The White Lily (Vampire Blood series)

by Juliette Cross

  “No, my lord. This is my first visit to Izeling Tower. My home is in Korinth with my father, Baron of Dover.”

  “I see. And how did you have the fortune of meeting His Grace?”

  She smiled up at Friedrich who kept his banal facade in place. “My father consorts with His Grace on imports and exports and such. All manner of things I know little of.” She shrugged a shoulder and waved her gloved hand in a gesture to say it was beyond her knowledge as a mere woman. The lies slid from her tongue as easily as water over rock.

  “Oh, our father consorts with a good many noblemen and royalty across the empire,” said one of his blonde daughters, for Brenna wasn’t sure which was which.

  “Absolutely,” added the daughter in the middle with the most ample cleavage spilling out the top of her bodice. “Our father is a very important man.”

  The third giggled behind her fan, waving it furiously so that her golden locks twirled in the small tempest about her round face.

  The orchestra’s light-hearted reel ended, then they swung into a darker strain.

  “Lady Brennalyn.” Lord Rathbone stepped forward, offering his hand. “Might I have this dance?”

  She glanced up at Friedrich as if to ask permission. He eyed the comely lord as if considering whether to let her go, then stepped away with a permissive nod.

  “Thank you, my lord,” said Brenna, setting her hand in Lord Rathbone’s.

  He led her through the crush as the room continued to fill and gently swung her out onto the floor, his grip tight at her waist, her small hand enveloped by his. Though this was the plan all along, Brenna couldn’t keep her pulse from tripping faster at the nearness of a sure enemy, especially with the obvious expression of hunger in his dark countenance.

  She angled her attention away with the pretense of watching the dance floor but felt his intense scrutiny all the same.

  “How long have you been an acquaintance of His Grace, Lady Brennalyn?”

  Turning her attention to him as he capably moved them around another column, she said, “A few months, my lord. My father brought me to visit Winter Hill around Harvest Holiday.”

  “The north does know how to celebrate the harvest.”

  “They certainly do,” she agreed truthfully, for there was always a week-long feast. “I enjoy the northern celebrations very much.”

  “And I’ll bet His Grace enjoyed you as well,” he growled suggestively.

  Widening her eyes, she gasped with genuine shock, unprepared for such a blatant accusation. “My lord.”

  She tried to push from his grip, but he held her even tighter, his hand sliding farther down her back as he pressed her closer to his body on the next turn.

  “Release me,” she demanded, knowing he wouldn’t. She was right.

  “Don’t be offended, my lady.”

  “How can I not be? If you’re only intention is to insult me, I’ll ask you to unhand me now.”

  His heavy gaze swept her face, landing on her mouth. “That is not my only intention.”

  “What sort of gentleman speaks to a lady in such a manner?”

  “Not a very good one, I imagine.” He smiled, creasing his handsome face into what Brenna imagined a fallen angel might look like. “What kind of lady allows a duke in her bed, giving up her virtue, which she should keep for a husband?”

  This was one point of interest she and Friedrich hadn’t discussed. It was true that noble ladies were required to keep their virtue intact for the marriage bed. Only fallen women would allow a vampire, even a royal, take more than her blood. He was obviously admitting that he scented her recent coupling with Friedrich.

  She held his gaze as he smiled down at her like a charmed devil. Arching a superior brow, she replied matter-of-factly, “Not a very good one, I imagine.”

  A smooth roll of laughter broke his subtle smile into something quite beautiful. She had to shake herself to remember this man was a monster and servant to the enemy. How truly dangerous these vampires were.

  He lowered his head in an intimate fashion, twirling them more slowly, “Now I know why the duke snagged you,” he said, still chuckling though his gaze sharpened on hers, fangs protruding. “Forgive me, my lady. But you are by far the most stunning creature in this entire ballroom.”

  She rolled her eyes impertinently, receiving another chuckle from the pretty monster. “I imagine you say that to all the ladies. You had a bevy of beautiful blondes ready to slobber at your feet only a moment ago.” She nodded in the direction where they’d left the others but didn’t dare seek Friedrich’s gaze for fear of losing her glib composure.

