She didn’t know what to make of it. The more she learned, it seemed, the more secrets she encountered.
Chapter 15: The Sacrificial Lamb
There are fewer things that are more beautiful than a nighttime view from the Prince’s tower. The expanse of stars overhead alone is breathtaking, and on the festival’s eve, the far-off spots of candlelight that weave through the streets of Lenore seem almost magical. Edmund and I have had the last two years up there alone, since Charles started going to the banquet. Tonight was a little different with the Prince there. Sometimes he really does seem like he belongs in that role, even though I now know his full history. He could not possibly be the real Eternal Prince, but part of me wishes that he would take the role for longer than his few weeks’ sojourn here.
What am I saying? It’s silly to expect someone else to give up their life and their dreams to play such a ridiculous part. If he cannot find what he is searching for here, then he must search elsewhere. I understand that perfectly.
Viola looked down at that last sentence and felt tempted to scribble through it. She couldn’t say at exactly what point she had stopped wanting him to leave and started wanting him to stay—indefinitely, at that. (She wouldn’t say forever. That had far too many implications for her to admit to at this moment.)
Her gaze flitted toward the clock: it was past one. Edmund had fallen asleep on the couch, and the Prince had remained in his bedchamber. The jaguar Gregor had also retreated to that room, apparently enamored of his new master. Viola had decided to write in her journal until someone from her family came for her and Edmund, seeing as how the Prince had forbidden her from leaving his rooms alone or with only her little brother as a companion. It was like this every year, though. The dignitaries’ party would last until the early hours of the morning, and her father was required to remain until the majority had dispersed.
She was a little surprised that Charlie hadn’t shown up yet, but then he had been taken with a cute little brunette during the dance, so likely he had found reason to stay behind. Viola glanced to where Edmund lay upon the couch. He would probably be happy with staying here for the night, and she was tempted just to sneak down the hidden staircase to her own rooms.
Propriety whispered that she needed to be seen leaving the Prince’s quarters before the night was complete, though, and her little brother’s presence alongside her would quell any rumors of indiscretion. She had left the banquet in company of the Prince, after all; she could just imagine the sort of scandal that alone had caused.
A knock echoed against the outer door. Viola quickly shut her journal and shoved it into its latest hiding place again. The knock sounded again before she could reach the door. She exited the library to find the Prince standing expectantly in his chamber door.
Viola exchanged a quick glance with him, and then she answered the summons. A soldier stood in the hallway; she recognized him as one of Charlie’s friends.
“Miss Viola,” he said cheerfully, “your father has sent me to fetch you home. He’s been waylaid a bit, but the party’s finally breaking up, and he thought you’d probably wish to be home sooner rather than later.”
Viola looked beyond the door to where the Prince stood, out of the soldier’s sight. “All right,” she said, “let me go get Edmund.” Before he could answer, she turned away, leaving the door slightly ajar. Rousing Edmund was no small task. He curled himself tight against the couch and batted away her hands. After considerable effort, he awoke enough to trudge sleepily behind her. She gathered up her things and returned to the entryway.
The Prince had not moved. Viola’s attention flitted in his direction. As she ushered Edmund from the room, he spoke.
“Viola, do be careful.”
Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the waiting guard start and turn ashen-faced. She smiled wanly. “Good night, your Highness,” she said simply, and then she closed the door.
As they made their way down the corridor, Viola looked down at her bouquet of anemones. They had wilted in their ribbon. She imagined that the two in her hair looked much the same, sad and wasted. Viola preferred flowers before they were plucked, for she always felt a keen sense of regret on seeing them wither like this.
“That was quite the banquet tonight,” the soldier said conversationally as they turned down the stairwell that led to the Prime Minister’s home. “Was the Prince terribly upset when he left?”
“I think he was more tired than angry,” said Viola. “He bears a heavy burden on his shoulders.”
