Page 19

Two hours ago…

Allowing Perri to have complete control of her wardrobe and hair had been a mistake, and not a small one. Alia stared at her reflection when Perri declared her ready, forcing a smile of appreciation, though her teeth were ground together so tightly she was surprised they didn’t turn into gemstones.

Using the excuse she needed to check on her horse, swearing that, yes, she would be at the first familial bridal candidate event on time, Alia had slipped out of their shared suite and hightailed it for an exit.

She needed fresh air. She needed to come to grips with this… stranger Perri had transformed her into. One she suspected who looked like a complete ninny.

Perri had requested Alia trust her when it came to wardrobe design… but this outfit. It was too foreign. Too different. Cruddy hell, it somehow made Alia look even taller, Gods help her. And drew attention not only to her bosom, she could have lived with that, but also her scars. Seeming to make them a… feature, similar to a large – couldn’t look away – necklace, but only scarier and more stomach churning for those of a delicate nature.

What had Perri been thinking?

Alia would be the centre of attention, damn it. Which she now realised had been Perri’s goal all along. No slinking at the back of the room for Alia. No sticking to the shadows. She would be stared at. Mocked. Laughed at from behind fluttering fans. Rumours would fly, based upon nothing but the fervid imagination of the person doing the gossiping.

Which to be fair, pretty much summed up Alia’s life as the Beast.

Exiting the Palace, Alia followed her nose down a cobblestone path, headed towards the stables. The walk gave her time to come to grips with Perri’s plan. She was the Beast. A woman who carved a daily path through a man’s world. Used to being stared at. Judged. Laughed at behind her back. Rumours following in Alia’s wake like hounds followed their master at dinner time.

The only difference here was the audience. The Palace servants, the Royal family and the aristos… and their opinion mattered not a jot to Alia. She wasn’t here seeking their approval or for that matter the hand of the Prince. Alia was here for Perri. To ensure Levi was safe and to bring him home to Gloomenthrall.

And hopefully to send that crud bucket, Regal Soutner, into the care of the devil and all his minions. Where he could spend eternity suffering for all his foul deeds and murderous ways.

By the time Alia entered the enormous stables she was feeling pretty much like her usual self. Which was a good thing, as horses sensed falseness and unease, and her Dominio was particularly sensitive to Alia’s moods. Expecting to find him kicking up a fuss, instead, Alia found the stables to be unusually quiet. Rows of horses watching her pass by from their stalls as she moved further into the vast building. Where was everyone? And where was her horse?

There, down the very end, a cluster of stable hands gathered around the entrance to one stall. The group of about nine lads too intent upon the spectacle before them to note Alia’s arrival. Giving her a chance to eavesdrop.

“Who do you think could control a creature like that?”

“He looks a good fit for the Devil himself. His master probably rides around at midnight scything off the heads of sinners and collecting souls left and right.”

“I heard tell it’s a woman.”

“It’s a stallion, you ninny.”

“Not the horse. The rider. A woman I heard.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I heard it from Sebalon, the kitchen girl, who got it from Ellion, the footman, who-”

“Enough, no woman could handle a monster of that size. Just look at those hooves. And those teeth. Bet he’s a feisty one.”

Alia had heard enough. Clearing her throat… and then forced to clear it again even louder to garner attention. Everyone’s wide-eyed gaze suddenly shifting in her direction, all forced to look up… and up.

“Gentlemen. If you would create a path so I might check on my horse?”

“Clear off, the lot of you.”

The voice that came from within the stall sounded startling familiar, perhaps explaining why Dominio wasn’t trying to kick down the walls.

“Molbee?”

Alia surged forward as the stable hands retreated, staring at her with awe and perhaps a little fear, as if she was the Devil’s bride.

“Is that you?”

She flipped up the heavy latch, stepping into the stall. A smile already on her features as her gaze came to rest on the small gnarled man currently currying Dominio’s flanks. “Molbee!”

“I knew if I hung around this wee monster long enough, you’d be by to check on him.”

“Molbee. What are you doing here? You said you were going to live with your son and his family at Sea Crest. Retire. Drink. Sit around and tell tall tales.”

“I got bored. Went travelling. Visited some old friends, one of whom offered me a job here. Master of the Golden Palace stables, would you believe it?”

“Yes, I would.”

