Page 31

“The day was positively beastly. My favourite dressed ruined. The road turned to a river of mud under the carriage wheels. We were stuck for hours.”

It took everything Alia had to swallow the small sip of tea she’d just taken. Had she heard… her eyes darting to Lady Parkour, whose gaze was fixed upon her in turn. Her lips twisted up in a small smirk. Oh, yes, the word choice had been deliberate.

“That does sound beastly.”

Lady Cannon repeated the auspicious word with an extra bite, her gaze likewise fixed upon Alia.

Well, well. It appeared her secret identity was secret no more. And unfortunately, there was no hope of making a hasty discreet exit.

The afternoon high tea party was being held on the banks of the river Tuye. Hosted by none other than the Queen herself. The bridal candidates and their entourages seated on an array of low stools and cushions in the inner most circle of the event, closest to her Royal Highness.

Sensing Perri stiffen on the cushion beside her own, Alia discreetly patted her sister’s ankle, they just needed to play this calmly. A few oblique references could easily be ignored.

“Speaking of Beasts.”

Lady Evagene, dressed in an intricate silver creation that sparkled under the sunlight making her raven hair shine and her creamy skin glow, turned her beautiful head to also look in Alia’s direction.

“I heard the most delightfully impossible rumour recently, Lady Alia.”

“Oh?”

Alia’s response as bland as she could make it.

“Isn’t there a hideous creature stalking your lands known as the Beast of Gloomenthrall?”

Lady Evagene’s dark eyes were raptor sharp, though a soft friendly smile played upon her lips.

“Beast of Gloomenthrall?”

Alia repeated the words.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t sound familiar. Perhaps my sister knows more about it. Perri?”

“No, I’m likewise drawing a blank.”

“Are you sure of your source, Lady Evagene?”

Alia’s words even blander than the flan served earlier at luncheon.

“Very.”

Alia shrugged in response, hoping that would convey both her disinterest and lack of knowledge regarding this particular topic.

“A mysterious creature?”

Dowager-Queen Cecelia broke off her conversation with her daughter-in-law, Queen Ostrellie. Avid interest making her flint coloured eyes sparkle. Her ears trained from decades of straining to overhear salacious gossip. The two royal ladies sitting on red and gold sofa chairs, a small low table between them laden with plates of delicate pastries, chocolates, and fine bone cups full of tea. All those in their immediate circle fell silent.

“A beast? How interesting. Tell us more, Lady Evagene.”

Crud. Alia fought hard not to groan, it taking all she had to keep her expression unconcerned. Noting out the corner of her eye the sudden hushed silence of the eavesdropping crowd had caught the attention of Talac and several men. The group standing at the fast flowing water’s edge, studying the fishing prospects. All turning in the direction of the seated ladies, wondering what the fuss was about.

Light colour attractively bloomed in Evagene’s cheeks, she was enjoying being the centre of attention.

“It is said the creature is hideous, hairy, and taller than two full grown men. That it stalks the Gloomenthrall woods at night, searching for warm blooded animals to slake its hunger. Using the bones of its victims to keep its teeth razor sharp.”

Her eyes pinning Alia in place, triumph in their depths.

“It does sound particularly beastly.”

Alia conceded.

“I shall be sure to keep my distance if I ever stumble across it.”

“That might prove difficult.”

Lady Cannon commented, her dark blue gown voluminous and suffering from an overabundance of ruffles that made it look like the lady was drowning on dry land, rather than sitting upon a cushion. Her tone particularly snide.

“As I have heard tell that you’re the Beast of Gloomenthrall, Lady Alia.”

Choked laughter burst from Alia, widening her eyes, going for innocent, but she would settle for mocking amusement.

“Me? This Beast?”

She laughed some more, Perri joining in, along with several others in the crowd.

“It’s true.”

Lady Cannon protested. Glancing Lady Evagene’s way, who suddenly was finding the bluebell crown she was twisting together in her lap fascinating. Lady Cannon’s voice going up two octaves, shrill.

“You can see for yourselves how tall she is. How manly she is.”

“Lady Cannon.”

Queen Ostrellie chided with a tone of gentle reprimand.

“I’m telling you, it’s true, she’s the Beast of Gloomenthrall.”

Sipping her tea, even though it was cold, Alia sent Lady Cannon a look of sympathy over the rim of the cup. Absently nodding at a servant who placed a fresh dish of pastries beside her on a low table.

“Are you in good health, Lady Cannon?”

Talac had moved to stand behind his mother.

