Rosa hurried across the grounds, waiting as a limousine with black windows drove past and down into the underground garage. More visitors that would need feeding no doubt and she had been too drunk to get up on time. Inside the kitchen, Vera took one look at her and handed her a coffee.
“Oh dear, you look awful,” she said. “What did you get up to last night?”
“Lots of wine,” Rosa said as she took three painkillers from the medicine box. “Is Cecily up today?”
“Back on the horse and ready with the whip. She’s been working the three Js hard this morning. The Vanes were in a mood, grumbling about breakfast and the way the girls tell it, Mr. Saul has upset his brother.”
“I think he brings it on himself some days. He’s a bored rich kid. I don’t know why he doesn’t go to somewhere like London.”
“Every time he does, Mr. Eli has to bail him out of trouble. Until their Gathering is over, Mr. Saul is bound to the house just like the rest of them.”
“Sounds about right.” Rosa put her cup in the dishwasher. “Any idea where Cecily might be?”
“Up on the third floor cleaning the rooms, I imagine.”
“Thanks for the coffee.”
Rosa hurried up the passages, pausing when she heard raised, arguing voices. She went further down the walkway towards the sound and stopped at a wooden access door.
“The southern families feel uneasy about this treaty, your grace. Some don’t even believe that they still exist,” said an unfamiliar male voice.
“The southern families are fools if they think they are truly gone from the world,” Eli said coldly. “They are like rats, hiding in dark shadows. You think there may be only one or two and suddenly they’re swarming you.”
“Maybe we should let them come. We’ll fight them on our terms, on our land,” another new voice said.
“You don’t know of what you speak,” Balthasar’s voice replied. “Ryn’s people are legion. They would destroy the world if they found it entertaining enough.”
Wrong Balthasar, Rosa reminded herself as her heart skipped a beat.
“You’re letting your imagination get away from you, young prince. They’re not as fearsome as you imagine.”
“You forget I’ve fought them before to protect the soft southern lords.”
“Watch your tongue, boy. I may not have the blessings that come with the royal blood, but I’m far older and stronger than you.”
“Enough!” Eli shouted, making Rosa jump. “If the tongues in this room cannot be civil to each other, then I’ll have them ripped out.”
Rosa backed away from the door and hurried to the main walkways. The feeling that the Vanes were caught up in criminal activities heightened exponentially. Being hungover is making you paranoid. You know what these businessmen are like. They think they’re kings and generals, and every corporate takeover is a war.
Rosa pushed it away as silly imagination and opened the third-floor door. She walked through the now clean hallway, the large paintings uncovered to reveal Vane family portraits. She slowed to look at the generations and the strong likenesses. She found herself pausing in front of a portrait dated in 1810 of Balthasar’s namesake.
The memory of the way you looked walking in the sunshine by the lakes, your hair free and wild, fills me with desire and hope for the future. Never forget you are my light, dearest Jane.
“Creepy aren’t they?” Belinda, one of the maids, appeared in the doorway with a bucket and mop. “I feel like I’m being watched all the time in this place.”
“Yes, creepy,” Rosa tore her eyes off the painting. “You haven’t seen Cecily anywhere have you?”
“Last door on the right. You wouldn’t have thought she was sick yesterday with the way she is bustling about.”
When Rosa found her, Cecily gave her a masterful frown of motherly disapproval. “Getting drunk on your third day here? Really Rosa?”
“Is there anything I can say that will stop you being pissed off at me?”
“No, but you can find a vacuum cleaner and get working. We’re expecting the first of the guests in less than a week.”
***
Balthasar felt the tension in the room getting heavier with each word that Lord Blackfox was saying. Eli’s informants had told him of the mutiny Blackfox and his men were planning at the Gathering, so he had summoned them to Gwaed Lyn. Balthasar always secretly marveled how Eli could manipulate the lords. Blackfox was vain and proud and had thought that Eli wanted to give their clan an important role to play in the upcoming treaty. Balthasar knew Eli was a cat playing with a troublesome mouse before it got torn apart.
