Page 13

The sun must rise soon. This dreadful night had to end… didn’t it? Perri was woozy with lack of sleep, exhausted to her very bones.

Brandth had been restless and feverish during the first part of the evening. Moaning with pain any time he mindlessly kicked out with his broken leg. Refusing to keep a blanket, sheet, or even clothes on because he kept muttering about how hot he was.

Perri’s own cheeks had turned bright red to match his, as she attempted to at least get Brandth to allow her to drape a modesty rag over his private bits. Naturally the man would be contrary, flinging it away every time she turned her attention elsewhere.

Resolutely Perri tried not to look… there, but call her a curious healer, noting his Lordship had fair bragging rights when it came to his equipment. After a cursory glance, okay, two glances, she’d been too busy dealing with her tossing, turning, superheated patient to care.

Applying damp cool cloths to all his limbs and chest. Replacing them constantly as they grew hot against his feverish skin all too quickly.

He drank down water by the gallon, sweating it out just as fast. His golden hair turning dark, wet with perspiration. Every two hours she dumped an elixir down Brandth’s throat, not that he seemed to notice. Caught between waking and sleeping, but never actually resting. He muttered a few names, but mainly his utterances were mumbled curses and groans of pain.

Several times Perri had contemplated tying his broken limb to the bedpost to try and keep it still, but watching him move so restlessly she’d been afraid it would do more harm.

There had been a few moments of respite when he seemed to calm, allowing Perri to snatch precious catnaps in the chair beside his bed, waking to uncomfortable cricks in her neck and back.

Eventually, as the moon headed towards the horizon, Brandth’s fever appeared to recede. He was no longer sweating profusely, whilst his skin was slightly cooler to the touch. He moved less frequently and his sleep appeared deeper, and hopefully more restful.

Perri draped a sheet over his nudity, before repositioning the more comfortable armchair located by the unused fireplace so she had a better view of her patient before collapsing down onto it. Releasing a deep sigh before closing her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d slept in this armchair, yet despite her exhaustion she could not drift off.

At first Perri was too warm. Unpinning the veil covering her face, and rolling back the sleeves of her dress. That helped for a few short minutes. But then her head started to ache, her chignon pinned too tightly. Hurriedly she dragged out all the pins, gathering it in a simple tail with a piece of silver cord.

Finally, she gave up on sleep and just contemplated her patient. There was no chance of him catching her staring, the loose bandage wrapped around his eyes was still in place.

He really was a handsome man, and he knew it. Not above using his looks to get his own way, but in such a manner that you felt like you were in on some pleasant joke, and not being made fun of or taken advantage of.

He was a fit gentleman, his muscular frame telling. The callouses on the palms of his hands witness to hours spent practising with weapons and riding horses. And she’d seen Brandth’s clothes before they were cut away, they’d been expensive and very well made. He did not lack money. Brandth De’Luca was a titled nobleman, heir to a Barony… yet he’d listened to each and every one of her visiting kin.

Who’d surprisingly felt free to unburden their many problems on a man who was essentially a stranger. Yet he’d never laughed, or displayed impatience. Nor had he outright gifted any with bold advice, instead, dropping little hints into the conversation until her relatives appeared to come to a decision or a resolution on their very own.

Stranger still was that none of her relatives had set their cap for Brandth. He was single, handsome and titled, Perri would have assumed he would be beating off her brethren with a stick, but no, it was like he deliberately guided any interest in himself either on to the far-off Prince, or back on to the person with whom he was conversing.

Though now that she thought about all the conversations she’d overheard the day before, Perri could not recall Brandth sharing even one personal detail regarding his own likes, dislikes, or what his life was like back at the hallowed halls of the Golden Palace.

She had listened to him flirt, but in such an obvious meaningless way that all present knew it meant nothing and would lead nowhere.

He said his job was to find bridal candidates for the Prince, but he didn’t strike her as selfless… devious, yes, that sounded more fitting of Brandth. But to what end then was this charade of his? Perhaps she was more suspicious than most when it came to the ways of handsome men, but Perri couldn’t help but think that something more was going on when it came to Brandth De’Luca.

