Chapter 15
Haven
Isit in silence on the bed as Emma weaves my hair into a twist at the nape of my neck. The maid’s usual gentle fingers are stiff today and snag my curls, but I understand why and don’t protest. Tonight’s the night of our great escape. Tonight we will be risking it all to leave this place forever.
When Emma’s hands fall, I get to my feet.
The dress that had been purchased specially for the occasion clutches my bosom and has a deep swoop at my breasts.
Pearls dangle from my neck and ears to match the delicate buttons crawling up my back, and Chantilly lace drapes loosely off the shoulders and ivory satin skirt.
But it isn’t the dress’s priceless beauty that I love.
It’s the length. The material lets me hide the short sword underneath with ease. I keep it tied against my thigh.
Emma moves from the bed to the nightstand, where a tray of fresh baked rolls and pastries are laid out. She still wears her plain black frock with the stained apron, but this time, a small leather satchel hangs from her hip. She begins to fill the purse with some of the treats.
How very thoughtful of her. We are going to need food while on the run.
I smile. I’m glad I was able to convince Emma to come along. She’s been my strength while here, and I didn’t want to leave without her.
Shifting toward the door, she clutches her satchel close to her chest. “I should go,” she says.
I nod. “Someone will be up soon to escort me to the party, I’m sure.
They can’t find you here.” I offer her a warm smile.
“I will meet you by the courtyard doors around midnight. The party should be at its peak by then and we should get enough time to put distance between us and Greystone before sunrise.”
Her green eyes hold a great deal of worry, but she lifts her chin in determination.
“Everything will be alright. By tomorrow, we will be away from here. All of this will be nothing more than a distant memory,” I tell her as confidently as I can manage.
As I watch Emma leave the room, I hope—for all our sakes—that I didn’t just lie to her.
Avrum
Outside, the snow falls in clumps. From the center of the circular ballroom I watch as the band members set up their instruments and ready them for play.
Since the guest list is much smaller this time, the round tables have been discarded for the evening, leaving only the one long head table opposite the grand staircase.
From the arched ceiling, elegant tapestries of burgundy and gold hang, and candles flicker from the crystal chandelier.
I can’t believe how different all this grandeur looks and feels to me now. There’s no beauty in the room. There’s no more glamour or magnificence. All I feel now is disgust. Disgust and loathing.
How could I have been so ignorant?
The doors behind me open, and I turn to see Lysander stepping through. And even more surprising—he isn’t alone. Hovering close behind is Keagan, his narrow face twisted in anger.
“You were released?” I ask him as they approach.
But Keagan replies, “I was given specific orders to bring him here.”
“By Henri?”
He nods, not seeming pleased about this new development at all. He shoots Lysander a sidelong glance. “I can’t wait until Malcolm comes and decides your fate,” he spits at him.
“Lord Henri wishes to embarrass me,” Lysander explains dryly, and rolls his eyes. “Rather childish, I must say.”
Keagan grunts. “The moment the punishment is given and the word is said, I will be the first man in line to peel the skin from your bones. I swear it.”
“I cannot wait.”
At that moment, the doors fly open again, revealing Henri and three other prominent men.
Men I’d never seen before. A group of their followers flow in after them and spread throughout the room.
Old power crackles around them, and I bow low, knowing exactly who these strangers must be. Henri’s special guests have arrived.
But which one of the three is Malcolm? There are only three vampires that I can see, and that means one hasn’t come yet.
The band begins to play, engulfing the room in a sweet melody.
Despite the tune’s loveliness, it doesn’t ease the fierce tension filling the space.
Henri, dressed in an elaborate red and gold embroidered jacket and shiny black slacks, glows with pride at the front of the group.
I’m surprised to see a sheathed sword dangling from his belt.
“My friends, this is my second, Avrum Brenin,” Henri introduces me, the excitement clear in his voice. “He is the one who has prepared this lovely evening for us.”
I don’t know how, but I can sense that the oldest creature among them is on Henri’s left.
The man towers over the rest of them with tangled silver and russet hair falling past his shoulders.
Most of his face is covered in a thick, braided beard, and he wears a tunic and a belt around his rounded middle, with a compass, a long dagger, and a rusted telescope attached to the loops.
The sharp scent of sea salt clings to him as if he spends most of his time on the water.
