Old Friend, New Foe
The carriage swayed gently as they traveled the empty road toward the town center.
Luka had barely assisted Matilda into the carriage when threatening dark clouds rolled in, and lightning streaked the sky.
The torrential downpour matched their mood, fitting the occasion.
He insisted on delivering the ill news himself; however, Matilda was adamant that it was her duty to inform Belzar of his loved one’s passing.
He couldn’t argue with her because she was right, but he was still on edge.
The attack had been less than forty-eight hours ago, and threats still lurked from every corner of Night Falls—not including their foes in Moonshire.
He’d considered that word of the traitorous attack had reached the ears of Prince Lykaon. The prince was likely filled with glee, reveling at the notion that he wouldn’t have to dirty his hands to defeat him—the nobles and disgruntled residents would see to it.
“Your silence haunts me, my King,” Matilda whispered as she gazed out the window at a herd of cows that were seeking refuge from the rain.
“I thought you would be relieved,” he answered.
She shook her head slightly.
“You should be turning red in the face and yelling at me for the simplest transgression.”
“It is never simple with you. Perhaps I have nothing to say.”
“You? With nothing to say? That is peculiar.”
Instead of responding to her quip, he asked her, “Do you wish to speak your mind?”
Luka’s heart hung heavy in his chest when she trained her cold, mournful eyes on him.
The sparkling light in her eyes, which burned brighter than the sun, had dimmed significantly, nearly to the point of extinction.
He was particularly fond of her eyes. They were perpetually expressive, filled with laughter, mischief, and mirth.
While waiting for her response, he wondered how long it would take her to regain her spark. What would he have to do?
“Belzar… he will not take this well, I’m afraid. I am preparing myself for the inevitable.”
“And what is the inevitable?” he asked cautiously. She shrugged.
“There will be crying and shouting on an unimaginable level, and I fear offering him restitution will offend him.”
“Offense or not, he will gleefully take the money.”
“He will, but not before reminding me that Belzara would still be alive if I hadn’t whisked her away.”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her gently until she was lying with her head in his lap. “Think nothing of it. You know the outcome—no use in agonizing over it. Rest, my Queen.”
“I cannot bear the thought of closing my eyes.”
“You haven’t slumbered since the attack.”
“The nightmares are so vivid,” she whispered, clutching his hand for support.
“I will consult with Dr. Blackwood when we return to the castle. Surely, he can provide an elixir that will aid with sleep. Now, hush.”
She was silent for a whole minute before saying, “Do you recall that time in the carriage?”
Luka’s lips tilted into a smile before asking, “Were manacles involved?”
“They were,” she responded.
His heart pumped with more vigor when he picked up on the light teasing in her tone.
“I recall Moonshire. Our little one was conceived during our diplomatic trip.”
“You are a brute, Luka. That was your nefarious plan all along—ensnare me and breed me to your heart’s content.”
“Twas not my intention; however, I do not disapprove of the outcome. We shall engage in such practices again when we try for the next child.”
“There will not be another child.”
“And why not?”
“You wouldn’t be able to use them as political pawns.”
“It is no different from arranged marriages, which is a practice even humans participate in. Surely, your marriage would’ve been arranged had—”
“Had you not slaughtered my family and eligible suitors.”
“Must I remind you that the Helsings killed my family first?”
“It was cruel fate. It was unfortunate that Queen Anastasia met her demise; however, we would not have crossed paths had it not been for tragedy.”
“We would have certainly crossed paths, but the outcome would’ve been significantly different,” he corrected as he stroked her curls.
“Yes, you would’ve made me your concubine.”
Tired of her antics, he closed her eyelids with his fingers and clamped his hand over her mouth. Despite his efforts, it wasn’t enough to stop her muffled giggles from escaping.
***
Matilda’s mouth gaped as soon as she entered the tavern.
Belzara hadn’t been gone long, and the establishment was in shambles.
A musty stench that was a mixture of body odor, sweat, piss, vomit, and burnt food assaulted her nose.
Many of the furniture pieces were missing, and the once-packed establishment only had one lone soul passed out at the bar.
She walked further into the tavern and grimaced when her boots peeled off the floor.
The floor was covered in something sticky, and she dared not question what it was.
She was amazed she once called the place home.
“Tilda? Is that you?” Belzar called out, entering the social area from the galley.
“It is I.”
She took in his appearance and noticed he was worse for wear. He’d always taken pride in his appearance, and seeing him so disheveled was off-putting. She glanced away and swallowed down her guilt.
“What do I owe the pleasure, Your Highness?” he asked snidely before tilting back his tankard of ale.
“Watch it, orc,” Luka snapped.
“Or what? As you can see, there is nothing left to take from me. All I have left to give is my life, and you might be doing me a fucking favor, vamp.”
The guards that accompanied them descended on Belzar.
“Stop!” Matilda insisted, voice rising above the calamity. They halted and glanced to Luka for further instruction. He signaled for them to stand down.
Belzar smirked smugly. “You have them trained well—like little dogs. Speaking of dogs, where’s that sister of mine?” Matilda clenched her fists and her jaw simultaneously. “I’m sure she’s living in the lap of luxury at the castle. Tell me. Does your lady-in-waiting have a servant?”
“Belzara is dead.”