Deadly Lovers (The Prussia Series) (10 page)

I placed my hand on the door knob and opened it as I turned around to see who had decided to request an audience. As the door swung wide, I had barely a moment to process as her long hair streaked past me and right into my office. She faced my desk and didn’t look at me. She didn’t take a seat at either of the two chairs provided but instead stood and tapped her foot more out of nervousness than out of impatience.

“Are you waiting for someone else to waltz on in or are you going to close that door?” asked Lydia, giving me a very aggressive and annoyed look.

I could tell she wasn't annoyed with me or even angry with me. Sure that’s how she looked but more than her anger or her tapping foot, I could see the fidgeting of her hands as she tapped her fingers against her sleeveless arm. I watched her gaze shift continuously to different areas of the large bookcase that took up the entire wall behind my desk. She didn’t care about any of the books. Her mind had her reeling. And I hadn’t actually expected her to show up. Not for the list I had in my pocket with some of the late Duke’s blood on it, not ever, for anything.

“How can I help you?” I asked Lydia.

I closed the door slowly as I tried to figure out the best way to keep my cool, to bite my tongue, to be fair even to this person in front of me that I disliked so much. I didn’t want to lead with the list. I didn’t want to push her. I didn’t want to make assumptions, especially given her currently distressed state and our history together.

“Look,” said Lydia, looking at me finally and pointing a polished fingernail at me that followed me as I walked behind my desk and paused before taking a seat, “I didn’t just know the Chancellor, I was married to him. I know that you’re the Queen’s favorite little Princess but don’t get yourself killed playing politics. Promising vampires immunity and then serving them up to the Queen to be tortured for years without end is cruel. You could quickly end up like the last Chancellor,”

Lydia huffed as she worked through her passionate speech. Her shoulders came up and down, her finger jabbed in the air with every emphasized word and her lips curled around her finishing threat. My eyebrows pulled up at the abruptness of it all.

“Are you finished?” I asked.

I sat down in the chair and made a motion for Lydia to also sit but she waved a dismissive hand at me and continued standing. Her attitude began to get on my nerves. I tried to tell myself that Lydia still had a human element that she clung to, that human element seemed to be the ability to be disrespectful with ease. I let it go. I had more important things to worry about. I had to think about my future. I had plans to make. I had no time for games.

“The immunity stands,” I said firmly, “and that had nothing to do with Queen Victoria who had no idea about my intentions with the list and hasn’t even seen it. Queen Victoria was not present for the
interrogation
of the Duke,”

Even as I said the words I could tell that Lydia didn’t believe me. Her skepticism remained all over her face, not hidden in the least with a slight tinge of disgust that I would lie so beautifully to her face.

“You can’t really expect the court to believe that,” said Lydia, “You’re not going to have one person walk in here and confess to treason on the flimsy promise of a...
whatever
you are, that slept her way to the top,”

I knew it would be coming, the words that were always a favorite of women more than men it seemed. And Lydia knew the words well because I’m certain they had been used against her for many, many years.

“It’s said that you slept your way to the top, too,” I countered, trying to still keep my cool.

“That’s because I did,” Lydia spit the words out at me in disgust.

But that disgust wasn’t aimed at me. She said the words as if they were made of poison but they were her own poison, her own doing to herself.

“You walked in
here
,” I said more quietly.

“That’s because I…” said Lydia, her eyes dropped to the floor, anger dissipated and that heavy shroud of fear wrapped tightly around her. She fidgeted less, moved around less, made eye contact less, and that’s when I realized in that moment that she resembled me, a rabbit. For a brief moment I saw what I must have looked like every time I stood terrified, waiting for the blow to come, for the pain to follow, for death to release me from it all, and always failing.

“The Duke named you almost immediately,” I said finally, realizing that Lydia had in fact finished with her ranting and insults, “and I can’t say I wasn’t pleased. Is that a confirmation, then, of activity that would be considered treasonous to the Queen?”

Lydia rolled her eyes at me and placed a hand on my desk, leaning forward and breaking that unspoken barrier that the desk created. I was on my side of my desk and Lydia on her side of my desk. But now she had leaned into that sweet Switzerland that hovered over my desk, that neutral space that two angry parties, two terrified parties, should never reach into unless they’re ready to break that respectful tradition of staying on their side of the desk. When Switzerland is invaded there is no telling what might follow. I stood up slowly, also placing my hands on my desk but not leaning as far across the wooden desktop as Lydia had ventured. We shared that moment with our eyes locked and the sound of our breathing fluctuating, trying to remain in control but threatening to break into chaos at any moment.

“Yes,” said Lydia, finally.

She broke my gaze but didn’t remove both of her hands from the neutral area of my desktop. Instead, she turned her back partially to me and leaned a hip against it, almost sitting but mostly perching precariously against it.

“That’s all I needed to hear to make my day,” said a woman’s voice.

I looked at Lydia but didn’t even need to ask. Lydia hadn’t said it. I looked to the door which had been closed this entire time and still remained closed. It hadn’t come from there either. It had sounded as though it had come from the windows that still had heavy drapes blocking them but I knew those windows had been permanently shut from the inside and reinforced from the outside.

Lydia sprang up from where she leaned against my desk and crouched, hands in front of her and fingers spread out as though she were part cat and preparing for a fight. I followed Lydia’s gaze to the far corner of the room. Out from the darkest corner of the entire room, from behind a heavy drape that had concealed her completely, stepped a woman dressed in form fitting black.

“Who are you?” I asked, the woman’s ninja-like face covering obscuring all but her eyes.

