Hellfire and Honey, page 11
Her voice came out flat, crisp. “The queen woke and took breakfast in her room. The regular staff, Elaine Sandore, Saffa Leblanc, and I assisted her in dressing. She did the daily inspections of the barracks and the training grounds. The soldiers spoke with her freely and there were no alarming conversations. In the late morning, there was an emergency call from the blood donation center. The queen left to assist and I was unable to attend with her. She returned back four and a half hours later and ran to the council meeting where she arrived thirty minutes late.”
I pressed my lips together. Knowing Renee was a spy was different than having my day laid out clearly and methodically.
“The former betrothed never showed up?”
“No, sir. The queen met with her advisor, Zavier Croft, over breakfast and had no other visitors.”
Kadence turned to me.
“What was the emergency at the blood donation center?”
“It’s fine. I handled it.”
“It was important enough to be late to a council meeting.”
“Everything was recovered and it’s fine now.” Maybe if I smiled enough he would leave it alone.
“Tell me.”
Guess not. I sighed.
“Someone stole a wagon that was loaded with donated blood.”
“Vampires?” he asked.
“Unless a vampire can teleport a two-thousand-pound wagon, there was magic involved.”
“Was it found?”
“Yes, the wagon was located in the park behind one of the community centers currently housing the surplus troops. Only a single bottle of donated blood was missing from the lost wagon,” I said. The search had taken hours.
“How do you know there was magic involved?”
“The driver had just gotten off the wagon. He realized he forgot something and the wagon was gone when he turned around.”
“Why would a witch steal a wagon and take one bottle of blood?”
“I don’t know. We had to throw out the rest of the blood due to possible contamination.” It pained me to think of the hundreds of bottles of donated blood going to waste.
“Update me if anything else happens,” he said. “Renee, thank you. You’re dismissed.”
The woman bowed and shut the door softly.
“Both of our people are working to find the missing blood bottle,” I said.
Kadence nodded once and stood from his chair. His tight black shirt somehow still managed to flex over his hard chest. His breeches were tucked into battle boots. He had dressed for the council meeting like he was going to a fight. The thought made me smile.
“If there’s nothing else, Sal, I’m leaving.”
He brushed past me. I caught his arm and he let me stop him. His strength played beneath my hand.
“I really am sorry about last night.” I licked my lips. “I’m planning an art gala at the castle. It’s going to be long and boring, and I would like it if you came.”
For a heartbeat, he became stone, still and unbreathing. He looked down to my hand on his arm. I slowly lifted it and let him go.
“I don’t care what you’d like, Sal,” he said, ice in his voice. He left too, leaving me alone in the council room.
Chapter Twelve
“Are you sure the buttons will close?” I asked.
Saffa tugged hard and I waited for the rip of shredded fabric at any moment. I held my breath and Elaine pinched the sides of the dress closer together.
“This dress was made exactly for your measurements.” Saffa huffed. “It will fit.”
It sounded like she was trying to convince the dress rather than me. The dark-blue garment had thigh-high slit and was embroidered with shimmering jewels. The strapless neckline meant that if any assassins showed up, the entire gala would get a complimentary show. The dress had been made to my measurements, admittedly six months ago, before the stress of ruling and surrender, and when I had been sparring regularly in the practice arena. Saffa pulled my brown curls to one side and pinned them into a fancy ponytail. I wore only the cursed bracelet as jewelry.
“Got it!” The last of the buttons at the top of the dress closed beneath her agile fingers and my available oxygen was cut in half.
“Fantastic,” I wheezed. I turned from the mirror and Elaine held up a pair of strappy black high heels.
“No,” I said. “Please.”
“Just close your eyes, My Queen,” Elaine said. “It’ll be over soon.”
Rhythmic taps echoed down the hallway with my every step, but Zavier’s sensible shoes were silent next to me. He wore a simple black ensemble that hugged his shoulders and narrowed at his waist. Zavier still sparred almost every day and it kept him healthy and fit. His attire showed that off. On one arm lay a sleek black walnut board holding paperwork.
“The food is prepared?” I asked.
“Yes, the servers are starting appetizers now.”
“All the art was delivered?”
“One artist showed up late, but her work was relocated to the last galley and should be hung by now.”
“The king?”
“He has not arrived,” Zavier said.
“I don’t think he’s planning to,” came Rayhan’s voice from where he leaned against the double doors at the entrance to the Great Hall. His black armor carried new engraved symbols and the flickering candlelight gave the illusion of movement across his chest. His axe slung over one shoulder.
“Did he tell you that he wouldn’t come?” I asked.
“No, Your Majesty, but he’s been in the training field all day, and he wasn’t slowing down when I left.”
“I see.”
“There’s someone I want to introduce you to tonight.” Rayhan studied the floor, avoiding eye contact. His hand clenched too tight on the hilt of the axe. The burly vampire was nervous. The realization almost made me smile.
“I have a few things to check on as the gala starts. Can I find you in a little while?” I asked.
Zavier eyed the checklist on his board.