  “They are physically beautiful to be sure. But you are”—his intense gaze roved southward before returning to her face—“intoxicating.” With a slow shake of the head and deep inhale, he whispered in a silky slide of hungry words, “You could make a man murder the whole world for a chance to possess you.”

  Brenna swallowed hard at his searing declaration, feeling his desire ripple down her spine as his hold tightened. He fixated on her throat. She looked away, wanting to flee into Friedrich’s arms, her heart hammering a frantic pace.

  He eased his grip, perhaps understanding he was frightening her. When he spoke again, his tone returned to the smooth lilt of an alleged gentleman. “Have you an understanding with His Grace? Or will you consider enjoying the company of another? I could show you the wonders of the southern region at my home of Devonshire.”

  She returned her gaze to his and tilted her head in consideration. “Tell me about your home. What delights might a girl of the east find in such a place?”

  “Much more than you will find in the frozen north,” he said with humorous contempt.

  She arched a brow again.

  “I see,” he said. “My lady would like specifics.”

  “Since it is apparent you’d like to dispense with the niceties and civility of proper nobility, then I’ll tell you openly, yes. I would like specific reasons why I should leave the company of a duke in the north for an earl in the south.”

  A frown creased his brow. “I did not think you were a woman chasing titles.”

  “I’m not, my lord. I’m chasing the most interesting diversion for a lady who detests sitting around having tea in quaint parlors.”

  The waltz ended. She caught the flash of disappointment in his gaze and sensed a small connection with the earl. She glanced toward the feast tables.

  “Would you accompany me to get some refreshment, my lord? I’m rather thirsty.”

  “As am I.” He placed her hand on his arm. She ignored the shiver his murmured reply gave her.

  With a flick of the earl’s hand, a footman stepped forward holding a tray of champagne flutes. He took one and passed it to her. “I believe we were speaking of southern delights.”

  “I believe you were going to dazzle me with the possibility of experiencing southern delights,” she teased, emphasizing possibility as if he had a test to pass before she acquiesced.

  His dark chuckle rumbled against her skin, raising gooseflesh. “That I was.” He tilted his head, considering. “Let’s see. No tea parties.”

  “No tea parties,” she confirmed, sipping her champagne but rather slowly so it didn’t go to her head.

  “In the south, when the spring primroses bloom, there is the most wonderful fragrance permeating the air. It is as if heaven has opened up and kissed the earth, touching the air with sweet aromas of paradise.”

  Her tummy fluttered at the poetic turn of phrase, but then she realized she’d heard it before. Read it herself.

  “Lord Rathbone. Are you quoting the poet Kalphus to woo me? Or are you trying to pull his words off as your own?”

  “Stars above.” He stepped closer, lifting her chin with his finger. “Intelligence to match her beauty? I believe you’ve just stolen my heart, Lady Brennalyn.”

  “Intelligence and beauty in a female surprises you, my lord?”

  “In a human lady bred for tea parties and balls,
yes it does.”

  “Then you’ve misjudged me with what appears to be a prejudice against my sex.”

  “So it appears.” He smiled. His finger still held her chin, stroking a flaming line along her jaw and the side of her throat before falling away. “I did not expect to find someone like you in this frozen wasteland.”

  “If you detest the north so much, my lord, then why have you come to King Dominik’s ball so far from home?”

  His gaze narrowed as he seemed to be considering his response then finally answered, “We had business to attend with His Majesty.”

  She glanced toward the whirling throng on the ballroom floor and sipped her champagne. “I hope it has nothing to do with this nonsense about the Black Lily.”

  She felt him stiffen next to her as she continued to watch the dancers whirl.

  “What do you know of the Black Lily?” he asked, timbre deeper than before.

  She met his gaze. “Only that it’s disrupting the aristocracy abominably. People fleeing in the middle of the night. Tenants disappearing who would otherwise be working and paying their tithes to their lords. It hasn’t affected us as much in the east, but word spreads. It seems to be quite rampant here in the northern provinces. Have you not heard of this, my lord?” she asked innocently.