“I think perhaps the heat of the sun has adversely affected you. Let us have one of the stewards escort you… and all your family, back to the Palace, where you might rest.”

A hush fell over the crowd before everyone spoke at once in low fervid whispers.

The first bridal candidate and her family had just been ejected from the competition by the Prince.

Lady Rawn’s smile looked beyond strained, as she bid her sons to help their protesting sister to her feet, hushing her daughter under her breath. The family struggling to bear up under the embarrassment and scrutiny of everyone present watching the drama unfold with bated breath. No doubt recounting… and perhaps inventing new tales regarding madness running in the Rawn bloodline.

“This tea is remarkably refreshing.”

Alia uttered the inane words, her gaze roaming over those partaking of the riverside event. Lingering for a moment upon Regal, reclining on a checked blanket, attended by four young ladies vying for his attention, though his beautiful eyes were currently fixed upon her. He certainly could have been the source of the rumours fed to the candidates identifying her as the Beast. He’d stated in their first encounter that he was aware she was the Beast of Gloomenthrall. Presumably one of the Soutner servants had let the news slip upon his return, thinking he’d be interested, given their past familial connection.

Though Regal wasn’t the only one privy to her secret. Alia’s attention idly roaming onwards over the crowd, halting as her gaze clashed with Cadell’s sulky green eyes. The bard standing on the outer edge of the seated group. His mandolin in his hands as he absently tuned it in readiness for when he would be called forth to entertain.

Still, her senses tingled. Alia hunted things for a living. Knew when she was being watched, when she was being sized up as prey. Her gaze searching now, looking for the threat. There, down by the riverbank, a large group of loitering aristos. Standing in their midst, who should it be, but Master Elliott Heathscote. Sore loser. And a man in desperate need of a fresh cashflow as his title as heir of Heathscote, from the looks of the young woman sitting beside the current Baron, and her burgeoning belly, signalled rather plainly that Elliott was about to lose his credit tokens.

Elliott met Alia’s gaze, a smug smile twisting his lips upwards at the edges. His eyes filled with malice. There was a good chance Elliott had been made privy to the information she was the Beast from one of her easily flattered kin. Plus, he’d left early, before settling his gambling accounts. He might have waited, watched, and decided to take out his anger on her along with a few of his cohorts that night she and Talac foiled the attackers in the woods.

And then there was the incident last night to consider. Regal could have sent one of his men to target Alia. But nor could rule out such a petulant entitled individual as Elliott as her nemesis. Attempting perhaps to soothe his wounded masculine ego by extracting some strange sort of revenge upon her, for declaring Master Kinnith the winner of the suitor hunt and awarding him the majority of the prize money.

It was a struggle to just sit there, sipping cold tea and look like she was enjoying the riverside event when all Alia wanted to do was walk, run, ride… do something active. Sitting here was torture. At least she could take solace in the fact that Perri likewise wasn’t as cool and serene as she liked to pretend. Her sister’s hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

Ignoring Lady Tolbeth’s mop of a dog, Sparkles, as it sniffed its way past her, Alia reached discreetly for Perri’s hand, squeezing it lightly. Her sister relaxing somewhat at the shared comfort and reassurance. Rumours could not hurt them. And unless Alia confessed, how could the title of Beast of Gloomenthrall be pinned upon her?

This was nothing but a small salvo meant to rattle them. Working in their favour actually, bringing into the light several likely suspects who had previously been lurking in the shadows, clearly wishing them ill fortune.

Alia’s thoughts interrupted by a high-piecing shriek of dismay.

“Sparkles!”

Glancing down to her right, Alia noted the white haired moppet had collapsed on to her side, panting heavily, her eyes glazed in pain. Surrounding the small dog on the grass were several half eaten pastries.

“She’s dying. You poisoned her!”

Lady Tolbeth descended upon their position, large tears rolling down her cheeks, her complexion a ghostly stark white.

“Give her to me.”

Perri’s demanding hiss had Alia scooping the animal up before its owner could. Who let out an even louder piercing shriek, this time in outrage.

“And that vase of flowers.”

Alia trusted her sister implicitly, rising smoothly to her feet to block Lady Tolbeth from interfering as Perri plucked out a small blue flower from the decorative arrangement. Rolling the petals between her thumb and fingers to make a paste.

“You’re hurting her. You’re killing her.”

“She’s trying to save her, you foolish woman.”

Alia forced to grab one of Tolbeth’s wrists as the woman appeared intent upon scratching her eyes out. “Look.”

She shook Tolbeth to get her attention. “Look.”

