Blood of the Rose (26 page)

“That is true,” Rosalind answered. “But wouldn’t you like to hear what we have to say first? We have a bargain to offer you.”

Anne strolled closer. “What could you possibly offer me? I have everything a woman wants and more.” She fixed her gaze on Rhys and licked her lips.

“Everything?” Rosalind moved in front of Rhys, giving him the opportunity to palm his dagger. “I agree that you have succeeded magnificently, but how safe are you? Isn’t there anything else you desire?”

Anne tossed her head. “The king has already agreed to get rid of his old Spanish wife and marry me. I will be queen of this land.”

“And as queen, your duty will be to give the king what he wants most in life—an heir.”

Anne’s triumphant expression disappeared and her black eyes narrowed. “So?”

Rhys spoke for the first time. “With all due respect, my lady, you are a Vampire of great age, and we all know that it isn’t easy for Vampires to breed.”

“How dare you presume that you know anything about me at all?”

“As your enemies, it is in our best interests to discover your weaknesses.”

“The king is young and healthy. He will get me with child within a month.” Anne snapped her fingers in Rosalind’s face.

“Getting you with child is not the issue, is it? Queen Katherine’s womb quickened many times with the king’s seed, but only the princess Mary survived.”

“That is because she was married to him under false pretenses and against the holy dictates of the Church.” Anne resumed her seat and smiled up at them as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You may choose to gamble on that, but we are offering you the certainty of a living, breathing child,” Rosalind answered.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you can do something for us in return.”

Anne stared at Rosalind for a long moment. “This is preposterous. Why should I even listen to you, let alone trust you?”

“You don’t need to trust us. All you have to do is agree to our bargain. We will give you what you want, and you will give us the same.”

“And what exactly
do
you want, Lady Rosalind?” Anne’s foot beat a rapid tattoo against the leg of her chair.

“In return for offering you the means to give the king an heir, you will not turn the king into a Vampire or allow the Vampire Council to subjugate the rest of the population.”

“What the Vampire Council intends to do is scarcely my concern, is it?”

Rosalind affected surprise. “You intend to rule with the Vampire Council dictating your every command? They are extremely unlikely to allow you, a mere woman, to actually govern the kingdom.”

Anne stopped fidgeting. “I will be queen.”

Rosalind stepped forward. “But once you have turned the king, you become expendable. What is to stop the Council from killing you and ruling the kingdom themselves? If you hold on to the king with your own powers, and give him a son, the Council will not be able to undermine you, and you won’t be dependent on them at all. Everyone in the nation will be subservient to you.”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “And for helping me to achieve all this, all you want is for the king to remain human?”

“It is enough for us,” Rhys replied quietly. “A life for a life. A human male to give you as many children as you wish. Surely that is fair?”

“How could you possibly help me conceive a child? Not that I’m saying I want one.”

Rosalind tried not to let her impatience show. “Druids and Vampires share a common ancestry. Our Elders have given us fertility magic to ensure you breed.”

“Druid magic?” Anne stood up, her color high, her hands clasped tightly together as she paced the strip of carpet that covered the wooden floor. “I would be a fool to take it. You mean to try to poison me, no doubt.”

Rosalind glanced at Rhys and they both bowed. “Mayhap you could think about it, my lady. The magic is strongest when the new moon appears, which will be in three days’ time. You could give us your answer by then.”

As Anne flicked a hand in dismissal and continued to pace, they backed toward the door and finally escaped. Rosalind let out her breath.

“Well, at least she heard us out and didn’t kill us.”

“Aye.” Rhys’s answering grin was full of relief as they headed out into the warm sunshine. “Let’s find Lord Ellis and tell him the good news.”

Christopher dismounted from his horse and turned to see his manservant, Roper, bearing down on him, his expression as disapproving as ever.

“What is it, Roper?” Christopher asked as he loosened the girth and gathered the reins in his hand.

“Message for you, my lord.” Roper extended his grimy hand to reveal a piece of parchment sealed with red wax in the shape of a bull’s head.

“Thank you, Roper. Who delivered the note to you?”

