Burdened Bloodline

by Sarah E. Burr

  “Refusing to eat is never a good sign,” Perry said, lines of worry sprouting across his forehead.

  Jax reached across the divide between their horses and grasped Perry’s trembling hand. “Perhaps it’s merely the strain of the political arena. I know I was going mad, waiting and wondering what my adversaries were doing all this time. Now that things are in motion, I feel less helpless, despite the darkness upon us. Maybe your father will feel the same.”

  Perry’s fingers hung limp in her hand. “Yes, perhaps that’s the case.”

  He didn’t sound convinced.

  ‡

  The horses slowed as the path’s incline steepened. Jax guessed they were nearing the summit of the Caisleán Cliffs, but the dense fog surrounding them made it difficult to see more than three feet in front of her.

  “You really grew up in this?” she asked her husband, his profile but an outline in the clouds.

  “It’s not so bad at the top. Just wait.”

  It was as if some divine force batted away the blanket of fog obscuring the world from her vision. Her horse emerged through the wall of vapor, revealing a monolith of a castle hidden in the clouds. Looking over her shoulder, Jax was sure she had somehow been transported to another realm. The fog acted like a barrier between the top of the Caisleán Cliffs and the rest of the world.

  The graceful swoop of flying buttresses drew her attention next, ornate gargoyles intermingling with angels carved into the walls they supported. The palace radiated ancient, stoic pride, nestled on the edge of craggy cliffs overlooking the expansive Loch Ionotch swirling below. “Perry…” She paused, her throat tight with emotions the sight roused within her. “It’s beautiful.”

  The sun dipped low in the western sky, reflecting off the lake, casting veiled illumination on the gray stone walls of the fortress.

  Perry grinned in response to her infatuated amazement. “Welcome to my home, Duchess.”

  Ivan ordered a vast majority of his men to head to the garrison stationed outside the daunting palace walls. “The remainder of you will bring up the rear,” he said, speaking to ten tired and dirty soldiers. “Once we are safely in the courtyard, you may head to your bunks. I’ll escort Duchess Saphire to the throne room, but be down at the garrison for the nightly briefing.”

  “Might I have at least a few moments before being received by your father to change?” Jax asked once their party was on the other side of the massive doors that sealed the fortress away from the world.

  “High Courtier Shavon will meet us,” Ivan explained, hopping down from his horse as if he’d only just returned from an afternoon jaunt and not days of grueling travel. “He’ll escort you to your private wing and get you settled, Duchess.” The Captain of the Pettraud Ducal Guard turned his gaze to Perry. “I’ll check on Father in the meantime to let him know you’re here. He’ll be anxious to see you both.”

  With Perry’s arm for support, Jax lowered herself off her mount, doing her best to conceal the aching stiffness in her legs. Thank goodness she had thrown protocol to the wind and not ridden sidesaddle. She couldn’t even imagine the pain that torturous position would have caused her.

  Stable boys appeared from the shadows and spirited their horses away without a word. Jax waved farewell to the chestnut mare, hoping she’d have time to pay the animal a visit before she returned to Saphire. The magnificent beast deserved a bushel of carrots for delivering her to safety.

  “If you will, Your Grace, let us proceed to the inner courtyard.” Ivan marched dutifully down a cobblestone path running alongside the fortress wall, taking a left into a dark tunnel. Surveying their surroundings as they went, Jax was left with the impression that the castle had actually been carved out of the cliffside, for gnarled rock seemed to encase the whole compound. After walking through a maze of stone, their group emerged into an enormous courtyard, sparse of vegetation except rivers of moss. It covered every surface, from the benches placed along the circular paths to the decorative fountains spouting water in artistic arches. Not a single bush or tree marred the spacious clearing.

  Across the way, stone steps rose from the mossy ground, inviting Jax toward gaping gargoyles standing at attention by a two-story archway.

  “Through here,” Ivan said, leading the group through the maze of moss and rocks and up the steps.

  A wry grin formed on Jax’s face. “Gives new meaning to an open-door court,” she murmured to George, who was shadowing her right shoulder.