“Your clan has some of the greatest fighters in all of Albion,” Eli stated. “I’m looking for people I can trust to take control of security on the night of the Solstice. Tension will be high, and I don’t want some plucky, overreaching clan members trying to stir trouble with Ryn’s people.”
“Understandable, my lord, I would be honored to protect the Royal family.” Blackfox grinned. One of his bodyguards gave the other one a sideways glance. It was just a flicker of the eyelids, but it was enough. Balthasar looked at Eli who rose to his feet.
“Well then, I think we’re about done here, gentleman,” Eli said smoothly. “I will send a message to the other clans about my choice regarding this matter. Balthasar, will you escort these gentlemen back to their car?” The Blackfox men bowed, and as they exited, Eli gave Balthasar the slightest of nods.
Lord Blackfox smiled at him as they walked. “Gwaed Lyn hasn’t hosted a party in such a long time. The Gathering will be a good opportunity to fill it full of celebrations again.”
“Yes, it’s been too long.”
“I’m glad you have returned here, Balthasar. It’s good for family to stay together.”
“It was nice to get away for a few decades.”
“You are a prince. You’ll always be a slave to your responsibilities. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and all that. Although, I don’t think you will have to worry about that with old Eli still around. You may never get your chance unless the situation is…accelerated.”
Balthasar opened his mouth to reply when Rosa appeared at the end of the hall, her headphones in and humming to herself. She paused, giving him an unreadable look before smiling politely and disappearing into another room.
“There she is again,” Cain said as he nudged the other bodyguard.
“The boys seem to be taken by your new girl,” Blackfox commented. “They saw her on the way in and voiced their approval loudly.”
“She’s not new,” Balthasar said firmly. “She is a Wylt.”
“Ah, sorry lads. The king is particular about his favorite human pets. You’ll have to admire her from a distance, I’m afraid,” Blackfox laughed. Anger burned hot through Balthasar as they continued to talk about her as if she was a piece of meat.
Their human driver was waiting for them when the small elevator stopped in the underground garage. Eli had it built so his subjects could visit during daylight hours. Technology had provided them with blacked out transport, but they still needed a safe place to get out. Only the royal family could walk about in daylight. No matter how much Blackfox boasted about his long age and his power, he would never be a day walker.
The elevator door shut behind them and Balthasar attacked the bodyguards before Blackfox could react. Their hearts fell in dripping messes from his hands to the concrete.
“You’re a fool to think you could revolt against Eli and have him not hear about it,” Balthasar said calmly. Blackfox shrieked in challenge before attacking, fang and claws. Balthasar moved, using Blackfox’s momentum to flip him over and grip him about the neck. Blackfox’s cry was cut off as Balthasar ripped his head from his body, the sounds of wet tearing flesh echoing off the concrete walls. The driver pressed himself against the car in fear as Balthasar walked towards him, head in hand.
“There’s something I need you to do for me,” Balthasar said as he touched the youn
g man’s shoulder. He stilled as the compulsion took over.
“Of course, my lord,” he said obediently.
Balthasar passed him the head before taking out his pocket-handkerchief. He wiped the blood off his dripping hands before stuffing the soiled fabric into Blackfox’s dead gaping mouth. “Tell the southern clans that if they upset Eli or his celebrations further, I’ll come for the rest of them. Take these bodies with you. I’m in no mood to dig graves today.”
Balthasar watched the limousine leave before he headed for the stables. The sun wasn’t far from setting, and he needed to check the stones by the lake. He felt his anger seeping out of him and into the white gravel under his feet. He hated that Eli still expected him to be his executioner. Some days, Balthasar felt if he stopped moving, the wave of blood he left in his wake would drown him. Blackfox had it coming with his scheming. Balthasar might have spared the guards if they hadn’t talked about Rosa the way they had. Why do you even care? She is nothing to you.
