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Index
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Rosalind sank into a deep curtsy. “You remember me,
Your Majesty?”
“How could I forget? You had the most charming singing voice I have ever heard and the sweetness of disposition to go with it.”
“Sweet as a country bumpkin or a freshly picked turnip.”
The queen looked up sharply at the whispered interjection, and Rosalind felt herself blushing. One of the dark- haired Spanish women clustered around the queen barely bothered to conceal her laughter behind her fingers.
“Hardly a country bumpkin, Lady Celia. Rosalind was born at court and lived here for the first fourteen years of her life. She only returned home to nurse her mother through her final illness.” The queen smiled gently.
“Isn’t that so, my dear?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I— ”
Rosalind stiffened and slowly inhaled. She could sense the presence of the undead in the room, the scent of stolen blood, the peculiar dry aroma left by an animated corpse. She studied Queen Katherine closely to make sure that the scent of Vampire was not coming from her. It never hurt to be cautious, and she hadn’t been close to the queen for several years.
She forced her attention back to the queen and smiled. “In truth I could probably find my way around these halls blindfolded.”
“That skill might be useful if the king decides to hold one of his wild masques.” The queen nodded at Sir Richard. “Please ask the king if he can see Lady Rosalind today and give his formal approval of her appointment to my household. I don’t think he’ll object,” she said to Rosalind. “Your family has always served us well. Lady Clarence will find you a bed for tonight, but until then, reintroduce yourself to my ladies and take your ease.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Rosalind had always loved Queen Katherine and had no intention of deserting her now, even if— especially if— the rumors were true and she had lost favor with the king because she had failed to produce a male child. She’d always been a most gracious and kind friend to Rosalind.
“Oh my goodness, Rosalind, it is so good to see you again!”
Rosalind turned and found herself in a warm embrace. She enthusiastically reciprocated. “Margaret, how are you?”
“I am well.” Margaret Sinclair tilted her head to one side and studied Rosalind critically. “You have grown into a beauty.”
“Hardly.” Rosalind shrugged. “I’ve just grown.”
She’d known Margaret since they were five years old, when her friend had been made a ward of the king’s court to protect her considerable inheritance. They had been inseparable until Rosalind’s abrupt departure five years previously.
“And how is married life?” Rosalind asked. Margaret was glowing, her blond hair concealed beneath a French hood while her ample bosom was displayed above her silver and blue bodice.
Margaret’s smile widened. “I am very happy. Robert is an excellent husband.” She blushed. “We are expecting a child in the summer.”
Rosalind took Margaret’s hands and squeezed them hard. “That is wonderful news. I am truly happy for you.”
Margaret led her away from the queen and toward the quietest corner of the room. “You aren’t married yet, then? Is that why your grandfather sent you back to court, to find a husband?”
“Perhaps. But you know how difficult I am to please.”
Rosalind tried to keep smiling. At almost twenty, she was already considered far too old to be unwed. It didn’t bother her; she had important secrets to conceal, a monarchy to protect, and many dangers to face. Somehow she suspected a conventional husband would not approve of any of that.
Margaret gave her an encouraging pat. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Several of the gentlemen present looked very pleased to see you when you arrived.”
“Only because I am an untried delicacy.”
“You are so distrustful, Rosalind. Show a man a pleasant face and a willing disposition and you will find your love match in no time.”
“But I am not willing,” Rosalind grumbled, and Margaret laughed. It occurred to Rosalind that if she wanted to conceal the real reason for her attendance at court, she would at least have to entertain the idea of encouraging a few suitors.
There was a disturbance around the queen and Margaret looked up. “I have to go and attend Her Majesty. She will no doubt be taking a stroll in the gardens. Would you like to come or will you rest from your journey?”
“If the queen permits, I think I’ll remain here and accustom myself to her apartments again.”
“That is an excellent idea. I’ll ask the queen.”
A few moments later, the queen’s court streamed out into the pale sunlight chattering and laughing, leaving Rosalind alone in the pleasant receiving room. She picked up the altar cloth the queen had been embroidering, folded it carefully, and set it back on the stool along with the tangle of silks.
