Blood of the Rose (27 page)

Christopher grasped at the opportunity to distract Rhys with all the fervor of a starving dog. “She told you I am related to her?”

“It’s quite obvious, Ellis. She looks just like you, and she told me she favors her mother.”

“Does Rosalind know about these cozy little chats you’re having with a Vampire?”

“This does not concern her.”

“Verily? Is not your attachment to my half sister a form of revenge on both of us?”

Rhys’s mouth tightened. “There is no ‘attachment.’ She is just an annoying little girl.”

Christopher headed back toward the stables. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Rhys followed him, his pale skin flushed, his fists clenched. “Don’t walk away from me. I haven’t received a single answer from you about that monk’s death.”

Christopher stopped and pointed his finger in Rhys’s face. “I didn’t kill that monk. Are you satisfied?”

“Not really.” Rhys considered him. “Perhaps I should mention it to Rosalind after all.”

“You do that and I’ll mention your increasing interest in my sister.”

Rhys met Christopher’s gaze and neither of them moved. “It seems that we are at an impasse.”

“And let’s keep it that way. Good day to you, Williams.”

“Good day to you, sir.”

Christopher strode off toward the palace, leaving Rhys behind. With a disgusted sound, Christopher raised his eyes to the heavens. Why was everything becoming so complicated? He had far too many secrets to guard, both his own and other people’s. All he wanted to do was survive long enough to see that Rosalind was safe.

He rounded another corner and a hand reached out and grabbed him. Even as he went for his dagger, he relaxed as he was pulled hard up against Rosalind. She looped her arms around his neck, her brown eyes serious, her lips formed into a tempting pout. When she kissed him, he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to hers, took her love and gave it back to her.

The kiss went on and on. He had no idea how to end it—didn’t want it to end, because every breath he took, even those he shared with Rosalind, brought him closer and closer to death. Eventually she drew back, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you, Christopher.”

“And I love you.”

Her smile faltered and she kissed him once more before sliding out from his grasp and disappearing into the shadows. He touched his mouth and tasted her sweet scent, glad that she had caught him and reminded him of their bond. He frowned as another thought struck him. Rosalind had almost sounded apologetic, as if she too was keeping secrets from him . . . He smacked his hand flat against the brick wall. He was a fine one to talk.

Chapter 20

R
osalind waved frantically at Rhys as he walked his horse into the stable yard.

“Rhys, where have you been?”

Rhys dismounted. He was wearing a hat, but his color was high and his pale skin was starting to burn in the heat of the midday sun. “I’ve been to London to pick up a letter from your grandfather. What has put you into such a dither?”

Rosalind grabbed his leather jerkin. “The Lady Anne has sent for us.”

Under her hand, Rhys went still. “That is indeed good news. When does she want to see us?”

The clock behind Rosalind started to strike twelve, the sound booming and rebounding around the enclosed walls of the courtyard. “Now.”

Rhys beckoned one of the stable hands and gave a few crisp instructions about his horse. He handed both the reins and a farthing over to the boy. Rosalind stared pointedly at Rhys’s unruly hair and dusty clothing and he shrugged. “If she wants to see us now, the Lady Anne will have to take me as she finds me.”

Rosalind guided him back through the intricate passageways and hallways of the massive palace until they arrived at the same room where they had met Anne before.

“I told Christopher where we would be, and he has promised to look out for our return,” Rosalind said.

Rhys nodded and took a moment to smooth down his auburn hair and pat his leather jerkin. He smiled at her. “Are you ready,
cariad
?”

“As ready as I can be,” Rosalind answered and knocked on the door. Anne’s faint voice bade them enter, and after a last long, reassuring look at each other, Rosalind opened the door.

Anne sat in an ornate gilded chair in the center of the well-shaded paneled room. She was dressed in black velvet with slashes of red in the lining and cuffs of her sleeves. Her hood was also black, which emphasized her small scarlet-painted mouth and pale skin, and made her eyes look darker and more fathomless. Rosalind and Rhys bowed, but neither of them spoke.

Anne stirred in her seat. “I have decided to hear more about your offer.”

