8. Lung and Foot Disease
O nly a few hours later, word of the destruction in his mother’s favorite Royal Lounge reached Adrian’s ears. He was in a meeting with his father, drinking their usual cognac and discussing the failure of the Lea Valley wolves to adhere to new ordinances.
The Silvershade wolves were also beginning to cause a stir. Rumors said the alpha was allying with more packs by the day to oppose the crown. The King’s first emissary, sent to feel out the situation, had not returned.
Given that Silvershade was so far to the south and took a week to reach, Adrian and his father were not yet worried. If they did not receive word within the next few days, they would send a second emissary. Whatever happened to him would determine future action.
All political talk stopped when the knock on the door sounded and a flustered maid, one of his mother’s, bid Adrian to save them from his rampaging beast .
King Florian chuckled into his drink. “We’ll discuss more on the morrow. By all means, go rescue your helpless mother.” He waved a hand in the direction of the door and Adrian left.
He found Larkin terrorizing a cross-stitch party. His mother’s friends all stood trembling in a corner of the room while the tiger knocked over another table—there were two already in shambles—and sent a vase of flowers spilling across the plush cream-colored carpet. With a roar and a swipe of his paw, he sent the Queen’s favorite tea service flying from the last remaining table.
Brandishing a parasol from one of her friends, his mother stepped toward Larkin. “Back away, beast!”
It would have been humorous if Larkin didn’t then spin toward the Queen and roar. One of the females screamed, another fainted, and a third began openly weeping.
“Enough!”
Larkin turned at the harsh tone and sauntered to Adrian while his mother glared. “You’d best get your pet to heel. That was my favorite service and cannot be replaced.”
“Take it from my stipend as usual.”
“It was from my mother’s second honeymoon in the Heatherfield Hills. It is priceless!”
Adrian almost rolled his eyes as he turned to leave, not having the patience to deal with this today. “Ask Father to send for another.”
“Those kilns are shut down! That kind of workmanship cannot be found anymore.”
Adrian let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers into Larkin’s fur as he rumbled in annoyance too. Turning back to her, he gave a short bow. “I apologize for the disturbance to your party and the damage, Mother, ladies. Larkin is going through . . . a tough developmental time. ”
There were some titters, and he knew this would be in the papers on the morrow. Far from pacified, even as Adrian set a hand on his head, Larkin gave another low rumble, an annoyed flick of his tail, and tried to push Adrian to the door.
Whatever had prompted this display was still getting to him.
Adrian faced the servants staring from the doorway, unabashedly watching the goings-on. “Clean up this mess and prepare the Gilt Room for the ladies to reconvene.”
“Yes, sir.” Luc, his mother’s butler, bowed, and at a nod from the Queen, set two maids to work.
“Prepare fresh tea in the peacock set.” It was his mother’s second favorite, the Gilt Room, her second favorite place for socializing. “And send for a doctor.”
Though this excitement would likely stimulate the females for some time, they liked to play delicate. Especially the one who’d fainted and was now being fawned over.
Adrian suppressed another eye roll as he walked out.
But the easing of his mother’s frown told him he’d done well.
With Larkin pushing him the entire way, he found his slave being berated by his head housekeeper. As he approached, Mrs. Hawthorne slapped her and sent Rose sprawling. Even from where he was some distance down the hall, Adrian could see the pallor of his slave’s normally tan skin. Her feet were bleeding, her hands, too, and it took her several long seconds to get back to her feet.
“What is going on here?”
“Your Highness!” Mrs. Hawthorne turned wide eyes to him and sunk into a deep reverence. As she rose, she said, “I was reprimanding this slave for lying to me . ”
“Explain,” Adrian ordered as Larkin rubbed against Rose, chirruping as she swayed and leaned into him.
“It is plain to see that she is sick, sir. She should be in the convalescent room—”
“No!” Rose looked up in panic. Though she tried to speak with force, her voice was weak and breathy. “I am fine. I’m getting my work done—”
“You dare to interrupt!” Mrs. Hawthorne raised her arm to strike Rose again but froze when Larkin turned to her with a menacing growl, his teeth bared and ears pinned back.
Adrian gave her a cold glare, folding his arms.
As if in supplication, Mrs. Hawthorne bowed her head and sunk into another deep reverence. “I am very sorry, sir.”
“I believe my express orders were for my slave to not be touched. Have you hit her on any other occasion?”
“No, Your Highness. I’ve had no reason to until now. I assure you, this won’t happen again.”
“That is correct,” Adrian agreed, “because you are fired. I shall grant severance for your past loyalty, but you will leave the palace within the day.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Clenching her jaw, Adrian’s long-time housekeeper walked away with her head high, refusing to show her shame.
