Death Doesn't Bargain

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  He doubted if any had given more than a passing thought to his death. Or a single thought about him since. They’d probably been relieved to see the deaths of their mother’s favorite and most hated sons within days of each other, as Muerig’s death would have made more room in her cold heart for them, and his death would have chilled her more caustic moods.

  But as he turned the corner of the hall that led to their bedrooms, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Right before him stood his older brother Marcel, Darcel’s fraternal twin.

  The only saving grace was that unlike Perrin, he looked nothing like their father. However, his striking resemblance to their mother wasn’t much better. In fact, it made him want to punch him all the more.

  Or better yet, hack him to pieces.

  Damn, I really did hate my parents.

  “So it’s true. You are alive.”

  Kalder smirked at the caustic, bitter tone that was a deeper version of their mother’s voice. “Nay, brother. I’m merely a figment of your lack of imagination.”

  Awkward silence fell between them as Marcel struggled to ignore his sarcasm. Which was nothing new. They’d never had much to say to one another. Kalder had spent most of his time here alone and without speaking, as he’d learned early in life that anything he said would only be used against him, and always at the worst possible time. Every one of his brothers, and in particular his mother, had a nasty tendency to take whatever he said out of context, twist it around, then relay it to a third party so as to paint him in the darkest light imaginable.

  Ergo, he spoke never. It just made it easier.

  Fewer bodies to hide.

  Fewer punches to throw later. Verbally and physically.

  Which he prepared himself to do now as Marcel raked him with a sneer that cut almost as deeply as a razor. “You shouldn’t have come back here.”

  “Didn’t plan for it. Rather, happened unexpectedly.”

  “Then why are you heading for private quarters when you don’t have a room anymore?”

  “Am I not still part of the family?” Kalder dared him to declare his enmity the way Perrin had done earlier.

  Marcel didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze went past Kalder’s shoulder to something behind his back.

  Turning his head, Kalder saw Rosie and Simon approaching them with their unorthodox manners and clothing. As a former priest of the African trickster spirit Exú, Simon Dewing, who was larger than most and therefore off-putting on his best day, could be a fierce protector or one hell of a vengeful enemy, depending on his mood. It was something Kalder respected most about him. That and the fact that you always knew where you stood with him. Unlike Kalder’s siblings.

  Simon didn’t play games with people. If he hated you, he walked up, tapped you on the shoulder, and announced it plainly. In your face.

  Then he punched your jaw while he laughed.

  He and Justinian Rosenkranz, or Rosie, as they called their ever-jovial crewmate, were a motley, unsettling pair who didn’t appear at first glance to have anything in common other than the fact that neither gave two shits what anyone thought about them.

  That, too, Kalder respected.

  And it was something Rosie proved as he planted his long, lanky form on Kalder’s right side and perched his ornate, twisted iron staff that was decorated with feathers and braided leather cords over his muscular shoulders. With a quirky grin that made his golden whisky-colored eyes shine, he pushed his flamboyant burgundy tricorne back on his head so that he could scratch at his dreads. “In a bit of a snit, Princeling?”

  Kalder frowned. “Pardon?”

  Rosie answered the question with a charming grin. “You look like you need rescuing, Princess. So your knights in shining armor are here to render aid. Shall I slap your annoyance and challenge him to a duel on your behalf? Or would you rather do it yourself and save me wrist the pain of it all?”

  “Something is profoundly wrong with you. Isn’t it? Tell me truthfully, did your mother drop you on your head as an infant? Or suffocate you while you were breastfeeding?”

  “Given me fashion sense and wardrobe, you’re going to ask me that with a straight face?” Rosie snorted and slid a smirk toward Simon. “And he thinks I’m the one with a problem? Seriously?”

  Simon let out a gruff, noncommittal “Heh.”

  But while Kalder and Rosie knew they were teasing each other, as was their nature, Marcel gaped. “You’re allowing him to speak to you in such a manner?” he asked Rosie.