Rosalind tried to look calm. “There is not much more to tell you, my lady. We offer you our Druid magic in exchange for your promise not to turn the king or aid the Vampire Council.”

“You do realize that if you aid me in obtaining a son, the struggle between us will not be over? And, that with my son beside me, I can rule for eternity?”

“We understand that risk.”

“Because you believe you will eventually find a way to stop that from happening.”

Rosalind nodded. “Of course we do, my lady.”

Anne’s fingers drummed on the arm of her chair. “Then why help me in the first place?”

“Because we are not strong enough to prevent your marriage to the king. Right now our concern is to protect the king’s continued good health. It is our sacred duty.”

Anne considered her. “At least you are honest about it.”

“There is little to be gained from dissembling.”

“And if I refuse your bargain?”

“We will continue to try to kill you, and eventually we will succeed. Or, the king will grow tired of you because you cannot provide him with an heir, and our task will prove even easier.”

Anne looked down at her hands. “I could simply turn the king into my Vampire slave.”

“If that were your only aim, you would already have done it. A woman of your abilities must want more. You could rule the entire kingdom.”

There was a long silence. All Rosalind could hear was Rhys’s steady breathing behind her and the quick thump of her own heart.

“I want the king’s child.”

Rosalind let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Then let us help you.”

Anne rose and walked over to the empty ash-blackened fireplace. “Tell me exactly what the Druid magic promises me.”

“A successful quickening of your womb within six moon cycles of wearing the charm and taking the potion.”

“And a living child who will inherit the kingdom?”

“That is what we were told by our Druid Elders, my lady, and they cannot lie when delivering sacred news.” Rosalind tried to keep the tremors out of her voice.

Anne swung around and held out her hand. “Give me the potion.”

“When you agree not to turn the king into a Vampire.”

“Yes, yes.” Anne beckoned impatiently. “Or aid the Vampire Council in their efforts to turn the whole nation. I understand.”

“But do you agree?”

Anne straightened. “I do.”

Rhys stepped forward to stand beside Rosalind. “Then first we must say the oath that binds us to this bargain.”

“What oath?” Anne’s suspicious gaze flashed between Rosalind and Rhys.

Rosalind took Rhys’s hand and held out hers to Anne. “My lady?”

With an impatient gesture, Anne reached for Rosalind’s and Rhys’s hands. Rosalind repressed a shudder at the Vampire’s closeness. Anne’s grip was birdlike, her skin cold and lifeless, her honeysuckle scent overwhelming.

Rhys cleared his throat. “If we break faith with one another, may the green earth gape and swallow us. May the gray sea burst loose and overwhelm us. May the sky of stars fall and crush the life out of us forever.”

Power from Rhys surged through Rosalind’s fingers and onward to Anne Boleyn. All three of them gasped as their hearts beat together and their blood flowed through all of them, as if they had been welded together into a burning ring of molten metal.

Anne ripped her hands free and stepped backward. Color infused her face, turned her eyes red, and elongated her fangs. She looked what she was now, a powerful Vampire hiding within the shell of a beautiful woman. Rosalind itched to draw her dagger and simply kill the Vampire, but she had to see this through. Her loyalty to the king must supersede her own desires, and she too was now bound by the dictates of the sacred oath.

Rhys squeezed her hand and let it go. He turned to Anne and bowed. “Do not break the vow you have made to us to save the king, my lady, or you will suffer the consequences.”

Anne licked her lips. “I will keep my vow if you keep yours. Now give me the potion!”

Even though her hands were still shaking, Rosalind opened her hanging pocket and slowly took out the securely wrapped charm, the small bottle of potion, and the parchment containing the prayer. She crossed to the sturdy oak table and unwrapped the charm, taking care not to touch it. Despite her best efforts, she felt the tug of her own fertility, the surge of life within her womb.

“You must wear this charm close to your skin at all times.”

Anne peered at the small acorn-shaped trinket and shuddered. “It is ugly.”

“It is one of the most powerful fertility charms in the world.”