Adrian looked to the female vampire who’d been accompanying Mrs. Hawthorne. Her dark brown curls were tied back, and she held a parchment and feathered quill. “You were Hawthorne’s second?”
“Yes, sir.” The maid bowed.
“What is your name?”
“Evelyn Shea, Your Highness.”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Ms. Shea. Do not disappoint me.”
“No, sir. I won’t, sir. Thank you, sir. ”
“Good.” Adrian gave a short nod, looking to Rose, still unsteady on her feet. “Come.”
Obediently, she followed him to his resting room, rarely used. On the way, he ordered a doctor to be summoned. Inside the room with several comfortable chairs, a large sofa, big fireplace, and many indoor plants, he told Rose to sit.
“I am fine.”
“You are clearly unwell and should rest.”
“Slaves don’t rest , Your Highness. I have work .”
“Your work can wait. Larkin would be quite upset if anything happened to you. He destroyed a lounge to get my attention to save you. Again. This is getting quite old, you know.”
As if to support the words, Larkin rubbed his big head against her. “You shouldn’t be such a menace.” He grumbled as if to argue, and she swayed in place before collapsing. Larkin nudged her repeatedly, mewling pathetically.
“Calm down. She’ll be fine,” Adrian assured him as he picked her up and carried her to the sofa. Hot to the touch, her skin was also clammy from fever sweat. Seeing as she was nothing but skin and bones, it was no wonder she was sick.
After ordering a fire to be lit, he watched his slave’s shallow breathing, wondering what was taking the doctor so fucking long. The rattle in her chest was ominous.
Leaning close to her face, he said, “If you die, I will be most displeased.” Straightening as the physician walked in, Adrian scowled, adjusting his coat. “Took you damn long enough.”
“Sorry, sir. So sorry.”
The physician got to work taking Rose’s pulse, measuring her breathing by listening with his head on her chest, and examining every inch of her. When he was through, he wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve, eyeing the watchful Larkin.
“This slave is very ill, Your Highness, very weak. She is breathing with difficulty and has a very high fever.” He moved to her feet hanging over the edge of the sofa and motioned to the bloody, oozing cuts. “It looks as if she has had these for a good amount of time, and they are badly infected, her hands as well.” Flipping one over showed infected blisters. “There are places on her skin where the tissue has died.” He pointed to a section of one of her pointed ears, the area on her lip where she’d been cut by Dimitri what seemed like ages ago, and several very white toes.
“What causes such a thing?”
“Cold. Exposure to the elements. She is a slave, sir. These things happen all the time.”
As Larkin hissed, his fur puffing up in anger, Adrian said, “You will make her well.”
The doctor swallowed and gave a short bow. “Yes, sir. I will do my best. She may”—he motioned to Rose’s feet—“lose a few toes.”
“She will not lose a single digit, or I will take the same from you.”
“I—O-okay. But, um, if I may, Your Highness, I would request the help of a colleague. For a second opinion. To-to give her the best care p-p-possible.”
Adrian thought it more likely he wanted help to spread the blame if anything went wrong, but he motioned for one of the attendants to fetch whoever the doctor wanted.
And then he motioned for Rose’s treatment to begin. Her feet were lanced, and the infection drained. She whimpered, trying to pull away even in her unconscious state. Larkin growled and swiped a large paw across the doctor’s forearm, cutting him .
Saying nothing, the doctor used a clean rag to wipe the blood, patted his sweaty brow with his other sleeve, and continued. When the other doctor arrived, they discussed for only a moment before working together.
Rose’s feet were washed, coated with medicated ointment, and then bandaged. The same was done to her hands. She was stripped, and Adrian was appalled at the sight of her prominent bones. The doctors washed her body with a warm rag to better see her scratches and wounds, which they cleaned. They did the same to her hair, also checking for bugs. There were none, but there was a gash that they took care of. Lotion was applied to her chapped nipples, and her damaged fingernails were trimmed.
“That is all we can do,” the first doctor said after they’d cleaned and put their things away. Servants were clearing away all the dirty rags and the bowls of foul-smelling water. “Now that the infection has been drawn out, she should heal properly. If you don’t want her condition to worsen, we recommend keeping her away from work and resting at least until the fever passes.”
“We also . . .” The second doctor shifted on his feet. “We do not recommend sending her to a convalescent room where she will likely acquire new disease.”
“She shall not leave my apartments. Check on her tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. This is a good place for her. The plants help purify the air.”
The physicians bowed and left. Adrian turned to Javier, who stood beside the chair he was currently sitting in with his hands clasped behind his back. “Have my work brought in here.”
Though he pursed his lips, Javier went to the door to order an attendant. “We can always have the slave watched, Your Highness,” he said, “so you can work in comfort.”