  “The gate we came in through is the only entrance to the fortress,” Perry explained to the two of them. “Between navigating the fog and our seventy-foot tall barrier wall, our ancestors didn’t think it was necessary to close off the main entrance into the castle.”

  “Navigating the fog? That’s a defensive technique?” Jax raised an eyebrow, never having heard anything so silly in her life.

  “You probably weren’t paying much attention, but there is only one safe path up the cliffside, and it’s a secret that does not leave these halls,” Perry said. “You wouldn’t believe how many people have died because they tried to ascend the Caisleán Cliffs without a trained guide.”

  Jax swallowed hard. “Goodness, I had no idea we were doing something so treacherous. Ivan hardly batted an eye.”

  “It’s all part of his guardsman training.”

  George stiffened at her side. In a low whisper he said, “Perry, could you navigate the cliffs if you had to?”

  Perry puffed out his chest. “Of course. I am a Knight of Pettraud, after all.”

  Jax glanced warily at her Captain. The storm clouds in his dark eyes confirmed her suspicions. Though unintentional, Duke Pettraud had effectively trapped the Duchess of Saphire at the top of a mountainous cliff with no way of escape. George was already looking for a way to get her out.

  By now, they had crossed the open threshold into the sweeping castle foyer. The same craggy stone rose before them in the shape of a grand staircase, leading to the upper levels of Perry’s childhood home. Even with the flickering torches lining the walls and the dying sunlight streaming in from the high windows, a grim darkness coated the vaulted room. Jax shivered, and not from the cool breeze floating in from the courtyard. She couldn’t imagine living in such a gray and downright eerie place. Her home, while a glorious feat of architecture, was also bright and inviting, bathed in warm tones throughout creamy stone hallways. How had someone as optimistic and cheerful as Perry survived in such a bleak and depressing environment?

  “Ah, Captain Pettraud, you have arrived.”

  Tugging her focus away from the dangling green banners displaying the Pettraud family crest, Jax put on her Duchess of Saphire mask as she arrived at the landing where a man in High Courtier robes waited.

  “High Courtier Shavon, may I announce Duchess Jacqueline Arienta Xavier.” Ivan bowed at the waist as he extended his arm back toward Jax.

  Shavon, a middle-aged man of medium height and build, bowed in the same reverent manner. “Duchess Saphire, it is an honor, despite the circumstances, to host you.”

  Jax held her hand out for the man to kiss. “Please, Duchess Jacqueline or Xavier is fine. Thank you, High Courtier Shavon, for offering me sanctuary.”

  “Duke Pettraud would hear of nothing else. The news you sent from the Oasis was disturbing, indeed.” Shavon clutched his hands together in front of his portly midsection. “He’ll be eager to hear all about it. I’ve arranged for a late supper in the banquet hall. Shall I escort you to your rooms to freshen up, Your Grace?”

  Jax nodded, too eager to hide her relief. “That would be most appreciated.”

  For the first time, Shavon addressed Perry directly. “It is good to see you looking well, young Percival.”

  Perry’s strained expression broke out in a boyish grin. “I’m really not that young anymore, Shavon.” Both Perry and Jax had turned thirty in the recent months.

  The man chuckled with fatherly affection. “I suppose not, but to me, you’ll always be the lad wh
o begged for chocolate drops during your father’s roundtable sessions.”

  Perry’s cheeks grew pink. “It got Father to stop forcing me to come to them, didn’t it?”

  Shavon’s ruddy smile crumbled. “Something I think he has come to regret, giving up on you so easily.”

  After an awkward pause, Shavon shuffled over to Jax’s side and offered her his arm. “I find it hard to believe you married a son of Pettraud without first coming to tour his homeland, Your Grace.”

  As she grasped his forearm, covered by a sturdy silk robe, Jax found the High Courtier’s teasing mildly shocking. She’d only just met the man. Not that there was anything wrong with a little humor, considering she was now a member of the Pettraud family, but the thought of Jaquobie ever acting this way with Perry made her snort out loud before she realized what she’d done. “Alas, I was so eager to marry Lord Pettraud, there simply wasn’t time.”