Why was he really here?

Waking from a light doze Perri’s first instinct was to check on her patient. Who was breathing deeply and evenly, snoring ever so softly, out cold. It appeared the fever really had broken and he was getting some much needed rest. So, what had woken her? Ah, the faintest of knocks upon her door.

Wearily, Perri hauled herself up, feeling older than Master Healer Mary, cracking open the door ever so slightly to find Alia. Garbed in a navy tunic, brown trousers and matching knee high boots, a crossbow strapped to her back. She must have promised to take the children on an early hunt this morning.

Yawning, Perri eyed her sister with distinct peevishness, it was too early and she was way too tired.

“Can I come in?”

Um, well, that could lead to some embarrassing questions, but before her sluggish mind could come up with an excuse, Brandth released a loud snuffling snort. Alia’s eyes widening in surprise, a wicked smile suddenly gracing her sister’s features.

“Do you have a man in there?”

“No.”

And drat the man in question, he huffed out a loud, clearly masculine sigh, punctuating it with a snore as he once more slid back into a deep slumber.

“It certainly sounds like a man.”

“I have a patient… that’s all. He had a fever and needed constant care until it broke.”

It wasn’t a secret and it was a perfectly innocent reason for having a man in her chambers. Except for some reason Perri’s cheeks turned fire bright red. “So, if-”

“We need to talk.”

The smile was gone, Alia’s tone serious and cold, causing Perri’s stomach to clench in dread.

“I have news.”

She fell away from the door, allowing Alia to push her way in. Without being conscious of it, Perri reached out, her fingers digging in to Alia’s arm.

“What is it? What do you know?”

“He’s alive, Perri… they both are.”

Excitement and joy warred with seething rage. Pure joy winning out.

“He’s alive? Levi’s alive.”

Her son. Her baby. For ten years she didn’t know whether he was dead or alive and now… but Alia’s gaze was too serious, not seeming to share Perri’s happiness. Oh, no, her heart began to race with fear.

“What’s wrong?”

“They returned to our shores several months ago, not long after, Regal’s nephew, the new young Baron Soutner and several of his kin abruptly died. Regal has taken the title.”

“His heart’s wish.”

Perri knew she sounded nothing but bitter.

“Rumour has it that now he holds the title he’s… discontent with his heir.”

“No.”

Levi? Regal was turning his murderous gaze towards their son.

“We have to go to him. Save him.”

“Hold on. We have a little time to make some plans… Regal has made it known he’s hunting for a suitable bride, and as such, has taken a retinue to the Golden Palace to cast an eye over the season’s offerings to the Prince and the gathering aristos. Until he marries and their first son is born, I… think Levi will be safe.”

“But you’re not sure?”

Perri didn’t care whether Regal actually believed or just hoped she was dead. Levi, her son, was all that mattered.

“You know Regal and his games… rumour has it that his heir is rather clumsy and has come within a hair’s breadth of incurring serious injury several times of late. No… don’t panic. They’re on their way to Pallene now, Regal has bigger game on his mind. A no doubt wealthy suitable bride to hunt down. Better still, they’ll be surrounded by lots of witnesses at their destination who hold no fear or loyalty to Regal.”

Suddenly Perri’s head was light, her knees weak, leaning heavily upon Alia as her sister led her back to the armchair by the empty fireplace, lowering Perri down on to it carefully. Quickly pulling up a chair of her own, so close their knees touched, Alia’s warm hands enclosed Perri’s ice cold ones.

“He’s alive, Perri, hold on to that. And I promise I’ll bring him back to you. I’m having Domino readied and supplies gathered. I should be on the road first thing tomorrow morning.”

A sudden wave of rage shattered the cold fear that had momentarily descended. That conniving, evil, scheming bastard had not just flung Perri on the scrapheap, hoping she was dead, he intended to kill their son. By the nine circles of hell, Perri wanted Regal to suffer, to be unmasked, to know what it was like to have people turn away from you in fear, considering you a monster. She wanted him to… pay for everything he’d done.

