Chapter 10 #2
I faltered, dropping my gaze. So much had happened since that night in the Winter Garden when I promised Mordric that I would leave the matter alone.
My stomach roiled as I was racked with guilt.
If the disappearances were connected, that meant that Ewan could be responsible for the deaths of at least two other women.
“Finn?” she asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“I, er, he said he was putting his best people on it.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Is that all?”
“Things have been so busy,” I admitted. “But I’ll talk to him. Right now, in fact.”
Sigrid sniffed. “Thank you. I just couldn’t live with myself if something horrible happened to one of my girls.”
I swallowed. “Of course.”
Rather than entering the castle through the cellars, I circled the grounds, using the time to put my thoughts together.
It was the new moon, which meant Mordric had been holding audiences with the people of Valen since sunset.
A small crowd still milled in the corridor as they awaited their turn with the King.
Farmers clutched their hats in their sun-spotted hands, merchants their wares.
Even nobles idled in the receiving room, albeit less patiently, and their finery stood in stark contrast to that of the others.
One noblewoman even pinched her nose, standing as far from those she considered beneath her as the narrow corridor allowed.
My gaze snagged on a middle-aged couple exiting the receiving room.
They weren’t dressed in the flagrant style of most courtiers, but their garments were a deep shade of indigo.
They walked an awkward distance apart, as if they had just ended a heated argument, but there was no anger in the emotions pooled on the surface of their minds.
Resentment lingered there, sure, but it was the grief that nearly overwhelmed me.
The doors to the throne room were closed, but I could make out muffled conversations between the King and his subjects. I felt like an ant before them. I swallowed, my resolve crumbling into ash as I recalled the promise I’d made to Mordric in the Winter Garden.
Wiping sweat from my upper lip, I spotted Maxence hovering nearby. Relief washed over me, an emotion I never thought I would feel at the sight of him. I approached, slipping past the crowd.
“What do you want?” he asked, his tone irritated as he ushered the next group in. “I’m sure you can see that I’m busy at the moment.”
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because …” I faltered, searching for the right level of flattery. “Because you know things.”
“I do know things.”
I gripped his sleeve, pulling him into an alcove behind the statue of a wyvern curled around its own tail. He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be one of the nobility now? This is rather improper.”
I rolled my eyes. “I guess I’m still a chambermaid at heart.”
“Clearly,” he said. “I’d hate to invoke the King’s temper. I hear he’s quite territorial about his new adviser.”
I frowned. “I’ve heard nothing of the sort, and even if I had—” I stopped short, reminding myself why I was here. Maxence got under my skin nearly as quickly as Enhart. They should exchange notes sometime.
“I’m here about the missing girl,” I said.
“Not this again,” he groaned. “The King is meeting with her parents this evening.”
I frowned. “Ruby’s parents?”
“No, Alice Falsworth’s. Her father is one of the foremost textile merchants in the kingdom with some connections with the Tradesmaster. She disappeared from the Trade District.”
The couple, I thought. That explained their grief. “Why were they here?”
He sighed. “They demanded that the King investigate her death.”
“I thought there was already an investigation underway.”
“It stalled, but now the seneschal and I are in charge of looking into it further, to make the parents happy. As if we don’t have better things to do.”
“And what of Ruby?”
“The laundrymaid?”
I nodded. “I just ran into Sigrid. She said no one’s heard from her since the night that I was attacked.”
“Servants leave our service without explanation all the time! We can’t just assume that they were murdered in the streets of Valnar or we’d never get anything done.”
“What about when two servants are attacked on the same night?”
“Coincidence, most likely.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “Why are you even coming to me with this, anyway? Why don’t you take it to him?” he asked.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “His Majesty has politely but firmly discouraged me from looking into it.”
His eyes widened. “Godsdamnit, Erramun, you’re going to lose me my job.” He moved to shoulder past me, but I tightened my grip on his sleeve.
“Please,” I said. “I can’t risk losing focus right now given my training is painful enough as it is, but you just said that you were in charge of the investigation.”
“I regret letting you get that out of me. Besides, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s confidential. I assume.”
By now the doors to the throne room had cracked open again and people spilled out into the receiving room. The King appeared, flanked by a gaggle of advisers. Standing at least a head taller than the rest of them, his silver crown gleamed in the dim lamplight.