  Shavon patted her arm and leaned in closer, so none of the others could hear their exchange as they glided through the lengthy halls of the fortress. “I am very glad he has found someone who knows just how much he’s worth.”

  The weight of his words made Jax ache for the lonely childhood Perry had suffered. Despite having six older siblings, Perry had spent most of his time on his own. His father rarely gave him the time of day, deciding only his older sons were worthy of his grooming. Jax still wondered why Duke Pettraud had presented Perry as her marriage option when arranging the engagement with her own father. She shuddered at the thought that she could have easily been tied to Elias, Philippe, or even Ivan instead of her beloved Perry.

  “Duke Pettraud wishes for you to treat this castle as your home. The conservatory is particularly lovely in the evenings for taking tea.” Shavon’s description of the great fortress pulled her focus back to the guided tour she was being given. “And there are several drawing rooms in the guest wing, should you require a private study.”

  Jax assessed the time-stained walls looming around her. “This is a magnificent piece of architecture, High Courtier.”

  “Carved into the very cliffs overlooking the lake,” Shavon said with a beaming grin. “It took decades to construct. The sixth Duke of Pettraud was the first sovereign to be coronated and live within its walls. The castle’s outer barrier is unbreachable, allowing those of us inside a little peace of mind regarding our safety.”

  Wary of listening to more history for fear she might yawn and offend the man, she turned the topic of conversation to him. “How long have you been in service to Duke Pettraud?”

  Shavon released a long breath. “I was appointed High Courtier nearly ten years ago. Prior to that, I served as a tutor to the Duke’s sons.”

  That explains the familiarity between Perry and Shavon. Jax had only received private tutoring in her early years, before she succeeded in convincing her father to send her to the Academy to study. “To be elevated from tutor to High Courtier is quite an achievement.”

  Shavon raised his bushy eyebrows. “I was top of my class in economics and politics during my time at the Academy. My father and mother were courtiers in the Pettraudian court, so you can say I didn’t come by it on happenstance. The Duke wished that his sons be trained by the best, and I am the best.”

  Jax chuckled at his forward behavior. “I think High Courtier Jaquobie might challenge you with that statement.”

  Shavon’s jovial features rearranged into a scowl. “You might be surprised to find, Duchess, that Saphire does not hold a monopoly on being the best at everything.” His biting words were delivered with a light tone.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, caught off guard by the blatant indignation in the man’s retort. She opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it. She needed Pettraud to stay firmly rooted in her corner, and that would be significantly harder if the Duke’s senior advisor had a chip on his shoulder. Instead she said, “I am eager to see what you are capable of, High Courtier.”

  He gave a curt nod as his response. If the world was not on the brink of chaos, she would have reprimanded him for speaking so openly and out-of-line, but she realized that he did have a point. Saphire was the largest and wealthiest duchy in the realm. Her people were happy and well cared for. Her trade agreements cultivated a booming economy. But could she really claim Saphire was the leading nation in every aspect? No. She was smart enough to know when to pick her battles, and this little gaffe was one of them. High Courtier Shavon was taking a page out of the Academy’s introductory courses on foreign relations. Remind your allies how much they need you, not how much you need them.

  “May I ask why we are staying in the guest wing, and not my suite?” Perry chimed up from the rear, slicing away the brewing tension.

  As if her husband had cast a spell over him, Shavon’s bristled exterior melted and he threw Perry a teasing look. “Because it no longer exists. The minute the Duchess accepted your proposal, your father turned your suite into an archery range.

  Perry’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me! I always wanted an indoor range growing up.” He hurried to Jax’s side to stay in step with her as they walked the lengthy hall. “Father always sent me down to the guardhouse to practice. He said trudging through the fog and snow would build character. It’s a wonder I didn’t topple right off the cliff.”