And they’d be darn lucky to have Molbee. He might be well into his seventies, perhaps older. Barely topping five feet in height. With little hair left, fewer teeth and missing a right leg. But he was a savant when it came to horses. They loved him. Not always right away, but it never took the small man long to earn their trust and devotion. Proving her point, Domino turned his head in Molbee’s direction and nickered chidingly.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

Continuing to groom the pitch black velvet coat. ‘It’s just so good to see you… your Ladyship.”

“Hah, none of that. How is your son and his family?”

Molbee’s grin broadened, displaying all the gaps where his teeth should have been.

“Splendid. And the grandkids are… grand. But busy with school and getting on with their lives, you know? It took a while to prove I wasn’t going to fall into the nearest bottle. But I left on good terms… with an invitation to visit again. So, all good.”

Molbee had limped into the Lair some twenty years ago. Problems with anger and alcohol had ruined his marriage and destroyed any goodwill his son felt for him. He was angry at the world. Having retired out of the calvary - barely incurring a scratch - only a week later to have his leg crushed by an out of control coal wagon. It had taken time… and the discovery that he was exceedingly good with horses that helped him slowly rebuild his life. Embarking on a new career, and eventually setting off to make peace with his adult son.

“I’m glad.”

Alia pulled out the apple she’d pilfered from her breakfast tray, feeding it to Dominio.

“I don’t suppose you know where Deacon has gotten to?”

“I sent him off to grab something to eat. He signed that he was going to get the lay of the land and would catch up with you later in the day.”

Alia had complete faith in Deacon. She’d taken him into her confidence prior to their trip. The lad might have been mute but he had an uncanny ability to get into and out of places he would never be invited. And better still, to overhear things he should not be privileged to.

“The Lordlings here for the festivities are all a twitter over Dominio. Been pestering me all morning, requesting a ride. I told them they’d have to track down the owner as my life wouldn’t be worth nothing if I let them on Domino’s back without permission.”

“Don’t suppose any of those Lordlings were named Soutner?”

“Him?”

Molbee’s face scrunched up in distaste.

“Nah. He hasn’t been by to check on his horses since he arrived five days ago. Rough lot, his men, and the horses…? Good steeds treated badly will only repay you in kind is all I’m saying.”

It was exactly the intel Alia needed. Regal and his entourage were here. He’d come chasing an aristo bride. All Alia would need to do was bide her time, attend all the aristo functions, and their paths would eventually cross.

“You haven’t set your cap on him? Have you?”

Molbee looked nothing but appalled by the idea.

“Heavens, no. I’m here for much bigger fish.”

She couldn’t resist teasing him.

“I’m a bridal candidate, I’m here looking to snag myself a Prince.”

Laughing. Loving that gobsmacked look of surprise on Molbee’s face. Giving Dominio a final pat before departing. She had the so-called intimate friends and family meet and greet party to get to, and Perri would have her head and other body parts, if she were late.

Darnation, exiting the stable, Alia had gotten turned about. There, the main Palace building, soaring turrets giving her an objective. Excellent. Heading off in that direction she ignored all the looks she was getting. Yes. Yes. She was tall. Wearing trousers of all things. Striding about like a man. Look your fill. Their curiosity could not harm Alia. Though she did make a point of smiling and nodding at everyone she passed, mostly servants or workers going about their day.

It was one thing to be different, but needlessly rude? That too often came back to bite you on the ass.

Alia quickened her pace, noting the sun’s position, the morning was fast fading and she had a morning tea party to get to. What made her falter? The slightest of noises. But one she was familiar with, pain. Someone had cried out before abruptly stifling the sound.

Glancing around she couldn’t initially tell where the noise had come from. Halting, listening intently, a small cobbled alley way off to her left drawing her attention. Crud, if she went to investigate, she really would be late.

But then a jeering mocking laugh reached Alia’s ears, followed by two more joining in the smug chuckling. Their amusement sounding like a sneering mocking choir. Someone was being hurt and by the sound of it she’d stumbled across the perpetrators.

The narrow cobblestone alleyway opened into a medium sized walled private garden. From the selection of flourishing herbs and thriving plants, Alia surmised it belonged perhaps to the Palace physician or elixir maker. There was a door located in one wall, leading she assumed into the Palace itself, but other than the narrow alley way, probably used by the gardeners, the garden was secluded and wouldn’t be easy to stumble across.