To her relief, the faint scent of Vampire had disappeared with the exodus of the queen’s court. She had no idea yet whether the threat came from a male or a female. To her delicate and well- trained nose, there was a slight difference in the odor. Females smelled more like plants, the males like animals. Unfortunately, experienced Vampires could conceal their scent among the overperfumed and underwashed bodies of the court. It would take her some time to sift through the courtiers and discover exactly who was threatening the king and queen. She could only hope she found the culprit before any damage was done.
With a sigh, Rosalind wandered through the large suite of rooms, but there was no further evidence of Vampire occupation. She paused in the queen’s bedchamber and closed her eyes. How close had this Vampire gotten to the queen? If she was a trusted member of the household, she might have been the last thing the queen saw at night before she slept. The last thing the queen ever saw . . .
“What are you doing in here?”
Rosalind blinked and swung around to see a tall young man dressed entirely in black leaning against the door. His crow black hair matched his tightly trimmed beard and he had the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.
“You startled me, sir.” Rosalind advanced toward him, but he didn’t move away from the door.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “And you should?”
He blinked as if taken aback by her boldness and his amiable expression disappeared. She guessed he was too used to dealing with the simpering maidens of the court to tolerate a direct challenge from a woman.
“In fact, yes. I’m a member of the queen’s household and I’m sworn to protect her.” He studied her from the tip of her French hood down to her feet. “You, however, are a stranger.”
“To you, perhaps, but not to the court or the queen.” She marched right up to him. “Excuse me, sir.”
His hand shot out and he gently grasped her elbow.
“Not before I know your name and your reason for being here.”
Rosalind gave an exaggerated sigh. “Now you are being ridiculous. If you let go of me, perhaps I won’t embarrass you in front of the queen by insisting on an apology.”
Up close, she saw his skin was olive and that within his fine eyes lurked an intriguing strength of purpose that matched her own. He smelled of exotic spices and leather, not Vampire, for which she was profoundly grateful. Tangling with a Vampire without her weapons— and in the queen’s bedchamber in broad daylight— was hardly the way to begin her mission.
“Sir, the queen is in the gardens. If you insist on being difficult, why don’t we go and find her? Then you can make your apology and be done with it.”
“That’s an excellent idea.”
Rosalind met his gaze, her own unflinching. “Then let go of me.”
“Not until you tell me your name.” He inhaled slowly and his blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her face. As if he couldn’t help himself, he trailed his fingers along the line of her jaw, paused to feather his thumb over her lower lip.
“It must be Helen, because your beauty is unsurpassed.”
He leaned in closer until his lips almost brushed hers.
She resisted the urge to nip his thumb, instinct telling her that inviting him into her mouth wouldn’t be wise. Was he trying to intimidate her, or was he as intrigued by her as she was by him? She managed an unsteady breath. For some reason, his mere presence made it difficult for her to remember her own name, let alone why she was annoyed with him.
“Do you normally kiss any woman you find unprotected?”
His smile was an invitation to sin. “Only the pretty ones. Now tell me your name.”
“Why is it so important for you to know who I am?”
“So that I can couch my apology to you in an appropriately bject manner?”
She couldn’t help herself. Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “I am Lady Rosalind Llewellyn.”
He dropped her arm abruptly. “Llewellyn?”
“Indeed.”
He started to laugh, his teeth white and even against his tanned skin. “I don’t believe it.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
He bowed low and stepped away from the door. “Just that I was expecting someone far more . . . exciting.”
Rosalind glared at his handsome laughing face. “I do not excite you? In truth, I am relieved to hear that, as I find you rude, ignorant, and totally beneath my interest.”
His expression sobered. “Oh, you’ll find me of interest, my lady. I’m Sir Christopher Ellis. I’m sure your grandfather has spoken of my family.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Oh, but she did, and the thought was utterly terrifying. She fisted her hands within the folds of her gown.
“You are lying, Lady Rosalind. Your kind has lived in fear of mine for generations.”
“My kind?”
“You know what I mean, my lady.” He bowed again.
“But I’m not going to discuss it here.”