  Jax laughed along with Perry and the High Courtier, but inwardly, her stomach tightened. The Duke’s actions seemed almost cruel to her, constructing the range his youngest son desperately wanted once it became clear he was not coming back home. She hoped Perry would not take the slight too much to heart.

  “I hope Father is feeling well enough to notch a few arrows with me,” Perry said with a near-dreamy expression on his face.

  Shavon stiffened. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

  Perry cocked his head. “Ivan told us about the troubles Father has been having of late. The sleepwalking, the confusion—”

  “Keep your voice down!” Shavon’s hiss was scorching. He halted Jax, George, and Perry, motioning for them to gather around closely. “Ivan had no right to share that information with you.”

  “Why? If Father is ill, I have a right to know about it,” Perry said with a huff of resentment.

  “It’s not you he’s talking about, dearest, it’s me.” Jax put a tender hand on his quaking shoulder. “Ivan was out of line to share such intimate details about his own Duke in front of another nation’s sovereign.”

  “But you’re my wife.”

  “Which is likely what Ivan thought as well.” She met Shavon’s heated expression with a solemn nod. “If I were anyone else, I might cut ties with Pettraud for fear the Duke is not strong enough to weather this upcoming storm by my side. But…” her expression softened, “I am not. Even if Perry and I were not bound by marriage, love, and respect, Saphire and Pettraud have supported one another since the early days of the Realm of Virtues. I will not back down from our alliance simply because the Duke is feeling poorly. It will take a lot more than sleepwalking and old age to rattle the Duchess of Saphire.”

  Shavon pressed his lips together, a thin line carving up his face. “While that is comforting to hear, Duchess, rest assured, the Duke is in quite good health.”

  Perry folded his arms. “Then why are you so jumpy about it, Shavon?”

  The High Courtier, who barely reached Perry’s nose, waved around the expansive hallway they stood in. “The walls have ears, young Percival. I can’t have rumors flying around about the Duke’s state of mind. For as long as I’ve served your family, I’ve always said that gossiping palace staff will be the death of the Pettraud family, of any ducal family! We cannot have them getting wind of these things.”

  George’s brow furrowed as he leaned forward to speak. “Is there any truth to what Ivan said about the Duke’s health?”

  Shavon glanced up at the ceiling with a helpless sigh. “He did run into a bit of trouble, yes, but Mistress Lenora has righted him around with her tinctures. He was back on his feet, sayin
g he felt better than ever not three days after Ivan and his men departed to fetch you.”

  Perry did not appear convinced. “Ivan said he had stopped eating.”

  “He did for a few days, but with Lenora’s coaxing, he was feeling better shortly after. He resumed eating normally not five days ago.” Shavon brushed absently at the sleeves of his robes.

  George shared a worried look with Jax before voicing the same concern that danced through her own mind. “Are you certain the Duke’s illness isn’t being brought on by some poison?”

  “Virtues, why would you ever say such a thing?” Shavon snapped as beads of perspiration formed on his deepening wrinkles. “Perhaps this is a concept you are unfamiliar with, Captain Solomon, but House Pettraud does not simply let would-be assassins wander into its midst.”

  Jax gripped George’s arm to firmly hold him in place, for fear he would lunge at the courtier.

  Perry, however, released a low snarl. “Answer the Captain’s question, Shavon.”

  Shavon paled at his former charge’s sudden aggression. “The Duke’s food and drink are tasted prior to every meal. We had a whole team of people in the kitchens ensuring his food is safe.” He straightened his shoulders, likely trying to make up for the height disadvantage he had against all three of them. “I’m sorry Ivan shared this news with you, simply because it was not necessary for you to worry. The Duke is fine. Now, let me show you to the guest wing.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on a heel and led the group down the hall and up a winding set of stairs.

  As they trailed him in silence, Jax saw doubt and confusion painted on Perry and George’s faces, reflecting the inner turmoil that roiled around in her own stomach.

  Chapter Six

  Not having had any time alone with Perry—or a bathtub—for the past five days made it very hard for Jax to pull herself out of the large basin, but there were unfortunately more important matters to attend to than her husband’s naked form.