He hummed thoughtfully as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Viola stopped short in confusion. The corridor ahead was unlit. Disquiet hissed a warning in her mind. This corridor was never unlit. Before she could react, though, a dark figure snatched Edmund from right in front of her. Viola yelled in alarm and lurched forward, but something heavy struck her on the back of her head and pain blossomed in dazzling spots.
As she lost consciousness, she could only think that she had utterly failed to heed the Prince’s warning, and that he would be very annoyed at her for it.
Voices wove in and out of hearing as Viola slowly drifted into consciousness. Her head hurt, viciously so, and there was another, duller pain at her arm, near her elbow. She felt heavy, drugged perhaps, but a thread of conversation solidified in her mind: two people were arguing, about her, it seemed.
“…doing to her? You said you wouldn’t harm her!” She recognized that voice but struggled to put a name to it. The second person resolved this for her.
“Pull yourself together, Victor! She’s not even human!” It was Lord Conrad, Viola realized. She tried to recoil, but her body refused to respond. “You needn’t concern yourself with her wellbeing—she’s a monster and our key to ruling Lenore.”
“You’re the one that cares so much about ruling Lenore,” his son shot back. “I helped you because you said no one would get hurt—!”
The unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh cracked through the air. “Foolish boy,” Conrad snarled. “This is revolution—no matter how it’s done, someone will always get hurt! Get him out of here!”
Viola pried her eyes open to see Victor dragged from the room by a palace guard as his father looked on in contempt. She didn’t recognize her surroundings. With rising panic she recalled that they had taken Edmund. Where—
“Oh, looks like this little ducky is awake,” said a voice far too near to her. Viola turned in horror to discover Natalia at her side, a predatory smile on her face. “It’s been so long since I’ve had one of you,” she crooned. She caressed Viola’s face with a black-gloved hand. “I can hardly wait.”
Viola jerked away from her touch, only to discover that her movement was limited. Her panic swelled as she turned her eyes downward and discovered that she had been tied down to the bed. Her left arm was tied at bicep and wrist and positioned above a bowl—a cupping bowl, like they had used decades ago to alleviate fever—and she was bleeding—bleeding—slowly into its basin from a cut just above her elbow. Trails of slick red blood ran down either side of her arm and dripped into the collection bowl.
“What are you—?” She started, jerking her arm. The restraints at her wrist bit cruelly into her skin.
Natalia caught hold of her hand and a shiver of ice ran up Viola’s spine. “Naughty, naughty,” said the black-eyed woman, still smiling. “You mustn’t upset the bowl. I’ve just started the draft, and I should dearly hate to lose any of that precious, precious magic.”
“Natalia, stop toying with the girl,” said Governor Negri where he stood at a window. The gray light of a predawn world shone beyond. “Have you ever considered that your victims might last longer if you treated them better?”
“My victims are replaceable,” she answered with a thinly veiled sneer.
“Not this one,” he said sternly. “Her kind is rare. Show her some respect.”
Natalia made a face at his back, then turned her black eyes down upon Viola. “Get used to m
e, ducky,” she whispered. “You and I are going to be together for a very long time.” Then, she walked to a nearby chair and settled herself in to watch as the droplets of blood fell from Viola’s arm into the basin.
Across the room, Lord Conrad observed the pair with a cold expression. “You’re certain this will work?” he asked.
“Lenore will be yours before the sun sets again,” said Natalia confidently. He nodded and shifted his attention, but Viola saw the surreptitious glance that passed between the two foreigners. They were withholding some detail from Conrad, that much was obvious. Viola’s worry turned to other quarters.
“Where’s Edmund?” she whispered. “What have you done with him?”
“He’s safe, for the moment,” said Lord Conrad. “That’s incentive for you to behave yourself, little Miss Viola, and better incentive for your father to relinquish control of his position without a struggle. I’m not afraid of a battle, but I’d much prefer that this transfer of power took place with as little effort as necessary. Your father is weak, keeping Lenore isolated and under the thumb of that useless Prince.”