Rayhan’s toothy smile stretched from cheek to cheek and his eyes almost sparkled. Smiling, in the warm glow of candlelight, he was a juxtaposition to the terrible giant we had seen the first night, grinning harshly in the dark. The monster he’d appeared to be that night had faded away, leaving a man behind. Deep down I realized vampires weren’t monsters any more than my own people. They had wishes, goals, desires, and people they loved.
“I’ll find you.” He switched the massive axe to the other shoulder as though it was as light as a feather. With a bow more graceful than expected from a man of his size, he opened the door and held it for Zavier and me. I waited for the shiver of tension as I walked through the door and left my back exposed to a man that would have been my enemy on the battlefield. Only the woosh of air crossed over my skin as the door closed.
Music spilled across the hall. A string quartet played a soft, fluttering melody that was light, but eerie and mysterious. Guests strolled across the floor, enchanted by the beautiful music. Long gowns skirted the white marble, some rich red or orange and others more melancholy tones. There were slightly more witches attending than vampires, but not many.
My stomach growled at the smell of food. Waiters in black uniforms passed around trays of mushrooms bursting with cheese and artichokes, lobster rolls stuffed into artisan bread, and caprese skewers drizzled with balsamic dressing. A buffet line curved around the back of the room.
Temporary walls composed of wooden rods and black canvas split the Great Hall into sections. Each artist had their own cubicle to display their work. A flexible walking tour weaved around the sections, allowing guests to enjoy the art at their own pace. Laughter and conversation filled the room, as light as the violin from the quartet.
“Here, Queen Sal.” Zavier snatched appetizers from a tray and handed me a stuffed mushroom. Cheese and garlic hit my tongue, and my eyes wanted to close in delight.
“It’s going...well,” I said.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Zavier smiled at me. “You worked hard for this.”
We wandered through the art tour. The majority were paintings, but some booths had elaborate sculptures, poetry pinned to the canvas wall, and one artist displayed a leatherbound book on a pedestal.
One booth captured my attention. Splashes of colors across three canvases composed a single scene, split into thirds. Simple, precise brush strokes and the artful dancing of sunlight across the fabric portrayed an impressionist style. Loose, but recognizable, a twisting river seemed to flow in front of a distant, colorful city. I could feel the sun across my face, hear the tumbling river through the tall, grassy strands.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A short, stocky man in a black suit and red tie stood next to me, looking at the paintings.
“Very,” I said. “Are you the artist?”
He shook his head. “No, but I know him.”
The man’s worn, calloused hands marked him as a laborer or a soldier. The bracelet stopped me from tasting him for magic. I didn’t know if he was a witch, vampire, or human. Perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps tonight, in this place, we were one kingdom combined.
“Please tell the artist we enjoyed his work.”
He dipped his head. Zavier and I left the stall, circling the end of the row of displays.
“There you are.” Rayhan appeared from the shadows. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
He took the lead, bypassing rows and rows of artwork, shuttling us to the last cubicle. Shadows half-hid the division. People walking in front of us peeked into the space, their faces paled, and they hurried along. One man wrapped his arms tightly around a woman’s shoulders. Their lips twisted and eyes wide, terrified by whatever lay beyond the black fabric.
The redheaded giant gestured toward the booth.
I stuck a smile on my face, but my heart hammered. What art could terrify people so much?
“The paintings are odd,” Rayhan said. He settled one hand on each of our shoulders and they felt like heavy boulders trying to drive me into the earth. “But you need to talk to her.”
“What?” I asked.
Zavier’s hand lingered close to the hilt of his sword.
“Shh, you don’t want to startle her.” Rayhan turned his massive head to look behind us. “I’ll answer questions when we’re done.”
We stepped into the cubicle. The art hadn’t been hung on the metal hooks like the rest of the canvases. Instead, three paintings rested on the floor, leaning against the support beams of the faux walls. I caught a glimpse of the canvas. Tendrils of terror leaked into my soul before my eyes could comprehend the shapes and figures. Some long-forgotten instinct told me to stand up and run as fast as I could.
Thick and chunky paint stretched across the canvas in black, white, and shades of grey. The largest painting sat closest to me. Two grotesque and misshapen figures stood, one on each side of the canvas. A third figure, a man, sat in the middle, a silent scream etched onto his face. Each shadow figure had long claws connected to skeleton arms, and they ripped into the man, tearing organs and flesh and tossing them into the air in a snapshot of horror.
The second painting displayed a single humanoid figure, but too narrow and the limbs too long. It peeked through a doorway, and its black nails wrapped around the doorframe, blending gradually into darkness. The stark white eyes gazed empty and unseeing. It stared through me, into my soul. If I looked too long, I feared I may not come out.
The last painting was abstract streaks of black and white and grey, jumbled into a chaotic mess. Thick and thin lines slashed the canvas like strikes from a sword. It resembled the depiction of a scream, loud and long and terrible.
Individually, the paintings were creepy. Together they were hell personified.
“It’s okay.” Rayhan smiled into the dark corner of the room. “You can come out. These are the people I told you about.”
Tension locked my back.
Zavier’s hand gripped his hilt. If one of these shadow creatures from the paintings appeared, the gala would turn to bloodshed in an instant.