Is this Malcolm?
“Brenin. A strong name.” The man’s voice rumbles like thunder in a violent storm and is thick with an accent. His dark brows pinch at the middle, deepening the many creases on his tanned forehead. “They call me Gunnar, Tamer of the Seas.”
The man on Henri’s right chuckles outright. “Gunnar, stop flattering yourself.” He grins with perfectly straight teeth, and his yellow-green eyes glow, reminding me very much of a feline.
“Call me Favian,” he says, with a short dip of his head. “I don’t much care for the lord bit.”
I bow to them in greeting and then look toward the last of the three.
He’s much shorter than the others and dressed in a pair of plain black trousers and a robe.
Thick dark hair is slicked back from his brooding face and curls around his ears, and while I wait for him to speak like the others, he remains silent.
“This,” Favian starts, gesturing toward him, “is Sir Alessandro Guerrero. His English is minimal, so he doesn’t speak often.”
Sir Alessandro. Gunnar, Favian. But then, where is Malcolm?
I glance at Lysander, wondering if he is thinking the same thing. By the look on his face, he isn’t the least bit surprised he is the one missing.
“Malcolm will be joining us later tonight,” Henri says, as if reading our minds. “Until then we should enjoy ourselves. Keagan—”
He steps forward.
“Escort Haven down here, will you?”
He bows toward Henri, then to the guests, before leaving.
“Now, as I was saying!” Henri moves to the center of the room and stretches his arms out wide. “The night is young! Let’s enjoy!”
“Here, here!” Gunnar cries, raising his mighty fist. Together, they walk across the room to where the band is playing another merry song.
Now alone, I turn to Lysander, “Do you know of any of these men?”
“I know of them,” he returns. “Gunnar is the oldest of them—a true Viking, through and through. He is known from his travels mostly. Favian may be one of the richest men in Scotland, besides the king, and Alessandro was a knight before he was turned. It’s a title he is still attached to.”
“Will they be a threat to us?”
“I cannot say.” Lysander’s gaze swings about the room. Servants enter, carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and wine. “But what I do know is that they didn’t look very pleased to be here.”
“Do you think Henri is trying to impress them too?”
“Most likely,” he says.
“So do we have a plan for tonight at all?” I ask him.
“Seeing as I am still without a sword, I don’t have much.”
I peer down at his hip, only to find it bare.
That isn’t promising.
Keagan enters again, but with Haven at his side. All the breath expels from my lungs at the sight of her. As radiant as ever, she’s draped in a gown of ivory silk and pearls. Her lips are painted a rose color, and her cheeks are dusted with powder.
I watch Keagan lead her to Henri, her blue eyes staying on me the entire time.
Locking an arm around her waist, Henri kisses the top of her head, and instantly, fury whips through me like a tornado. Just seeing his hands on her has me wanting to cross the room and punch him square in the jaw. My hands clench into fists.
“Remain calm,” Lysander warns me in a hard whisper. “Your anger can ruin her chances.”
As Henri introduces her to the others lords, Keagan comes over to us. His presence only annoys me further, but I force myself to settle down, knowing fully well Lysander is right.
“Let’s go, Frenchman,” he growls, and points his sword at Lysander’s neck. He leads him across the room, leaving me to stand alone at the bottom of the staircase.
Haven
Every minute that ticks by feels like years.
My cheeks hurt from the fake smile across my lips that I wear as Henri pulls me around the room by our linked arms. He presented me to the three very intimidating, very bored looking vampires, their names all unimportant to me, and I realized fairly quickly that there is no Malcolm among them. Not yet, anyway.
This may be a good thing for us. If the one named Malcolm could jeopardize our chances of escaping, we should make sure we’re out of Greystone before he arrives.
I want to tell Avrum this, but there’s no way I can get near him with Henri holding so tightly to me and insisting on parading me around like I’m a living, breathing trophy of his.
Every once in a while, when I can glance over to the staircase, I spot him watching me carefully.
And watching Henri, too, to make sure nothing goes awry.
I’m still unsure how we’re going to escape here alive, especially with not just one powerful lord vampire, but four, and one more on his way.
I wish we had more of a plan than to meet after midnight, while the party is in full swing, and using that distraction to make a run for it.
I’m not sure how far we’ll be able to get before it’s noticed we’re missing.