  Dropping the staff down to his side, Rosie braced his arm on Kalder’s shoulder and leaned against him. “We’re brothers, Kal and I. But I guess you can’t understand that, can you, now? What it means to bleed for someone and have them bleed for you. His words to me aren’t barbed to bite. They’re good-natured sport meant to poke fun and make him laugh at the absurd bitch that we call life. As are mine to him, and he well knows I would never hurt his tenderlings, as I value them far above me own.”

  “That is why I brought them here when we were being attacked,” Kalder said. “Their lives mean more to me than me own does, and I’d rather die than see any of them harmed.”

  Simon took a step forward. “And it’s why if anyone or anything comes at our fish-brother, here, we’ll be taking it personally.”

  Rosie nodded. “And be taking it out of the throat of the fool what does it.”

  Yet even as they said those words, Kalder’s bad feeling tripled. The skin on the back of his neck crawled with a sense of hostile foreboding.

  Aye, there was something sinister here. Something foul.

  And it was coming for all of them.…

  Coming for their blood and their bones.

  The threat was real and it was imminent.

  You will have to choose. No one gets to eat their cake and have it.…

  10

  Cameron stared in shock at the image of herself in the mirror. “Is this really me?”

  Belle smiled at her from over her shoulder, while Chthamalus grinned in approval. “Aye, love. Who else would it be? You act as if you’ve never seen yourself in a gown before.”

  She hadn’t. At least not since the death of her parents, when Paden had burned every girlie item she’d possessed in order to protect her as best he could. To keep her from being separated from him by others, and to make sure that she didn’t fall prey to some drunken randy male while they were forced to work menial jobs for their sustenance and survival. Because of his paranoia for her safety, Paden had forced her to dress and act the part of a boy for most of her life.

  Truth, she could scarce remember being a girl, never mind a woman.

  “I can’t believe he sent this to me.”

  “Aye, my lady.” Chthamalus settled the hem around her feet, which were bedecked in the prettiest shoes she’d ever seen in all her life. Dark blue velvet shoes that sparkled with pearl and crystal buckles. Peeking out from just below the delicate lace hemline, they caught the light every time she moved. “His Highness was emphatic about it, and the colors. Said he’d seen the way you admired the gowns of other ladies and he didn’t want to see that hunger in your eyes go unsated for another hour. You mean a lot to him. Admittedly, I haven’t been with him in quite a while, but never have I seen him care for any person the way he cares for you. And in spite of all the centuries we’ve been parted, I know that he isn’t the type to have changed much, if any, from the man I knew so long ago. ’Tis not in his nature to let others close to him. So you can trust when I say that you are very special to his heart.”

  Cameron felt giddy with joy over Tally’s words and Kalder’s thoughtful gift. The beautiful white dress was softer than anything she’d ever owned. Modest and fashionable, it contrasted sharply against the vibrant peacock blue silk jacket that hugged curves she hadn’t known she possessed.

  She really was a woman!

  Tears of gratitude choked her as she fingered the curls that Belle had styled for her into a proper chignon. She looked so posh an

d fine that if she hadn’t known it was she herself, she’d have never guessed it.

  “Do you think Mr. Dupree will like what he sees?” she asked them.

  “Mr. Dupree?” Belle teased.

  Heat stung her cheeks as she realized how silly she was being with her insistence on something so formal given what they’d shared, especially since Belle was more than aware of it. Still … “Can’t help it. It’s foolish of me, isn’t it?”

  Belle hugged her. “Nay, love. Not foolish. Precious. Your unassuming sweetness is what I adore best about you.” She gave her one fierce squeeze before she let go and stepped away. “Come, me dear. Let’s go find him so that you can thank him properly for his gift, and make your brother go off into a right apoplexy over it. Want to take bets on what manner of colors that man’ll be turning when he sees how fair and lovely you are dressed like that?”

