Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  The bell at the front door rang. Altea glanced hopefully out the window, praying that someone had come to distract Martin. She did not recognize the servant on the front steps. Martin finished his second drink while Hynek shuffled toward the door.

  Altea dashed to the study door and flung it open.

  “What is it, Hynek?” she asked.

  The valet shakily held up a neatly folded paper sealed with thick wax. He tried in vain to discern the identity of the seal so he could announce its source. Altea plucked the letter from his hand. She did not recognize the seal but its character was definitely noble. Her imagination flirted with fantasies about what it could mean for her, but she knew better than to hope. The best thing about the message was that she could use it to distract Martin.

  “It appears to be from someone important,” Altea said and proffered the letter.

  Even from across the room Martin could see the fine quality of the paper. He set down his glass and went to Altea.

  “Of course it’s from someone important,” he said.

  When he took the letter, he leaned into her face. She refrained from leaning away, knowing that nothing unmanned Martin like a stout heart.

  “To the convent with you if you anger me again,” he warned.

  “Nothing to be gained from doing that,” she said.

  “Except peace and quiet,” he shot back. “Now go to your room and pray for forgiveness.”

  Realizing the terrible quarrel was ending as well as it possibly could, Altea chose to retreat without any parting comments.

  Martin clenched his jaw while watching her go. She was a lovely creature. That burgundy and beige gown had come with an eye popping cost. She always knew how to keep more than one claw in him. He was a bit too invested to shut her up in some convent, he reflected, but the threat would stay in his arsenal until he got her a husband to tamp down that female fire.

  Gratefully he shut his door and welcomed the distraction of the interesting letter.

  “Hrabe?” he mumbled, deeply curious.

  Cracking the seal, he read that he and his family were invited to a summer evening masquerade at the residence of Lady Carmelita Hrabe. At first he was stunned by the sudden invitation into a noble home, but he was the Magistrate after all he told himself and certainly deserved visibility in high circles.

  He settled into his favorite chair and stared at the artful script upon the fine paper, trying to read between the lines. Rumors were abundant about Lady Carmelita, and he frowned when he guessed at her reason for her sudden interest in Court authority. She was a Protestant sympathizer and the handmaiden to heresy.

  Yet Martin could not toss the invitation. She was hardly the only noble in Prague disgruntled with the Church. As a sailor of political seas, Martin considered that dipping an oar into these waters could be prudent. The Jesuits had suddenly become friendly, so it followed that the Protestants might like to foster the sympathies of the Court. He supposed they would need it eventually. And the possibility remained that they would take over the city someday, and he hardly wanted to be labeled uncooperative. He supposed wheedling funds from both sides was the fairest thing to do.

  Lady Carmelita had been thoughtful to make her event a masquerade. His presence there could not be entirely confirmed if he needed to deny it.

  Plus he would be able to show off Altea to a new crowd. Perhaps with her looks she could even attract a lesser noble. That possibility was tantalizing.

  Chapter 32. Live In Fear

  Altea was astonished by her own excitement. The unexpected invitation to a masquerade party at the house of a noblewoman made her almost grateful for Martin’s prestigious position. She also recognized this as her chance to meet people beyond his circle of stodgy men.

  Her childish giddiness was not going to serve her well tonight. She needed to be charming and unforgettable. Although she had not had much notice about the party, she had hurriedly designed and sewn a new gown. She had found a wonderful yellow fabric with a golden sheen. For the poufy short sleeves she had used a contrasting dark blue fabric. With the same fabric she had added stripes to the golden skirt.

  Since it was a masquerade she had selected a mask from a crafter who specialized in them at the market. The bird ones had not suited her, but a golden fox mask from the back of the vendor’s stall had looked down on her with insistent sass.

  Cynthia helped her put it on now. The maid secured it at the back with a hairpin while Altea sat in front of her mirror.

  “Oh my, you look clever,” Cynthia commented.

