“You,” the first big man yelled at Colin.
Thank God, his tone of voice made an impression, because Colin certainly didn’t understand the man’s actual words. He did get the pitch and tone, and that’s all he needed to respond appropriately. He turned to look while keeping his gaze down and unthreatening.
“You follow us.”
Colin cut his eyes to Riah, and with a sinking heart, she nodded slightly. Colin understood.
She didn’t say anything else, just retreated into the carriage and sat next to Ivy.
“What’s happening?” Ivy whispered.
“Not sure exactly, but I’m guessing we’re about to get an audience with Dracula himself.” She didn’t add how sick that made her feel.
“No way,” Ivy breathed out. “That can’t be good.”
Riah was slowly shaking her head. “I’d say we have a better-than-average chance of being fucked.”
Once at the castle, the two ugly men escorted Riah and Ivy through drafty corridors until they were ushered into a large chamber with flagstone floors covered in thick rugs. The furniture was bulky, made of heavy wood frames and padded with velvet upholstery. They were not invited to sit.
Colin and Adriana were left with the horses and carriage, several stable hands keeping an eye on them. She worried about the two alone and with strangers while having no way to communicate. Without her to translate, they were floating unaided. She didn’t even want to think about how dangerous that was for them. If anything happened to Adriana, or to Colin for that matter, she’d never forgive herself for letting them come here.
She had no one to blame save herself. She was the one who’d led them to the stones. She was the one who’d taken the initiative and gone through. They’d only followed her lead. This was precisely why she’d chosen solitude for so many years. It was safer that way. Lonelier too.
Focus, she had to focus. Keep her wits about her and, for God’s sake, keep calm. No, she’d never met this man, but she’d heard stories from those who had. She remembered them with alarming clarity, and they didn’t leave her feeling particularly confident.
Dracula sauntered into the room and the air changed the moment he entered. The charge was so thick it could have powered a hybrid car. Seeing his face, she immediately thought the portraits hadn’t done him justice. He was much more handsome than the representations revealed. His long black hair was shiny, his deep-set eyes intelligent and probing. The thick mustache suited his face, taking away some of the sharpness of his aquiline nose. It was easy to see how people were drawn to him.
She had a strong urge to reach out and touch him, the pull was so powerful. Wasn’t hard to understand how such a man could maintain rule not just once or twice but three times. According to what Antoine had told them last night, they’d arrived here near the end of his final reign.
She knew that. He didn’t. Perhaps it was the one thing that might play to their advantage.
God, she hoped so.
“You.” He pointed a long slender finger at her. “Come.” A giant ruby ring glittered on his finger.
She wanted to say “fuck you” and didn’t dare. She hated the tone of voice men in power used when addressing women. Truthfully, she could rip him apart, and it galled her that she had to play the submissive. The lives of her friends were at the core of her decisions right now, and if that meant pretending to be a lady with all the proper manners, so be it. She’d swallow her distaste and play his game. Going vampire commando on Dracula’s ass wasn’t an option.
For now.
*
Nicoletta wanted to scream and run back to confront Prince Dracula head-on. She wanted to hit him, to scratch out his eyes. He had no right to kill Alexandru. No right.
Except that he did. In their world, the Prince had every right to do whatever he wanted, justified or not. It was the reward for sitting on the throne. Despite how she or anyone else felt about it, that was the way of things and always had been. The Draculs had been in power in one way or another her entire life. That this particular one was bloodier than the others mattered little. Her life was tied to his, as was Alexandru’s, and when he deemed that life unworthy, he had the privilege and the power to take it away.
She would probably never know what Alexandru’s supposed sin was. The Prince perceived that her brother had somehow wronged him. By his unexplained absence, by his refusal to explain himself, by his simply being alive, whatever it was, the Prince took offense.
Alexandru’s power to see the way of things was what had sent him on his quest to find Lura and bring her back. Nicoletta had never questioned it because it was who he was. To beg him to deny his own destiny was to deny his very existence. She did not have that right. He had always known what must be. Had he foreseen his own death as well?
Even without Alexandru’s gift of sight, she should have realized the peril they were in. Each person in Wallachia noticed a change in the Prince when he came back this time. One of the glaring differences in the man was that he had failed to bring his wife and children with him to the castle. Though it was clear he did not hold his second wife in the same esteem he had his first one, she was still always with him. If he now deemed it unsafe for his family, what did that say for the rest of them?
A former ally who disappeared without a word and then reappeared the same way, only now in the company of a beautiful stranger? The Prince would want answers. Quickly. Completely.
She doubted very much that Alexandru had given him what he demanded. They all had sympathy for the Prince and his brother for their many troubling years held captive by the Ottoman Turks. The horror they must have been forced to endure was not something Nicoletta cared to think about. Any child ripped from its bed and kept as a prisoner in a foreign land for years was certain to return scarred. She did not wish such a fate for any child.