Perri would have loved it. What her sister wouldn’t have loved was the sight of her son, hurt, trying to defend himself against three much larger lads.

Levi.

He would be twelve now. Gangly, all elbows and knees. Perhaps a little too thin. Not tall, but not short either. His hair, a dark bright red under the sun’s beams, fiery glints sparking… just like Perri’s did when she failed to wear a hat outdoors. His face narrow. His eyes burning with high emotion, two shades darker than Perri’s deep blue. His clothes worn and threadbare in places, his pants too small, riding up his shins, smeared with dirt, as was one of his cheeks, from where Alia was guessing one of his tormentors had knocked him down.

The state of his clothes probably made him a target for the bored aristo teens in their linen shirts, canvas breeches, and shiny leather riding boots. But it was the limp that doomed his fate. Alia clenching her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, fighting the urge to wade in and start pounding upon the jeering bullies.

No. Better to collect information first. Determine the best approach to aid Levi.

Shoulders back, head held high, eyes burning with defiance, Levi turned constantly, trying to keep all his tormentors in view at once. An impossible task since they surrounded him. One holding a branch that was being used as a prod. One holding a handful of stones that he was throwing every so often as hard as he could at Levi’s feet, trying to over set the lad.

Levi constantly spinning in place, limping as he did so. Not his foot or ankle at fault, Alia determined. Something higher, perhaps his knee or thigh bone. Recalling vividly the sight of him falling that long ago day, accompanied by his thin, high pitched scream, followed by the too loud thud of him landing, the snapping of bone ringing in the air.

It took everything she had to remain in place. Rushing in to act as Levi’s protector would only keep him safe this once. But if she taught him to defend himself, then that might stave off future attacks when she couldn’t be around.

Her nephew was weaponless, and tiring fast, jumping and then stumbling slightly before regaining his balance as another rock was hurled at his ankles. Ah, that was the answer.

“The rocks!”

Four sets of equally surprised eyes fixed on Alia. Three lingered to appraise her station and to determine if she were friend or foe. Thankfully, after the briefest of glances, Levi bent and scrabbled for the rocks gathered around his worn and badly in need of replacing ankle boots.

Alia relaxed her stance, crossing her arms across her chest, attempting to look bored and only vaguely interested in the lads and their antics. The three teens had clearly never seen a woman such as Alia before, dressed as she was, so tall, a wicked scar marring her throat. The sight confused them. Women, they had no doubt been taught, were the weaker sex. Good for ordering about and doing what they are told.

Perhaps they would have tried to pick on her next. But they’d wasted too much time assessing her, Levi was ready, and he wasn’t aiming for ankles. The first rock hit the dark haired lad on the shoulder. A surprised yelp of pain leaving his mouth as he clutched at the spot. The second rock took the largest lad, one with white blonde hair, almost in the skull, but he moved at the last moment. Still, the sharp edge managed to nick his ear, blood coming away on his fingers when he reached up to check he still had an ear. The third lad, a solid dark haired figure, attempted to zig zag on the spot, but Levi compensated and managed to target his left knee. Howling, the boy collapsed, gripping his leg and rolling around on the ground.

Levi, holding up three more rocks threateningly made a limping dash past the fallen lad, ducking around Alia, and hobbling away down the narrow cobblestone alley. The blonde with the bloody ear made as if to follow him but Alia moved ever so slightly to block his path.

“First rule when the battle is over, tend to your wounded.”

Her gaze shifting to the teenager on the ground and the one clutching his shoulder like he was scared if he let go the limb might shear away from his body.

“Bitch.”

The lad with the bloodied ear sneered, the leader of the pack it was now clear.

“What are you? Some half breed ogre’s bastard leavings?”

He opened his mouth to spew more venomous words in Alia’s direction, those words freezing in his throat as suddenly Alia was right in front of him. Grabbing the front of his fine linen shirt and twisting it. The lad finding himself on his tip toes, hauled in close as Alia examined him carefully, clearly memorising his face.

Slowly, as if she had all time in the world, Alia reached out, dragging a finger down the lad’s head, tweaking his bloodied ear. Holding up her finger, now painted with his blood, she brought the digit to her nose, taking a deep breath.

“And now I have your scent. You can run ten… twenty miles… it won’t matter how far, I’ll always be able to find you now.”

The lad tried to break free but all Alia did was haul him closer still, and higher, his boots leaving the ground. Him twisting futilely and frantically in the air.