  Altea grinned. The nose of the mask swooped down over her real nose and brought attention to her lips. The eye holes fitted over her blue eyes perfectly.

  She reached up and gently patted the pointy ears. The effect thrilled her. Her eyes imbued the golden velvet mask with life. The altered creature looking back at her sparkled with optimism because Altea felt released from her normal cares. She expected tonight to go as splendidly as her last social outing with her stepfather had been disastrous.

  “Altea,” Elias said, tapping on her door. “Our carriage is here.”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  “Take your shawl,” Cynthia advised.

  “It’s hot,” Altea said.

  “It’ll be cooler later,” the maid persisted.

  Altea grabbed the shawl and put it over an arm.

  “Have Jarmila make the boys say their prayers,” Altea said. Cynthia nodded indulgently, unsurprised by the parting command for the governess.

  Out in the hall, Elias turned so she could admire his new suit. His mask was simple and black but when paired with his broad-brimmed hat it gave him the appearance of a highwayman.

  “You look completely different!” Altea exclaimed.

  “So do you,” he laughed. “That fox is rather provocative. Has father seen it?”

  The foxy face smirked. “What do you think?” she said.

  Elias rolled his eyes, realizing that Altea would have kept it hidden until Martin had no choice but to accept it.

  The younger boys were at the bottom of the stairs. They squealed with admiration upon seeing their older siblings in masks.

  “Enough nonsense!” Martin bellowed from his study.

  The children quieted slightly as Altea and Elias headed toward the front door. Martin stepped out of his study. He did not have a mask on yet.

  “Altea, a last word with you,” he said.

  Elias shot her look before heading out the door. He clearly was hoping that she would take whatever advice his father was about to dispense.

  “Yes, Papa Fridrich,” she said sweetly upon entering the study. She was in such a good mood, the prospect of a preemptory lecture from her stepfather troubled her little.

  “Let me have a look at you,” Martin said. His eyes roved up and down her body. “What did this cost me?” he asked, fingering the fabric of her sleeve.

  “I didn’t look,” she said.

  Her lack of caring annoyed him more than if she had knowingly assaulted his purse with a precise figure.

  “It’ll be worth it,” she said.

  “You better make it so. I need to expand my connections, so no mooning over some friendly simpleton. I’ll steer you toward gentlemen that suit me,” he said.

  Altea nodded, trying to be cooperative. Outside the open window she could hear her brothers chattering around the carriage. Yiri was commenting about the horses, and Erik was bothering the driver with fantastic questions. Patrik was trying to boss them both.

  Martin stepped closer to Altea. He put a finger against one of her fox ears to see how stiff it was. He traced a finger down the edge of the mask. He noticed how Altea had her mother’s eyes. She was the same height too and had not been much older than this when he had taken her as his bride.

  Martin missed the many comforts his wife had given him during her dutiful life. His hand moved to Altea’s collar bone and then slipped over her full breast and squeezed.

  Altea
gasped and struck away his hand. The blow broke Martin’s daydream, but the connection had roused him more than he had expected.

  “Don’t touch me!” Altea hissed, stepping back.

  Martin caught her wrist in a fierce grip. “I’ll touch you if I want to,” he said.

  “You’re hurting me,” Altea said and tried to twist free.

  Martin released her. The bundle of flowers tied to her wrist by a ribbon was crushed and the petals drifted to the floor. A few stuck to Martin’s sweaty palm.

  In shock, Altea fumbled for a reaction, but Martin hustled her out the door before she could indulge in hysterics. Hynek squinted at her with satisfied spite. With tears welling, she endured the happy goodbyes from her little brothers. Elias gave her a hand into the carriage. He noticed her altered demeanor but could not guess at its cause.

  Martin clambered into the carriage last. The vehicle creaked when he sat down. He stared across the carriage at his stepdaughter with a pensive glare.

  The slap of leather reins got the horses going and the carriage rolled forward. Martin slipped on his plain black mask.