  “Yes, Lady Brennalyn. I’m on intimate acquaintance with the disappearances.”

  Stammering for what to say next, she took another sip, which dribbled. She licked the sweet tang from her bottom lip, watching his gaze fall to her mouth, his pupils dilating in an instant.

  “You missed a drop.” He pressed close and lifted his hand, brushing the pad of his thumb across her chin then her bottom lip, the angles of his face seeming to draw tight as he stared at her mouth with unwavering intensity.

  As horrifying as the prospect was, she realized she might have to find a quiet corner and allow Lord Rathbone a few liberties to discover more of what he knew, for he certainly was entangled with the king’s plans. “My lord,” she whispered. “Would you like—”

  She didn’t get to finish her request for the orchestra died at once and the sounding of a gong pulled everyone’s attention to the dais. Lord Rathbone released his hold on her chin, standing close behind her as she turned to face the front of the ballroom. He placed a firm hand low on her left hip.

  King Dominik stood before his throne, demanding everyone’s attention. Brenna quivered at the sight of the man, for he was fearsome to behold even from afar. When she’d met him up close, she thought her spirit might up and leave her body if she remained too close for too long. He was cut from a cloth both beautiful and brutal, cunning and cruel. And the rumble of his thunder-deep voice made lesser beings want to run and hide. At the moment, every pair of eyes was riveted to his form.

  “Lords and ladies, might I have your attention. For a brief but special announcement, which is the cause of our celebration this evening, I have the great honor of presenting my mother, the great Queen Morgrid, Empress of all of Varis.”

  An uproarious applause erupted. Brenna let her gaze slide to the back of the room for Friedrich, but he’d moved away from Steward Thorwald and Lord Maxim still holding conversation with Lord Hamley and his daughters. Sweeping the room, she found him on the farther side of the ballroom with Captain Mikhail but with a direct view of her and Lord Rathbone. His expression held a grave yet calm demeanor, but the murderous glare he flicked toward the vampire at her side could not be mistaken. She returned her attention as the queen took the stage.

  Queen Morgrid was the epitome of royalty in every way—her silver gown, diamond gems dripping from her throat, wrist, and ears, and the tiered crown that rested on her sleek, sable hair. She was both breathtakingly beautiful and horrifyingly untouchable. Her ice-blue eyes were soulless pits. Upon meeting her when they arrived, Brenna could hold her frosty gaze for only a second before wishing to cower into a corner.

  At the moment, she stood as regal as ever with several Legionnaires in the blue-and-silver colors of the royal guard flanking the right of the dais.

  “Greetings, lords and ladies. My son and I are pleased to see so many loyal gentry here at Izeling Tower.” She swept her glacial gaze across the wide crowd who remained perfectly silent under her wilting scrutiny. “I must speak first about a tragedy my son, the sovereign King Dominik, recently suffered. It is known that his devoted wife and queen, Lana, died in childbirth, doing her duty for her beloved husband and king.” Not a whisper could be heard in the pensive silence. “King Dominik has endured great pain at her loss, the mother of his precious daughter, Lucille, and the companion to comfort him as he bore the weight of his kingly duties.”

  Brenna couldn’t help but glance toward the balcony where nearly one hundred half-naked young women draped on lounges and chairs. The king had access to more feminine “comfort” than one man could endure. She then examined King Dominik in his domineering stance next to his mother. The man conjured a plethora of dark emotions, but loneliness and the need for comfort was not one of them.

  “This brings me to the royal announcement I am so happy to decree.” A smile spread across her porcelain face, giving Brenna the sensation of a snake slithering across her foot. “It is with great pleasure that the Varis Crown decrees that Princess Vilhelmina Dragomir of Arkadia will wed King Dominik.” Lord Rathbone’s hand flinched on her hip as the queen went on in a triumphant tone. “This union will unite the southern kingdom with the north and strengthen the nobility of the empire against its enemies.”

