dare you lay a hand on my daughter,” the queen whispered, a sob hitching.

  “Shut up, woman,” Keitus said quietly. His eyes were narrow, the hatred on his face so strong, it freaked Nicole out. But he seemed to be under control now. “If you meddle in my affairs again, I will kill you.”

  He whirled, striding from the room and grabbing a book that had been set on top of a shelf near the door on his way out. Nicole recognized it immediately—the light purple leather cover was unmistakable.

  She glanced around. The queen’s eyes were shut, pain etched into her features. Dmitri was on the floor next to his mother, holding her hand, his gaze on his sister, whose convulsions had finally stopped. Het was brushing the princess’s hair with his hand while Isan fanned her face. Mahesis’s eyes were still screwed tightly shut, and Nicole realized she needed to follow Keitus to get the book.

  She stepped from the room, relief rolling over her that she wouldn’t ever have to go into that place again—if she found the book now. She looked to the right and saw the king’s receding back. She quickly followed him, grateful for Hayla’s quiet peasant’s slippers.

  Knowing she probably wouldn’t be able to use it very much, Nicole still gathered her magic and kept it at the ready around her. She stayed in the shadows as much as possible, but in the end, it didn’t matter. No one saw her—no one was even around—and the king didn’t look back. It was as if the entire castle knew to stay away from him.

  He entered a room with doors two stories high, pushing them back, not even caring that one didn’t close completely. Nicole edged it open enough to slip in behind him. After a quick glance around, she stepped into a corner made dark by heavy curtains that hung over the windows. Car
efully, cautiously, she edged behind the thick fabric.

  Keitus set the book on a nightstand and pulled a cord near the fireplace. A narrow door next to the bed opened, and a male servant entered the room and helped Keitus disrobe. Nicole averted her eyes, having no desire to see Keitus naked or even close to it.

  A white fluff caught her eye, and Nicole couldn’t help but glance over as the servant helped the king into a white, frilly-looking outfit that Nicole assumed was nightclothes. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

  Keitus then dismissed the servant. Nicole was astounded at how quiet and calm he was now, how indifferent he was about what had just taken place in the game room. The evil, vile man.

  He lit a candle and sat at a desk not far from Nicole to write. Nicole’s heart pounded, and the desire to wipe her palms on her apron nearly overwhelmed her. She didn’t dare move, though, and risk drawing the king’s attention.

  After standing still for so long, Nicole started feeling like she was floating. Her legs were completely sensationless, and the temptation to check to make sure they were still there was nearly unbearable.

  Finally, after what felt like forty-five minutes, Keitus left the desk and got into bed, blowing out the candle on the nightstand. He didn’t seem to care about the one still burning on the desk.

  Nicole closed her eyes, leaning against the wall behind her, the curtain covering only half her body. She wasn’t out of danger yet, but that had been horrible! She breathed quietly, focusing on stilling her heart as much as possible. The king’s own breaths finally turned heavy.

  She sidestepped to the door and glanced into the hallway. Empty. She winced as the blood started circulating more efficiently through her feet, and she was forced to wait even longer before she could move effectively.

  Once ready, she approached the king’s nightstand. The stone floor below was solid and reassuring—much better than loose boards would have been. Glancing at the king, who was snoring lightly, she put her hands on the leather book, getting a feel for its size and mass before lifting it. With a quick movement, she picked it up and stepped out into the still-empty hall.

  Nicole turned on her phone, trying not to let its light ruin her night vision.

  She opened the book while waiting for her phone to boot and searched the contents until she found the title for what she was looking for—a recipe to build the Kioma Amulet.

  Nicole had to snap several pictures before her shaking hand would allow the lens to focus well enough. Then she turned her phone off and pocketed it and returned the book to the nightstand while Keitus slept on.

  Pulling the door back to where it had been previously, and wondering belatedly why the king didn’t have guards outside it, Nicole breathed a sigh of relief. She’d accomplished her mission. Now, to get home.

  Jacob had promised to be keeping an eye on her. She was about to whisper the words “I’m ready” when a hand clapped over her mouth.

  Strong arms pinned her own arms against her sides.

  “Pretty things like you shouldn’t be alone in these halls,” a deep voice rasped in her ear.

  Nicole shrieked against the rough hand, but her voice didn’t carry. She twisted, turned, and tried to get away, but couldn’t free herself.

  Het—she thought it was him—dragged her down the hall and into a large bedroom at the other end. Where was Jacob? Why hadn’t he come yet? Het threw her to the floor. Nicole landed roughly, her tailbone smacking hard on the stone. She grimaced from the pain, doing her best not to whimper out loud. Het laughed, pulling off his shirt.

  Nicole tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her shoulder, yanking her back.

  “I love it when they struggle,” he whispered, his lips next to her ear. He pinned her to the cold rock with one knee and fumbled with the tie at the top of her dress again, then finally ripped the cheap fabric in frustration.

  Nicole swung at him, her fist connecting with his jaw. Even though her hand radiated pain, the hit only angered him, and he backhanded her, knocking her head against the floor. Stars danced in front of her eyes.

  For several precious seconds, Nicole couldn’t get past the excruciating pain, couldn’t remember what was going on or where she was. Het had successfully gotten his pants off before she was able to think again.