  Old Town passed by in a blur for Altea. Only once they were upon the Kamenny Most did she recover from her shock a little. The river liberated the sky from the city, and she admired the fluffy clouds splashed with lavender and gold as the sun sank languidly. The heavy scent of the flowing water beckoned her with freedom. The thought of jumping out of the carriage and hurling herself into the water sprang into her wounded mind. She did not even know how to swim, but she wished she could float away to a new life even though Prague was the only place she knew. Such an act would surely embarrass Martin for many years. Perhaps people would even think he pushed her and the scandal would destroy his career.

  The bells of Saint Vitus rang the seventh hour of the evening when the carriage rolled back onto land. Construction projects along the river cluttered the scene, and the street was full of foot traffic. The carriage slowed. Elias and Martin casually remarked upon the handsome houses, and Martin offered tidbits of information about each name he recognized on the house signs.

  When they reached the party, Altea commanded herself to surmount her confusion. Attracting a husband was more important than ever. She was no longer safe in Martin’s house. Her stomach turned when she thought about what he might do.

  Carriages were clogging the street in front of Carmelita Hrabe’s house. Her home showed off the newest style of architecture. Braziers were burning along the front. Servants in matching tunics were attending the horses and ushering guests inside.

  Music was playing and the divine sound eased her panic. She could enjoy herself here. She would figure out how to handle Martin later, but for now she had to focus on the splendid event or burst into tears.

  Elias escorted her inside. Holding onto his friendly arm soothed her a little. The interior was overwhelming. So many artistic details demanded attention. The carved wood trim around the doors amazed her. The artfully arranged flowers in glazed vases astounded her. Such fragile short lived beauty demanded that she pause to admire it.

  A happy roar of conversations consumed her stunned silence. All the masked faces were disorienting. When Elias said something to her she nodded dumbly, unable to process his comment.

  They followed Martin, who worked his way toward the buffet. He nibbled a little and inspected the board for later reference, but then announced that they should get in the receiving line for their esteemed hostess before they ate. He allowed himself to get a glass of wine from a tray. Elias took a drink as well, but Altea doubted that her stomach could handle anything right now.

  She finally started socializing while waiting in the slow moving line. Both men and women introduced themselves to her and asked to know who she was. Altea tried to gush with pleasing conversation. The effort was a good distraction from the fresh turmoil eviscerating her sense of bodily security.

  “Altea Kardas,” she replied with a curtsy to an older woman.

  “Kardas? Where have I heard that name?” the older woman wondered.

  “My father was a knight as were his fathers before him,” Altea said, wishing she still had her real father. Memories of him were few and vague, but her sudden longing for him was genuine.

  “Oh, I’m sure he fought well for Bohemia,” the lady said.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s good to see her Ladyship inviting some new women to her affairs. There’s been much too many men around here,” the woman said and winked saucily.

  Altea nodded politely, unsure of what the lady was hinting at, except that it was somehow titillating.

  When they finally reached Lady Carmelita, Altea admired the elegant clothing of the small woman. She was dressed in a deep red gown. Rhinestones covered her gaudy mask. Small white feathers fringed the mask and set off her dark hair.

  Martin bowed to her. “May I express the utmost pleasure to meet you, your Ladyship. Your invitation was a surprise indeed,” he said.

  “Welcome, Magistrate Fridrich. It pleases me to meet you. I’ve been much to cliquish and have been missing out on meeting new people. You’re such an important part of Prague’s administration. The least I can do is offer some dinner and good music as my way of thanking you for your service to the city,” she said.

  Her dreamy attitude nearly flustered Martin. His days were filled with grumbling Aldermen and the pleas of criminals. Receiving praise from an attractive woman truly stumped his social skills.

  He fumbled through an introduction of Elias and then ushered Altea forward. She nudged him away with her elbow when his hand touched her back.

