Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy

by Amy Miles

The nighttime air holds a bitter chill. A frost hangs on the horizon, waiting to unleash another bout of misery upon us. My dress flutters in the wind, the ribbons cinched at my arms flapping against my sides.

  The tight curls of my hair came loose from their combs not long after we departed from the castle, despite being housed within a closed carriage during our journey. Vladimir and Lucien sat across from me, speaking in eager yet hushed tones. I did not care to listen to their conversation. The fact that they were excited told me that whatever it was they had to discuss would sicken me.

  The wagon caravan journey to the nearby village took little over two hours. The steady clomping of the horses’ hooves kept time as we burrowed into the darkness. I searched for Fane as we departed, yet he was nowhere to be seen. He vowed to remain by my side. I find myself hoping he will fulfill his vow when we arrive.

  Our earlier conversation weighs heavily upon my mind. Vladimir’s hunt tonight will give me a small dose of what is to come. I fear being set loose to fend for myself. A night may seem like a blink of an eye, yet when you have rabid wolves nipping at your heels, it can feel like an eternity.

  Sadly, I do not share Fane’s faith in my ability to survive, though I have sworn to myself I will try, if for no other reason than to be in control of my own demise. If I am to die, it will be by my hand and no other.

  “You seem tense,” a deep voice calls, drawing me away from my musings.

  I look away from the darkened carriage window to find Vladimir staring at me. His face is cast mostly in shadow. The lantern fixed to a pole nearest the driver’s bench swings to and fro on the uneven path.

  “I will not pretend to enjoy something so vile.” I tuck my hands into the folds of my dress so he is unable to see the trembling in my fingers. I hate how easily his voice can bring out a panic within me. How can I ever hope to survive a hunt when I can hardly contain myself before one man?

  Lucien’s chuckle is low and throaty. “She does not see the benefit of our sport, brother. Perhaps we should explain it to her. She is obviously of simple mind.”

  I grit my teeth, though I seal away the quick retort that teeters upon my lips. I loathe this man with every ounce of my soul. I would gladly watch his soul rot in the fires of damnation. On that day only will I prance and smile at such a death.

  “Come, Lucien. She has proven to be quick of mind. How else could she have bested you in my chambers?”

  I brace at Vladimir’s open mockery. If he were anyone other than Lord of Castle Bran, I have no doubt his head would be left rolling behind our carriage by now. Lucien’s smile is tight as he leans forward to survey me. “A mere oversight on my part.” He locks his darkened gaze upon me and I fight the urge to shudder. “It will never happen again.”

  Vladimir pats his brother on the arm. “See to it that it does not. I dare say you are a greedy one when it comes to blood. I felt a bit addled by your healing.”

  Lucien smirks and slowly sinks back into shadow. I do not need to see his eyes to know he continues to watch me. My skin crawls as Vladimir slips from his seat to join me. “Pay him no mind, my dear. Lucien has always been a fickle man.”

  “Indeed,” I respond tersely.

  My husband takes my hand in his, his fingers trailing a line down my palm and pausing to circle about my wrist. “We shall be arriving soon. I do so look forward to showing you off to everyone.”

  “For what purpose?” I ask, drawing back my hand. “So they may place a wager on whether or not I shall survive my own hunt?”

  Vladimir stiffens. Color seeps from his face, though he holds his composure. “I see you have been introduced to Fane.”

  “Indeed.” I repeat my earlier sentiment. I turn my face away from the window, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear I know to be rooted deep within my gaze. The eyes are a window to a person’s soul, and mine is wide open.

  Vladimir thrusts back against his seat in a huff. “I had hoped to spare you that knowledge a bit longer.”

  “Oh, cease your drivel, brother.” Lucien raises his feet and crosses his ankles one over the other beside me, hemming me in between him and Vladimir. “You hired the man to train her. Despite the fact that I feel this to be a sore waste of money, we both know she was bound to find out.”

  Vladimir sighs, bobbing his head in agreement. “Yes. I should have known he would begin his lessons right away. Fane is an upstanding man, I’ll give him that.”

  Lucien snorts and I turn to look at him. “Is there something funny about that?”

  His smile broadens as he spreads his arms along the top of the seatback. “Perhaps you should ask your trainer yourself. I am curious as to how honest he will be this time.”

  “This time?” I close my eyes, hating the inflection of surprise in my voice.

  “Oh,” Lucien crows, uncrossing his feet, and he moves to the edge of his seat, placing himself so close he nearly touches my knees. “So he has not told you, then? Interesting.”

  I bite my lower lip and cross my arm over my chest. It irks me that in this position, I give Vladimir ample view down the neckline of my dress, though I am incapable of releasing my hold. I feel as if I am on the verge of unraveling and need the pressure to remain together.

  Vladimir leans in close. I cease the expansion of my lungs so I am not forced to breathe in the potent scent of blood that lingers upon his breath from an earlier bloodletting. “Do not trust your trainer, my dear. He may have the face of an angel and the words of a saint, though he is far from either. Fane Dalca has a dark past. Listen to his instructions. Learn from his example. However, never let your guard down.”