I lowered my voice. “Please don’t make me grovel. She was one of your staff, after all.”
He huffed. “Fine. I’ll let you know what I find out, but you owe me.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged me off, sidling up to his master who greeted him with a curt nod.
As he did, Mordric caught my eye and broke out in a dazzling smile, stealing the breath from my lungs.
He detached himself from his advisers, politely moving through the chattering crowd of his adoring subjects.
They heaped praises upon him, bowing in a wave as he passed.
“Miss Erramun.” He took my hand, delicately pressing his lips to my knuckles. “You look well.”
“I am,” I replied brightly.
He laced my hand through his muscled arm. “Walk with me?”
“With pleasure.”
We peeled away from the crowd, the excited chatter fading as we ventured through the corridors. The portraits of the royal line stared down at us, over two thousand years of vampire kings immortalized in oil.
“Tell me,” he said. “Have things simmered down between you and my brother?”
I hesitated, mulling the events of the evening over in my mind. “I managed to slip past his wards tonight,” I replied, twisting the truth.
He chuckled. “Did you? That’s no easy feat.”
“Have you tried before?”
“Tried and failed on many occasions. Considering that you’ve only been training for a few weeks, I’m impressed.”
I mirrored his grin. “Thank you.”
We paused at the foot of a tall window, gazing out onto the moon-soaked grounds.
“Are you missing your friends?” he asked, his eyes trained on the hillside. “I want you to feel at home here, you know.”
I sensed a whisper of concern emanating from him. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “I just wondered what you might be discussing with the seneschal’s apprentice.”
I swallowed. “Maxence? Just, er, catching up.”
His smile did not reach his eyes. “And you two are friends? Or perhaps more?”
A snort escaped me. “I’m so sorry,” I said, clapping a hand over my mouth as his brow furrowed. “It’s not like that with Maxence. Not even a little bit. In fact, I’m certain that he’s courting my best friend.”
Air whistled between his lips as he exhaled. “I’m relieved. I confess I find myself rather possessive of your affections.”
My heart fluttered. “Trust me, I don’t have affections for anyone else.”
His eyes flashed. “Good.”
He tucked a loose hair behind my ear, trailing his fingers down the curve of my jaw to my chin.
My skin pebbled in a trail where he touched me.
I tilted toward him, our lips lingering inches apart.
When our mouths met, his kiss was devouring.
I willingly surrendered to it, the lingering remnants of the unpleasant memory of my latest misstep with Enhart fading into nothing.
As we parted, a smile appeared on his face. “That should be enough to get me through the rest of these godsforsaken meetings,” he whispered.
“Happy to be of service,” I replied, earning a chuckle from the vampire.
A page appeared at Mordric’s side, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. “The Viscount Harring, Your Majesty.” I recognized the vampire who approached us as the husband of the woman Vesper claimed to be bedding.
He bowed. “Your Majesty.”
“Cyril.” Mordric beamed, slapping the lanky vampire on the back so hard his knees nearly buckled.
“Begging a moment of your time, Your Majesty,” said the viscount, narrowing his eyes at me.
I began to excuse myself when Mordric turned to walk away with the viscount, but he reached out a hand and dragged me with him. “Join us in my study,” he said.
“Of course,” the viscount replied, trailing after us like a shadow. “Although I’m afraid I must insist on a private audience.”
Mordric did not respond, ushering us both into a large study.
It was dark and refined, with a sturdy walnut desk squatting beneath a large window.
Through the glass, I could see over the palace walls to the sprawling expanse of pines that carpeted the foothills.
The air smelled faintly of fresh ink and the roses that grew beneath the open windows.
It was the same familiar scent that clung to Mordric every day.
As he settled into his chair, I couldn’t help but think that even behind a desk, it was as if he sat upon a throne.
My breath caught in my chest as he grabbed my hand, pulling me close. I dragged my gaze reluctantly to the many missives stacked neatly on the desk, the handwriting the same on each page. “You don’t use a scribe?” I guessed, leaning over his shoulder.
“To my seneschal’s chagrin,” he confirmed. “I’ve always thought that any correspondences that impacted the realm should come from a king’s own hand.”