Instead of an answer the woman gave me a smile. It didn’t make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I didn’t move from my power stance behind my desk, leaning forward with both of my hands on the desktop. I wanted to move. I just couldn’t. I had become the rabbit once more. And my heart beat in frenzy as I realized this woman, whoever she turned out to be, wasn’t here to admit to any treason charges or opt for a chance at immunity. The woman whipped her mask off with one fluid motion of her hand, which also held a knife.

As a flurry of hair escaped the tight fitting face covering and began to settle around her shoulders, I knew exactly who had stepped out from the curtains.

“Josephine,” whispered Lydia.

I looked at Lydia with wide eyes but Lydia didn’t look at me. Lydia only had eyes for Josephine who now walked with slow and calculated steps toward us both.

“I told the Queen you were not to be trusted,” said Josephine, her smile contorted into a snarl as she focused her attention on Lydia, “But this is just perfect. Lydia runs to seek forgiveness just as I’ve come to line the fireplace with the ash of the Old Queen. It must be my birthday,”

Josephine now looked at me. I wasn’t supposed to be here. As far as Josephine had known, I had died.

“Who says you’ll make it out of here alive?” asked Lydia, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

I watched as Josephine stopped, only a dozen feet from Lydia, and her head fell back and she laughed in a way that could only sway a person to run or have her committed into a mental health institution. I lost my power stance in that moment. I immediately took a step to the side of my desk, away from Josephine and towards the door. But I hadn’t escaped Josephine’s observation. Her eyes snapped to me immediately and her laugh died as though she had never laughed at all. I slowly dropped behind the desk as her eyes burned with hatred into me.

“I’m guessing…” said Josephine, “That you’re the reason my beloved brother Jasper is dead,”

“How...how...how did you know that?” I asked.

No one had known for sure that it had been me except Sebastian and the Queen. I tried to think back. Maybe the maid had spread the rumor. Maybe a landscaper had seen it happen and had talked. Maybe Patricia already knew. Maybe I didn’t have a chance to run after all. Maybe I had no way of leaving now. I felt my heart race without an end in sight, wanting to leap out of my chest to run the marathon of my life.

“I didn’t but now I do,” said Josephine, her face becoming more calm though a twitch just under the surface threatened to break out and unleash a horror I knew lurked there under the surface, “Everyone seems to die around you for some reason, pet,”

“She’s not a pet,” said Lydia, “She’s her Royal Highness Prussia, heir to the throne, now.”

I watched from where I crouched behind the corner of my desk as Josephine’s face registered what Lydia had said. I saw the lines change in Josephine’s face, the emotion trickle in little spurts, and the control that Josephine tried so hard to keep finally dissipated.

I looked to the door and thought to run for it. But just as I had looked away, Josephine had made her move. I jumped up to rush for the door and Josephine landed on me in a frenzy. I closed my eyes and brought my arms up as quickly as I could. I felt her hot breath and could see the fuzzy outline of her pointed fangs hang precariously over my cheek through squinted eyes. And in that flurry of movement I could feel the millisecond pause where Josephine hesitated. Only to realize she hadn’t hesitated, she had been stopped.

As quickly as Josephine had pounced on me she had suffered the same attack. Lydia stood over us both and wrapped her arm around Josephine’s neck. Lydia pulled back the furious and fang baring Josephine and sent her crashing into the bookcase behind my desk. Lydia stood over me, a small bend in her knees and her hands still up, waiting for the next attack.

I couldn’t see where Josephine had gone. I knew she had landed half a dozen feet past my desk and into the bookcase but after she hit the ground I had lost sight of her. I tried to make myself as small as possible, bewildered at how easy it had been for Josephine to gain access to my office, not far at all from the Queen’s own chambers. This place wasn’t secure. I wasn’t safe here in the least.

I stared up at Lydia who had assumed a protective stance over me. Of all the people in the entire castle, I did not expect Lydia to be protecting me. I tried to peer over the desk and could see Josephine crouched on all floors with a snarl on her face. She was preparing to attack Lydia. But when I looked at Josephine she caught a glimpse of me and instead of attacking Lydia she jumps freakishly from the ground onto the top of my desk, scattering supplies everywhere.

I screamed and bolted for the door. As I ran, Josephine lunged for me and missed. Without a moment's pause, Josephine followed me to where I slammed against the door with a great deal of force. Not only had I been running as fast as I could but the weight of Josephine slamming into me sandwiched me between her and the door and caused my head to spin. If she hadn't grabbed me by the throat I would've fallen to the floor.

And that was when Lydia's hand appeared and began wrenching Josephine's fingers away from my throat. There was a rush, a frenzy, as I struggled to get away and Josephine struggled to keep a hold of me all while Lydia fought to free me. And the deadlock had only one inevitable conclusion.

Josephine, with a renewed passion and hatred in her eyes, used her entire strength to throw Lydia away from her with only one arm. Josephine launched Lydia backwards into the air and she landed against my desk. This left only Josephine with her fingers around my throat and knee pressed against the door, with no chance for me to escape.

I tried to scream but couldn’t breathe. She squeezed harder and harder until it felt as if my eyes were going to pop out of my head. With a rush of adrenaline, I began scratching Josephine's face with my nails in a last-ditch attempt to gain my freedom. But even as I scratched at her face Josephine's anger seemed to only grow. Squeezing as hard as she could she still couldn't seem to crush my throat and kill me though I felt as though she were succeeding. As I watched her hatred form into frustration I could also see the wheels turning rapidly behind her hate-filled eyes. Still, Josephine squeezed as hard as she could with her jaw locked and her neck muscles clearly strained.