Hearts At Stake

chapter 25

Lucy

Monday morning

I must have dozed off, even though the thought of it seemed impossible. The sound of the iron lock opening woke me up. I was on my feet before my eyes were even fully open. It was the Conan extra who had led us into the hall yesterday. His muscles were even bigger close up, but he looked a little haggard. I had no idea how long I’d slept, but Nicholas was out cold in his cell, didn’t even stir at the sound of the iron gate swinging open on rusty hinges. I might have tried to dart around the guard but he was big enough to block the entire space and, anyway, where would I go? Up the stairs into the main hall?

He placed a jug of water on the floor. “You should clean up.”

I frowned. “What? Why?” For some reason I thought his voice sounded familiar, but I was pretty sure I would have remembered him if I’d seen him before.

“It’s expected.”

“Well, you can take your—”

“Stay down,” he advised quietly. “And keep your mouth shut.”

Was he actually trying to help me? The apple he tossed me nearly hit me in the face. I caught it mostly by reflex. Then I realized why I recognized his voice. He was the vampire who’d come to the window of the farm house and offered his allegiance.

He straightened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. His expression went hard, blank. Two women came up behind him, not tattooed with the mark of Araksaka but not exactly friendly, either. They brought in a basket and a beautiful gown, all brocade and embroidered velvet with a square neckline and panniers and lace petticoats. It was burgundy with pale blue crystal beads and accents on the bodice and around the hem. The dress’s hanger was placed on a hook intended for iron chains and other methods of torture.

Now I was really confused.

That the basket was filled with a silver-backed hairbrush, a hand mirror, a square of lavender soap, and vials of perfume didn’t clear things up even a little.

“Um . . . what is all this stuff?”

The women eyed me critically.

“It should fit. The shoes look too small, you’ll have to go barefoot.”

“I’m supposed to wear that costume?” At any other time, I would have been thrilled to prance around in some old-fashioned gown dripping with ornamentation.

“You can’t very well attend a ball in those dirty things, can you?” She sneered at my pants. “It would be an insult to our queen.”

I felt staggered. I actually pressed a hand to my temple.

“Wait, it’s an actual ball? Waltzing and canapés and glass slippers?” My very first ball and it was in honor of a lunatic murderer and would likely end with a vampire killing me. And I had to dress up for the plea sure?

“Don’t get the dress dirty,” one of them said.

“Why not?”

“Lady Natasha would be . . . displeased.”

“This is totally surreal,” I muttered after they’d left me alone with my very own ball gown. There was a zipper up the side, so at least I wasn’t expected to contort myself around to do up my own laces. Hyacinth had always said the reason well-to-do ladies had maidservants was because none of the clothes were user- friendly. The gown was beautiful, embellished by hand, every minute detail perfectly done. And I didn’t want to wear it, not one bit. I edged back as if were dipped in poison.

Instead of using the water in the jug to wash with, I drank every drop. I was thirsty and hungry enough that my stomach cramped around the apple I ate. I paced a while because I literally had no idea what else to do with myself. This was the last situation I’d ever expected to be in. I was at a complete loss.

“Nicholas,” I called out. He was on his back, still as stone. “Nicholas,” I tried again. Nothing. Not a flicker of an eyelash. I gave up and went back to pacing. After an hour of pacing, my calves were sore and I was feeling dizzy. I used the chamber pot, while I knew Nicholas was still asleep, and then decided to put the dress on when I realized that if the guards came down and I was still in Solange’s cargos, they’d likely strip me down themselves. A white cotton slip dress went on first, followed by the panniers, which were basically two baskets hanging on a wide leather belt that went around my waist. It felt weird and bulky. The dress went on top and was heavier than it looked. The fabric was stiff and tight enough that I had no choice but to stand up straight. There was a blue velvet choker. I wished I still had the Drake family cameo; I’d attach it out of spite.

And it might give me courage.

Because I talked a good game, but the truth was, my knees were weak as water and I felt sick to my stomach. Panic was stealthy and it hunted me on soft, silent feet, not quite closing in but never going away, either.

So when Conan returned, I really thought that I was hallucinating.

Kieran was thrown into Nicholas’s cell, his face bloody and bruised, his left arm hugged to his chest as if it was broken. But what really caught my attention was the body draped over Conan’s huge arms, gently placed on the pallet beside me.

Solange.