  Cameron laughed, even as she clearly envisioned Paden’s tantrum well in her mind. Paden would indeed explode into a fit over this. Not just because Kalder had given it to her, but because she did indeed look like a woman, and Paden refused to see her as such. Ever. And God have mercy on any should they ever catch even a modest glimpse of anything even remotely resembling the teensiest bit of a breast bump on her body. She could only imagine the conniption he’d have over the whole swell of her tender bits showing on her décolleté like this.

  If he’d had his way, he’d have cut off entire parts of her anatomy long ago and turned her into one of those Amazon warrior maids like he’d read to her about when she was a wee lass.

  But she supposed that was fair enough, since most days she, in turn, wanted to cut off his cod-dangle.

  “You’re an evil one, Lady Belle.”

  She winked at Cameron. “That I am, me love, but your brother … he makes it easy to harass and mock him for his boorish ways, he does.”

  Cameron wouldn’t argue that. And she looked forward to seeing her Myrcian lord, and thanking him most personally for his sweetness in giving her such a fine and lovely thing as this dress to prance about in and feel like a fairy princess. It was the sweetest thing he could have done for her.

  At least that was what she thought. But as they entered the ballroom where the others were gathered alongside Kalder’s people, she quickly rethought her gratitude and felt her confidence dwindle into absolutely nothing.

  Less than nothing, if such a thing were possible.

  Along with every last shred of her happiness.

  While she’d known Kalder was more beautiful and sexier than anyone ever had a right to be, and that it should be criminal for a man to tempt everyone who saw him to want to take a bite of that luscious caramel skin, she hadn’t realized his unique charisma and charms were innate to the whole of his people!

  In fact, every single male in this room was quite a fine specimen of male perfection … though, granted, none were equal to Kalder, in her opinion. Her Myrcian could still tie knots around all the others and leave them hanging in want of more.

  However, as she scanned the great multitude that was gathered about to socialize in their snoot and pomp, it was plainly evident that the Myrcian females outshone her looks and lineage, by leaps, bounds, and cartwheels. They were so beautiful as to make even a sainted angel weep with envy.

  I’m a hideous troll.

  Nay, to call her a troll in comparison to these blooming falderals was an insult to trolls the world over. She was the mangy flea on top of the troll’s wart compared to the great beauties in this room.

  Why on earth Kalder would ever want her when he could have his pick of these elegant beauties, she couldn’t imagine.

  The man was daft.

  Or blind.

  Mayhap both.

  And she wasn’t the only one to think it. Indeed, the moment she entered the room, heads came together and tongues began to wag madly with their speculations as to what binding spell she’d used upon him.

  “You think it’s blackmail?”

  “It’d have to be. Look at her! And she’s human to boot! She must have sold her soul to her devil to turn his head.”

  “You sure she’s the one? Could be one of the other ladies in the crew. What of that tall skinny one?”

  “Maybe it’s a prank or a ruse?”

  On and on it went until she was ready to run and hide in the deepest, darkest pit she could find. Anything to get them to find a new topic.

  And a new target for their mean speculation.

  Only her pride kept her in place. But it was the most difficult of actions, and her heart was pounding for all it was worth, and more, as she leaned closer to Belle. “Did we step in something foul like Cookie’s three-rotted pie? I’m beginning to think I might have some dog feces on me shoe, what with the way they be staring, and gossiping, and all. Could have sworn I took me bath and everything.”

  Just as Belle started to answer, a posh brunette lady approached them. Perfectly formed in her elegance and stuffed into her lacings so tightly ’twas a wonder she hadn’t harmed herself with the bindings, she was grace incarnate. Tall and lithe, she only worsened Cameron’s low opinion of herself, and left her wanting to cringe that she didn’t hold even a candle’s wick to the lass.

  But rather than let the woman, and the room, know it, Cameron forced herself to stiffen her spine and keep her head up high. Though she didn’t feel it, she could at least pretend to have some self-esteem.