A woman stepped from the shadows. The size of a young child, with her arms folded close to her body, she looked at the ground while she shuffled from the darkness. The grey hair and sagging skin revealed her advanced age. She squinted against the light, as though the flickering candles pained her.
“This is Grace,” Rayhan said. “She’s the artist.”
Zavier bowed and I nodded in greeting.
The woman stared pointedly at our shoes.
“Your work is…” Horrifying. “Unique.” I tried to smile.
“Very skillful,” Zavier followed up.
“Do you want to tell them about your paintings, Grace?” Rayhan asked. The last thing I wanted was to provoke this poor, trembling woman to talk about the dark forms on the canvas.
Grace remained silent.
“You told me that you would tell them,” Rayhan’s voice turned hard.
I shifted on my feet and glanced at Zavier. Lips pressed together, he watched the two.
The old woman looked up at the large man, but her expression remained as blank as the creature’s eyes she had painted. Slowly, painfully, she lifted a slim hand and pointed a finger to the creature peeking through the doorway.
“Qu—” She cleared her throat. “Queen.”
My face pinched. The figure didn’t look particularly royal.
“That’s the queen?” Rayhan asked and Grace nodded.
“Queen Cameron Carter Hendrick,” her gravel voice whispered.
Kadence’s late mother. Chills danced over me.
Grace pointed to the largest painting, where the man was bleeding as his body was pulled apart. “King Loren Ellis Hendrick. And the queen.”
“And that one?” Rayhan gestured at the mess of black and white.
“Me.” The word was barely audible.
She turned from the paintings and a flash of silver ran through her eyes. Grace was a vampire. I tried to smother the shock that threatened to creep across my face. I’d never seen a vampire age so poorly. Even those in advance years looked timeless and beautiful. What happened to this woman to strip her lifespan so severely? Tears tapped on the floor and Grace scurried back into the corner, fading away in the deep shadow. Rayhan let her go, without lifting a hand in comfort.
He looked at us, his blue eyes the size of serving saucers.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
Zavier’s face was as confused as mine. The old man shook his head slowly.
“I’m afraid I do not, Rayhan,” Zavier said.
The vampire studied me and grimaced.
“Listen.” He looked around again and dropped his voice. “Kadence would kill me for telling you this. He banned all of us from talking about it.”
Rayhan grabbed both of my shoulders and jerked me toward him with unprecedented strength.
I swayed on my feet and Zavier half drew his sword. I held a hand up. We didn’t need to rekindle the war because Rayhan had grabbed me too fast.
He leaned his bearded face close to mine.
“I need you to understand, Queen Sal,” he whispered, but there was an edge I hadn’t heard before—fear. “There has to be peace. We—I really need this peace to last. Nothing is more important. We need you and Kadence to work together. The way it has been, the way he’s been acting, it’s going to fall apart if you don’t.”
My heart jumped. I knew things with King Kadence weren’t great, but I didn’t realize he was on the verge of plunging us back into war. Visions of bodies and blood swam through my mind. The thought of walking another battlefield, stepping through dead and dying, of watching our kingdom fall one soldier at a time, sent an ache through my bones. I needed this peace much more than Rayhan did. My people needed this peace.
“Kadence is angry,” Rayhan continued as though my world wasn’t grinding to a halt. “Every time he sees you, he becomes more and more bitter. He spars with the soldiers all day, stopping only for barracks and blood donation updates. He’s sent three of our own men to the infirmary with broken bones. I think,” the vampire licked his lips, “I think if you knew what happened, it could help.”
I gently lifted his hands from my shoulders. I put them together as though he was praying and held them between my much smaller hands.
“If Kadence doesn’t want me to know,” I whispered, “you shouldn’t tell me.”
“I don’t care what he wants, Queen Sal. I have pledged my life to that man and I would die for him a hundred times. I have never fought beside a more loyal and devoted soldier, had a fiercer friendship. Before, I wouldn’t ever talk to you, but I have someone—erm—something else now. Something more important.” His blue eyes bore into mine and we both swam in his desperation. It was like a dying soldier begging for company on the battlefield and I couldn’t turn him down.
“Ok, Rayhan. Tell me, and I’ll see if it can help.”
Relief flooded his face like rain on a dry field.
“Kadence’s mother, Queen Cameron Hendrick, lost three sons to the war. When Kadence was old enough to pick up a sword, she vowed not to lose another. Desperate to end the bloodshed, she started looking for the Fields of Death.”
Oh, no.
“Tell me she didn’t, Rayhan.”
“She found it,” he said. “Do you know what happens to someone in the Fields?”
“We all know the stories.”
“They’re true.” His eyes glossed over and he didn’t see me anymore. He returned to someplace else, someplace where blood spilled in the halls and hell screamed in the night. “She invited a demon into her body. It tore through her, ate away at her soul. She looked like herself, the same skin, the same eyes, but inside was evil. She had brought her maidservant with her.”
“Grace,” I said.
He nodded.
“The queen came back to the kingdom. The guards let her through. How could they know? She approached King Loren and told him what she found. She said the demons were the answer. They were strong, healed instantly, too fast to see. She told the king that they could win the war. He said no. He told her to leave and that kind of evil was not welcome in his kingdom.”