Her cheeks heated at the implication that she was naive enough to speak openly about her family’s secrets in the queen’s bedchamber. “You accosted me, sir. I was merely reacquainting myself with the queen’s domain, with her permission, of course.”
“Of course.” He stepped back and she forced herself to step past him calmly, without betraying her unease.
“How old are you?”
She should have kept walking, but found herself looking back over her shoulder to get one last glimpse of his long, elegant frame lounging in the doorway. “That’s none of your business.”
“True, but I was anticipating a challenge, a worthy competitor, and instead I get . . . a child.”
“Do you often kiss children?”
“I didn’t kiss you.” He slowly straightened. “Though you could sorely use it. And I think I might enjoy kissing you— if you weren’t a cursed Llewellyn.”
This time, Rosalind kept moving. When the occasion arose, she would enjoy shoving his mocking words down his throat. How dared he suggest she needed kissing? And how dared he underestimate her fighting skills? But that was the way of all men. As the first Druid female born with the mark of Awen, she had worked twice as hard to earn the respect of her teachers and her grandfather.
She reached the palace gardens and drew in great big gulps of fresh air. He might think himself superior to her and he might be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it made no difference. If it came down to a fight between her and Sir Christopher Ellis, she would win.
“The king will see you now.”
Rosalind entered the small private chamber, sank into a low, graceful curtsy, and held it, her gaze fixed on the dusty floorboards. “Your Majesty.”
“Lady Rosalind.”
King Henry took her hand and brought her upright. He towered over her, his chest twice the width of hers, his thighs in their tight brown hose as thick as her waist.
She blinked at his doublet, which was embroidered with golden thread and costly embedded jewels, and slowly raised her eyes to his face. Four years had changed him, had deepened the suspicion in his hooded eyes, pursed his small, petulant mouth, and added flesh to his once pure profile.
“According to my chief gentleman of the bedchamber, if the need arises, members of your family are always to be given immediate access to my presence. Why is that? I wonder.”
Henry led her across to the fireplace and then took possession of the only chair. Rosalind clasped her hands together and faced him.
“I believe it is because of the relationship between my grandfather, Lord John Llewellyn, and your father, the late king.”
“So I’ve been told.” The king’s keen gaze traveled over her, and she forced herself to look steadily back at him. “Lord John served my father faithfully and received many honors for his loyalty.”
“That is true, sire, and we are very grateful for your royal patronage.”
“I assume your grandfather wishes you to resume your duties at court and perhaps catch a husband this time, eh?”
Rosalind bit her lip. “He does, sire, but there is another reason.”
The king’s expression darkened and inwardly Rosalind winced. It was well known that King Henry considered himself intellectually superior to most men. The idea that a mere woman knew something he didn’t wouldn’t sit well.
“By your leave, Your Majesty.” She held out the sealed parchment her grandfather had given her. The king took it and turned it over.
“This is my father’s royal seal.”
“Yes, sire. King Henry wrote the letter and gave it to my grandfather for safekeeping.”
“But it is addressed to me.”
“Yes, sire.”
The king looked up. “Do you know what the letter says?”
“Some of it, sire, but not the exact words. As you can see, the seal is intact.”
The king slid the blade of his dagger under the seal, unfolded the parchment, and began to read. Rosalind tried to relax and watched as a bee banged endlessly against one of the tightly closed leaded windows. She itched to set it free, but she couldn’t move until the king finished reading the letter.
After a long while, the king lifted his head. “This is madness.”
“I know it seems a little unusual, sire, but— ”
“Unusual? This letter suggests that my father acquired his throne using sorcery.” His hand clenched around the parchment, crumpling it within his massive palm. “Is this an attempt to blackmail me?”
Rosalind swallowed hard. “No, sire. It is the truth written in your father’s own hand.”
“The hand of a lunatic, rather. God knows my father was many things, but he was as sane as you or I.” The king rose to his feet and started pacing the opulent room. “It must be a forgery.”
Rosalind gathered her courage. “Sire, it is the truth. I swear on the Bible.”
King Henry swung around to confront her and she forced herself not to cringe. “These creatures your family is supposed to protect me from, these Vampires. How is it that I’ve never seen one?”
“Because my grandfather protected your family so well.”
