Dragon's Heart (12 page)

“Out of my way,” Dennsmore demanded, his tone imperious.

“No,” Ryan answered.

“I am a lord, a member of the court, and you take orders from me.”

“I am a member of Her Royal Majesty’s Guard. I do not take orders from common nobles.” Menace filled the air around the other man though his tone was even, reasonable. “Know this, nobility or not, if Lady Serena comes to harm, I will personally repay each injury three-fold before I allow you to die.” Ryan turned on his heels and walked out of the room, taking the promise of violence with him.

Jeffery Dennsmore leaned against the table and clutched one hand to his chest. He had known the prince wasn’t going to take the threat to Serena well, but he hadn’t expected the response of the guard. The girl was reaching well above even her elevated station; why couldn’t the royal guards see he was doing the royal family a favor? He took a deep breath and stepped away from the table, squared his shoulders and left the room.

Killian stalked through the halls to the royal wing of the castle, making his way to his apartments. He ignored several attempts to get his attention and though hot tears streamed down his face, he didn’t care. He crashed through the doors to his suite, letting them slam closed behind him. Looking around the room, he noticed the expensive trappings of his social status everywhere, from the opulent furniture to the vibrant wall hangings covering the rough castle walls, and the shelves of books. None of them meant a thing. The one thing he wanted, no amount of wealth or power could buy. His mother had been stolen from him when he was eight years old. Ten years later, he felt Serena being ripped away too. He clutched his chest and had trouble pulling enough air into his lungs. Thomas entered the study and paused, frowning at the prince.

“Leave me.” Killian’s words were tight. He pulled at the collar of his shirt feeling it clutch his throat like a noose.

“Your Highness?”

“Go now, Thomas. I do not require your assistance tonight.”

“What about the meeting with the queen and your father?”

Killian nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Inform them I have taken ill and have retired for the evening.”

“As you wish, your Highness.” Thomas bowed and left the room.

Alone, Killian leaned against the door and sank to the floor. He clutched at the pendant, holding it to his heart, allowing himself to give into the grief that threatened to drown him. He sobbed until his eyes burned and his throat ached. Not knowing how long he sat on the floor, eventually, his grief had wrung itself out, and Killian pushed to his feet and staggered into his bedchamber. He whispered a prayer to the Gods, asking for a dreamless sleep. He couldn’t take seeing her again, not when he couldn’t hold her in reality. Killian dropped onto the bed without even pulling off his boots.

“
K
illian
,” Serena screamed, feeling her throat tighten further. Her voice ragged, raw as panic rose when she stumbled through the unnatural darkness shrouding the castle. Her shriek echoed back to her, taunting, repeating his name into silence.

“Serena,” he shouted, fracturing the silence, the sound bounced off the walls so she couldn’t discern where it was coming from.

“Killian, where are you?”

“Serena.” Killian’s cry changed to a high-pitched shriek of terror, bordering on inhuman and ended abruptly while at its loudest. 

“No. Killian.” Her harsh panting breath filled her ears as all around deafening silence settled over everything. “Killian,” she cried out, feeling the spark of hope in her heart waver. “Please, Killian, answer me, Killian.” She stretched out his name, pushing her voice as loud and as long as she could. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Killian? No,” she whispered and dropped to the ground. 

Serena’s knees met solid ground with a squishing, wet sound. Warm liquid seeped through the fabric of her skirt. She reached down and touched the substance. It was tacky, and when she brought her fingertips to her nose, she caught the unmistakable scent of fresh blood. 

“Oh, Gods, no.” She closed her eyes and begged for mercy, for some reprieve. Taking a shuddering breath, she kept her eyes closed and used her hands to search for the source of the blood.

She lost track of time, not knowing how long she crawled following the trail of blood, but what had begun warm and sticky was cold and had begun to dry. Choking on her tears, Serena’s questing fingers brushed up against something soft and flexible covering a solid object. She opened her eyes and cried out as bright light lanced into her head. What she’d seen was enough. It was Killian, or what was left of him.

His face was the only thing she’d been able to recognize. The rest of him appeared torn apart by some frenzied wild beast.

“No.” Serena cradled his face in her hands. Her eyes traced every contour, committing his features to memory.

“You. Did. This.” Deliah’s trembling voice echoed out of the darkness.

“No.” Serena turned her head to see the specter of Killian’s mother. She was draped in the death shroud, though, her face was uncovered. “I only ever tried to make him happy.”

“Look at your hands, covered in his blood. My son’s blood.”

“I followed it here.”