  “Please meet my stepdaughter Altea Kardas,” Martin said.

  Altea curtsied deeply. “Your Ladyship, I am honored to be received by you,” she said.

  “Welcome to my home, Altea Kardas,” Carmelita said.

  “If I may, your Ladyship, I’m not too shy to mention that Altea is available for marriage,” Martin said.

  Carmelita made note of the information. She played her hand at matchmaking often enough, but she doubted that this ravishing stepdaughter would be on the market long.

  “You must have suitors fighting over you,” Carmelita said. She stood up and flapped her fan at Martin. “Come, Magistrate, you must tell me about what progress the town fathers are making with the werewolf hunt. Let me show you to the buffet. I can tell when a man is famished.”

  “I could eat a little,” Martin said.

  Carmelita swatted his belly with her fan. “A little?” she teased.

  Martin chuckled awkwardly.

  Carmelita spun toward Altea and Elias. “Go off and have fun you two. I’ll see that your father stays out of trouble,” she said.

  “Thank you!” Elias beamed and bowed again.

  Thunderstruck by the good fortune of Carmelita’s interference, Altea simply gaped as the woman herded her stepfather away.

  “Do you think any girls here will dance with me?” Elias whispered to his sister.

  “Of course. Just ask them,” Altea said. “But we have to split up so we don’t seem like a couple.”

  Elias nodded and they headed in opposite directions. The sudden rush of freedom was breathtaking for Altea. She worked her way around the dance floor until she could see the musicians. The singer’s voice was entrancing. He plucked his harp with an angel’s love. She quickly became lost in looking at him. He sometimes looked at her while his voice soared. Wonderful fantasies about him singing just to her erased the tension from her body. When he finished his song, everyone clapped enthusiastically.

  “A dance, fair fox?” a man inquired.

  Altea turned and looked at a young man. His mask made joining with a stranger seem completely appropriate.

  “Yes,” she said, delighted not to have to ask for Martin’s permission.

  They exchanged pleasant small talk while they danced. Altea relaxed in his polite company. The dance required that they rotate among other partners, and Altea soon learned eight oth
er names that she expected to forget.

  She danced through three songs and finally encountered Elias. He was having a grand time, and judging from his swagger, drinking as much as dancing.

  When Altea was out of breath, she retreated to the musicians. A servant kindly offered her a drink and she took it this time. She glanced around for Martin and thankfully did not spot him.

  She returned her attention to the performers. They played with such joyful passion, and she could share in their happiness simply by listening.

  Everyone applauded again when they finished a song. In the quiet before they started another song, a superstitious prickle ran up Altea’s spine. She shivered despite the flush of her cheeks.

  Something brushed her leg. Looking down, she gasped. A small brown and white dog was pawing her skirt. She froze with disbelieving recognition. The dog scooted away among the people until she could not see him, but then she saw the man across the ballroom looking at her. He stood on the staircase landing, alone. He wore a wolf mask and a glossy wolf fur was draped over his shoulders. He gestured with his head down the hall on the second level.

  She did not want to believe what she saw, but there was no dismissing it when he swung his head again. He wanted her to come upstairs.

  No, she thought but the command was not her true wish. It was only something she was supposed to do.

  He walked along the landing and looked back once more before disappearing into the upstairs hall. Somehow he seemed to have no doubt that she would come to him.

  I will, she thought and her feet took her to the stairs.

  One of the men she had danced with tried to speak to her when she mounted the steps but she ignored him. She quickened her steps, eager to enter forbidden territory. She needed something new. She hated everything old and familiar. Why fear the advances of some stranger when she faced worse terror at home?

  On the landing she paused to look back. The happy party was chattering away behind her like an overflowing nest of baby birds. Worried that Martin would see her, she sped into the hall. The drifting smoke from candles just blown out curled past her nose. In the cool dark, she could hear herself breathing. Wetting her lips, she tried to decide where to start this reckless game of hide and seek.