In the meeting, he was sure he had smelled Rosa’s perfume coming through the draft of the servant passages. It had distracted him to the point Blackfox had asked if he was listening. Then she had arrived in the hallway as if he had summoned her. That look she gave him bothered him. It was almost as if she thought he was someone else.
A ride would help clear it from his mind. He needed to enjoy the wind off the lakes and the sound of nothing but nature.
As he neared the stables, he heard people laughing. Rosa was feeding the horses sugar cubes and squealing in delight as their velvety lips nibbled her hands. Old Roger, the stable master, was looking at her with affection. He would’ve known Rosa as a girl.
“You’d better not keep feeding those to Caesar, or he’ll expect treats all the time,” Balthasar said, and she glanced up, her face still filled with childish delight.
“He is beautiful,” she said as she patted the stallion’s neck. “I haven’t been this close to horses in years.”
“Watch him, he tends to bite those that annoy him, like his owner,” Balthasar joked lamely.
“Don’t worry, I’m afraid of neither,” she said, her cheeks flushing a mild pink before stepping away so that he could get into the pen. She retreated to Roger and spoke easily with him, a small flask passing between them. Balthasar saddled Caesar and led him out.
“Aren’t you worried about breaking one of his legs on the wet ground?” Rosa asked as she joined him, patting Caesar’s front flank. “Or nervous about him throwing you off in the dark?”
“He’s a good horse who knows how to stay on the trail,” Balthasar said as they walked out of the stable yards. “I wouldn’t take him if he was in any danger.”
“Good, because I like him. He has personality.” Rosa glanced from Caesar back to Balthasar. “Even if he is moody.”
“He doesn’t get to see many people. Perhaps, with your help, his manners might improve,” replied Balthasar, “though all horses are capricious in nature, so I don’t like your chances.”
He started to smile, but at the same time, he spotted Eli looking down from a high window. Rosa followed his gaze and then she gave the King of the Gwaed Gam a big, friendly wave. Balthasar choked on his laughter as Eli stiffly returned the acknowledgment.
“Ha, I will win him over yet,” she said triumphantly. “I swear if he smiled his face would probably crack and fall off.”
And he probably just heard you say that too.
“He has a lot on his mind,” Balthasar managed, trying to think of something else to say. “How are you settling in?”
“Not well if you were to ask my mother,” said Rosa, a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“How is Cecily? I heard she had another spell yesterday.”
“She’s up and about today, ready to be disappointed in me for drinking too much wine last night and not getting up at dawn this morning.”
“I can’t imagine being back here can be easy on you. I wouldn’t worry too much about Cecily either. We children are hard-wired to be disappointments to our parents. I’m sure you will grow easy in each other’s company again. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
They reached her cottage and Rosa gave Caesar one last pat as Balthasar swung himself up into the saddle.
“Have a nice ride,” Rosa said as she opened her garden gate.
“I will. Good evening, Miss Wylt,” he replied. As he watched her disappear inside the cottage, he felt lighter than he had in months.
***
Rosa knew that she wasn’t going to get much sleep that night, so she decided to do the next best thing, which was to go up to the mansion’s big kitchen and bake bread. Ever since she had crushed the fresh rosemary in the garden, she hadn’t been able to shake her craving for Pan Marino, her favorite rosemary sourdough.
Braving the cold, she took a flashlight from under the sink in the kitchen and raided the nursery. Back inside, she shredded the stalks, bruising the sharp leaves between her fingers, releasing their fragrances and flavors.
Rosa let her mind drift as she measured out flour and yeast and started to knead. She thought about Jane, Balthasar, her father and the Wylts until it was all churning about in her brain. She put the first loaf in the oven and had started on a second when the kitchen door opened and Balthasar the younger walked in, looking ruffled in a night robe.
“Hello again, what are you doing up this late, Miss Wylt?” he asked. “Don’t you remember the guard dogs get let out at eight?”
“I remembered, I just don’t care,” she replied as she waved a wooden spoon at him. “If they give me any grief, I’ll whack them.”