“You did this to him.” Deliah’s beautiful face, so much like Killian’s, twisted into a mask of pain. “Your hands are covered. Your clothes splattered. You. Killed. Him.”

Serena stood, studying her hands, turning them over, again and again. They couldn’t be her hands, but they were. The nails and tips of her fingers had elongated in gore-soaked ends. Her hands shook, and Serena looked down. The front of her outfit was drenched with blood. Bits of other matter clung to the leather.

“He trusted you, and you sank your claws into him.” Serena looked up at the other woman as bile burned her throat. “You ripped his flesh apart. Stole the life from him.”

Serena tried to catch her breath, but no matter how hard she tried, it was as though her lungs took in no fresh air.

“He loved you.” Deliah’s voice came closer. “He trusted you.”

“I love him. I’m sorry I couldn’t…” Serena’s voice trailed off, her throat closing on a choking sob.

The dead woman’s lips brushed against Serena’s flesh, and she whispered, “You killed him.”

Serena opened her eyes, forced herself to look at Killian.

His eyes snapped open, a milky white film obscuring their normal bright blue color. She met his gaze as he reached up and cupped her cheek. His hand was wet with his own blood. Chunks of flesh were missing or hung in ribbons. “Why?” His voice was rough, his throat ripped and open. “Why, Serena?”

She screamed and fell back, scrambling away from the thing that had been Killian.

“
W
ill you shut up
?” A man’s voice had shouted a moment before scalding water drenched her.

Serena shivered as the water began to cool when it hit her.
It was a nightmare. Nothing more.

She didn’t know how long she sat in the corner of the dank cell, her knees pulled up to her chest, feeling the darkness swallowing her piece by piece, day by day. The nightmares were getting worse and came with more frequency. A loud crash at the end of the corridor snapped her out of her dark musings, and she stood, refusing to face her captors while on her knees or cowering in a corner. Killian’s gift, the ballgown, still clung to her frame, the fine cloth stained and torn. She held her head high and squared her shoulders, saying a silent prayer to the Gods, asking for strength and whispering the faltering hope she would see him again.

The door to her cell opened, hinges shrieking in protest, to reveal Lord Jeffery Dennsmore. He tugged at the cuffs of his shirt, coughed in a most delicate way, and stepped into the cell.

“I would offer you a place to sit, my lord. However, as you can see, the accommodations here are rather spartan,” she said, speaking first and hoping to catch Dennsmore off guard.

“If you would just capitulate, cooperate, and follow my orders, I am certain your accommodations could be more to your liking.” He shrugged and lifted a perfumed handkerchief to his nose.

“No,” Serena whispered.

“You have not heard my request.”

“I do not wish to.”

“Well, then. I suppose I will leave you in the tender care of my men for a time. Perhaps you will be more open to hearing my request once they have completed their work.” Dennsmore turned and took a step toward the door of the cell.

“What is it?” Serena asked in a low whisper.

“I beg your pardon. I am afraid I did not hear you.” He stopped but didn’t turn to face her.

“What do you want?”

“Tis a trifle.”

“Name it.”

He spun around, a feral smile curling his lips. “Write a letter to the prince. Tell him what I want him to know and nothing more. Once you have finished, I will see you are moved to more comfortable quarters and given a few luxuries.”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. The thought of getting word to Killian that she lived, set her heart racing. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell him you are well. That you have not been harmed overmuch. Both of which are true, are they not?”

Serena laughed, threw her head back and let out a loud peal of heartfelt laughter. “That depends on how you define the terms. I would consider being attacked and dragged from my home against my will by several brutes, being harmed. I also define being locked in a dank cell, given barely enough food and drink to remain alive as not being well.”

“Lie to him then,” he said with a shrug. “Write the letter and I swear that all you say will be true… should he comply.”

“Of course,” she shook her head, “
if
he also complies.”

“Be convincing.”

“No.” Serena lifted her chin, defiant, “I will not allow you to use me against Killian.”

Dennsmore’s smile changed, and a wicked gleam filled his eyes. “Perhaps we should change the terms? You will write the letter. You will tell Killian what I have told you. If you do not, I will order my men to keep you teetering on the edge of death long enough to bring him here. Once he arrives, I will have him tortured in front of you. You will hear every scream, listen to him beg and curse your name. He will die in front of your eyes, and before he breathes his last, he will see you fatally wounded. There will be no reprieve because he will die knowing you are dead too. Killian will die knowing you could have spared him with a simple letter.”