  She raised her hands to a roar of applause and shouts of praise. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed repeatedly at the horrifying declaration. That poor princess. Reggie had carried rumors from the south that the princess had been held captive in her home of Briar Rose. That was one of the many topics she wanted to discuss with Friedrich and hadn’t gotten around to. Surely, the princess didn’t want to marry that monster of a tyrant.

  As the clamor of tribute rose and echoed, Lord Rathbone dipped his head close to her ear. “Forgive me, Lady Brennalyn, but I must return you to His Grace.”

  Without further explanation, he drew her arm in the crook of his and whisked her through the crowd with great haste toward Lord Maxim and the Steward of Arkadia. She stole a glance up at the vampire tearing through the throng, his handsome features suddenly shadowed and sharper than before. He didn’t like this decree. How interesting.

  Upon reaching their destination, Lord Rathbone swept the area, not finding Friedrich, who she knew was still across the room. Seemingly frustrated, for it wasn’t proper to leave a lady stranded, he turned his fierce countenance down to her. “I do apologize, my lady, but I must—”

  “I will be perfectly fine, my lord. Thank you for the lovely company, but my duke will find me forthwith.”

  A glimmer of disappointment strode across his expression before he dipped his head and swept a brief kiss across her gloved knuckles. Then he joined his party nearby and said, “Lord Hamley, if you’ll excuse us for a moment.”

  “Of course, Lord Rathbone. Girls, I see the Earl of Renley over there. Shall we?”

  Joyous applause and murmurings filled the room as the orchestra struck up a lively tune for the royal decree. Brenna inconspicuously maneuvered closer to Lord Rathbone and the other two with the pretense of searching the ballroom for Friedrich. She stationed her slim frame in front of the column directly between herself and where they congregated. While the happy throng continued to applaud and hurrah, the gentlemen spoke in hushed tones, probably thinking they’d not be heard while the room was turned in clamoring joy toward the dais.

  “—not part of the bargain,” Lord Rathbone finished saying.

  “The king’s omission was intentional,” said a deeper voice she didn’t know. Must be Lord Maxim.

  “If he thinks to take over Arkadia with this maneuver, he’s sadly mistaken,” said the voice she knew to be the steward. “Arkadia has been mine for thirty years. I’ll not allow—”

  “Arkad
ia has never been yours.” Lord Rathbone. “You are its steward, not its monarch. My concern is that he aims to do to the south what he’s done to his own northern villages.”

  “He wouldn’t dare wipe out our villages for his bloody war against the Black Lily,” rumbled Lord Maxim.

  “I believe he aims to do exactly that.” Lord Rathbone again. “As king of Arkadia, he’ll have the sovereign right to do whatever he likes. And you forget. We signed a royal contract. Though the ink isn’t even dry, he made damn sure we were roped in before his mother announced this little declaration to shift power to him.”

  “Why have us sign the damned contract if he planned to take over through this forced marriage?” asked the steward.

  “To solidify our support with a binding contract.” Rathbone again. “He already has our skilled craftsman, twenty Arkadian horses, and the promise of more to come.”

  “I say we go to Dragon’s Eye tonight and take back the horses, our men, and arms we’ve given,” said Lord Maxim. “We can withhold our forces as well.”

  Brenna caught sight of Friedrich and Mikhail darting through the horde, both scowling. She lifted one finger and waved it in the negative. He slowed, noticing her proximity to the southern gentlemen.

  “Too late for that,” said Lord Rathbone. “There’s no way to penetrate Dragon’s Eye without force and though it’s only half a league from here, we don’t have enough of our own Legionnaires to extricate our men.”

  “Then we return to Arkadia tonight,” rolled the menacing voice of Lord Maxim. “Cut our losses and regroup with the House of Arkadia.”

  Brenna knew that the House of Arkadia was a ruling assembly of the southern aristocracy. Without a proper monarch, for Princess Vilhelmina had never been granted authority over her kingdom, the House made joint decisions of government and law for the region. Brenna’s father had often explained to her the workings of politics in the four kingdoms, emphasizing that Arkadia was different than all the rest.

  “Agreed,” said Lord Rathbone.