“But how? You can’t convince six people they didn’t see what they saw.”
“I don’t want you to worry, Kat.” He stroked my hair, his voice was soothing, but his jaw was still tense. “I promise you, it's under control.”
I hesitated, mulling over his words. “Are you saying that because you think I did it?”
Ethan frowned. “What? No, Kat. There's no way in hell you could do anything like that.”
“They saw me do it, Ethan… What if their vision is the one that’s true, and mine is…”
He blew out a slow breath. “What did you see?”
“I—I saw him stumble…” I strained to recollect. “We were dancing, but then he collapsed in my arms…” My voice wavered. “And I watched him burn from the inside out. But I didn't...”
“You didn’t what?” he urged.
“I didn’t strike him. I didn't do anything to make it happen...it just...happened.”
“Okay, then.” He nodded. “We have our answer.”
“Really, because it seems to me like we only have more questions.”
He aimed his cue at the eight ball, and with a forceful strike, sinking it in the corner pocket.
I stood, moving over to the pool table, where he continued hitting random balls into their holes. The noise unnerved me. “Do you have to do that?” I snapped.
Eventually, he stopped.
Heaving a sigh, I grabbed his pool stick off the table and pushed it at him. Sorry, here, keep play.” I shoved the stick at him. He didn’t take it.
“That girl Ethan...the French Ambassador’s daughter. She was the one in your room this morning.” I tried to keep the jealousy from my voice. To sound like I was merely relaying the facts. Not sure I succeeded. “You spent the night with her,” I said as evenly as I could, and thrust the stick against his chest. He still didn't take it. “So did she mention anything about, I don’t know, going somewhere? Or was there time left for conversation?” My brow arched.
This time, he took the pool stick. But then laid it across the tabletop and crooked a finger for me to come in closer.
I didn't.
"Want to know a secret?" he said in confidential tones.
I didn’t answer.
For a moment, his gaze rested on mine. He studied my face for an uncomfortable amount of time, and just before I was about to cave and look away first, he gave a knowing smirk. “You think I slept with that girl. That she left my room after having spent the night in my bed.”
Embarrassment bloomed across my face and down my neck. “I didn’t think... I mean, that's not...” I sputtered. "You know what, never mind. Like I said... none of my business."
"She came to drop off this." He reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Cheat notes.” He nodded as he handed me the page inside.
Carefully I unfolded it. An assortment of common phrases in French, and their translations and pronunciations.
“The number at the bottom.” He pointed “That's what I had to collect before coming here this evening.”
I scrolled down the page, to the bottom where a phone number and a name were haphazardly scrawled. Griselda.
“It was only when I saw you spying on me—" He started
I held up my palm to stop him. “No. No. I wasn't spying, I was…okay, I was sort of spying.”
His smile widened. “That's when the idea came to ask for your help instead. And you were much more helpful than her notes would have been.
I gave a weak smile that faded almost instantly. “Until he died.”
His smile faded too. “Right. Until that.” He dragged a hand over his hair. “We know you aren't responsible, Kat. For now, that’s all we need to know.” Rounding to my side of the table, he said, “Here. You're shivering.” He draped his tuxedo jacket over my shoulders. “Let’s give it a few minutes more for everyone to clear out. Then we’ll leave.”
I was cold from within… It wasn’t the kind of cold you could ward off with extra layers. It wasn’t until he took hold of my hand that I finally began to thaw, and the horrors of the night dimmed, if only slightly.
“Come on.” The warmth of his voice pulled me back from my abyss. “Let me take you home. It's been a long night.” He wrapped a supportive arm around my waist. “You good?”
Instinctually, I stepped out of his arms. “Ethan, you can't go around silencing everyone. It’s not your job to clean up my messes.” That was my mother's job. I walked to the door. “I'm a big girl. I'll deal.”
He looked confused. “You'll be punished, and I'm doing what I can to avoid that.”
“Why?”
He crossed his arms defensively, dipping his chin. “Why? Are you seriously asking me that question?”
“Yes.” I held his gaze. “I am. Why are you so concerned with what happens to me?”
“Because. You matter to me Kat. And I...I don’t know. I just need to know you're safe.”
I nodded. Not because I understood, but because I knew how he felt. It was the same for me.
“Think you're ready to leave?”
“More than ready.” I reached the door at the same time he did and bumped into him. His hand came to steady me, as I turned to face him. It put us inches apart, and me within the circle of his arms. He stared down at me for a heartbeat. Then his lips were on mine, in a slow burning kiss. Tentative at first, but then the kiss grew more urgent, demanding. I could taste the tang of wine still on his lips. Feel the pounding of his heart. My hands found their way up to his hair, winding in the thickness of his locks.
His tongue swept into my mouth. I felt my pulse quicken, it made me dizzy, blood rushing in my ears. The door creaked open and Ethan drew away from me, his hand still protectively on my lower back. We faced the intruder…his chauffer.
“Your Majesty. My apologies. The majority of guests have left. I wanted to know if you needed the car pulled around.”
“We're ready to go Thomas. Thank you.”
He bowed his head, taking great care not to make eye contact with me as he left.