Roper sniffed. “It was that big man, the one who likes to frown at everyone. Sir Marcus Flavian, I think.”

“Ah.” Christopher stopped to look at Roper. “Do you have a family, Roper?”

“Not really, sir.”

“Nobody you intend to spend your old age with?”

“Not apart from you, sir.” Roper looked suspicious. “Why are you asking me these things? Are you planning on turning me off to starve?”

“Not at all, Roper. I’m just trying to ascertain how content you are in my service.”

He had no intention of telling Roper that in reality he was thinking about his own death and what would happen to his faithful, if gloomy, manservant. Perhaps he could ask Elias or his uncle to find Roper a new position. Christopher sighed. It was the only option. Roper would hardly take advice from two Druids like Rhys and Rosalind.

“I’m expecting Master Warner to meet me here. If you see him, will you send him to the stables?”

“Aye, if I must.” Roper grunted, folded his arms, and leaned back against the wall, a piece of straw dangling from his pudgy lower lip.

Christopher walked his horse through into the main stable yard and handed him over to one of the palace grooms. He strolled around to the rear of the stables, where he was assured of more privacy. With that taken care of, his focus shifted to the note Roper had given him. He used the tip of his dagger to break through the thick seal. The only words were a date and time a week hence. There was no signature to what he knew was his death warrant.

With a soft curse, Christopher folded up the letter and stared out over the pristine pastureland. Heat shimmered in the air, turning the distant cornfields into golden, swaying motion. A warm breeze brought the scents of summer toward him and he breathed them in. He sat on one of the straw bales and contemplated the beauty around him.

Despondency settled low in his gut and for the first time he allowed himself to face the real possibility of his death. The scrap of parchment he’d retrieved from Brother Samuel’s hand had given him no real clue as to what the monk had wanted to tell him. He fumbled with the catch of his leather pouch and tried to stuff the letter from the Mithras Cult inside.

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see Elias Warner bending to pick something up.

“Is this yours, my lord?” Elias held up the piece of bloodied parchment that had somehow fallen out of Christopher’s pouch. “It smells of death.”

Christopher recognized the paper and went to snatch it back. Elias held on to it, his expression curious. “What exactly do I have here that is so important?” He bent his head to examine the tiny script. “This is part of an ancient text. Why is it in your possession?”

Christopher squinted up at Elias, who was standing with his back to the sun. He couldn’t tell Rhys or Rosalind about his maneuverings with the Mithras Cult, but it was time to confide in someone.

“I ripped it from a dead man’s fingers.”

“A man you killed?”

“No, a monk I suspect was murdered because of me.”

“Ah.” Elias contemplated the crumpled scrap. “That makes things a lot more complicated. Where is the rest of this?”

“Not where it is supposed to be.”

“You stole it?”

Christopher scowled at Elias. “Why do you always assume the worst of me? I didn’t take it. It was already gone. All that was left was this piece.”

“Which I assume is not much help to you.”

“Exactly.” Christopher contemplated the scenery for another long moment. “Elias, if things should become . . . complicated . . . would you be prepared to aid me?”

“In what way?”

“Would you make sure that Rosalind and Rhys stay alive?”

There was such a long silence that Christopher was forced to turn and look at Elias.

“Do you fear that Anne will kill you, then?”

Christopher forced a laugh. “Not Anne.”

“Then who?”

“The Mithras Cult. I’m sure you know of them.”

“I assume they do not approve of your alliance with Lady Rosalind.”

“They do not.”

“And even a man of your great wit and charm cannot change their minds?”

“Not with my uncle heading the prosecution.”

“But I heard his leadership was challenged.” Elias frowned. “Verily, I assumed it was your doing.”

Christopher shrugged. “I had a hand in it, but it is Marcus Flavian who is challenging him, not me. Since I refused to kill Druids indiscriminately, I no longer have full voting rights.”

“Yet they can use the full force of their law against you.”

“Indeed, my uncle is a very clever man.”

Elias sat back. “This document, what were you hoping it would tell you?”

“I’m not sure.” Christopher’s shoulders slumped. “Something to help me defend myself against the court in some way.”