Watching as Perri prized the limp dog’s mouth open, dropping the smooshed flower inside before snapping Sparkles’ muzzle shut, rubbing the dog’s throat gently but firmly to encourage her to swallow.

“What are you-”

“You might want to stand back.”

Perri instructed.

Alia always listened to her sister when it came to medial matters, taking a step to the side, dragging a still struggling Tolbeth with her. Just in time, as Sparkles’ eyes widened dramatically, her whole body arching momentarily before her mouth yawned open and she vomited… then vomited some more.

Several nearby ladies shrieked in dismay at the sight. At least Perri had managed to arrange the dog so its outpouring only hit grass. Following two final dry heaves, Sparkles took a deep breath, her panting slowing, it would seem the direst aspects of the episode were over.

Gently Perri passed over the still trembling dog to its owner, who clutched Sparkles furiously to her chest, rocking her like a baby.

Alia stared down at the plate of spilled half eaten pastries… poison. If she’d eaten one… or offered one to Perri, her gut burned with anger. Rumours could be readily ignored, but this… this demanded a response. Problem was, as much as she’d like to pin this attack upon Regal, he did have a history of poison after all, it was almost too easy to blame him. This had been a scattershot attempt. Anyone nearby could have helped themselves to that plate.

Nor could Alia rule out any of the bridal candidates or their families being responsible. Perhaps someone had decided to whittle down the numbers by means of murder. A desperate move. But there was a lot of money, prestige and a life time of luxury at stake.

Heavens, her pool of suspects was positively over brimming… all of whom most likely wanted her dead, or at least incapacitated.

* * *

So this was rage. Talac had experienced anger many times, but never rage.

Worse, thanks to his position as Prince of the Realm, he was feeling more impotent than a blind man armed with a mop. He wanted to wade in to the crowd and start swinging his sword, defend and protect Alia from vicious tongues and even more vicious heinous acts. How dare someone try to poison her. It smacked of subterfuge and cowardice… and unfortunately far too many present were fully capable of orchestrating such an act.

“Perhaps the pastries have turned under the heat of the sun.”

He remarked casually. Not wanting whoever was behind this to think he truly believed poison was in play. No, better for them to think they had gotten away with their brazen move, and feel confident enough to try again. For Alia would be on her guard now, and Talac would be watching.

He tuned in to the nearest whispers, wondering what the aristos thought of all this. But the Mamas were too busy gleefully discussing the ramifications of Lady Cannon Rawn’s departure from the bid for queendom to care about some silly dog, who’d over indulged in cream filled puffs.

The number of bridal candidates had dropped by one, the odds were better than ever. All reminding their daughters – under their breath of course – to sit up straighter, smile wider and flutter those fans and eyelashes.

The dismissal had certainly provided a good distraction. No one was talking about the Beast of Gloomenthrall. If anything, from the sly looks of the Mamas, who were casting not so surreptitious glances Lady Tolbeth’s way, they were expecting the Prince to take her slowly quietening hysterics and tear stained face into account and pass some kind of judgement.

They wanted a response. And Talac wanted this silly bridal competition to end. Perhaps… perhaps he’d been going about this the wrong way. Being standoffish and arrogant in the past had never produced any results. Year after year the candidates, and their overeager parents kept turning up for the event. Maybe it was time to begin wresting the rules and outcomes away from his grandmother, parents and the aristos.

But if he were to do so, it would be important to remember what Alia had pointed out, these bridal candidates were as much helpless bystanders in all of this as Talac was. And worse, once it was all over, they often paid for their failure for years to come with spinsterhood or sub-par marriage matches their only options.

“Lady Tolbeth.”

He kept his voice gentle, soothing, a hush of expectation falling over the crowd, all straining to hear. Many fingers crossed that he would eject Tolbeth from the competition thanks to her outburst and hysterics.

“How is Sparkles?”

“Oh, Your Highness, she can’t seem to stop trembling, the poor lamb.”

Cradling her pet tenderly to her bosom.

“I hate seeing you so upset.”

Several Mamas sucking in air sharply, perhaps terrified he was going to make some kind of declaration of a romantic nature.

“I’ve come to think of you as a sister over the past few days.”

Many a Mama heaving out a relieved breath, though Tolbeth’s mother, Baroness Intnal, looked as if she’d just taken a bite from a lemon.

“Unfortunately, due to my duties, I cannot be the stalwart shoulder you require during this trying time.”

He searched the crowd, come on, no, no… ah, you.

“Lord Linnate, come join us, please.”

