Chapter Fourteen #2
He unlocked a heavily barred door and opened it to reveal what could only be described as a reliquary.
Glass cabinets filled every inch of floor available, filled with scraps of cloth and bone shards.
Father Leon surged ahead while I stumbled after him, trying my best not to trip on the strewn crates of uncategorised priceless oddities.
‘Is this real?’ I asked, resisting the urge to lift what looked like a knuckle into the light.
‘Probably not.’ He was too busy fiddling with the lock on a cabinet to see which piece of saint I was looking at. The lock clicked. ‘Ah, here we go. Have a look at this.’
My breath caught. Inside was a dagger so masterfully crafted that at a glance you could be tricked into thinking it was an artwork.
The blade was so sharp it looked like glass, tempered so evenly I could see my own expression blinking back.
By contrast, the handle was blocky and top heavy, and it took me a moment to work out why.
Held the right way, the dagger was a cross, forged from silver.
It was a blade designed to kill vampires.
‘This was given to the church by the previous prince of Rostenburg some three hundred years ago,’ Father Leon said as he held the dagger out for me to take. ‘Maybe he knew what sort of fate would befall his son.’
I took the blade, marvelling at how neatly it fitted into my hand, how easy it was to wield.
Raleigh’s father must have known there were vampires in the region to have commissioned something like this.
I realised I knew nothing of Raleigh’s life before court, or of the Linfords who had ruled the region before him.
‘Take it,’ Father Leon said. ‘It’s no good here collecting dust.’
‘It’s an historical artefact,’ I protested.
‘It’ll be a fair way cheaper than having one made new. Besides, I doubt any smith in Rostenburg knows how to make one like this these days. Save your pfennigs, take this.’
I blinked. ‘I’m not taking it for free.’
‘Well, I can hardly charge you when your betrothed donates so much to the church.’
My mouth fell open. ‘Raleigh does?’ I doubted Raleigh could enter the cathedral, and nothing about his courtship methods struck me as the actions of a religious man.
‘For strictly charitable ventures,’ Leon clarified.
‘He makes it quite clear in his letters that if a single pfennig goes into the bishop’s pocket he’ll start a Protestant reform.
Anyway, consider it a wedding present. Every Linford since the beginning has been gifted a silver blade at their investiture.
This can be yours, Your Serene Highness.
’ He tossed me a three-hundred-year-old sheath that I fumbled to catch with my other hand.
It felt shockingly sturdy for its age. ‘Though I assume you won’t want me to tell your betrothed of this? ’
‘Not yet,’ I said, threading the dagger back into the leather. ‘But if this goes well we may hold our wedding here after all.’
Father Leon nodded slowly in understanding. ‘I’ll pray for you,’ was all he said.
I didn’t stay long in Triz after leaving the cathedral.
Father Leon spent a good hour showing me more of the treasures stashed in the reliquary, including Raleigh’s investiture regalia, which was a treat in itself for the mental image of how ludicrous he must have looked in the trailing robes and puffed-up crown.
In the end the priest wouldn’t let me leave until he had pressed another bag into my hands filled with everything the myths suggested I might need to kill a vampire, again without payment.
After bidding him goodbye and promising I’d return alive before long, I veered back into the main chapel to surreptitiously drop a few gulden in the donations box.
They wouldn’t have paid for a single gem laid into my new dagger, but they would still be a shock for whoever opened the box at the end of the day.
There were a few coins left in my purse that were small enough to buy lunch without attracting too much suspicion, so I lingered long enough to eat at a nearby restaurant, taking care to keep my priceless artefact well concealed.
It was a marvel that Triz had fared through the famine so well that they could still run restaurants.
I’d always thought the people here had suffered as badly as we had in Orlfen.
Why hadn’t we simply moved to Triz, I wondered. Why did we remain in Orlfen to starve?
Because we listened to Father. I poked at my goulash, no longer sure if I wanted to eat.
He told us that Triz was suffering as badly as Orlfen and that they had nothing to spare for us.
But the famine was exacerbated in Orlfen because of the dam.
It didn’t make sense for Triz to be as affected.
And clearly it wasn’t, or I wouldn’t have been sitting there in a restaurant with a bowl of goulash and a glass of wine that only cost a few pfennigs more than they might have in peacetime.
Had Father lied to us? But why? What could he possibly have to gain from the people of Orlfen starving to death?
I was back in the castle well before dark and had my dagger and the hunting bag safely hidden in my room with the crucifix I’d stolen from Orlfen before Raleigh began to stir.
My wardrobe was starting to look like its own reliquary.
I hoped Raleigh didn’t choose to go snooping through my room, for his own sake.
At least not before I was able to arrange an audience with the Queen.
I felt deflated. Aside from the glaring truth that I wasn’t sure I could win in a fight against most humans, how was I supposed to kill the Queen if I didn’t even know where to find the court?
Raleigh certainly wasn’t going to arrange me an audience with her, and Moira was too loyal to Raleigh to help me bypass him.
But it wasn’t just the three of us anymore …
‘Absolutely not,’ was Enrique’s reply when I asked. He was elbows deep in some sort of dough. I would never have broached the question if he had been holding a knife. ‘Why does everyone think that just because I survived one revolution I’ll help them plan another?’
No wonder he was so guarded. Raleigh had mentioned before that Enrique had worked at Versailles. He must have seen things I couldn’t imagine.
‘But you do know where the court is?’
‘Of course. I grew up there. My father was her spawn, same as the prince.’ He extracted himself from the dough and began dividing it up into smaller balls. ‘Terrible place. Papa moved us back to France as soon as he was able.’
‘Did you know Raleigh back then?’
‘I knew of him. Papa made sure I never strayed too close to’—he waved a floury hand—‘all that. Not a place for children, I’ll say that much.’
