23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Konrad
B y the time we’ve reached the drawbridge, I’m soaked to the bone, my boots are immersed in mud, and my coat is on Valda’s shoulders even though she is the one who lengthened our trip in this misery. She probably did it as revenge for my knocking her into the ocean this morning.
My skin flushes again at the memory, and I stare at the drawbridge as I steady myself. I already have enough to do trying to pass off as Valda’s rescuer and not her kidnapper. Heavens forbid Baron Schwerin getting any hint of my having had an inappropriate dalliance with his daughter.
Would it be still more inappropriate if I requested the honor of courting his daughter when I have only the reward money that he gives me to stand upon?
“Who goes there?” a guard calls out.
“Who do you think?” Valda calls back, running that blood-tainted comb of hers through her hair again.
“My Lady!” he answers, and there is a shuffle above .
Then Valda and I step back as the drawbridge lowers. Then guards are surrounding her, ushering forward and drawing me after.
It is a relief to no longer be pelted with rain, but the stone corridors of the castle carry a biting breeze against my wet skin.
“My daughter!”
Baron Schwerin’s voice echoes throughout the great hall we’ve been ushered into. He strides across the room wearing a red velvet tunic and dark breeches I could never even imagine being able to afford. Around his shoulders is the telltale fur cape of a baron, held in place with a golden emblem sporting his crest— a chalice held under the moon.
“ Vater !” Valda cries, hurling herself across the room in the most ungraceful and unladylike motion I’ve seen from her, my coat falling to the ground with her actions.
“My sweet jewel.” Baron Schwerin embraces her tightly. For a moment, I see in them myself and Eloise— which is wrong. Schwerin is my enemy and I must not lose sight of that.
Especially since if Valda betrays me, I’m going to have to run very fast. Why did I even let myself get lured into the castle of the man I’ve vowed vengeance again? What was I thinking? How did I come to this point so placidly?
I was thinking about this morning when I had Valda’s lips on mine. And that was taking all the important space in my head, apparently.
That and just how much money I owe on that blood-tainted shipwrecked vessel.
Thank the Creator, I had the presence of mind to send Eloise back. She doesn’t need to get mixed up in this. That’s part of me being the kinsman avenger before she comes of age. Her innocence can remain unscathed.
Mine died the same day as our family. When Pa fell, I lost the wall of protection between myself and the outside world he had so long shielded me against.
Now, I am that wall of protection for Eloise— if I can make it out of this alive.
“And who’s this?”
Baron Schwerin’s voice draws me out of all the thoughts that are coming too little too late. He’s pulled away from his daughter enough to see me. The Baron isn’t scowling, but there’s something about his smile that is just a little too friendly to be trusted.
And that’s not even taking into consideration the servants and guards under his command that are lurking in the shadows, smelling as though they’ve just come from a graveyard. Has there been a death in the castle? And why is everyone wearing a scarf?
“Oh, Vater , this is Konrad, one of our own subjects.” Valda pulls away from her sire, picks up my poor coat, and steps toward me, holding it out. “He rescued me from the pirates who abducted me.”
He steps forward, so I can better see the dark hair he shares with his daughter— though his falls only to his shoulders— and the sickly pallor of his skin. There is nothing weak in his stance, though, as he comes to stand before me. There is only strength in his hand as it comes down hard on my shoulder. “You have returned to me the most priceless treasure in all the realms.”
I glance past him to Valda, where she is picking up my coat, her perfect red lips pursed.
I’m inclined to agree. But I can’t feed Eloise on Valda’s beauty, so I tear my gaze back to Baron Schwerin. “It was an honor, Sire. I have a daughter of my own, and I would do anything for her. ”
Baron Schwerin. “Then you understand why I must invite you to supper so we can discuss the terms of your reward.”
“Of course, Sire.”
Practically dismissing me, Baron Schwerin turns to the servants in the shadows. “Prepare our best guest room for this man. Send him the finest clothing we have in his size, and see that we have a feast prepared for a king!”
As the servants hurry to obey, I glance at Valda, hoping I can offer her my silent thanks for not going back on our agreement.
She’s not looking at me, though. And then I’m being grabbed by many hands and propelled forward to be given honors I don’t deserve by the man I hate most in all Constantinium.