A young man dressed head to boots in dark green hunting attire carefully picked his way through the seated crowd. His expression both wary and pleased to be singled out. Once he stood beside the Prince, Talac performed the introductions.

“Lord Linnate, this is Lady Tolbeth, and Sparkles, who’s in some distress. Lord Linnate and his family are famous for breeding hunting dogs, providing all the hounds for the Palace. I do not think I could find a more trustworthy fellow to take charge of Sparkles… and to support you, personally, during your beloved pet’s recovery period.”

They had dogs in common. Hopefully Tolbeth would overlook Linnate’s hunting obsession.

“I’m surprised the two of you haven’t met previously. The Linnate estates are only half a day’s ride from Intnal Wells. And I believe your families would have much in common.”

Talac stared at Linnate, pleased when the man’s expression cleared of confusion and he realised he was getting the royal seal of approval to pursue Lady Tolbeth. Whom the Prince had just declared he thought very highly of, a sister no less.

Linnate sprang into action. Dramatically unbuttoning his coat to create a blanket for Sparkles to snuggle in, before offering his arm to Tolbeth.

“I think it best we repair somewhere quiet, and perhaps prevail on the Palace kitchen to provide… Sparkles with some plain beef broth to help soothe her gut… I mean stomach.”

Tolbeth looked up at Linnate like he was a knight in shining armour. Resting her hand daintily upon his elbow, allowing him to escort her back to the Palace.

“I cannot express how reassuring it is to have a man such as yourself take charge, Lord Linnate. Did your family accompany you here to Pallene? I would very much like to present my parents to them, perhaps later this evening...”

“… Dinner! Would you do me the privilege of allowing me to escort you? And then I could perform the familial introductions there.”

The rest of their conversation was smothered by the buzz of gossip that roared through those present. A second candidate had just been removed from the competition. The odds had never been more favourable for those remaining, only seven left in contention. And one of those was a woman almost as tall as the Prince, who insisted upon wearing boots, trousers and jackets. Not to mention the wicked ridged unsightly scar marring her throat. The Prince would never look in that direction.

Many a Mama wished there was champagne being served instead of tea, for surely their daughter was close to nabbing the Prince and the title of Queen. The question was, what could they do to set their child apart? Ensuring the Prince noticed their offspring and in no way thought of her in a brotherly fashion?

More than one had the idea of heading back to their suffocatingly cramped suite to make some urgent fashion alterations. Lower necklines would be called for. More fitted silhouettes. Tighter corsetry. Fewer petticoats. And why was the product of their loins reaching for another pastry at a time like this?

The Queen must have sensed the direction of thoughts, rising to her feet, signalling the high tea party was concluded. “Zariffe.”

She looked pointedly at her son.

With little choice Talac strode over to offer his arm, leading his mother through the bowing crowd, growing sparser with every step they took, as Mamas grabbed daughters and any in their entourage who were skilled with a needle, making haste for the Palace. At the royal carriage his mother’s pointed look meant Talac had no choice but to join her.

“Drive on.”

“What about Grandmother?”

“She can find her own way back. Now, start talking young man. What in the world is going on?”

Hazel eyes pinning Talac in place, gifting him the exact same look she used to give him when he was five and trying to lie his way out of trouble.

“It’s complicated.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you arranged to have that man who looks like you impersonate you at the ball last night?”

“You know about that?”

“Please, a mother knows her child. And you might wish to break him of the habit of tapping his foot in time with the music.”

Huh, maybe he’d inherited his spy skills from his mother. Question was, how much to share.

“I’m afraid it’s just the usual, machinations and murder plots abound.”

Hoping against hope his mother would leave things there. For several heartbeats he thought he’d gotten away with it.

“You always were a closed mouthed child. Remind me to have the head steward seat Alia Gloomenthrall next to me at tonight’s dinner.”

“Please don’t… you would only make her more of a target. And perhaps interfere with her plans to murder her brother-in-law.”

“Hah, I knew there was more going on, I told your father as much.”

“I’m finding your calm response to all this news rather intriguing.”

“Yes… about that. You know the story of how your father and I met at the Mid-Winter ball at Ratonleight? We might have left out a few small details… like the fact that I was standing over a dead body at the time, with a knife in my hand.”

“Mother!”

“Oh, it’s ancient history. Now, you will tell me everything, or I shall make it my business to ask Lady Alia in person. I must say… this is turning out to be the most exciting end of summer festivities we’ve had in years. The ladies of the last few years were so dull, but this year’s lot certainly appear to be showing some promise. Don’t you agree, darling? Now, start with who is trying to kill Lady Alia, and don’t leave anything out.”