“I suppose I’ll have to bear it.” Anne grimaced. “At least it is small and can easily be hidden about my person. Now what about this potion?”

Rosalind handed her the small clay bottle. “On the days when you do not bleed, you must take three drops of this potion on your tongue every morning before you break your fast and then say the prayer.”

Anne snatched the parchment out of Rosalind’s hand and began to read it out loud.

“Brighid bhoidheach, Goddess bright
Lend me your power for this night
With the essence of spirit, fire of Ruis,
bend the laws of the universe to my plight

By unicorn horn and chaste, sweet child awaken
Hear Brighid’s call.
bán Gèadh quicken my womb
Give the unborn child flight

Air, Fire, Earth, and Water
Witness my prayer and come to my aid
As the adder overtakes the stag,
so too shall we prevail.

As I will it, so mote it be.”

Rosalind closed her eyes as the words drifted over her. She had a strange desire to rip the parchment out of Anne’s hands and stop her using such sacred words simply for her own ambition rather than from a true desire for a child. She waited, hands fisted at her sides, as Anne gathered together the items and stuffed them into her hanging pocket.

“If the potion doesn’t take effect immediately, how will I get more?”

Rhys bowed. “If you need more, my lady, send for me in the stables. My name is Rhys Williams. I will make sure you are provided for.”

“I’m sure you will, Master Williams.” Anne’s bright gaze swept over Rhys. “You seem to be a man of your word.” She glanced slyly at Rosalind. “Mayhap you will find some consolation close at hand when Kit Ellis repudiates your hand in marriage after all.”

“I’m sure I will, my lady.” Rosalind inclined her head. “I would wish you success, but I hardly think you would believe me.”

“Indeed, I would not.” Anne settled herself back into her chair again. “I want you to know that if I die because of this accursed agreement, I have made arrangements with the Vampire Council to have the king and both of you killed instantly.”

“I expected no less, my lady.”

Rosalind and Rhys turned to go. There was nothing left to say. Either their plan would work and the king would be safe—at least for a while—or it wouldn’t, and they would be dead and beyond anyone’s help but God’s.

Christopher had managed to avoid George and his other friends and find something to do in the stables until his fellow conspirators returned. Now he watched Rhys and Rosalind approach and tried to judge the success of their mission from their expressions.

Rhys saw him and jerked his head in the direction of Geithin’s stall. Christopher put back the piece of tack he’d been pretending to mend and walked casually along the line of stalls until he reached the one he wanted. Christopher entered and drew the door shut behind him. Geithin munched placidly on his hay, undisturbed by all his visitors. Rosalind leaned against the wall; her color was disturbingly pale, but at least Rhys was smiling.

“Did Lady Anne take the bait?” Christopher asked.

“She did,” Rhys said. “But not without making it quite plain that if she believes we have betrayed her, then we and the king will die.”

Christopher glanced at Rosalind, who had closed her eyes. “That was to be expected.” He moved around Geithin’s hindquarters and touched her shoulder. “Are you well, my lady?”

Rosalind shivered. “As well as can be expected, having given an ancient Vampire the means to procreate.”

“We all agreed that there was nothing else we could do.”

“I know, but I still wanted to reach for my dagger and just end her life once and for all.”

Christopher bent to kiss her cheek. “Such a bloodthirsty wench. Sometimes I fear for my chances in our marriage bed.”

Rosalind shrugged away from his touch. “According to the Lady Anne, we will never be married. Once she has secured her position, she intends to keep you dancing attendance on her.”

“As if I would let her.” Christopher scoffed. “I’m betrothed to you and we
will
be married.” Saying it didn’t make him feel any better, but he couldn’t allow Rosalind to lose confidence in him now.

To his dismay, the glance she threw at him was skeptical to say the least. He caught her hand. “We will be married, Rosalind. I swear it.”

Rhys moved toward the door. “I’m going to the Druid circle to give thanks for the success of our mission. Are you coming, my lady?”

Rosalind gently pulled free of Christopher’s grasp. “I have to go, Christopher. Keep watch on the Lady Anne and George while we are gone.”