“A convenient answer, my lady, but hardly a convincing one.” The king started to pace again. “Is that why you have returned, then? To save me from these monsters?”
“Yes, sire.”
His laughter was meant to hurt and to humiliate. “You? How old are you, sixteen?”
Rosalind raised her chin.“I’m almost twenty, sire, and I’ve trained my entire life to protect you from the Vampire
threat.”
The king glared at her. “This is ridiculous, a fairy tale, an abomination perpetuated in my father’s holy memory.”
“It is the truth,” Rosalind repeated. “My own father died in this service.” She couldn’t fail her family now, couldn’t return to Wales and admit she’d been unable to convince the king to let her guard him. It had been difficult enough to persuade her father to train her as a Vampire slayer, being as she was a girl, and not the eldest son he had hoped and prayed for.
“If you don’t want to believe me, sire, will you at least let me stay at court?”
“To protect me?”
“If the need arises, yes.”
His biting sarcasm made her want to lower her eyes and concede defeat, but her cause was too important.
The king had no idea the havoc a nest of Vampires could create or how vulnerable he truly was. It was her job to ensure that he never did.
He held her gaze, his golden eyes so cold she suppressed a shiver. “And if I should suspect this is just an attempt to gain my trust and then assassinate me? It would be a simple enough matter to have your whole family executed.”
Rosalind tried to swallow. “That is true, sire. But your father swore an oath to protect my family, as we protect yours.” In desperation she glanced down at her left hand and pushed up her sleeve. “Do you remember your father having a mark like this on his wrist?”
The king leaned closer to look. “Yes, I believe he did,” he said grudgingly. “It says in the letter that the Druids marked him with the sign of Awen when he accepted their bargain.”
“That is correct, sire. My family has the same mark, although some of us are born with it.”
“This is madness. My father is dead. I am king now.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. But . . . are you prepared to risk his heavenly displeasure and the wrath of the Druids
if you break his sacred vow?”
The king glared down at her for a long endless moment. “You are a brave little thing, aren’t you?”
Rosalind lowered her eyes respectfully. “My grandfather describes me as headstrong and willful.”
“And he is right.” The king sighed. “I will read the letter again, and see if I can make any more sense of it.”
Rosalind took a step toward him. “If it pleases you, sire, the contents are for your eyes alone. No one else should know about this.”
“If it pleases me . . .’ You are an impertinent chit, aren’t you?”
“I am only trying to protect you, sire.” Despite the fact that her knees were shaking, Rosalind risked a hopeful smile. “And may I have your permission to stay at court?”
Henry nodded as he folded the letter and tucked it into a leather pouch hung around his waist. “You may attend the queen. I cannot have you following me around like a lost dog.”
She had no intention of doing otherwise. By all reports, the latest Vampire threat came from within the aging queen’s court. “I understand, sire, but if you ever have need of me, please do not hesitate to let me know.”
The king laughed, his good humor apparently restored. “In case one of those creatures you supposedly hunt jumps out at me?”
Rosalind’s tentative smile died. “If one of the Vampires gets that close, it would probably be too late to save you, sire.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “That dangerous, aye?”
“Indeed, sire.” She knew he was humoring her, but there was nothing she could do about it. She could only hope that when the time came, she would be able to protect him.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She curtsied low and backed out of the room, leaving him staring after her. She stumbled into the anteroom and let out her breath. A hundred pairs of eyes studied her, assessed the success of her meeting with the king, and gauged his mood from hers.
With a gracious smile, she nodded at Sir Richard and walked out into the palace gardens. Her knees suddenly gave way and she sank onto the nearest bench with an audible thump. The king was even more formidable than she remembered, his power palpable and his threat to destroy her all too real.
She shivered at the thought of her grandfather and younger siblings rotting in jail or, even worse, facing execution. Would the king become more amenable when he read the letter again, or would he rescind his permission for her to reside at court?
Rosalind’s heart fluttered against the stiff brocade of her bodice and she concentrated on slowing her breath. She had to find Rhys, tell him what had happened with the king, and, even more important, reveal the unexpected presence of one of her family’s most deadly enemies.
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
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