But that was only secondary, she would give her last breath to see Levi safe. And she couldn’t waste another moment, the only thing that mattered was getting to Levi, seeing him, protecting him.

“No. We’ll both go, the two of us.”

Some of that waspish steel that tinged her voice when she spoke to Brandth was in evidence, clearly surprising Alia.

“I was thinking of disguising myself as a sword for sale, and entering the competitions.”

“You’d boil alive in a cloak, and as soon as you shed it, everyone would guess you’re a woman.”

“Why is everyone suddenly questioning my ability to pass as a man?”

“Birthing hips.”

Perri supplied succinctly, enjoying for a split second her sister rearing back in genuine surprise, before an irked expression settled in permanently.

“And I’ll be going with you. Don’t even think about trying to leave without me, as I’ll just follow you.”

“Perri.”

“I need to see my son, Alia. I’m going, nothing you can say will stop me.”

“Fine, but we can’t just waltz into the Palace and track Regal and Levi down. We have no standing there. No sponsors. We might be Baron Gloomenthrall’s daughters, but we’re little better than merchants or commoners, and they don’t allow commoners access to the Palace.”

“You can be sure Regal will have finagled invitations to only the most exclusive venues and parties.”

Alia snapped her fingers as an idea occurred to her.

“What about nuns? No one looks twice at nuns.”

“They don’t get invited to parties.”

Perri pointed out.

“What about prostitutes? A couple of low cut dresses and I’ll wear a mask.”

“I expect we’d receive a multitude of invitations but probably not to functions where Regal intends to shop for an innocent, suitable bride.”

“We would have made very credible prostitutes.”

Perri grumbled under her breath, mind racing frantically, trying desperately to come up with a solution to their dilemma.

“Nuns and prostitutes… there has to be something in between those two options that will allow us unfettered access to the Palace, and all the parties the Royals and their guests will attend.”

“We could disguise ourselves as servants.”

Alia shook her head.

“We’d be at the housekeeper’s mercy, more than likely assigned to empty chamber pots than serve food at exclusive parties.”

“Heavens. There has to be a solution.”

Perri shot Brandth a glare as he snorted, sighed, and blissfully slept on. There was a man who could walk the halls of the Golden Palace at will, attend any party he liked… any party he liked.

“The bridal candidates for the Prince!”

“What about them?”

Alia’s blue gaze filled with confusion.

“The bridal candidates are invited to stay at the Palace, receiving automatic invites to all the best parties.”

“I suppose. You want us to tag along with one of our sisters, acting as lady’s maids?”

“No, Regal will require close scrutiny, only you and I are aware of what he is capable of, and would recognise his lies, his tells.”

Confusion suddenly shifted to outright horror, Alia rearing away from her sister, dropping her hands.

“You want me to act as a bridal candidate in a bid to attain the hand of the Prince of the Vallas Realm?”

“Yes.”

Perri snagged one of Alia’s hands back, holding it tight.

“It’s the perfect solution.”

“Please. No one will believe I’m a suitable choice for the Prince. They’ll finger me an imposter the moment I arrive.”

“Not if you actually are the approved candidate from Gloomenthrall.”

“And how would I go about getting that approval? I’ve heard about the list of requirements; demure, pleasant, pretty, artistic. I wouldn’t last five minutes trying to fool anyone that I was any of those things.”

“But that’s the beauty of this, you won’t have to. Lord De’Luca has the final say. All we need do is convince him that you should be the one chosen.”

“And how would I go about convincing him of that?”

“You don’t. I’ll do the convincing.”

“And how exactly will you accomplish that?”

“By any means necessary. Coercion. Threats. Blackmail. Just leave it with me.”

“Okay. But compared to the other candidates, I’m going to stand out, quite literally head and shoulders above the pack. Regal will see me coming a mile away.”

The smile that lifted up the edges of Perri’s lips pulled at her scars.

“Let him. Let him know we’re on his trail. Let him wonder why we’re there. Let him twist in the wind, wondering what we’re up to. Let him dread what we might say about him, and to whom we might say it.”

