Page 15 of Barons of Decay (Royals of Forsyth University #10)
Fuck. I’d forgotten– no –blocked out the meeting with Arianette’s uncle. Insufferable bastard. “What time?”
“Two PM.” He walks over with the teapot. I wave off a refill. “While you’re dealing with him, are there any special instructions for the girl?”
“No.” I shake my head. “She’s to be treated like any other Baroness.
” I’m not sure what to make of Arianette.
She’s not the kind of girl I’d normally pick for The Hunt, but the choice wasn’t mine.
That arrangement had been made years before.
There’s an edge of unpredictability about her that I don’t understand, or like.
She’s obviously a fighter–she managed to escape her kidnapper when none of the other girls missing have been seen or heard from again.
Well, at least alive. But there’s also a fragility about her that makes me wary that she’s up to the task of being a House Girl and even more so, my bride.
“From what I witnessed tonight, I suspect the men will have their hands full.”
“Excluding…” he prompts.
“Yes, her virginity.” I fight an eye roll. The price of virtue in Forsyth is overinflated. Personally, I don’t give a shit, but under the circumstances of our contractual agreement, Arianette must stay pure until our wedding night. “Other than that… she’s theirs to break in as they see fit.”
The Baronesses, or my Daughters of Darkness, are under my purview as King, but the Barons will see to her training.
Technically, I’m still married to Amber.
And despite her betrayal and descent into madness that has kept us apart for decades now, I’ve remained faithful to the spirit of our vows, by never divorcing her or taking on a new partner.
The Baroness allows me the appearance of companionship without the obligation–although things will change with the Black Wedding.
If things had gone differently, Remington would be marrying the Hexley girl.
He’d be a Baron and in line for the throne, unfortunately his allegiance is not with his blood family, but with the Bruin-Perilini clans.
It even would have been possible to rearrange the agreement for Whitaker Ashby to take his place. His Baron blood is more pure than my own. But the Ashbys have circled around the Princess–their Princess–and he is as unlikely to return to brN as my own son.
No, there are burdens of being King that fall to me and no one else. Not my son, Ashby, or the newly chosen leaders of DKS. That decision was made when I killed my cousin and banished my wife for her sins.
I am the one that wears the mantle, the mask , even when it requires me to do things I’d rather not.
And marrying Arianette Hexley is one of those things.
The Dean is notoriously punctual, arriving exactly at two on the dot. I’m masked and waiting in the library when he’s ushered in by one of the senior members of the fraternity.
“Dean,” I gesture to one of the chairs by the fire, “it’s always a pleasure.”
Arianette’s uncle, Owen Hexley, is anything but a pleasure.
The man in front of me is well dressed, his shoes Italian and his watch Swiss.
He has no royal ties, no bloodline that grants him privilege in the city.
His obligations are to the university and the well-being of the students.
Academia is competitive. To get to the position of Dean, or more accurately, Provost, at a university like Forsyth takes a particular skill set, one more in line with a politician than the duties held by the Kings of Forsyth.
He’d wash his hands of all of us if he could, but the frats and the university are interconnected.
One doesn’t exist without the other. We need him for our continued recruitment and he needs us to keep his doors open and pockets lined.
I’ve known Owen Hexley for a long time, but today I see him in a different light. He’s no longer the slim, studious, man that I knew in college, having bulked up over the years. But his eyes… they’re a deep brown and carry a haunting intensity.
Arianette has her uncle’s eyes, and a flash of her gazing up at me from the altar, ready to sacrifice herself to me and her Barons, strikes me like a bolt of lightning.
“I received the announcement that my niece was initiated as Baroness last night.”
Five letters went out this morning, hand delivered by my men. Four to the separate territories, and one to Strong Manor, to the man sitting in front of me.
“She achieved her status at sunrise,” I tell him. “It was a moving ceremony.”
“I’m sure,” he says, giving me a wary look.
The mask makes people nervous, a benefit I thoroughly enjoy.
In addition to hiding my true identity, it allows me the freedom to speak the truth more freely, in a way I couldn’t as Timothy Maddox.
“My niece isn’t supposed to be a mere House Girl,” he reminds me, crossing one leg over the other. “She’s to be your bride.”
