Belmary House Book Three (19 page)

“Please accompany us, Konstantin Povest,” one of them said dully.

“Your grandmother wishes an audience,” the other one told him.

It was to be at her cottage instead of the council chamber and as soon as they made their way in that direction, he began to feel the fear. How many days would he lose inside that house of horrors this time? No one knew where he was going. He might never be seen again. He recalled his cousin’s words during their journey, back when there had still been lovely ignorant hope. Would he let them hang him upside down like a pig and drain him?

As they trudged along, he lost himself in thoughts of Serena. He found it difficult to recall the pale golden shade of her hair, how each strand seemed different, some as white as cornsilk and others almost tawny bronze. Her blue eyes— he knew the exact hour of the morning when they matched the sky, but it was only a distant memory. He’d never see her again.

Even this place, the village he’d grown up in, the surrounding fields and forest— he cast his head around, trying to take everything in, trying to remember. Knowing he might never see the light of day again, he tilted his face to the weak morning sun and committed the feel of it against his cheeks to memory. He had to at least save Serena. That had been his goal in coming here, nothing else. He’d been blinded by a dream, but he was awake now.

The pleasant, welcoming glow surrounded him as soon as they were beyond the long stretch of vibrantly blooming rose bushes. He smiled at the guards, struggling to recall why they had pity in their cold eyes.

It didn’t matter, he decided. Perhaps it was better to give in and let his will be washed away, as there was no use in fighting.

The same little girl with golden hair served him a tray of tea and tiny cakes, and as she hid her face behind her hair, he saw with a shock that it was the same color as Serena’s that he’d been trying so hard to remember. As soon as he realized, the welcoming glow disappeared and he was left with his fear.

Was Grandmother toying with him? He drank the tea and ate cake after cake, hoping to lapse back into blissful oblivion, but it was only plain refreshment. He was to have his wits about him then, to be given no quarter.

He didn’t know how long he sat there and he gave up trying to mark the time. It could have been hours, or it could have been several days that passed when a side door opened creakily. He jerked to attention, a half eaten cake in his hand, and smiled at the ominous sound. Always with an eye to the details, his grandmother.

“What have you learned, stupid boy?” she asked, directly in front of him.

He saw in her withered hands she held a hank of golden blonde hair and he dropped to his knees. She laughed and patted his head, causing a chill to travel from the spot she touched, so cold it made his bones ache.

“I beg forgiveness, Grandmother,” he said, staring at her feet.

He noticed other feet behind her and risked a glance. The five council members stood behind her, in a neat and forbidding row. One coughed theatrically, while another joined his grandmother in her soft laughter.

“To try and take advantage of the weak and old,” one of them said.

“Such a pity,” another said, and the others murmured their agreement. “Doesn’t he look tired?”

***

He woke in a stone walled room, his back and legs stiff from lying on the thin layer of straw spread out on the floor. There was no window and no candle, but a sickening light emanated throughout the room, just enough to show him his depressing surroundings. He didn’t feel hungry, but didn’t want to assume that was a sign that he hadn’t been there long. For all he knew an entire generation had been born and grown while he slept.

“I’m awake,” he said dully. He heard several locks being opened before his grandmother stepped into his cell, daintily holding up her yellow silk skirts. She tapped her toe and waited silently. “I’ll do whatever you say,” he said.

“There was never a doubt of that,” she told him, nudging him to stand up. “Have some dignity, Konstantin.”

His joints cracked as he unfolded himself off the floor, the damp and cold seeming a part of him. “There was never a doubt, Grandmother,” he said. “I’m assured of that now. But wouldn’t it make it easier for you if I submit?”

She circled him, making him dizzy enough to close his eyes. “You were always such a difficult one,” she sighed. “Like your parents equally. I never should have agreed to the match, but you were useful until you let your wife run roughshod over you.”

“I only wanted her happiness,” he said. “She was stronger than me, anyway.”

She tutted. “Nonsense. You never tried. You have no idea what you’re capable of.”

Did she sound almost proud of him? Taking a good look around the dank room, he suppressed a shudder. He didn’t want to be here when she removed the light.

“I beg pardon for my ignorance, then,” he said. “I’ll endeavor to be less burdensome. I am truly sorry for everything that happened with Camilla.” That at least was the truth.

The room grew colder as she contemplated him. He kept his eyes down, concentrating on a feather and flower pin she wore on her left shoulder. “I wonder if you can be less of a burden. Perhaps you can be helpful? Valuable?” She grunted, rolling her shoulders as if uncomfortable. “It’s terrible in here, is it not? Not even a chair for a guest to sit in.”

“I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t know I’d be receiving guests.”

He expected something to happen to him for that crack, and when nothing did, he realized his grandmother was done wasting her energy on him. He’d simply be left to rot while she continued to utilize his powers as she’d done all those years he’d thought he was free in Scotland. He looked at the ribbon wrapped lock of hair she twisted in her clawlike fingers and pushed his bitterness aside.

It wasn’t about him anymore. He had to save Serena and the baby. “I hope I can be valuable,” he said, each word burning his throat, but sounding perfectly sincere. As long as she agreed to what he wanted, he meant it.

“Time will tell, Konstantin. Time will tell. Our bloodline has ruled this coven for a thousand years,” she said, crossing her arms. “Unfortunately, you’re my last hope to carry on. Your cousin is completely useless, and all the rest are gone.”

He shoved down the anger on Sorin’s behalf, and marveled that she could stand there complaining about her lack of heirs, when she had been the one to kill them all. One by one, she’d erased them for going against her until it was down to him, the runaway, and Sorin, the hapless cripple. He prayed Sorin would find it in himself to continue fighting her.