T he best guest room is still far too cold. The servant sent to see to my needs took far too long trying to kindle the hearth, like he’s never started a fire before.
By the time he’s finished, I’ve already peeled off my old garments and dressed in the white velvet tunic and dark breeches. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen breeches in white before, but it’s dry and my size, so I allow it.
I play with the sleeves and frown at just how perfectly it fits my frame almost like it was tailored just for me, as mad as that sounds. Mayhap there is a steward, or another better dressed servant who shares my body type.
Frowning, I comb my hair and pull it back in my leather tie.
Knock. Knock.
I turn my head just as the heavy wooden door to the bedchambers twice as large as my last hotel room swings open .
Valda steps inside wearing a scarlet red gown that was clearly tailored to her form. Unlike the previous dresses she’s worn, this one has strange flaps hanging from her neck and shoulders flaring behind her almost like bat wings. It is a strange style, but I’ve never understood the fashions of those who had money to spend on clothing meant for more than mere survival.
But it’s hard to focus on her dress when the rest of her person is also stunning. Valda’s hair is now dry and flows in gentle waves down her back, not restrained in any way. It glows in the firelight. Unlike her eyes, which seem dead as she turns to me. “I came to escort you to supper.”
Tearing my gaze up her long velvet skirt and close-fitting bodice that needs no adornment except the pale skin it contrasts against, I can’t help but smile. “You look ravishing.”
She gives me a little twirl before resting her hands on her hips and looking me over. “And you look good enough to devour.”
“What?” I glance down at my borrowed garments. I’m not even wearing my coat, which is drying by the hearth.
Then Valda is suddenly before me as the servant boy hurries out of the room. She slides her arms over my shoulders and locks her fingers behind my neck, trapping me.
But I don’t fight as she kisses me languidly, like we have an eternity ahead of us.
As the scents of lavender, violets, and bleeding heart fill my nose, I wonder if perhaps Valda is right. How could someone with lips so soft and supple and absolutely intoxicating as hers be wrong?
My hands grasp her hips as I kiss her deeper and more urgently, though I already know I could never have my fill of her.
Laughing wickedly, she cruelly pulls away, her dark eyes sparkling as she looks up at my panting face. She doesn’t appear lost for breath at all. “It is better this way.”
I stare at her dumbly. “What is better? ”
“Kissing you when I have the power. Now, escort me to supper.”
Her words give me no choice but to offer my arm. I’m so desperate to feel her touch again, even if it’s just her slender fingers clutching my elbow. But what she said before that . . . sounded like a threat. Is she still holding the fact that I kidnapped her over my head?
Of course she is. I just need to find out how she intends to use this to her advantage. What does she want from me that she doesn’t think she can get with a bat of her eyelashes?
I lower my voice as we descend the spiraling staircase that led to my tower room. “And how long do you intend to threaten me into submission?”
Valda pats my elbow. “Only until dessert, wolfman.”
Frowning, I glance up to where I left my coat. If I have to flee, I’ll have to leave without it. And I only have an unsheathed saber at my waist to defend myself.
That, and my teeth and claws.
My stomach churns as Valda leads me into a dining hall with a table half as long as my ship centering it. Everything about its ancient mahogany and the eleven pale men wearing the riches materials sitting around it screams age. Not that any of the men appear old, but their very postures scream old money.
And at the head of the table, with an empty seat on either side of him, is Baron Schwerin. The fur cloak over his shoulders signifies his role as Baron in the service of the Emperor, and his clothing underneath is no less fine than those of the other men at the tables, though devoid of all color.
Baron Schwerin stands when he sees us, a grin on his face that looks stiff from disuse. He clangs a spoon against his goblet. “Gentlemen, my daughter, Lady Valda, and her special guest! ”
The introduction is unnecessary. Every man’s eyes were on Valda from the moment she stepped into the room. Not leeringly, but because one simply cannot ignore a woman like her.
But the way I was introduced as a “special guest” and not by name, or even as her alleged rescuer, makes my skin crawl.
The men applaud, drowning out the sound of my pounding heart as I take Valda to the right hand of her father. I pull out the chair for her and she glides into it. Then I go to the only chair remaining— just across from Valda and to the left of the man I loathe.
The man who could order my death in a moment or give me all I need to support myself for the rest of my life, in a breath.