Her breath caught in her throat as denials died on her lips.
He won’t follow through on every threat. Why? It makes no sense. He wants the throne for his daughter, his heirs. Taking Killian’s life would put an end to all of those plans
.

“You’re considering whether or not I will go through with it. Thinking that somehow the Royal Guard will protect him. They couldn’t protect you.”

“I was not their charge,” she answered, hoping he wouldn’t guess her true thoughts.

“What faith you have in your comrades to believe they are above reproach. Do you truly believe I might not have one or more man or woman who has infiltrated the Royal Guard? Do you believe they are all loyal to the crown?”

“You bastard.”

“It is your choice, my lady. Perhaps you would like some time to… reconsider.” He chuckled. “To prove I can be magnanimous. My offer of better accommodations stands.”

“If I do not?”

“You will remain here. As I said, Killian will be bought here. He will be tortured. You will witness it. He will know you could have prevented it. You will watch him die. Before he dies, he will see you fatally wounded.”

Serena hung her head, unable to see a way around it. Perhaps with time, she would be able to find another solution, but she didn’t have that luxury. “What do you want me to write?” she asked, already planning to leave off the signal she used to prove her messages were genuine.
If Killian questions the authenticity of the letter, perhaps he will guess that I’ve been forced to write it.

“Good girl. However, before we begin, you need to be cleaned up.” He stepped out of the cell, and one of her jailers stalked toward her. “Consider making this easier on all of us, and do not resist,” Dennsmore called back.

A
week
after Dennsmore delivered his threat, Killian walked through the castle corridors, not seeing his surroundings, his mind spinning with information from the audience he’d just left. None of it made any sense. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. He reached up and wrapped his hand around her signet ring on the chain, his thumb running over the beveled rose and thorns trying to find a moment’s peace.
Dear Gods, keep her safe, bring her home. And if… if it is too late, take her into your graces and bring her peace.

“Your Highness?” Ryan’s voice broke into Killian’s thoughts.

He shook his head and let go of the ring. “Yes?”

Ryan nodded to Davies, who had brought a small child forward. The boy was dirty, and his eyes were wide. “This young man said he was given a letter to deliver to you, your Highness.”

Killian frowned and waved them forward. The child followed behind the guard, clutching his cloak in one hand and a letter in the other. Killian knelt, so he was closer to the boy’s level. “I hear you have something for me?” he asked.

The boy looked up, breaking a smile at Davies who reciprocated the gesture. The child stepped forward, gave an awkward bow and handed Killian the letter.

“Thank you, young man.” Killian recognized the writing on the front. Gods.
Serena
. “Do you know who gave this to you?” he snapped, looking back at the boy.

The boy shrank back at the prince’s sharp tone and shook his head. His eyes seemed to grow even wider though Killian hadn’t thought it possible.

Killian took a deep breath and let it out, leashing his emotions.

You are a prince of the realm. It is not seemly to lash at those whose station is not as high as yours.
His mother’s voice rang in his mind. Before Serena came into his life, Deliah had been the one to counsel her son to caution. She had shown him that although they were royalty, it didn’t mean they could treat commoners with contempt.

“I apologize. This letter looks like it’s from a friend of mine. She hasn’t been heard from in quite some time, and I am very worried about her. Anything you can tell me about the person who gave it to you will help me find out what has happened to my friend.” He held out a hand to the boy. “Will you help me?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I did not see much.” The boy’s voice was uncertain and held the unmistakable tremor of fear.

Killian sat on the floor, tucking his legs up to one side. “Well, I believe you might know more than you think. May I ask you some questions?” He cracked a brief smile but felt his heart start beating again when the boy nodded. “Thank you. Now do you remember if it was a man or a woman?”

“Man.” The boy held up his hands and wiggled the fingers. “The hands were too big to be a woman’s.”

Killian smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Very good. Did you see his eyes?”

He bit his lower lip, thinking. “They were brown.”

“How tall was he?”

“I-I don’t know, Highness.”

“I think you might know.” He offered the boy a smile then asked, “Was he taller or shorter than me?”

The boy thought for a few seconds before answering, “Shorter.”

Killian nodded and pointed to Ryan, who was a few inches shorter than the prince. “Was he taller than Ryan?”

The boy turned around and shook his head. “He might have been as tall as him.”

“Good. How was he dressed?”

“He had a cloak with a hood.” The boy tilted his head to one side and frowned. “It looked nice, though, not ratty or old.”

“Is there anything else you can remember about him?”