“No. There is no one else I trust to sit with her. I had to fire Mrs. Hawthorne for disobeying direct orders. ”
“I handled her dismissal and severance,” Javier replied. “I was shocked you fired such a long-standing and loyal servant because of a slave. ”
“Watch your tone. I do not care how long-standing or loyal Hawthorne was. I gave orders which should have been followed without question. I am getting fucking tired of being disobeyed.”
“May I speak plainly, sir?”
“Yes,” Adrian snapped. And then more calmly, “Yours is one of the few opinions I genuinely respect, Javier. Speak freely.”
The butler bowed. “High praise, sir. Thank you.” The hint of a smile faded, and he cleared his throat. “Being the Crown Prince, you’ve been allowed certain . . . indulgences, Your Highness, and you’ve been . . . kept from some of the harshest realities of our kingdom.”
“Just because I am at the top of the hierarchy does not mean I don’t know what happens at the bottom,” Adrian replied, offended.
“From your studies, yes, but not in reality. Sir, slaves everywhere are treated like this one.” He motioned to Rose lying before the fire. The flicker of the flames made her sweaty skin appear to glisten. “Some have it far worse. It is normal practice. You are allowing your pet and his whims to cloud your judgment.”
“Larkin asks for nothing, Javier,” Adrian argued, speaking over his pet’s growls. “He has been a loyal companion all these years—”
“And he terrorizes staff on her behalf. A slave! She is a weakness and will be exploited by your enemies if you continue granting her favor. There are already whispers that you are losing your edge. I beg you, reconsider your position. Place her back with the other slaves and leave her to her fate.”
Larkin, hackles raised and teeth bared, prowled closer to Javier, who avoided his golden gaze .
“She is beneath you, sir,” his butler continued, stubbornly ignoring his pet. “She can never rise from it. She deserves nothing of what you’ve done for her.”
Snarling, almost spitting in his ferocity, Larkin took another step. Adrian stood, too, placing a hand on the tiger’s back as he faced his butler.
“I appreciate your honesty because I asked for it.” Javier bowed. When he stood tall again, Adrian continued, “However, if you speak like this again, I’ll have not only your job but your tongue as well. This slave makes Larkin happy and for that, I will spare no expense to see she is well cared for. Her status means nothing to me, and I am tired of explaining myself. I am tired of my staff not taking my orders concerning her seriously. My wishes will be honored, or you will be replaced.”
“My lord, just because you can see past her shackles does not mean others can. You will be made a mockery of and seen as weak, a slave sympathizer. Your father—”
Adrian raised his hand to halt the words. “I appreciate your worry, but I will not be swayed.” And then, “I pay you to obey me. See the rest of my staff does too or heads will roll.”
“Yes, sir,” Javier replied with a defeated sigh.
Adrian did not reprimand the attitude of his most loyal employee. Instead, at the knock on the door, he turned to the attendant who entered the room, delivering the stack of documents that needed his attention that night. Another behind him carried his mail.
Adrian motioned to one of the high tables that held plants. “Clear it. I shall work here tonight.” Once settled, he asked, “What’s most pressing?”
“I believe the situation with the wolves, Your Highness. Your father had plans drafted up after your meeting earlier this evening. An emissary carrying the new documents will leave within the week if you find everything in order and approve. ”
Adrian nodded, knowing this was a test, and fully expected to find a few mistakes to fix. Turning to face the fire, he stared at the mesmerizing flames while Javier continued.
“We have finally reached an agreement with the dwarves.”
“Ah. Finally. They agreed to the two percent increase?”
“They did.”
Adrian nodded, relieved to have reached a deal. The dwarves had been pushing for a four percent increase in the prices of all orders fulfilled by them. Adrian thought that ludicrous and had been pushing for one. He was pleased they’d settled in the middle, as the dwarves were stubborn and proud, and it could easily have gone higher.
“Draft a letter to my blacksmith. He has my approval to order all he needs.”
“All, sir?”
“All. He’s been making do quite amicably for a long while with this stalemate.”
“As you wish. Also, sir, the gemstone mine you were inquiring about has come for sale. The young Marquis Andrew Holt has decided to let it go. I submitted your offer this morning.”
“Excellent. Tell me again why he decided to sell.”
“He doesn’t feel the color of the gems in this new mine will ever sell as well as the traditional diamonds in his others. His uncle was intrigued by their uniqueness, but the new Marquis is not as taken.”
“Hmmm.” Adrian nodded again before turning away from the fireplace to walk to his seat at the table. “Well, no matter. I will see what I can do with them.”
“I am sure even though they are unusual you will have quite the success, Your Highness. ”
Adrian made an absent sound as he picked up the first document in the pile. As he began reading the proposal from his father’s office, Javier cleared his throat. Without looking up, Adrian said, “Speak if you have something to say, Javier. Don’t dawdle.”