Her heartache had intensified as his reign grew. Not for the Prince, because he had begun to change in a way that brought evil to her home. The tragedy of his wife taking her own life changed him from a compassionate soul into a hardened man. His rule over Wallachia continued to change him, and it showed in his face as well as in everything he did. He kept them safe from the Turks, but at what cost?
Her brother was now one of the many whose lives drained away on the pointed end of a stake by command of the Prince, and it made her want to scream. Back for barely a day and now he was gone again. This time he would not return. He was the last of her family. She was alone and, very soon, she suspected, homeless. Lura was right; the Prince would be after her next. She had nothing more to give him or, rather, nothing more she would give him. Nothing left to protect. He would never touch her again.
The knowledge she possessed was dangerous. Seers were not held in high esteem, and if the Prince had discovered Alexandru’s secret, that could be why he was suspended on the stake. It could also be what would bring him to her door.
She dared not tell the Prince what she knew. He would not believe her, though she felt in her heart that all Alexandru had shared with her and Lura was true. It would come to pass with or without Alexandru.
Nonetheless, if she were to tell the Prince of his fate, he would put her on a stake right next to her brother. Her life would pool at her feet just as it had done for him. Vaguely she wondered if that would be bad. What did she really have to live for now that Alexandru was gone?
Then her gaze fell on Lura at the same time her hand went to her belly. Despair had no place in her heart today. Misfortune had befallen her and her family. First her parents and then her beloved brother. She deserved to wallow, and she would not because Lura’s presence here would save them all. She would do whatever she could to see that it happened.
“Come,” she said quietly as she took Lura’s hand. “The horses are this way.”
Even in the dimness the relief that crossed Lura’s face was easy to see. Bless her heart, she had been trying without much success to find the stable where Nicoletta’s horses were boarded. She cou
ld easily find the right one, even in the deep black of night. But it was not night; it was the light of morning, which on any other day would be a welcome sight.
Lura had guided them unknowingly in the right direction. Nicoletta shook off her despair and pointed them toward the familiar stable where the horses waited. Soon, they slipped inside. Her horses, rested and fed, seemed pleased to see her. As always, she was terribly glad to see them. The two beautiful animals to her represented freedom, and tonight that was what they needed more than anything.
Slipping harnesses on, they each took a set of reins and led the horses from the stables. Still they kept to the shadows as much as possible. The less attention they drew, the safer they would be. Whatever else they did, they dared not attract the interest of the Prince’s henchmen.
At last they reached the edge of the city, and before them stretched an endless landscape of thick trees and rough terrain, all blanketed with a beautiful white dusting of snow. The snow had at last stopped falling and the sun was beginning to shine. For that she was grateful, although they would need to keep to the trees so they could stay clear of other travelers.
Lura, on the back of the smaller horse, paused and studied the land ahead of them. “Do you know what direction that is?” She pointed straight ahead.
Nicoletta studied the sky, clearing now of the clouds that had earlier created a curtain of white. “That road will take us to Brasov. I have friends there who will keep up safe.”
Lura eyes narrowed as if she was pondering something. Then she shook her head and turned her horse in the opposite direction. “We need to go that way.”
Nicoletta frowned. If they were to do that, it would take them back into the city. But that was crazy. They would surely die just like Alexandru. “We cannot return.”
Lura’s nod was vigorous. “Not on your life. We’re going to have to skirt the city—”
“Skirt the city? We have no skirt save for what we wear.” She had never heard such a strange phrase. Why would they put a skirt on the city?
Lura’s tiny smile was strange, considering the danger they were in. Comforting at the same time. “No, I mean we’ll have to ride around the city without going into it until we’re heading back in the direction of Snagov Island. We want to steer clear of Dracula and his men.”
That she would have understood if only Lura had said it to begin with. Going back to the island did not seem like the best plan to her. If Dracula’s men caught them there, they would have no way to escape. She thought it better to go in the direction of Brasnov, where there were many mountains and people who would give their lives to protect them. Perfect for keeping out of sight of the Prince. She told Lura as much.
She just shook her head and coaxed her horse into a trot. “We have to go back, Nicoletta. It’s important.”
Reluctantly, she followed, though not without misgiving. “I worry we will not make it.”
The smile from a moment ago fled, Lura’s face somber. “It worries me too, but I’m more scared of staying here after what Dracula did to Alexandru.”
Shivers slipped down her spine as the vision of Alexandru’s sightless eyes flashed through her mind. It seemed impossible that a man with a life of promise ahead of him was gone. He had followed the prophecy and fulfilled his part in saving their people. It was not fair that after all of his sacrifice, he then would lose his life. It was wrong, and no matter how long she lived, she would always feel cheated.
She had prayed for his safe return and that prayer had been answered. If she had really been thinking, she would have prayed for him to stay away. Here safety was fleeting. In the faraway place Alexandru had gone to find Lura, he had been well. He should have stayed there. Except, he never would have done that. Honor was but one of his finest qualities. He had said he was bringing back their savior, and that is exactly what he did, regardless of what it cost him. Like his life.