“I’m sure the dogs will be terrified,” he answered sarcastically.
“How was the ride?”
“Cold. What are you making?”
“A cheat’s version of Pan Marino. I’ve no time to wait for the biga, so it won’t be as rich. I bake when I can’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
“I always get hungry at midnight.”
“Sounds like you are stress eating to me,” she teased before adding. “If you want to hang around a bit, I might be persuaded to share my bread with you. If you’re really nice, I might even make you a sandwich.”
“That’s kind of you,” Balthasar said, moving past her to switch the hot water kettle on.
“Wasn’t the whole point of sending me off to culinary school so that the Vanes would have a chef on call for midnight snacks?”
“Actually, I believe Eli sent you because you wanted to go to culinary school. You seem to have quite a confused opinion of Eli’s intentions. The Wylts don’t have some kind of slave debt that needs to be worked off.”
“Steady on Mr. Vane, I was only joking,” Rosa said defensively. “I also have had it drummed into me that my sole purpose is to take care of you. I mean the Vanes, not just you specifically.” She looked quickly back at the floury board in front of her. Smooth, Rosa, why don’t you put your foot in it a wee bit more?
“It’s not Eli’s intention to make you feel that way.”
“You weren’t the one that was summoned.”
“I have been summoned before, so I know what it’s like,” Balthasar replied as he fetched a mug from the cupboard. “I’m certain he only wants to see you, and he knows Cecily has missed you. Would you like some tea?”
“Ah…sure,” Rosa said, the burn of a blush starting on the back of her neck. “Thanks.”
“You see? I wouldn’t make you tea if you were just a servant as you like to point out.” He smiled sideways at her as he placed the cups on the bench.
“You could have had all three of the Js over for your Earl Grey for all I know,” she said, her defensive side disappearing once more.
“Wrong Vane. I’m too old and too busy to be seducing the help with Earl Grey.”
“Yeah, I noticed you’re the one running about after Eli,” Rosa said as she put the last loaf into the oven. “That must get boring.”
“It’s taxing more than boring. Sugar
?”
“One please,” Rosa said as she sat down on one of the kitchen stools. She watched him pour the hot water, and she found herself wondering when the last time a man had made her tea. “Do you never get to have any fun at all?”
Balthasar passed her a mug before he sat down opposite her. “No fun until after the Solstice party.”
“Sounds rather bleak.”
“So why did you go to culinary school anyway? You already had an arts degree.”
Rosa sipped her tea. “You’ll laugh.”
“I am a Vane. We don’t know how.”
“I’d believe it,” Rosa replied. You are flirting, Rosa. Why are you flirting? Stop that! She cleared her throat awkwardly before she answered, “Medieval feasts.”
“I did not expect that,” Balthasar said without even a trace of a smile. “Explain.”
“You know how you read the old Camelot sagas or Beowulf or even a half decent fantasy novel, and all of the extravagant feasts are being described? Think of the way King Arthur’s Christmas Feast is described in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the magnificent lushness of it all. I always wanted to know what they were eating and then I wanted to learn how to make it, didn’t I?” Rosa said hurriedly, “Food is like music, it’s a universal language. But unfortunately, there isn’t much of a demand for frumenty these days unless you are doing food art for a film set.”
“Would you like me to order up some venison so you can have a chance to get some frumenty practice in?” asked Balthasar.
Rosa blinked rapidly in surprise, “You know what frumenty is?”
“A type of wheat porridge,” he replied. “Why so shocked? I know all sorts of things.”
“I bet you do,” replied Rosa, making it sound far too much like innuendo. She was saved by the oven timer going off. “Bread’s ready!” Glad to have something to do, she pulled it out and turned it upside down on the cooling rack. “That can settle while I get the other ingredients ready.”
“Other ingredients?”
“As a reward for knowing what frumenty is, I’m going to make you the best damn sandwich you have ever eaten in your life.”
Wylt: Book One The Blood Lake Chronicles Page 5