“You would really go with me? To the Palace? Face off with Regal?”

“For Levi, I’d do anything.”

“Will you… let Levi see your face?”

Dread suddenly swamped Perri, she hadn’t thought that far ahead in her planning. What would Levi, her son, think when he saw her face? Would he turn away from her? Laugh and point? Disown her? Though what did any of that matter as long as he was safe.

“I’ll stay in the background, with my scarves on, acting as your chaperone. Regal will recognise my hair, my voice, it will set him to wondering what my agenda is. Am I his long dead wife come to life? Do I intend to make demands or some kind of claim upon him?”

“You’ll be setting yourself up at a target for his machinations.”

Alia looked worried, her expression troubled.

“Good. Better his attention remains fixed on me… us, than upon Levi.”

“You almost sound like you relish the idea of getting under his skin.”

“I… I wish I were a better person, but the idea of witnessing Regal flummoxed and panicking as all his plots and plans disintegrate around him, it makes my heart sing.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Just something father said, I don’t give the man enough credit sometimes. You do know if Regal is backed into a corner, he’ll happily use Levi as a shield.”

“Then I have faith my sister, the Beast of Gloomenthrall, will lop off his head and save my child.”

“Gods, the Beast of Gloomenthrall walking the halls of the Golden Palace, a bridal candidate for the Prince, eating tiny sandwiches and making polite meaningless conversation. I pray you know what you’re doing, Perri.”

“Leave everything to me. Once I have the invitation in hand, I’ll then turn my attention to our wardrobes.”

Eyeing Alia critically, sizing her sister up.

“I refuse to prance about in pastels and swish a useless fan about.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea.”

“Pastels and useless fans?”

Horror etched its way across Alia’s face.

“No, the idea of rejecting the pastels and the dainty fans. Regal will recognise you the moment he sees you. But you’re no longer a girl, you’re the Beast of Gloomenthrall, why pretend to be anything else? Let’s rub his nose in the fact.”

“And how would we do that exactly?”

“I have a wonderful idea.”

“Am I going to hate it?”

“Possibly. Do you trust me?”

“With my life’s blood.”

There was a ring of gratifying conviction to Alia’s words that filled Perri with pride and joy.

“Then trust me now.”

Smiling as Alia emitted a small put upon groan.

“Don’t be like that. Think of the Palace as just another hunting ground, and Regal is our prey.”

“That does make me feel a little better. I still don’t know how you intend to convince the Lordling to issue me with the bridal candidate invitation. This entire plan rests solely on us getting that invite.”

I already have an in with Lord De’Luca.”

Perri gestured to the patient lying on her bed.

“I’ve gotten to know him rather well over the past few days.”

“That’s the Lordling?”

Alia leant to the side, peering intently at the prone figure on the bed. With only one candle burning on the mantle, it was difficult to make out any distinct features.

“What’s he like?”

The query had Perri frowning in thought.

“Exactly what you’d expect if you were to observe him from a distance, or only spend a brief time in his company. All flowery words and extravagant gestures… and yet, I’m beginning to suspect that’s not who he is at all.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, given who he travels with. I only tell you this because we’re in dire straits and perhaps need all the leverage we can get to secure that invitation. But I must insist upon secrecy, as I have given my word not to speak of this.”

Perri nodded quickly.

“The Captain of the Guard, who travels with Lord De’Luca, has admitted to being a master spy.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very good one if he just casually told you.”

“No, no, there was a challenge, a wager… and a sharing of confidences. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“A sharing of confidences? You?”

Was that an actual blush gracing Alia’s cheeks.

“Have the two of you gotten… close then?”

“No! It’s just he’s been hanging around the Lair, watching over the Lordling and has expressed an avid interest in how we run things. I gave him a tour yesterday.”

“Funny, he’s only visited the infirmary twice since Brandth was admitted. I would hardly call that watching over his benefactor.”

“That’s bound to change today. The tour was exceedingly comprehensive, Talac will no doubt be hovering underfoot in the infirmary henceforth.”