Ethan and I locked eyes.
“Well, this whole night has been the opposite of discreet.” I bit down on my lip.
“It'll be fine. We'll get it sorted.” He took my hand, and as we left the banquet hall, I shivered at the memory of what had happened.
Outside I inhaled deeply. The moon overhead lit everything in its pale, eerie light. The prince’s personal driver was waiting with the door open when we reached it. Ethan helped me into the back of the car and settled in next to me.
He let out a long sigh. Then his gaze shifted to mine. “For what it’s worth, you really do look amazing tonight.” He nudged my arm gently. “Blood stains and all.”
I felt myself smile, but I couldn’t hold on to it. This whole evening had been a roller coaster of emotions.
We rode the distance back to the castle in complete silence. I couldn’t tell if it was a short trip or a long one. All I knew was I couldn’t wait to get back to the solitude of my room and try to figure out what was happening. Why I was having visions of death—and why those visions, were starting to come true.
CHAPTER 14
Denial.
That was the only way I could deal with whatever it was that was happening to me. The magik coursing through my veins was clearly not something I’d ever learn how to control. Twice now it had haunted me with images of bloodshed and death. And now the actual body count was starting to pile up. The French Ambassador, and possibly his daughter. Dead, and presumed dead, respectively.
I wanted no part of these powers. And not only because having it could get me killed, it was the way I felt when it happened. There was a darkness to it. If my grandmother had embraced this in her lifetime, she was either braver or far more reckless than I’d ever be. I’d tried coursing through her book countless times, but no weird, fiery messages appeared again. And the rest of the text was written in a script too illegible to read. So I stowed it under
my bed and tried to forget everything. Fortunately, it was easy enough to distract myself with my job.
Working with the princess proved to be the most enjoyable part of being here at court. She was bright and hardworking for such a young kid, but she had a playful side and a fabulous imagination. She took to me from day one, and we quickly became close…she was like my surrogate niece. Plus staying focused on her lessons gave me an excuse not to focus on the other things haunting me... magik, and Ethan… both of which were better left alone.
A month had passed since the last incident, and Ethan had been sent away to attend a charity on the mainland. It was the perfect opportunity to put both out of my mind. Yet in my spare time, I’d slip into the fourth-floor library, the one no one but Ethan and I ever used, to read through the strange Book of Shadows my grandmother had used to try to communicate with me. So much for leaving it all alone. But I had to figure out what this was, and why it was happening to me, if I was ever going to find a way to stop it.
I propped myself into a leather tub chair beneath the window and perused the brittle pages of the book. Some were scribbled with markings that glowed when my ring passed over them. But even lit from within, they were completely unreadable. Some pages had runes etched onto the thick parchment. On others, there seemed to be spells, though I couldn’t make out what they were for. But not once did I receive another message as I had the first time. Even the whispering voices seemed to have quieted.
I’d ended Princess Charlotte’s lessons early today, since the queen had insisted her daughter take a nap midday. I typically didn’t see her once classes were through, but today she’d made her way to the disused library, having escaped her nanny’s clutches. I heard the patter of her feet racing down the hall, before she bust into the library.
I stood up, having just enough time to shove the spell book under a stack of others, before she barreled into me. Her dinner was over, she was freshly washed and scrubbed, and ready for bed. But instead, Charlie was clinging to my leg, refusing to cooperate with her nanny. As usual.
The woman looked fully exasperated as she hurried in after her, breathing heavily from the steep climb to the fourth floor.
“Hey, isn’t it your bedtime?” I ruffled Charlie’s hair, giving the nanny a commiserating look.
“But I’m not even tired,” she whined. “Neither is bunny.”
Why would you be at six p.m., when you’re used to going full-steam until well past eight? But it wasn’t my place to encourage her rebellious spirit, much as I adored it.
“I know, sweetie, but your mum thinks it’s best. You’ve got a long day tomorrow, and I think she just wants you to enjoy yourself because she cares about you.” If only that were true. I had a hard time getting those words out without gagging on them. If ever there was a mother who went out of her way to demonstrate a lack of motherly love, it was Queen Zara. The woman had ice water in her veins, and it was never more apparent than in her interactions with her little girl.
Charlie looked up at me, indifferent. “I’ll go to bed if you’ll tuck me in.”
I frowned a little, pushing aside my stack of books, taking care not to let the cover show. Bedtime routines were well outside of my job description, but if it made life easier…
The nanny, Ingrid, shook her head and raised her hands in defeat. “She’s all yours, then,” she said. “I’ll be up to take over in a spell.”
I pried Charlie off my leg and cupped her chin. “Okay. Deal. But then you have to promise me, no stalling and you’ll try to get straight to sleep.”
“Okaaay.” She tugged bunny along behind her as we made our way back down to her room.
The confectionary fluffy décor was perfectly suited for the bedroom of a little princess. Pink and lilac and cream flowers were everywhere. And one rather odd painting that didn’t quite fit the rest of the décor. It looked ancient, and valuable, like it could have been painted by Renoir centuries ago. A scene with a crowd of people, their faces drawn and pale, all ambling around a glowing red portal behind them. Very disturbing image for a little kid. Hell, it even gave me chills.