“I’m well aware.” I try not to bristle. A man with this much power over me should be strapped to the teeth.
Instead his weapon is a piece of paper more powerful than any gun hustled down on the Avenue.
“The wedding is still on,” I tell him, “but you and I both know this arrangement is in name more than reality.”
“I know nothing of the sort–”
“She’s barely a woman, for Christ’s sake!” A mentally distressed one at that. “She should be with her peers. She should get an education. Further her interests. As Baroness she will be able to achieve that, while also being under strict supervision and protection.”
“That was not our deal.”
“No. The deal was that when your niece came of age she would have a black wedding with a male blood relative to the throne. As I am heirless,” or at least Clive Kayes is, after I killed his son, Benji, “I am the only option and I will fulfill the obligation. But the girl I picked up at the hospital is ill-prepared for the duties of a King’s wife.
She’s barely capable of taking care of herself. ”
“Are you implying that my niece is defective in some way?”
“She’s young and vulnerable,” I reply with sympathy. “You should be thankful I’ve taken her off your hands, not making demands.”
“She was fine before she was taken,” he begins. “It’s not my fault those monsters traumatized her.” His eyes meet mine. “At least they left her intact. The doctor at the hospital confirmed it.”
I scowl beneath my mask. Hexley doesn’t know it, but I’m well familiar with the signs of mental disorder.
The inability to focus, mood swings, heightened emotions, the vacant, faraway looks, the fear that vibrates off their body.
Both my wife and son are afflicted, and their illness has destroyed our family.
This girl… well, I’m not one to armchair diagnose, but her distress goes deeper than her kidnapping.
It permeates her very being. No, she’s been afflicted for some time.
But a deal is a deal, and I’m not walking away from this empty-handed.
“How I manage my recruits, my Barons, and the Baroness in my house, will be my decision.” I feel my temper rising and I take a deep breath.
“There is only room for one woman in the House of Night, and that woman will fulfill both the roles of Baroness and my wife.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, but I see the wheels turning in his head. “As long as she is your responsibility and is treated as a royal.”
Because that is what this is all about. He wants access. A link to royalty. To our power.
But a lingering vision of Arianette keeps surfacing in my mind.
Those wild, scared brown eyes watching her men as they painted her in sacred Baron blood.
The way she took our symbol being marked between her breasts, swallowing the pain.
I watched her body tremble as DK stroked her sensitive flesh, drawing her to the edge and then retreating.
I may not experience the Hunt and Claiming directly, but these men are an extension of myself. Their hands do my work and the work they did on Arianette was enlightening.
I’ve experienced many brN ceremonies over the years, but even with my annoyance over this arrangement, I felt a difference with this girl. My reply is low and firm, “She became my responsibility during the initiation last night.”
“You say that,” he glances down to inspect his nails, “but I’ll need proof of consummation.”
“Are you asking for a front row seat? Or for me to hang a bloody sheet off the Kayes Crypt for all of Forsyth to see?” I sneer, disgusted by his presence.
By the fact I’m lowered to this position with a man of no royal standing.
No power to make such a demand. But that’s the thing.
Hexley has something I want, and this arrangement is what gives it to me.
“I’m aware that it’s a Baron’s way to be dramatic, but cut the theatrics. A medical exam will do.”
“And when you get that, I’ll get what I want?” I tap my ring on the wooden arm of my chair, my impatience growing. “As promised?”
“You’ll receive the keys once the ceremony is performed and I receive my proof.”
I nod curtly, ready for this man to leave my sanctuary. I figure the best way for that to happen is to give him exactly what he wants. “The Black Wedding will take place in two weeks.”
He perks up. “So soon?”
“On Halloween,” I affirm, ignoring the way his lips turn down with his distaste for our rituals. “You’ll receive an invitation shortly.”
“Then I consider the matter settled,” he stands, as ready as I am for him to leave. “Give my niece my regards and let her know I’ll see her at the ceremony, where it’ll be my honor to unite our families.”
There’s something about this man I don’t trust, and it’s not the false pretension that oozes out of his every pore. Not once has he asked to see Arianette. Not when she was found on the riverbank, not when she was recovering in the hospital, and not while she’s been in my possession.
He may not have royal blood, but he sure fucking acts like it.