Nothing was as she thought it would be when she saw him step through the stones. Instead, her brother was on his way to the hereafter, and she was on the run for her life. Strangely, even though her family was now all gone, she did not feel alone.
Lura sat tall on her horse, her blond hair rippling in the breeze. She rode now as though she had been on a horse all her life. A stranger here and yet she moved like she had been born on the very soil. Nicoletta’s heart fluttered. Fate was not smiling on her. First, she caught the fancy of the Prince, whose touch would leave her marked forever. Then she met a woman who taught her what love really means. She wished for forever, knowing it could never be. Finally, her brother died at the hands of the man who had taken away her hopes and dreams. The moment Lura returned to her own time, Nicoletta would be on her own for the rest of her days.
Her hand strayed once more to her stomach and she closed her eyes. The thought of Lura’s leaving made tears spring to her eyes. If only they could stay together, she might find the strength to weather the coming months. Alone, she dared not think what might become of her. She worried that she would not find the strength to carry on.
Lura’s shift into the cover the woods provided took Nicoletta away from her melancholy and back to the moment. As she became more aware, she heard what had made Lura embrace the shadows. Here the woods were thick enough to block out much of the morning sunlight. The air was cool and filled with the distinctive scent of the forest. The city was her home, and though she had traveled throughout the country and often rode her horse through the fields and meadows, she did not feel most comfortable in the wilderness.
Lura did not seem to share her unease. She moved deeper and deeper into the woods, one with her horse. The sight made Nicoletta’s throat tighten. She was going to miss her with an intensity she hardly believed possible given their short acquaintance. Her heart did not listen to the voice of reason.
“This way,” Lura said softly as she slipped from the horse and began to lead her toward the hillside.
How Lura had seen the cave, Nicoletta could not imagine, and yet there it was. From here it appeared big enough for the two of them and the horses. A perfect place to hide from those passing through the forest. Or was it people searching the forest? The sudden thought scared her.
Little light made its way inside the cave, although after a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she could make out both Lura and the horses.
“Do you think they saw us?” She had heard the sounds of approaching travelers just before they found their place in the shadows of the cave.
Lura shook her head. “I heard them when they were still quite a distance behind, and I’m sure I got us under the cover of the trees before they got close enough to spot us.”
“It is the Prince’s men.” She had hoped it was simple travelers like themselves, but after catching sight of them, she knew better. She would recognize them anywhere.
This time Lura nodded. “I hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure you’re right. That guy seems to have a hard-on for you and your family. What did you do to him to get him so pissed off?”
“A hard-on?” She had never heard such a term. Lura had such a strange way of speaking.
Lura’s laugh was soft, and just the sound helped soothe her unsettled nerves. That she could find levity in such a dark time made Nicoletta feel better. “It’s an American saying—oh, oops, you have no idea what America means either, do you?”
Nicoletta did not. Most of the time she understood Lura, though not always. She seemed to understand their language for the most part, and that was nice. Sometimes her words were not quite right, and her accent meant Nicoletta had to listen closely. Now, it was not either of those things. She simply did not understand what Lura spoke of.
“Skip the part about America. It’s where I live, and I can explain more about that to you later. The hard-on part, I think you’ll understand. It means a man’s…” She made a motion near her lady parts.
A bit of a flush spread through her cheeks. Nicoletta immediately understood and could not stop the small laugh. “A man’s
horn.”
Lura pursed her lips and nodded. “Sure, yeah, a horn. So hard-on, where I come from, means he’s got it for you bad.”
A frown creasing her forehead, she tried to put together what Lura meant, but still was not quite sure. All her strange sayings were so confusing, and then it hit her. “Oh,” she breathed out. The image in her head made sense. “Yes, I believe the Prince does have, as you say, a hard-on for me.”
“Why, Nicoletta? What is it that he hates about you so much that he would kill your brother and chase you down like a dog? Why does he want you dead?”
Her earlier amusement at Lura’s funny way of speech disappeared. Sinking to the cold earth, a sharp rock poking her leg, she wanted to cry. The Prince did not want her dead. Far from it. He intended to keep her very much alive.
At least until the baby was born.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Your name.”
No please, thank you, or don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out from this guy. Just a demand. There was no menace in his voice, his words clear and even. The threat was there though, just below the calm mandate. Riah felt the chill of him all the way into her bones.
“Lady Riah Preston.” Though she’d revealed her true identity to Antoine, she dared not do the same with Vlad Dracula. Yes, she was of royal blood, and that made her special, but here in this time, she had not yet been conceived. Her father, her birth father, was a mere nineteen years old and not yet a king. How exactly could she explain that to another who was a member of the elite yet small society of royals?
“Lady? Your family is?”
She inclined her head. “My family…” She began to weave a fictitious family history based on those wealthy and titled friends of both her birth father and her adoptive father. To her ears it sounded pretty plausible. Whether or not this man would buy it remained to be seen.
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