The boy reached up and touched the ring on Killian’s neck. “He wore a ring like that, but he had it on backward.” He touched the flat part of the ring. “He had this turned to his palm so I couldn’t see what was on it.”

“Thank you.” Killian closed his eyes and fought to rein his emotions in. “Davies is going to take you home now. You have been a great help.” He turned to Davies and handed the guard a small purse of gold. “See to it his parents get this with my thanks.”

The guard nodded and offered the boy his hand.

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” The boy took Davies’s hand, and together they walked away.

Killian studied the letter, as though it might come to life and snap at him. He didn’t move or take notice of the nobles walking around him, giving their prince strange looks as they passed. Ryan stepped up and held out a hand.

The guard gave a pointed look to a couple of noble ladies as they strolled nearby. “Your Highness.”

“Serena wouldn’t have cared,” Killian said as Ryan helped him to his feet.

“She probably would have joined you on the floor.” Ryan chuckled as Killian brushed dust off his clothes. “I have something else in mind, by your leave, of course.”

“What are you thinking?”

“You haven’t been to the practice field in a couple of days.”

“I can’t stand all those ladies watching me as though I’m some prized stud they want to breed.”

“They want more than that, Highness,” Ryan said as they fell into step, making their way through the corridors, deep inside the bowels of the castle.

“I know.” Killian’s reply sounded exhausted with an edge of bitterness to his words.

“The Royal Guards have a place where you can practice without anyone watching you. I will partner with you again, if that is what you wish, or I can wait outside and make certain you will have complete privacy.” As he spoke, Ryan led the prince into the wing of the castle where the Royal Guard was housed. He approached a plain door and pushed it open.

“Where are we?” Killian asked as he stepped into the room. It was an empty space with a smooth stone floor, a fire burned in the hearth and candelabra along the walls flickered, which was the only illumination. He walked to the center of the room not sure what to do.

“As I said, this is the Royal Guard’s wing. Sometimes we need a place to practice when the weather is bad or if the only time available is late at night. So we have a number of rooms like this one.”

“You mentioned something about complete privacy.” Killian tapped the letter against his hand.

“If that is what you wish. Each of these rooms has only one entry. I will stand guard outside this one until you are ready to leave.”

“Thank you.” Killian waited until he heard the door close before he turned the letter over and examined the seal. It wasn’t Serena’s or that of the province she governed. The glob of red wax was impressed with a single sleeping dragon. Killian searched his memory trying to recall if he’d seen this sigil in any of his studies, and came up with nothing.

He frowned while turning the letter over again and traced the letters of his name in Serena’s simple, yet elegant, hand. The prince felt an all too familiar ache in his chest. Part of him wanted to throw the letter in the fire and be done with it, but he knew he couldn’t do that. The tiny spark of hope inside nursed the possibility that dimmed more with each passing day. He wasn’t sure if this letter was going to feed or smother that spark, and part of him didn’t want to find out.

Wanting to preserve the impressed image on the seal, Killian walked over to one of the candelabra and drew the dagger from his belt. He warmed the blade in a candle flame before slipping it between the parchment and the wax. The seal came away from the letter and slid into Killian’s hand, he held it up for a few moments before he bent over and set it on the floor. After sheathing his dagger, the prince took a deep breath and unfolded the letter. A quick glance proved to him it was Serena’s handwriting.

Killian,

I am well. I have not been harmed. Lord Dennsmore assures me my continued well-being is dependent on how well you follow his instructions. Please, if you love me, do as he says.

Serena.

The words ripped through his heart, and he found himself whispering denials over and over as he read. He was unaware of the sound escaping him until Ryan pushed the door open and then slammed it shut. Ryan strode over and took Killian’s wrists, gripping them to the point where it was painful, slicing through the haze. Killian stopped yelling. Ryan released his wrists, and the prince scrubbed his face.

“Oh, Gods, did anyone else hear that?”

“No, Highness. I was the only one in the hallway. Are you well enough now?”

“No,” Killian admitted and handed Ryan the letter, sitting back on his heels while the guard read.

When he was done, he returned the letter and stepped back before sitting down, grief stricken. “Do you believe what she’s written?”

“It is in her hand.” Killian frowned, his eyes drifting over the words, each one sending needles into his heart where they burrowed deeper with each beat.

“She could have been forced to write it,” Ryan suggested.

“Forced? “Killian was dimly aware that he sounded like a fool, repeating what he’d just heard.

