Chapter Twenty-Four - Traitor Once More #2
They followed him to the main receiving room where the others were waiting.
Marianne looked deathly pale, and the rest looked concerned and slightly shaken.
They too had passed the bodies at the gate.
There was no sign of Lavinia’s husband, Cedric or the older siblings and their wives.
Or Elswyth. Isolde saw her searching and gave a small shake of her head.
This was not good. No Elswyth. If the older woman had been there, she would at least have felt some comfort, but instead the storm carried on inside her.
Bastian forced a goblet into her hand before Dorian gently guided her towards one of the empty chairs.
She all but collapsed into it, Dorian moving to stand beside her.
He did not hold her hand, not here, in front of them.
But he did keep his hand close to where hers rested on the armchair, their fingers just touching.
It was enough. Enough to try and keep the swelling panic down.
Bastian turned to raise his glass and address the room.
“I want to thank you all for coming,” he said as he looked each of them in the eye, “I know my summons were abrupt, but I appreciate you all making the time.”
He knows. He knows.
“I am afraid, however, there is a small matter that we must attend too first, before we can delve into the feast I’ve planned,” his expression took on a mock serious expression, her heart beat harder, “you will have seen the traitors on the gate,” he gestured towards the window, “foolish men that had managed to slip our notice during the Cleansing Dawn. Allies of the Traitor Roderic Valehart.”
At this his eyes landed on her, and it took everything within her not to launch herself from the chair towards him.
She wanted to silence him, but fear kept her rooted to the chair.
Dorian’s hand moved closer to hers, gripping the arm of the chair just as tightly.
She felt the rising chill, the shadows gathering around him.
The room was silent, but Rosamund saw Aurelian step forward and place a hand on the shoulder of his younger brother. The shadows receded.
“They had intended on kidnapping the remaining Valehart sons from the Onyx Tower,” said Bastian with a dramatic wave of his arm, “thankfully, their plot was discovered. Though, it would remain that they pose a risk of future attempts. Not to mention, how the traitors were able to gain access to the tower.”
With a long weary sigh Bastian looked at her, “I am afraid to say, through the administrations of our finest torturer, we have discovered that the traitors received the plans from someone in this room.”
The doors to the room flew open and Cedric, with a squad of his guards, marched into the room.
This was it. They had discovered her. They were here for her.
They had tortured it out of the Darnwell boys.
Out of Lord Darnwell himself. Now they had come to take her away.
Her body was screaming at her to fight them.
To run. To do anything but just sit there, but fear had its hold on her as the guards lined up behind Bastian.
She closed her eyes, waiting for them to grab her.
The Prince grinned, “tut tut Dorian, you should have been more careful.”
Dorian?
“Arrest him.”
She turned to look at him and saw only resignation as he looked back at his brother. The guards approached and he made no move to resist. Rosamund jumped to her feet, moving to stand in their way as Aurelian did the same.
“This is ridiculous,” said Aurelian.
“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” said Rosamund at the same time.
“Dorian is a prince of the blood,” said Aurelian as the guards hesitated, looking back to Cedric for further commands, “he cannot be arrested without the say so of the King himself.”
“Ah, but you see,” said Bastian as he pulled out a scroll bearing the Kings seal, “we are here under the authority of the king. This is by his command. I’m afraid my hands are tied.”
“You can’t do this,” said Rosamund taking a step forward and found herself pulled back firmly by Aurelian.
“Careful Lady Rosamund, you wouldn’t want to implicate yourself,” said Bastian with a vicious smile, as Rosamund struggled against Aurelian’s grip.
“Rosamund,” this time it was Dorian, his cold voice cutting through the room, though she saw the pleading look in his eyes.
This was her fault. This was all her fault.
“Prince Dorian Mordane, you are arrested for crimes committed against his majesty and the Kingdom of Valdyr. You will be granted a trial where you will be able to plead your case to the Court of Prince’s,” said Cedric in his deep bass voice.
The court of princes. Most of which hated him. He would have to prove his innocence to a room full of people that wanted his land. His riches. His power. A room full of people that wanted him dead.
What have I done?
“Will you come willingly?” asked Cedric.
Dorian only nodded and held out his wrists.
The guards fixed iron manacles around them and terrified, she saw the glowing rubies of Ashkar inlaid in them.
They would dampen his power. Make him weak.
He followed them out, every step he took away from her another stab in her heart.
She brushed off Aurelian’s hands and ran.
She could not let him go; she could not let him leave like this.
She raced down the hall after him, pushing the guards aside to reach him before they could hurry him down the stairs to the waiting iron carriage.
“DORIAN!” she shouted as she grabbed his arm and spun him towards her.
The guards stepped forward to intervene, but Cedric held up a hand, “give them a moment.”
“Rosamund, go home,” Dorian hissed, “tell Wulf and Corvin what has happened and stay in Blackthorn Hall.”
“I can’t let them take you,” she pleaded as she grasped the lapels of his coat, “you haven’t don’t anything, this isn’t your fault!”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, a pain, a hurt as a realisation began to dawn on him. He searched her face, looking for an answer that he did not want.
“Go home Rosamund,” he said, and she could hear the crack in his voice.
Cedric motioned for his guards to step forward and take hold of his brother, pulling him towards the carriage. He did not look back. Even as she called out to him, as the tears began to fall down her face, he did not look back.
Rosamund collapsed on the steps of Tidehall as the black coach trundled over the bridge and through the gates.
She felt someone come to stand beside her, the air thick with wine and cigar smoke.
He sat down on the steps beside her, stretching out his legs as he leaned back, the cigar in one hand and the goblet in the other.
“I suppose I should thank you,” said Bastian.
She turned to look at him with disgust, “what?”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you, could I?”
She looked away from him, furiously wiping at her face.
“If you hadn’t stolen those plans, I’d have to send even more assassins, and they’ve proved pitiful so far.”
“Why didn’t you take me?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Because within a week The Veil will be mine,” said Bastian, pleasure dripping from every word, “Everything that was once Dorian’s will be mine,” he looked to her, “including you.”
“What?” she hissed as she backed away from, scrambling to her feet.
“You will be mine,” said Bastian as he languidly stood, tossing the empty goblet in his hand down the stairs, “if this curse is true, then I don’t know why we’re wasting the solution on Dorian. So once he’s dead, father will give you to me. I’ll be made heir, and you’ll give me a son.”
“No, no it’s not true. You’re lying,” she said as panic rose in her, hands clenched at her side.
“I do as my king commands, and I have proven myself to be a very useful son,” said Bastian as he moved closer to her.
“You will not touch me,” she spat in his face as he grew closer.
He laughed and wiped the spit away, “I always knew you were feral; we’ll beat that out of you.”
“Like you beat Elswyth?” she said before she could stop herself.
With a look of fury in his eyes a surge of water flowed upwards, whipping across her face and leaving an angry red welt.
“You will not say her name,” he said calmly, though she could see the storm building behind his eyes as thunder rolled over head, “you will not speak of her. You are not worthy to breathe the same air as her. Do you understand? Now go home Lady Valehart. I’ll call for you soon enough.”
Before she could respond another whip of water sliced across the other side of her face. He was already retreating towards the house when she once again crumpled on the stone steps.
Alone.