“Oh, no, that’s not good. I need time to work on Brandth… and for him to be awake, you need to continue distracting the Captain.”

“Perri.”

“This is Levi we’re talking about, you said you would do anything to help save him… well, this is you helping.”

With relief Perri watched Alia slowly nod in agreement.

“Excellent. You go keep this Talac busy, and I shall turn my attentions to the Lordling and securing us that invitation.”

The sisters rose, Alia heading for the door.

“I’ll spend the day coming up with alternate plans in case you are unsuccessful.”

“Have some faith.”

Perri patted Alia’s arm, exuding confidence, only to slump back against the door once it was closed and Alia gone. Cruddy hell, how was she going to convince Brandth De’Luca to issue Alia an invite? Given how badly they rubbed each other the wrong way.

The two of them were like oil and water. Cheese and rain. They hated each other, pure and simple. They couldn’t even have a simple conversation without Brandth mocking her and Perri sniping at him.

Moving away from the door, Perri took a deep breath, straightening her spine, she could do this, she would do anything to save Levi. Her baby was alive! Gods, thank you, her baby was alive and she would sell her soul to keep him safe… so being nice to Brandth De’Luca might hurt, but Perri would suck it up. She would be sweet, biddable and gentle… she would bamboozle the man with kindness and she would secure that invite.

As if to punctuate her thoughts, Brandth chose that moment to snort and then splutter, waking himself up, clearly confused.

“Whe... where?”

Flinging back the covers.

Oh, no. Not with that broken leg of his. Perri hurried over, reaching out to reassure the man and keep him still.

“Shhhssss. Everything is alright.”

Pleased as he collapsed back on to the mattress, releasing a small hiss of pain.

“Where in the blazes…?”

Perri leant over, tucking the sheet back around Brandth, one of his arms escaping, his hand landing on his face where he promptly ripped away the blindfold, blinking rapidly, the dim light of the room seeming to meet with his approval as he didn’t wince.

Oh, crud, Perri was bent over him, their faces only inches apart, his gaze fixed completely upon her… and she wasn’t wearing her scarf. Oh, no.

Perri stopped breathing, just waiting for the horror to enter those startlingly beautiful honey brown eyes of his. She had hardened her heart years ago, she’d heard it all before, nothing he could say would wound her.

Brandth blinked twice, his lids heavy as if it was an effort for him to keep them apart. A vague… slightly dazed smile lifting the edges of his lips.

“Pretty… pretty eyes.”

Then his eyelids came down for a third time and remained shut. Perri finally allowing herself the luxury of taking a small gulp of air, and then a slightly bigger one. He was asleep again.

Straightening away from the bed, Perri frowned down at Brandth, both hands unconsciously coming up to cover her face, pressing against the deep scar ridges that flowed over her cheeks, her nose, her jaw. Surprised to find herself blinking back tears… she had been prepared for a myriad of Brandth’s reactions. Insults. Horrified gawping. But she hadn’t been prepared for a compliment… and from this man, of all men.

Turning, she hurried to find her scarf. Highly doubting Brandth in his sleepy dazed state would recall seeing her, but unwilling to chance a second unguarded encounter. Sighing in relief once the scarf was pinned securely to her hair and collar. Laughing at herself softly for being such a ninny. Brandth hadn’t meant those words… he probably hadn’t even been able to see Perri clearly in the dim light. He muttered poetry in his fevered sleep, he was probably just quoting some line.

Hah, it was ironic, hardening her heart against insults, whispers, and nasty rumours was a lot easier than dismissing Brandth’s words… how long… how long had it been since anyone had told Perri that she had a pretty anything? Probably not since her deceitful vicious husband had last uttered false endearments a decade ago, right before he attempted to kill her.

Life was funny… and cruel, Perri had discovered that first hand. Why else would the Gods land another astonishingly handsome man in her life, one who mocked her daily with his languid entitled behaviour, and now with meaningless drug addled compliments.

Bustling about the room, Perri opened the shutters to allow the grey light of dawn to brighten it further and began to restore order. Determinedly ignoring the tears running down her cheeks and soaking into her scarf.