“If she is being held against her will, something like this isn’t out of the question.” The guardsman sighed. “You two weren’t exactly subtle about your relationship after Serena was raised to nobility. From what I hear of the court gossip, your grandmother was considering no fewer than six potential contracts. As far as I know, none has been withdrawn.” Ryan shrugged.

“Serena never did put one forward for herself.” He shook his head, remembering the argument they’d had when he found out. “She knew how it would be seen by others in the court,” he said parroting her excuse, but he was sure it was because she didn’t want to be the one to take the lead with that step. Serena was independent, but in some things she followed his lead. He had the feeling the question of marriage was going to be one of those things if she came back to him.

“She was waiting for you.” Ryan’s statement hurt like an arrow aimed right at Killian’s heart, and it hadn’t missed the mark.

“I was planning to propose at the ball. I wanted it to be perfect. Then they called me into that meeting with my grandmother, and my mood wasn’t exactly festive. It seemed that something happened in the interim because Serena wasn’t herself and didn’t want to talk about it. There was the scene with Dennsmore, so I decided to wait until I saw her the next day. I never saw her. She had disappeared during the night.” He slipped the letter into his pocket and picked up the seal.

“For what it’s worth, I know she would have accepted, but I don’t think it would have changed anything.” Ryan didn’t mention he believed that if she had agreed to marry Killian, those in control would have killed Serena, not just taken her.

“Thank you. I know she values your friendship,” the prince said, but he stopped and took a deep breath, composing himself. He needed to think logically to stop letting his emotions rule. “So, you think Dennsmore forced her to write this. If that’s true,” Killian closed his eyes as he continued, “then he has no reason to keep her alive.”

“I would
not
make that assumption.” Ryan’s voice was strong but not harsh.

“What do you mean?”

“If you agree to one of the other contracts,” he sighed and said, “then yes, Serena will have outlived her usefulness, and they will kill her. If you agree to Dennsmore’s demands, then it is up him to keep his word.” Ryan hated seeing the look of despair that flooded Killian’s eyes, but he thought he’d be doing not only the prince but also Serena, a disservice if he lied. “However, I believe this letter proves they believe she can be useful to them. As long as you hold out and don’t give in and accept a contract, they will, in all likelihood, keep her alive. Promises of her continued safety can be used to coerce you into an agreement.”

Killian scrubbed his face with his hands. “Gods, I just want her safe.”

“Was there anything else with the letter that would indicate where she’s being held?”

“No, and I don’t think the description the boy was able to give us will help much.”

“I am sorry, your Highness,” Ryan said. He sighed, knowing this conversation and the heartache that went along with it could have been avoided. If the Royal Guard had protected Serena, they wouldn’t be in this position. However, since she was not a member of the royal family, she was left on her own. Unlike other nobles, she chose not to employ personal bodyguards, believing she was capable of taking care of herself. “Would you like to be alone, your Highness?”

“Please, in private, call me Killian. I hate my Gods-cursed title right now.”

Ryan smirked. “Very well, would you like some privacy… Killian?”

“Yes, please,” Killian nodded and after a moment added, “Thank you.” Ryan offered the prince a perfunctory bow and started making his way out of the room. “And Ryan?”

“Yes, Highness?” He paused with his hand on the door.

“I want
you
to talk to Dennsmore. Tell him I will meet with him.”

“As you wish, Highness,” Ryan said before he slipped out into the corridor.

Killian pulled the letter out of his pocket and turned to the fire. He held it in his hands, staring at the paper and his name in her handwriting. He reached out, holding the letter over the flames, telling himself to let go, to drop the parchment and allow the fire to consume the words, but his muscles refused to obey. The heat crept up his arm and over his hand, but Killian didn’t move. He meant to drop it, expected to, but instead he pulled his hand back and slipped the letter into his pocket. Going back where he’d left the seal, he picked it up needing to take it to the chief archivist to see if any records on file might offer some information… anything leading him back to Serena.

Late that night, Killian took the letter out of his pocket. He sat at his desk and unfolded the parchment, staring at the words on the page until they blurred together. He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his head in his hands. His eyes drifted to the signature, a line he hadn’t paid much attention to at the first reading. Something tugged at the back of his mind, causing Killian to look closer. A quick smile curled his lips. Her normal looping flourish underneath her name was missing, and only the two of them knew what it meant. Feeling his heart beating a strange rhythm in his chest, Killian opened the false bottom of his desk drawer and retrieved one of Serena’s love letters. After unfolding the note, he laid it beside the other one. He held the two pages so the signatures were side by side and studied them for a long time. Then he placed them both in the drawer, replacing the false bottom before closing it again.