  The lady quickly looked past Cameron to sweep a less-than-flattering stare over Belle. “Are you the one my Kalderan fancies?”

  Her Kalder?

  The fish-bitch had some nerve there …

  Cameron arched a brow over that possessive tone that flew up on her about as well as someone messing with Sallie’s soul bottle.

  Belle looked aghast. “Beg pardon?”

  “You can beg all you want, commoner, but the prince is mine. Now that he’s returned home, I suggest you both slither back to your respective holes and remember that you don’t belong here and that you cannot compete with one of us in looks, grace, intelligence, or abilities.”

  But apparently they could in manners and decorum.

  And good old-fashioned common sense!

  Not to mention decency and compassion!

  How dare this whore-slag confront her friend or anyone else about Kalder given the way they’d all treated him while he called this place his home! Had he meant so much to her, and them, they should have stood up for him when his mother had assaulted him back in the day.

  Had they?

  Nay! The bloody wankers had never once been there! Rather, they’d piled on. Blamed him and been absolute turds, one and all! Now she stood here and dared to try and claim him? Really?

  That, she refused to allow!

  Furious, Cameron moved to stand in front of Belle, and backed the woman up two steps. “For the record, gal, I be the one what you be having your issues with, not the proper Lady Belle here. Make no mistakes about that! And the last time I checked that man’s manifest, Mr. Dupree be having a mind of his own. A very capable and strong one, point of fact, and the last thing he be needing is some scheming little cock-snottle farthingale like you a-thinking she can come in here after all this time and put a ring on his finger because she wills it so. Well, Miss Lacy Cotton Wig, you needs be loosening up that over-cinched corset of yours so that some oxygen can get up to your poor air-starved brains and think with them. ’Cause if you knew anything about that man at all, then you’d be a-knowing that Mr. Dupree’s more than quite clear and adamant that he be dancing on to no man’s tune save his own. And no woman’s neither. Nor the devil’s himself. So he don’t be needing you, nor anyone else, putting any words in his mouth for him. I assure you, the man can speak quite plainly for himself, and he don’t be mincing no words whenever he does it, neither!”

  The woman laughed at Cameron’s hot outburst. “What? You? You would dare to lecture me? A milkmaid who fell off her stool and must have knocked her head or been kicked by her cow? Please! As if you knew the minds and whims of your betters, even if they have used you for their pleasure. Not that a man of the prince’s caliber would ever deign to touch something as plain as you.”

  Cameron flinched as if she’d been slapped. And she had. Just with words, not with a palm. Though honestly, it felt about the same. Nay, it stung twice as deep as a physical blow.

  And that certainly withered up her confidence and turned it into a teensy little ball of nothing. She could actually feel herself growing smaller on the spot.

  Worse, she felt tears stinging her throat. But Cameron refused to have them fall. She wouldn’t let this poor excuse of a sentient being see them. She wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

  Rather, Cameron would like to give her a swift kick to the derriere. Especially as there was now a crowd gathering around to hear every cruel syllable of it.

  A crowd that made a collective gasp at their conversation.

  That was disconcerting and demoralizing on a cellular level, and stung to the very inner depths of her soul, where it left a blister she was quite certain would never heal.

  But as bad as that was, it was nothing compared to a moment later when the crowd parted to leave them at the full attention of everyone.

  It took her a moment to realize why.

  What she thought was the loud staccato droning beat of her heart in her ears wasn’t. That was the sound of Kalder’s boot heels clicking across the polished marble floor.

  He’d finally joined them.

  And all eyes were fastened to him as the crowd held their collective breath in expectation of his reaction to their untoward drama.

  Cameron had always despised being the center of attention. She’d hated being involved in petty cattiness even more. This was her worst nightmare come to life, and she had no idea how it would end.

  Even more painful, she didn’t know what this woman really meant to Kalder. They could be great lovers and he could fall into her arms or bed for all Cameron knew.

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