Elias stood up and smiled. “In the event of your death, I will make sure that Master Williams and Lady Rosalind are safe. If necessary, I will forcibly remove them from the court.”

Christopher rose and held out his hand, which Elias took. “I appreciate that. I know it cannot sit well to protect Vampire slayers.”

“I have developed a strange fondness for both of them.” For a moment, Elias looked quite human. “It is most worrisome.” He glanced over Christopher’s shoulder. “Ah, I see Lady Rosalind and her faithful groom approaching now.”

“Don’t say anything to her about what I have asked.”

Elias raised an eyebrow. “But surely she should know to come to me if any ill befalls you?”

Christopher forced a smile for the rapidly approaching pair. Rosalind was wearing a new gown of dark green and brown that made her skin glow. “She doesn’t know about the threat to my life.”

“How is that possible?”

“Because I haven’t mentioned it to her.”

Elias slowly shook his head. “You are a fool, my lord.”

“A fool who doesn’t have time to discuss his failings at this precise moment.”

Elias nodded. “All right, my lord. I’ll keep this to myself.”

“Thank you.” Christopher raised his hand in greeting to Rosalind and Rhys. “How went your meeting with the Lady Anne?”

Rhys grinned. “Well, we’re both still here, aren’t we?”

“Did she accept?”

“Not exactly,” Rosalind said. “We gave her three days to think it over.”

“Three days?”

“The charm will work best on the night of the new moon, which is in three days’ time.” Rosalind smiled at Christopher and he drank in the sight of her warm brown eyes and her luscious red mouth. “I think she will agree.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Rhys. “But then I’m not a female.”

Christopher took Rosalind’s hand and kissed it. “Let’s hope that Rosalind is right. We could do with some good news.” Only three days before the potential fate of the nation might be decided. Only seven days left for him to live. At least he would get to see the downfall of the Boleyns. That would count for something. He realized he was still holding Rosalind’s hand and squeezed it tight.

Rosalind looked up at him. “Are you all right, Christopher?”

“I am very well, my lady.” He released her and turned back to Elias, who was watching Rosalind intently, a frown marring his usually unlined brow. “Perhaps, Elias, you could use your influence with Anne to sway her toward our cause.”

“Time has proved that I have very little influence with her.” Elias’s smile grew. “But if I stoke the flames correctly in George’s presence, his refusal to take the proposal seriously might push Anne the other way. And I would quite enjoy seeing George in a rage.”

Christopher smiled as Elias took his leave. He could only hope that Elias would keep his promise to look after Rosalind and Rhys. It was strange that in his whole life, the three people he trusted most were a Vampire and two Druids. It was too late for him to get to know his half sister, far too late . . .

He realized Rosalind was talking to him, and tried to listen. Her hope for the future was both balm and poison to his spirit. He so wanted to share her optimism, but with a death sentence hanging over him, he couldn’t quite enjoy the moment. Finally she gave him a poke and said, “Do you still not approve?”

“Of what?” he asked.

Rosalind rolled her eyes. “Have you been listening to me at all?”

“I’ve been trying to.”

Behind her, Rhys made a noise, and Rosalind rounded sharply on him. “Are you laughing at me as well?”

Rhys bowed. “Not at all, my lady. I just wanted to remind you that you are performing in the king’s masque at dinner, and you are supposed to go and rehearse.”

After another suspicious glare at them both, Rosalind curtsied and departed, her head held high, her skirts in her hand as she picked her way back over the field.

Rhys’s lazy grin disappeared to reveal the strong man beneath. “Now, my lord, let us have the truth between us. It is whispered in the stables that you have been involved in a murder.”

“Is that so?” Christopher raised his eyebrows.

“A monk who was believed to be connected to the Mithras Cult was found murdered in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.”

“And why should that have anything to do with me?”

Rhys stepped closer. “Because I saw you leave the palace late last night, and I waited for you to return. By my reckoning you had plenty of time to get to London, kill the monk, and get back.”

“What if I was out visiting someone else?”

“Like who? You have no interest in any other woman but Rosalind, and your half sister spent most of the night bothering me with her questions about you.”