  I turn away without any acknowledgement of his warning. I feel cold despite the fact that the dismal weather does not affect me severely. Are their words true? Am I not the first to be trained by Fane? If that is true, what chance do I have to succeed when they could not?

  A few moments later, I notice lights peering through the trees. I curl my fingers around the edge of the open window and breathe deep, instantly wishing I had not. Amongst the scent of pine and earth is a dominant smell of fear.

  “We have arrived,” Lucien crows as our wagon pulls to a stop outside of town.

  It is nearly pitch dark when I dismount from the carriage. Women in fine dresses and beautiful jewels cluster together. Men in handsome coats and trousers laugh and pat each other upon the back. Vladimir and Lucien brush past to see to the final arrangements.

  I stand by myself only a few short steps away from the carriage. I want to turn and flee, take to the woods when no one is watching.

  “You will not make it,” a voice calls from the darkness over my right shoulder.

  I do not have to turn to know it is Fane. “You deceived me,” I whisper, not turning to face him. I do not want to draw attention to myself nor him skulking in the shadows.

  “To what specifically do you refer?”

  “To the women you trained before me. How could you fail to mention them?”

  His silence draws out so long the group before me begins to dissipate. The men lead the way with lit torches toward the village. Women walk arm in arm together as they follow behind.

  Fane emerges from the shadows and pauses at my side. My head reaches the top of his shoulder and I am once more reminded of how insignificant I am compared to him. “Vladimir sought me out with the sole purpose of preparing you. For reasons beyond my comprehension, he is absolute in his desire for your survival. He trusts me with your life.”

  “As such I should as well?” I turn to face him, feeling my anger rising. “Trust is not given. It is earned, and to this point you have done little to assuage my doubts.”

  His face is cast in shadow as he lifts his hand and motions for me to lead us to the village. His willingness to allow me to be in control does not sway my ire. “These doubts you have were placed by the man you yourself detest. Does this not seem odd to you? For what purpose do you perceive his motives to be?”

  M
y steps are slow and measured as we walk beneath naked trees. Air puffs in great clouds before my lips, cooling upon my cheeks as I step into each breath. “If he truly wishes for me to win this battle, why would he pit me against you?”

  “Is it not obvious?” I flinch as he places a hand upon my lower back. I turn to demand that he move it, but I discover I have begun to head along the wrong path and he is merely correcting my course. Once I move to follow his lead, he speaks again. “You and I are alike. This concerns your husband. The more time we spend in each other’s company, the better the chance of us growing fond of one another.”

  I stifle a snort behind a gloved hand. “He is jealous?”

  “Always.” His voice comes from beside my ear, his breath warm against my chilled skin. A shiver ripples down my spine and I straighten. Perhaps Vladimir has reason to be concerned, I silently muse as I place a body’s width between us.

  “Then we shall endeavor to prove him wrong,” I say, clearing my throat. I tuck my hands firmly together before me as the rutted road turns into a smoother path.

  “Indeed.” He leads me past a darkened building, its clapboard sides weathered and decaying. Two of the windows have lost their covering, allowing the frigid winds to blow right into the home. Two small hands cling to the windowsill. A small girl with a little round face, smudged and covered in freckles, peers out as us.

  Fane motions for me to wait as he steps toward the window. The little girl whimpers and disappears from sight. “Do not be afraid, little one. I will not harm you.”

  I listen as he coos at the girl, amazed at the tenderness in his voice. Slowly the girl rises, her eyes wide with fright, yet I can see her desperation to trust Fane. She looks to be no older than five or six summers. Too young to be left alone.

  “Do you know of a safe place to hide?” Fane asks, stepping so close to the window that he conceals my view of the girl. “Good. I need you to take a blanket and a small sack of food. Run there as fast as you can. Stay to the woods. Do not come out for anyone until dawn. Do you understand?”

  Fane reaches through the window and gently pats the girl on the head. My chest constricts as the girl offers him a small smile and darts away. He steps away from the building and rejoins me. When he says nothing, I hold out my hand to stop him. “You saved that girl.”

  His shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “She will be safe if she remains hidden. It is a little thing.”

  I clench my fingers about his arm, waiting for him to look at me. “Vladimir is mistaken about you. You are a good man.”

  Fane’s face darkens and his gaze glazes over. He shakes his head and pulls out of my grasp. “I am far from that.”

  He sets off before me at a clipped pace that I could easily keep up with if I so wanted, yet I do not. I can tell by the hunch of his shoulders that he needs space so I give it to him, just as he gave me time the day he came to tend to my wounds.

  Watching him march before me, I realize Fane is a haunted man. His demons chase after him. He carries them wherever he goes. Is this why he rescued me from Lucien’s dungeon? Am I just another lost soul he is determined to save? Is he trying to atone for unspoken sins by being kind to me?

  Whatever his reasoning for assisting me, I decide in this moment that he is the best chance I have of surviving.

  TWENTY-TWO