“I’m not worthy to lead,” he said.

“Of course you’re not,” she snapped. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I have plenty of life left in me.”

Life you steal from others, he thought before he could stop it, thinking she’d punish him immediately, and leave him alone before he could attempt to negotiate. Nothing happened and he chanced a look at her face, which remained slightly irritated, but if she’d sensed his mutinous thought, she gave no sign of it. He didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief and quietly held his breath along with his tongue, waiting for her to continue.

“You said earlier you could make it easier on me if you submitted, did you not?” she asked, snaking out her hand to grip his jaw. “But you know that’s not necessary. I’m well acquainted with difficulties, my dear.” He nodded as best he could, feeling a glimmer of hope. She was being roundabout, which meant she did need something, or at least wanted something, from him. “Didn’t you really mean you wanted to make things easier on yourself?” She smiled indulgently as if she thought he was cute.

“Yes, Grandmother,” he said.

She released his jaw and snapped her fingers. “That’s all I ever wanted, Konstantin. A good child.”

“I can be that,” he said, hope growing. He bowed. “I am that. If you’ll give me the chance.”

“It’s your last, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

She looked around again and the light faded. He fearfully clutched for the wall before it went pitch black, but the light returned almost immediately, and two comfortable chairs stood before them. She sat in one and gathered her voluminous skirts around her, motioning for him to take the other.

“Free me from my curse,” he said before his backside had fully touched the plush cushion.

“Perhaps one day, dear,” she said.

“Suspend it then, for—”

“Serena,” she finished slyly. “Pretty girl. A bit old to be having her first child.”

“I’ll never see her again. I won’t return to Scotland. It will be as if the child isn’t mine.”

“Those first two things go without saying,” she said, leaning forward to peer at him. “And the child is yours, and is already promising to be quite strong. I did regret seeing Lucy go, she had some fine potential.”

Rage engulfed him at hearing her so flippantly speak his daughter’s name. Vivid images of her played out in his mind, so real he thought he could reach out and straighten the bow in her hair, wipe a smudge from her smiling face as she ran up to greet him after racing around the grounds and hiding in the shrubbery to spy on birds. It could only be his grandmother’s doing, conjuring those memories to torment him.

He wanted to rip her foul tongue from her mouth to prevent her from ever cursing anyone again. It curdled his stomach to hear her say she regretted what she herself had brought about. The cold air around him became heated as she waited for him to get control of himself. Lucy was gone, there was nothing he could do for her now, but he could try to save this next one. Perhaps his darling girl could forgive him if he did that.

“Then bring it here when it’s of age,” he said recklessly, thinking to let the future sort itself. He had to assure the child wouldn’t die due to his curse first and foremost, and pray for forgiveness later for whatever life he destined it to. “Serena doesn’t know anything. Let her be.”

“I’ve been pretending not to know about your little coup attempt in order to save your pride. I have nothing to fear from that wicked boy, but Sorin is bothersome to me. If you take care of him, I’ll release the young woman from your curse. We can discuss what happens to the child after it’s born and I assess its abilities.”

Kostya felt tears spring to his eyes. First from gratitude that Serena and the baby would live, next at having to betray his cousin. He shook his head and slid off the chair to his knees, clasping his hands in front of him.

“I beg you. Not that.”

“I’ll need a show of faith, Konstantin, and I can’t have someone sowing seeds of dissent in my coven.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and she looked at him with contempt for what she perceived as his weakness. He wondered if she had ever loved anyone.

“Why didn’t you just take him in the purge?” he asked pathetically.

“Because then you couldn’t do it,” she told him. “Get up and make your decision.”

He stood up and wiped his eyes. His hope was gone. He didn’t believe her to keep her word, and feared he’d lose everyone again. He had no choice but to try.

“I’ll take care of Sorin,” he said, his voice breaking on his cousin’s name.

“Let’s get you out of this awful place, then,” she said briskly.

***

Kostya awoke once again, this time in his old cottage. It was now fully furnished with fine bedding, luxurious chairs and a settee, and plenty of firewood. It seemed he was being treated like the crown prince already, without even having to earn his throne. The new, carved oak table was set with fresh hot bread and a pot of soup bubbled over the fire. Weak with hunger, he ate every bite as if it was his last meal. He knew he wouldn’t be allowed much time, and he’d end up back in the bleak cell if he didn’t keep his word to his grandmother.

When he finished eating, he sat in his newly appointed rocking chair, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders, wondering what he had done that he should have to kill everyone he loved. Even as he felt the weight of his grandmother’s impatience weighing on him, he couldn’t make himself leave the cottage. On the third day, food stopped appearing on the table whenever he woke up, and on the fourth, a harsh knock sounded at his door.

He eased himself from the rocking chair, surprised he hadn’t become rooted to it, expecting one of the guards. He swung the door open, foolishly trying to slam it shut again when he saw who stood on the threshold.

“I knew it,” Sorin said, happily clapping him on the shoulder. “I had this overwhelming feeling you’d be back. Did she just free you? It’s been days.”

Kostya stuck out his foot to keep Sorin from entering, wanting to throttle his cousin for his foolishness. His trust. Not noticing he wasn’t wanted, Sorin barreled past him, whistling low when he saw the new furnishings. Kostya’s stomach sank when he saw the table was freshly laid with food again. A true last meal this time.

“What did you do?” Sorin asked quietly, breaking Kostya’s heart.

He wouldn’t suspect until the last moment, when it was too late. If only he could tell him what he’d promised their grandmother so he could fight or flee, but the words dried up in his throat, gagging him.

“I’m to be the heir apparent, do whatever she says,” was all he managed.