“Lady Julianna left you a note. Your presence was missed at Her Majesty’s tea earlier this week, as she hoped to see you. The first ball of the season is next month, and she desires a dance.”
Adrian closed his eyes. He so loved winter and wished spring would never come, bringing all the leeching girls out in hordes. He hated the giggles, batting eyelashes, coy glances, and flirtatious games the females played. And the perfume, he’d swear members of the opposite sex bathed in it.
At least his highest prospect was better than most.
“Mother set a date then.”
“A family dinner is scheduled tomorrow. The Queen’s request for your attendance is on top of your correspondence. Lady Julianna is directly underneath, as I daresay you’ll be replying this time.”
“Ah, hell, Javier. Can’t I remain a bachelor?”
Javier gave him a genuine smile. “And then how would the kingdom get new heirs? Everyone knows your mother is set on betrothals by the end of the season.”
“I am aware.” Adrian closed his eyes. Your mate will be your ruin . . . Was the lovely Lady Julianna his mate? Likely not, or he’d feel more of a pull to her.
But it was wolf shit anyway.
Hours later, all his work done, Adrian sat at Rose’s side. Larkin lay on her other side in the bed of the Gold Room—the room he always seemed to use for her. Another fire roared in the hearth, and he’d had several plants moved in.
Thinking through his hours working, he’d realized that his motivations were about more than just making Larkin happy. He didn’t like Rose hurt. The sight of her emaciated body would haunt him.
He’d been dreaming of her, of her unique eyes that had led to his inquiry on Andrew’s pink sapphire mine. Biting her had become a regular fantasy, as he craved the lightning in her blood.
And he dreamed of more.
So, he’d been avoiding her.
But she was everywhere. The papers talked of his attachment, of Larkin’s adolescent tantrums , his father’s humor regarding his leniency, his mother’s blatant displeasure, and Dimitri’s disapproval. In the halls of the palace, ridicule and censure of her abounded. It had lessened as of late, but he was sure there would be a resurgence with this latest sickness and his treatment of her.
But he could not let her die.
She was intriguing. He wanted to know what gave her the courage to fight his orders. She had a confidence that most lacked and an inner strength that was evident in everything she did—from her chores to navigating the bullying she endured. Even when she’d hung from a rope on the day she’d been whipped, she’d refused to show her pain. Though she’d been half-naked, her entire torso stripped bare, blood dripping, she’d been full of pride that said no one would break her.
She was an enigma.
Watching her face in the flickering firelight, he wondered again if she was an enchantress, casting her spell on him. It felt like it, especially now with the flames lighting her skin with a golden glow, her chest rising and falling with her shallow, raspy breathing.
She was oddly beautiful in her vulnerability, and he reached out a hand to gently caress her cheek. She stirred at his touch, and her eyes fluttered open. She didn’t seem completely aware, which was probably a mixture of the fever she still had, the medication she’d been given, and her deep slumber.
“Master?”
The title she’d never used did odd things to him. His heart beat abnormally fast and his stomach . . . fluttered.
He didn’t flutter. Ever.
“How do you feel?” he asked, ignoring the ridiculous feelings. He pulled his hand from her face, but she surprised him by pulling it back and setting it on her forehead. Closing her eyes, she let out a relieved breath.
“Your cold feels good.”
“I am a vampire, Rose.”
The corners of her lips tipped up. “I like it when you say my name.”
“Are you overheated?” He pressed his hand to her cheek, and then the side of her neck, where her pulse thrummed. It made his fangs tingle, though she was no good to drink from in her current state. “Is the fire too hot?”
“No, but I’m thirsty. ”
Adrian turned to the bedside table, where a cup of water sat, along with another of broth. Supporting her neck and the back of her head, he helped her drink. She took the entire cup and then asked for more.
“You can have broth.”
“Please.” As with the water, he helped her. She gave a quiet sigh when the cup was drained. “That’s better than normal.”
“What is normal ?”
“Half-congealed drippings or rotten vegetables, and maybe some moldy bread, if I’m lucky.”
Adrian stared, stunned. How did he not know this?
Javier’s words played in his head, and it was bitter to realize he may just be right.
“Tell me of your life before I took you.”
“I have always been a slave.”
“You were abused?” He traced a long scar on her bare arm atop the blanket.
“There is no such thing for a slave. I am nothing in this kingdom. I should not be here, in a bed, with blankets, and a fire.” She looked at it, watching the flickering flames before turning her heavy-lidded eyes back to his. “I certainly should not be allowed in your presence. You are breaking many rules of protocol.”
“Fuck protocol. I want you here.”
The corners of her lips tipped up again, her eyes drifting closed. “Now I know that I am dreaming . . .”
The firelight danced over her face for a long while as he watched over her.