“You can’t do this. Don’t you know who I am?”

The lad was close to tears.

“Prey is what you are to me now.”

Alia deadpanned in her best Beast voice, watching as fear chased away all the colour from the lad’s face, leaving him chalk white. Dropping him she eyed the trio, no expression on her face, which she’d been told just made it all the more chilling.

“You’d better hope I don’t get bored whilst I’m here and decide to liven things up with a hunt…”

Turning, she strode unhurriedly back down the narrow cobblestone alleyway. She was so late now, Perri was definitely going to kill her. Ick, and she needed to find somewhere to wash the blood from her hand.

Thanks to a wide eyed, yet helpful servant, Alia found a place to clean up and was advised of the quickest route through the Palace halls that would get her to the small ballroom. The murmur of party-goers and the twang of a musical instrument let her know she was close to her destination. Taking three deep breaths she sought calm. Her heartbeat slowing. She could only pray her hair was okay. She was ready. She could do this. Pretend to be a bridal candidate. How hard could it be?

She’d slip into the ballroom, stick to the periphery, stay in the background and wait for Baron Regal Soutner to make an appearance at one of the gatherings. Once she set eyes on him, she’d be able to start making plans. A decade was a long time. It didn’t sound as if Regal had changed his manipulative deadly ways, but just what were his weak points these days? That was what she needed to discover and exploit.

Steps away from the small ballroom, the two footmen positioned on either side of the entrance looked a little askance at her appearance. Her hair couldn’t be that bad, could it? And her outfit surely wasn’t that different or risqué.

Taking one more deep breath Alia stepped into the crowded ballroom, hoping to get lost in the crowd. Thankfully a musician was currently playing, most eyes, especially the female ones appeared to be fixated upon him. Excellent. Three steps to the side and she could melt into the background. The entertainer had a good voice… which sounded strangely familiar.

Oh, no. She could finally hear the words to the song. Something about quivering arrows, quavering hearts and quickened blood. Gods, no, have mercy, not one of his self-proclaimed alliterative masterpieces. Of all the musicians in the Realm… why did it have to be him?

Alia needed a shadow to dive into and she needed it now. Except her luck didn’t lean that way, as the roving bard took several steps backwards, towards the entrance, and swung about abruptly, piercing green eyes lifting, settling upon Alia, his next words freezing in his throat. His fingers falling away from the strings. Silence falling like the moment after an earthshaking thunderclap.

“Alia?”

Lush dark lashes blinked twice in surprise. Emerald green eyes suddenly glittering with smugness.

“You followed me? Oh, Alia, I’m so sorry, but it’s too late, my affections are no longer inclined in your direction. You came all this way for nothing.”

The musician’s sensual lips pursed into a practised moue of pity and superiority.

“You must be devasted.”

“Cadell, you’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

And her, damn it.

“I had no idea you were engaged to entertain at the Palace.”

“Then… then why are you here?”

Every set of eyes in the small ballroom and the overflow room were now fixated upon Alia. Every ear perked to catch her response. There would be no hiding, no observing from the shadows.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to vie for the hand of the Prince.”

“Which would be me.”

The timbre of the voice deep, confident and also… familiar.

Alia spun around, her gaze travelling up a few inches. He might have cut his hair, and dressed in a formal uniform, wearing a royal blue sash, rows of medals glinting across his heart, but she knew that face, those grey eyes too well. Although the haughty expression was new. Talac.

Prince Talac?

Cruddy hell, their plan to hunt down Regal, destroy him and abscond with Levi had just been obliterated into dust before they could even commence. Peri would be devastated. Except Talac wasn’t calling for the servants to escort Alia away. Or loudly denouncing her as an imposter. No, he was holding out an arm, a taunting challenging gleam in his eyes.

“Lady Gloomenthrall. Shall we?”

Alia grabbed onto him tightly, probably leaving bruises. She had questions. So many questions. But for now, they would have to wait. Entering the party on the arm of the Prince should have been a good thing. He was endorsing Alia’s right to be there. Declaring her officially a bridal candidate. Except every eye was now appraising her with ruthless judgement. Every bridal candidate and their family staring and glaring Alia’s way. Talac might have ratified her reason for being present, but he had also just painted a bright red and white target on her… the games had commenced.

Hah, good luck to them all. They would not find Alia Gloomenthrall easy prey.