“He’s not—!” Viola protested.
“He’s not weak? Or the Prince isn’t useless?” asked Conrad with a superior smirk. “Your father is weak, to allow this country to be led around on a string by the whims of such a capricious creature as the Eternal Prince—you know, I came to this position firmly believing that there was no such person as the Prince and determined to uncover that fraud. Confess, now, little Viola—that golden-eyed creature you’ve been assisting isn’t really the true Prince of Lenore, is he? It was quite a surprise to discover that there actually was a person there and not just a series of magical ruses. So, how long has your lover been playing the part of the Prince? For based on Victor’s account of his face, he’s not very old. Natalia even believes she’s encountered him before.”
“I’d bet my life it’s William,” Natalia hissed. “His eyes held such hatred in them long ago, and I can’t wait to see it return. I caught a glimpse of it last night—I’d bet my life it’s him.”
“You are betting your life,” said Negri negligently. “If it’s not your William, the Prince will kill you for harming his counterpart.”
“Not if he thinks we’ll kill her first,” said Natalia. “I’ve told you, we win either way, so long as we have this girl, so long as we subjugate her. These nifaran are irrational creatures—even if it’s not William, he’ll surrender himself to us to ensure his beloved’s safety.”
Governor Negri lifted one nostril in distaste and shifted his attention elsewhere.
For her part, Viola clamped her mouth shut. Much as it chafed her to be referred to as the Prince’s lover, she felt instinctively that correcting them on that matter would only complicate things. She didn’t see why she should bother clarifying anything to a pack of villains anyway. She hoped that the Prince was smart enough not to throw himself into any dangerous paths on her account. The same went for her father and brother, for she was certain that they had discovered her absence and Edmund’s by now.
She wished that she could somehow will her blood to stop flowing, but it continued to patter down into the basin. At last, Natalia stood and began to unlace the ties at Viola’s wrist. In response, she jerked her arm and jostled the bowl.
Natalia clamped a heavy grip around her forearm. Her sharp fingernails bit into Viola’s skin. “I told you not to upset the bowl,” she said through gritted teeth. Then, “Josef, come help me. She thinks she can rebel against her master.”
“You’re not her master yet,” he replied, but he hurried over to unlace Viola’s wrist while Natalia held her still.
“Don’t split hairs,” Natalia said. “I will be soon enough. Hear that, pet? You’re mine now, and if you make any trouble, I’ll see that you regret it.”
Governor Negri pressed a clean rag to Viola’s bleeding injury and bent her arm upward while Natalia snatched the bowl from beneath. “Keep your arm like this so it can staunch the flow of blood,” he instructed quietly. “Otherwise it will only bleed more, and you’ll lose consciousness again.”
There was something in his manner of speech that made Viola think that he was somewhat more sympathetic to her plight. As he turned away, she realized that it wasn’t sympathy at all. It was more like an odd sort of respect—he would use people or creatures ruthlessly to gain what he wanted, but he would treat them with dignity in the process.
“Are you going to drink all of that?” he asked gruffly. Viola looked askance in alarm to see that Natalia had already put the bowl to her lips and tipped it back to drain the contents. Viola thought she was going to be sick.
“Hey!” cried Lord Conrad. He stepped forward quickly. “I wanted to try some of that. You said I—” His voice cut out as Natalia suddenly flung one hand at him, and an unseen force propelled him back into the wall.
“Ah,” she said as she lowered the bowl from her lips. Her voice was infused with satisfaction, and a trickle of blood ran from her mouth down her chin. “How I’ve craved that flavor! So golden and delicious!” She wiped the trail of red with one hand and licked it off as she turned back to Viola. “You’re mine,” she said in a low voice. “Everything you control is mine. Everything you ever will control is mine. Do you understand this? I am your master, and you are powerless to act against me.”