Thankfully, at this moment he is ignoring me in favor of his daughter, whom he smiling at proudly. One would think the story was that she single-handedly slaughtered all the pirates who abducted her. “You have done well, my jewel.”
Instead of glowing at the praise, Valda drops her gaze. “Thank you, Vater. ” She doesn’t glance my way.
And then servants are hurrying out of the kitchen with a majestic spread. A platter bearing a roasted boar is put in front of me. Puddings line the table below, and the men dive in eagerly, like they were given boars instead of bowls. Other servants dart around, pouring wine into goblets. Mine is already filled, and I take a tentative sip, hoping it will be enough to calm my nerves.
They must have slaughtered this boar in the kitchen, because suddenly all I can smell is blood.
One of the servants approaches me, and I’m relieved to see he must have been outside more than once in his life, because he actually has a healthy color in his cheeks— unlike all the nobility sitting at this table with me. “Is the boar not to your liking?” He trembles, like my answer is the difference between a whipping or not .
I frown and lean forward to hack off a piece of flesh. “Oh, it is, thank you.” I was just waiting for Baron Schwerin to serve himself first, but he seems content to drink from his goblet and keep his platter empty.
The servant ducks his head and then rushes away.
A good hunk of meat comes free, and I place it on my plate. Despite the unease of the situation, I feel my hunger keenly. This meat will satisfy me like I haven’t known for a long time.
I look across the way to Valda as she shakes her head to the servant offering to serve her pudding as well.
“I’m not hungry just now,” she murmurs.
Frowning, I cut off a few bites of boar and place them on her plate. “I’m not sure I’ve seen you eat one thing in our time together. You don’t have to starve yourself to make a point anymore.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Valda frowns at the food on her plate before forcing a smile for me so easily, I wouldn’t know it was fake if I hadn’t seen her real grins. “Since you rescued me.”
“Indeed.” I settle back down and take a bite of boar to keep her from pushing me to speak any more.
Valda doesn’t even try and focuses all her attention on rearranging the meat on her plate. When she senses my stare, she finally forces one bite into her mouth but appears to fight to swallow before drowning it with wine— which is ridiculous, because this truly is a juicy boar. I help myself to a second serving before Valda takes a second bite. I’m surprised no one else is clamoring for it, but they seem to be content with their puddings.
I knew that nobility always served multiple courses at their dinners, but I had assumed until now that they all ate of the courses together and then moved to the next. Apparently, though, different people are just assigned different dishes. I’ll never understand the wealthy— but I won’t complain about being granted only meat to consume.
Finally, I come to the point where I cannot eat anymore if I plan on battling for my survival in the near future. I can only hope Eloise has purchased herself a nice, hot meal. And that I can survive long enough to return to her.
Thunder booms outside, which is hardly a good omen. Then the servants rush in to completely clear the table. They even take the cups that aren’t being clutched by the other guests. Then, instead of returning to the shadows to lurk until they are needed, they all duck into the kitchen and close the door behind them. And is that the sound of them bolting it?
Standing, I turn to Baron Schwerin, ready to flee. “What’s going on?”
The man doesn’t even look at me, though, as he sips from the goblet he shielded from the servants. “Valda, my dear, it’s nearly moonrise.”
I turn to Valda. “What—”
But she’s no longer standing across from me. Instead, she’s suddenly beside me.
“How—” I begin.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. Then she pushes me.
Suddenly, I’m lying flat on the table the boar was just sitting on.
Before I can get up, Valda is on top of me. Despite the tightness of her dress, she plants one knee on either side of my hips. Both her hands are on my shoulders, holding them down.
I gape at her in shock. “Lady Valda— your father is right there!”
Ignoring my observation, Valda leans toward me. Despite the overwhelming cloud of bleeding heart, I smell the blood in her breath .
More thunder booms outside, though there isn’t a single window to reveal lightning has flashed. I feel like I’ve suffered a lightning bolt to the mind, though.
Her pale skin that is always ice cold, the constant wearing of a cloak and gloves, her lack of appetite, the peculiar dining habits of all these guests in a windowless castle where the servants don’t know how to start a fire—
Horror claws through my veins as I slowly realize just how dire my situation is and just what kind of creature lured me into it. “Estrie!”