  She struggled, trying to keep him away, trying to get away from him. Another punch hit him in the eye socket. “Let me go,” she shrieked, “or I swear, you’ll regret every moment you’ve touched me.”

  Het growled, pressing her into the stone, his body heavy on top of hers. Only her underclothes were between them. “Oh? And what could you possibly do to stop me?” He pried at the slip-like garment she still wore.

  Nicole was through trying to do things according to the rules. She no longer cared if killing this man would also kill Jacob and force her to stay in the past for the rest of her life. She pushed her powers outward and grabbed the nearest wooden thing—a desk.

  The desk flew through the air, barely visible in the moonlight that filtered through the window.

  Het only saw it a moment before it struck him in the head, knocking him over. He gasped in shock, staring at her from where he lay beside her, all evidence of lust gone from his eyes.

  “You’re a witch,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Nicole picked up her dress and held it in front of her as she got to her feet, glaring down at him. “Oh, I’m much worse than a witch.”

  Not waiting for a response, she commanded the air to rush and roar around them. The desk glowed momentarily before bursting into little pieces of wood that pelted the man. He screamed, shielding his face.

  Papers streamed into the air, whirling around the edges of the room. Nicole pulled water to herself, dousing the candles and the flames in the fireplace.

  Het screamed again. “Leave me alone!” he shrieked.

  Then he passed out.

  Nicole didn’t waste any time—she quickly put the dress back on as best she could, her fingers fumbling with the ties. “Please come, Jacob,” she said, her voice quavering. “Please come.”

  Nothing happened. Had she ruined their mission? Had she killed him? Was she stuck here forever?

  Nicole held her torn dress together with one hand and stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her with the other hand.

  Someone was crawling along the floor toward her. Nicole jumped before realizing it was Jacob. “You’re alive!” she exclaimed. He looked up at her, and she gasped. His face was pale, gaunt. His eyes were bloodshot. He gripped his chest with the hand that wasn’t pulling him forward.

  Nicole knelt beside him, not sure if she should touch him. Would that make it worse? “Oh, no. I’m so sorry!”

  “Gotta go home, take you home,” he breathed, reaching for her. “Hold tight.”

  Instead of the usual slight warmth, a roaring flame ripped across her skin, painfully igniting her nerves and scorching her fingers. She screamed, instinctively pulling her hand from him.

  Nicole felt her connection with Jacob rip away. She started falling, spinning. Lights flashed around her. Colors blended, swirled, rushing and circling around her. Her blood pounded in her ears and her heart squeezed in her chest, making her feel like she was suffocating.

  Just as she felt herself blacking out, someone grabbed her hand, and the roaring and spinning stopped.

  Nicole and Jacob collapsed on the floor of Dmitri and Arien’s throne room. He moaned, and she started dry heaving. She felt eyes on her and groaned, trying to sit up, still clutching the edges of her dress at her throat.

  “What happened?” Queen Arien asked, rushing to Jacob’s side.

  Jacob shook his head, and Nicole rolled over to her back as a servant started attending to the burns on her hand. How close to death had Jacob been when he’d fried her? He was always so careful.

  As soon as Nicole’s wounds had been taken care of and she’d changed her clothes, they were escorted to the table where warm bowls of chicken noodle soup waited. Ni
cole couldn’t help but wonder if the castle had a constant supply of it on hand, warmed and waiting to be eaten. It had been served with hardly any advance notice.

  Jacob breathed deeply, head in his hands, not touching his soup. He glanced at Nicole. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get there sooner—I should have worn my own contact lenses. My magic wouldn’t allow me to enter the room with Het still conscious, and Isan was waiting in the hall. I had to deal with him before I could get to you.”

  “‘Deal with him?’” Nicole asked, not wanting to consider what Isan had been doing outside Het’s door. Those evil, disgusting men. “What did you do?”

  He rubbed his fist. “Punched him in the back of his head before he could recognize me.”

  Nicole hadn’t even remembered seeing Isan out there. “What did you do with his body?”

  “Dragged it around the corner to buy us time in case he woke up. By then, you’d started using your magic, and I almost didn’t make it back to the door.”

  Dmitri and Arien joined them at the table, each digging into bowls of chicken noodle soup.

  Nicole stared at the king, sipping another spoon of soup before talking. “So, why didn’t anyone tell me Keitus is your father?” She looked at Jacob. “And your grandfather?”

  Jacob glowered at his soup bowl. “He’s only my relative by blood. He’s never done anything to actually earn that title.”

  Nicole nodded. “I could see that. The guy was horrible. I can’t believe how he treated his daughter and wife.”

  Dmitri glanced at her, then looked at Arien, his face stricken as he probably remembered the night. “Alcohol made him especially awful.”

  Nicole shook her head. “He wasn’t drunk—he was completely sober.”

  Dmitri frowned at her. “I remember that night as well as I remember my wedding day. And Keitus was drunk. He would never have treated my sister that way if alcohol hadn’t been involved.”

  Nicole raised an eyebrow. “You’re remembering it wrong. He didn’t even smell of alcohol. Not one bit, and I got close enough to know for sure.”

  Dmitri’s gaze dropped to his bowl and he slowly stirred his soup, not responding. Nicole wondered why he’d remembered wrong. Was he trying to protect his father? Or maybe his father’s memory? But why? The man was obviously evil—Dmitri had voiced his opinion on the matter multiple times.