She threw back her head then and laughed. “What exhilaration! I can feel it flowing through me—!” Then she extended her hand to where Lord Conrad was picking himself up off the floor. His body suddenly hoisted in the air and slammed against the wall behind him. He scrabbled with both hands at his throat as though trying to free himself from some unseen grip. His face turned an awful shade of purple.
“Natalia,” said Governor Negri in a low voice.
“We don’t need him anymore,” she said, her eyes fixed upon the struggling man. “We can use anyone as a puppet in the Prime Minister’s place. We don’t need this fool at all, now that he’s given us access to take over. He thought he was going to use us, Josef. He probably has a plan to backstab us already put into place.”
“Yes,” he replied. He placed a firm hand on her extended arm. “But now that he knows he cannot touch us, he will think the better of it. Better a snake we know as the Prime Minister of Lenore than one we don’t.” He forced her arm down, and the pressure upon Lord Conrad vanished. He slumped to the ground, where he gasped for breath.
“You do see what a mistake it would be to double-cross us, don’t you?” Negri asked with disinterest.
Conrad coughed violently, but managed to nod.
“Any power you gain in this little revolution will only be symbolic,” said Natalia. “Lenore will become subject to West Anrich, and you will be allowed to govern over any affairs that we don’t wish to oversee. And you’ll be grateful for that opportunity, won’t you?”
His eyes were filled with hatred. “You could have done nothing here without my alliances,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“That’s why we’re allowing you to live,” Natalia replied. “Most traitors get their throats slit after their part is played. And now—”
The ground beneath her suddenly convulsed, and the room shuddered.
“What is it?” Negri shouted in alarm.
Natalia was grinning as she hung onto the wall, though. “I think our precious Prince has come for his love!”
Viola’s heart dropped as the roof suddenly tore away. The room was flooded with the light of a breaking dawn. People were shouting, and there was a tumult of strange noises as vines writhed forward into the broken space. Above it all, standing atop an enormous dragon—Viola had to blink and shake her head to make certain she hadn’t imagined that creature—stood the Prince, his golden hair brilliant in the light of the rising sun. A horde of strange creatures hovered in the air behind him.
“William!” Natalia screamed up at him triumphantly. “I knew it was you! You’re too late! She’s just as enslaved to me as you still are! Ti
me hasn’t changed that bond at all, you little fool!”
He ignored her as his golden eyes sought out Viola alone. The dragon suddenly lowered its head and the Prince jumped off into the ruined building to hurry to her.
Natalia swung her arm viciously. He flew backward and crashed into a pile of rubble. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” she cried. “I’m still your master! I control you both!”
He looked up with a fiery glare. Suddenly a mass of vines surged forward and lashed at the sorceress. In the wake of that attack, he leapt from where he lay and ran for Viola. “Hold still,” he commanded. He raked his fingers across the knots that bound her, and the ropes split in a rush of magic. He pulled her from the bed into a protective embrace and yelled, “I have her!”
By now, Natalia had fended off the attacking foliage. She scoffed at this declaration. “So what if you have her! I still control you both!”
He looked calmly over his shoulder, and the whole scene—writhing plants and mysterious creatures included—seemed to pause as though holding its breath. “But you’ll have to go through me to get to her. You’ll be dead before you can touch Viola.”
“Idiot,” Natalia sneered. “I control everything you control. You can’t kill me!”
“But Natalia,” he said with that aloof air Viola had become so accustomed to hearing him use, “I’m not controlling any of this.”
As her black eyes widened in surprise, all chaos broke out. A griffin—an actual griffin, Viola thought incredulously—swooped down and snatched the cowering Governor Negri from the corner where he had retreated. A centaur galloped into the room and seized Lord Conrad, who had fainted dead away, then turned and ran back the way it had come. Strange beasts and wild plants pelted themselves at Natalia, tying her down, binding her to the floor.
Kingdom of Ruses Page 20