‘I’m not a child,’ I said.
‘Didn’t say you were.’ Enrique slid a bowl of apples my way. ‘Start cutting these if you’re going to stay in my kitchen.’
I’m not sure why I obeyed. There didn’t seem to be any room in his tone to turn him down. ‘Did Raleigh tell you I’d ask?’ I said.
‘He said you want to kill the Queen. Which I’d heavily advise against if you want to live much longer.’ Enrique dragged out a rolling pin and began working the dough with fervour. ‘Why do you care? He seems happy enough.’
‘It’s for our bargain.’
‘What bargain?’
‘You know: if I don’t cure Raleigh before the end of the year I have to marry him.
’ I jabbed at one of the apples. ‘And turning me is part of the bargain.’ The sensation of tearing through the fruit’s flesh was oddly therapeutic.
After a few more slices I realised Enrique hadn’t said anything, and when I glanced up, I found him staring back in horror.
‘That’s why you’re here?’ His expression had me fearing for Raleigh’s life. ‘I thought you were lovers. This … this is horrendous.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said.
‘It isn’t.’ Enrique threw down the rolling pin. ‘I knew he hadn’t changed. This whole deal – it has her written all over it.’
‘Her?’
‘The Queen,’ he said as if it was obvious.
‘This is exactly what she would do.’ The Queen’s court, he explained, was built from a collection of spawn who had piqued her interest over the centuries, and every soul she’d sired was caught in a different game.
Some she chose for power, the ones who were as cold as she was, who relished their role as predators and strengthened the court’s hold.
They were her inner circle, who she surrounded herself with day to day and the others avoided at all costs.
Then there were those she entranced to suit whatever game she had in store. Often these were the prideful ones, or the dreamers. She would force them to do unspeakable things, things they could never imagine, simply for the thrill of seeing their expressions when they woke.
And then there were the ones she’d grown tired of. They, like Enrique’s father, were allowed to exist on the periphery of court. Some she’d tired of quickly, while others had once been entranced, but their glamours had worn off.
‘How long do glamours last?’ I asked. I thought of the night of my betrothal, when Raleigh warped my mind to wander the woods in circles. That was only a handful of hours, and I imagined an immortal queen would take far longer to tire of someone.
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’ I was annoyed he’d make me ask.
Enrique waved a hand as if this was a ridiculous question.
‘All sorts. The type of hypnosis, the people, what the victim is forced to do. A lasting hypnosis can remain for centuries, but they all wear off eventually, and by the time it does she’s usually found a new toy and doesn’t notice if her old one leaves court.
Oh, she can summon them back, of course, and they have to obey if it’s a true order, but only because she’s their sire.
None of the disenchanted are actually loyal to her. ’
‘Like Raleigh?’ I asked.
‘Raleigh?’ Enrique barked a laugh. ‘God, no. Raleigh was in the inner circle.’
A jolt ran through me. I thought of Raleigh’s fear at the mention of the Queen. His insistence on burning any letter that reached him. ‘Are you sure?’
‘He practically sat at the foot of her throne. She’s the Queen, he was the prince.
He was the only true aristocrat at court, so any time the Queen needed something from the human rulers, Raleigh was the one sent to make it happen.
He probably gained her more power than the rest of the inner circle combined. ’
My heart raced. None of that sounded like Raleigh. The prince of my past, the shadow of Orlfen, maybe. But certainly not the Raleigh I’d come to know.
‘He acts differently now.’ Enrique scoffed. ‘I thought he’d shed the Queen’s influence but this.’ He turned to me, arms folded. ‘Do you want me to kill him for you?’ He was serious, I realised, and to my horror I found that strangely endearing.
‘No, I …’ I laughed nervously. ‘I don’t think he’s toying with me.’
Enrique raised his brows.
‘Well, I did at first, but we’ve come to an understanding.’ That in itself was almost as horrifying as Enrique’s readiness to murder my fiancé. ‘You’re welcome to kill the Queen for me instead.’
‘That’s your death wish, not mine.’ He turned his back to me, returning to his pastry. ‘There are enough dissenters at court these days. Wait long enough and someone else will do it for you.’
‘But Raleigh said—’
‘What does Raleigh know? If you wanted to overthrow him, you wouldn’t tell Moira.’
‘So the Queen can be killed?’
Enrique’s hands fell limp in the pastry as his shoulders slumped. ‘Can you fight?’
‘Of course I can fight,’ I said.
Enrique said nothing while he scraped the pastry from his fingers, letting my words decant. I tutted. It wasn’t an outright lie. I could defend myself well enough.
‘Father taught me how to protect myself.’
‘Against humans,’ Enrique finished for me.
I didn’t reply. But to my surprise, he didn’t laugh. Instead he said, ‘Want to learn?’
‘You’d teach me?’
‘I can’t say I’d be any substitute for a full-blooded vampire, but you’d be a sight more likely to survive if you can land a hit against me than if you went in unprepared. You can’t even cut apples properly.’
Judging by the misshapen pile of mangled apple segments I’d left, he was right.
So in the mornings, after Raleigh had gone to bed and before Moira rose from hers, Enrique and I began to meet in the yard to spar.
I can safely say that if the Queen had come that morning I would have died on sight.
But as the weeks bled into one another, I found it easier to defend myself against Enrique’s attacks and began to predict where he might end up, when his figure blurred as he lunged at speed.
He wasn’t a fraction as fast or strong as a full-blooded vampire, but his abilities far surpassed any human’s.
It gave me some insight into Raleigh’s full power and what I might be able to expect from his sire.
However, there was one lesson I learnt from a few weeks of training with Enrique that struck clearer than any other: as long as I lived, I would never have the power to kill the Queen.