Charlie shuffled over, next to where I was standing, still mesmerized by the unsettling artwork.
“I went into that picture.” She said it in an innocent matter-of-fact tone that made me shudder. “I went in to look for him. He's always calling to me.”
“He, was calling you?” I scanned the image, my eyes narrowing. “You mean, in this painting?”
She nodded, her little face beaming brightly. “Yes. Don’t you see him? My baby brother?”
I stared harder at the painting. A red forest with pockets of night, filled with people who looked like wandering souls. It was vivid and yet dark. Inviting and yet foreboding. Not the sort of artwork one would expect to find in a five-year old’s room. But then her mother insisted her daughter grow up strong and fearless. So, a nightmare-inducing painting might be just the type of twisted motivation she’d use.
“Do you like this painting Charlie?” I was prepared to rip it off the wall and stow it in a closet if need be. I was, after all, hired to be in service to her. But she shook her head so strongly, her little curls bounced all over.
“No, you can’t take it away. It’s my favorite. And it’s the only way I can see him.”
“Your baby brother.” I nodded.
She giggled. “He's not a baby anymore, silly. He's five. Like me.”
I glanced at the painting again. This time it looked different. Like something had… changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but...
I gave an uneasy shrug, then smiled down at her pleading face. “Okay, then the painting stays put. Come on, into bed.”
She raced me to the frothy bed that looked like a giant birthday cake. I peeled back the layers of blankets, she climbed in, and I gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“I'll tell Ingrid you're ready for her now.”
Her head bobbed up and down, but her gaze was still focused on the painting.
“It's almost time,” she whispered.
I smiled a little. The imaginations of children were remarkable. I'd thought the same thing, listening to Lincoln's tales of extraordinary adventures from the most mundane things.
“Okay, then you better get to sleep pretty quick.”
She clutched her bunny tighter. “Where's Ethan?”
“He's away from court today, remember?”
“That’s okay, he'll come see me when he gets back.”
“Well, it’ll be really late, Charlie.” If he came back at all tonight. I had no idea where he was, or who he was with and didn’t want this poor little one to be sad, waiting for a goodnight wish from her big brother that wouldn’t come.
“He comes every night. Even if its super, super, super late,” she insisted.
“Really, and just how do you know that, if you're sound asleep when it’s super, super, super late?” I cocked my head, smiling.
She beamed at me brightly. “He leaves me a flower.”
“A flower, really?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Yep. Every night. Unless I’m awake, then I get a real hug.” She snuggled down into her blankets, clutching her bunny rabbit close. “Pink’s my favorite color. G'nite, Kat.”
“Sleep well, Charlie. Sweet dreams. And I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left her room with a whole new perspective about her older brother, the playboy Prince of Britannia.
***
Every night since that night, Charlie had asked me to tuck her in. And they'd trusted me enough to do it unsupervised. Even the nanny, Ingrid, went about finishing up some of her chores before joining us after our nightly tuck in.
It was Charlie's stories about the painting that fascinated me most. Her vivid description of what happened inside the image. Her absolute certainty that she had travelled there, and that her deceased twin brother waited for her on the other side.
Last night there were other people added to her list, also dead. When she brought it up agai
n while we were coloring, I saw an opportunity to learn more.
“So, Charlie, everyone you've mentioned in your Shadow World…” That was what we called it… “they've all died. But you’re very much alive and well and going to stay that way,” I added to reinforce any fears she might have. She might have been an old soul and a royal, but she was still just a little kid. “Why do you think you're allowed to enter that world? Is it because of your brother?”
Her bright red crayon didn’t stop scrawling across the page as she answered, “It’s because of the others.”
I frowned a little, knowing she expected me to know what she was talking about, but I really had no clue. “Which others? The other people who've died?”
“Not exactly. They're not exactly dead. Not yet.” Her scribbling grew faster, harder, more intense as she focused on it. “They need me there.”
“Okay...” I said, now a little disturbed by her frenetic art project. “What does it mean, they're not exactly dead?”
The crayon went faster and faster, ‘til it was nearly a blur of red streaking in her little hand. She was moving so furiously... she was coloring off the page and onto the table on both sides of the paper. The queen would have something to say about that one later. I opened my mouth to catch her attention. She seemed lost, almost lulled into some sort of trance, or maybe even a seizure. Like her movements were no longer her own. But then there was a sudden sharp snap.
Her hand stilled. And just like that, she seemed to come back into herself. Which seemed as crazy as it sounded.
Her bright blue eyes peered over at me. “It's to keep them out.”
“P-Pardon.” I shifted in my chair, leaning closer to her.
“I know what you were going to ask me next,” she nodded confidently, “and that’s the answer. They need me there to keep them out.”
The door swung open so forcefully it folded back on the squealing hinges and slammed into the wall. I jumped so hard I nearly toppled out of my chair. Charlie didn’t flinch. In fact, she didn’t even look up when she said, “Hi Mum.”
Of Royal Blood: Part One (Courting Magik Series Book 1) Page 12
