“You’re going to listen to these people?”

“Yes, I am.” She paused. “For the moment.”

Denton did not challenge her.

“All right, Ms. Vitt,” St. Benedict said. “You have one opportunity to explain yourself.”

I reached down and removed the bottle. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

“I know nothing about you.”

I removed the cork, inhaled, then replaced it, handing the bottle to her.

“Time for us both to learn.”

Chapter 16

Helians lies on the bed, bleeding from his wounds.

They’re severe. Life threatening.

Beyond my skills.

The battle is over and men are dead from both sides. Many more are injured. Kaz survived with barely a scratch. He’s busy securing my fortress. I can only imagine what he’s thinking. His plan to expose me as a witch and return my home to Arturius, hopefully garnering many favors in return.

I find a vial off the shelf, open it, then wet my fingers with its contents. I rub them over Helians’ busted lips, then on the wounds that are still bleeding. Almost immediately the blood thickens and stops flowing. His face is deathly pale, but slowly color returns to his whitened cheeks.

My home remains under siege.

I have to stop Kaz.

I step back to my workshop and find my potion box. I remove three bottles, set them on the table, and mix the ingredients. One drop is strong. Five drops could easily cause a man to black out. More? Hard to say what will happen.

How will I get Kaz to take it?

I smile.

That is easy.

* * *

I find him with a few of his men. I bow to no man, but now I bow to him. “I fear your brother has passed on, Lord Kaz.”

I bob my head in further deference.

“He never should have stood against me,” he says.

I raise my head. “You speak the truth, my Lord. But I am a naïve woman, incapable of accomplishing much without the guidance of a man. With my apologies, I’ve brought a draught so we may drink to peace and the open surrender of my home to you.”

He laughs. “You think me a fool, witch? I know of your potions. I’ll be glad to accept a drink in peace and surrender, provided you drink first.”

I motion and one of the servants brings a tray with wine and two goblets. Both are filled and I gesture that the choice is his. He smiles and selects one, which he hands to me. I take a long sip and swallow. “I’m not afraid of this ambrosia, my Lord. You have won your prize, I concede that. You are the victor this day.”

I sip more wine and bow my head again.

Kaz lifts the second goblet. “To my brother. May his dishonor be wiped from his soul as he ascends to be judged by the Lord Almighty.”

He brings the edge of the silver rim to his lips and drinks.

“Send your men away, my Lord. They are no longer required here. You not only have command of this fortress, but its lady as well.” I toss him a smile. “I give myself to the victor.”

He gets the message. “Are you offering yourself willingly?”

I nod. “I am in awe of your power and strength. I cannot help but do what is proper and give myself to you, as victor.”

I watch, confident what this weak, vain soul will do.

And he does not disappoint me.

He dismisses his men, sending them back outside the walls. I gesture, then lead him to my bedchamber and refill his goblet. He begins to remove his breastplate. I offer him the wine, which he refuses.

“I’ll take yours.”

I smile. “As you wish, my Lord.”

Though his mind screams caution, his eyes are full of lust. He wants me, and desire is the killer of reason. He takes my goblet and downs the contents in one swallow. I step to the bed, suggesting that he should finish undressing. He removes more of his armor. His face and chest are covered in sweat, his long hair matted with blood to his head.

“I have a bath ready for you,” I tell him.

“That would be welcomed.” He pauses. “Before I take you.”

He continues to undress. I find myself admiring his strong, virile body. Similar to Helians and, if only physical appearance defined a man, Kaz would be a worthy specimen.

“Why don’t you undress,” he says.

“I will, my Lord. After your bath.”

He smiles, standing there naked, proud of himself. I take his hand and lead him into the adjacent room where the warm water awaits. With no hesitation, he climbs into the tub and settles into the steaming liquid. Some of it spills over to the floor.

“Why don’t you join me?” he says.

I walk around behind him and begin to massage his shoulders. The muscles are knotted, firm and tight, like hemp. He angles his head back, eyes closed. His breath deepens to long, full inhales. He is relaxing. Some of it voluntary, most thanks to the ingredients I’d added to the bath, knowing that they would seep through the skin and work their way straight to his head.

And they are.

His head droops to one side.

I make sure that it stays above the water, then I leave the room, hastening to Helians. He lies still where I left him. He will not last much longer. I sit on the edge of the bed and cradle his head in my lap.

“I’ve avenged you,” I tell him.

“Did . . . you kill him?”

Tears form in my eyes. “No, my love. My promise was kept.”

His hand caresses my arm. I hold him closer. I will truly miss this man.

“With soft gray eyes she gloomed . . . and glowered. With soft red lips . . . she sang a song. What man . . . might gaze upon her face . . . nor fare along.”

I’m amazed. This man of fight and violence, citing poetry?

“I wrote it . . . for you, my love,” he says. “A poem of . . . how . . . I feel.”

“Is there more?”

“But when Morgan . . . with lifted hand, moved down the hall . . . they louted low. For she was Queen of Shadowland . . . that woman of snow.”

He stares up at me.

“You are . . . a goddess. I’ll wait for you . . . Morgan,” he says with a ragged breath.

“Do you believe in the goddess?” I ask, surprised.

I know Helians had been brought up to believe in a wrathful, Christian god, not in the idea that we pass from this life to another and another until we’ve accomplished all that it is our fate to achieve.

“I haven’t been yours for these . . . past moons without . . . picking up some of your beliefs.” He raises a hand and pushes my curls up behind my ear so he can look straight into my face. “You have given me . . . much joy, as I hope . . . I have you. As I hope . . . we will again.”

I lean down and press my lips to his. A terrible darkness swallows me. My eyes feel the unaccustomed dampness of heavy grief. I keep him in my arms until he is no longer breathing, then I weep even more. The only man who means something to me is gone. I lay his head back on the bed and stand.

“Goodbye, my love.”

I walk back to the bath, where Kaz still lies in the warm water. I cup some of it in my hands and splash it to his face. He rouses, blinks the moisture from his eyes, and focuses on me.

“Do I know you?” he says.

Chapter 17

I awoke.

A stale, poisonous taste had settled in my mouth. Surprisingly, little fear lingered from the experience, only a pause, a sense of relief and understanding, my mind a blur of questions.

Madame St. Benedict was bent over me, concern in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

My mind returned to the present, though thoughts from the past lingered. “How long have I been out?”

“Ten minutes.”

Antoine stood a few feet away, Denton beside him.

I pushed myself up from the carpet.

“Where were you?” St. Benedict asked.

“Back a long time ago.”

“You don

’t actually believe anything this woman says?” Denton asked. “She’s clearly delusional from what she smelled.”

“What’s a long time ago?” St. Benedict asks, ignoring her aide.

Tags: Steve Berry Cassiopeia Vitt Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net