The Black Lily (Tales of the Black Lily) Page 12

  “I find the same when I reread my favorites. Though I don’t read about medicine,” said Arabelle, trying to hide her distaste for the topic.

  Sienna laughed. “So now you know about me. I must hear about you. How is it that you became a prisoner of a Varis prince? And how is it that you remain unspoiled?”

  Sienna gestured to her throat still unmarked by a vampire’s bite.

  Arabelle touched her hand to her throat, perplexed as well as to why he hadn’t taken advantage and fed from her. He could have overpowered her and taken what he wanted at any moment. And he’d made it quite clear that he desired her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Yet he hadn’t taken her by force, as she thought all vampires would do in his situation. Especially an entitled royal prince.

  “That’s a good question.”

  “Which one?”

  Arabelle shifted and propped an elbow on the sofa arm.

  “Well, where to start.”

  “From the beginning, of course,” said Sienna with a kind smile.

  Arabelle liked her. She was unlike any noble woman she’d ever encountered. If they could all be like her, perhaps Marius was right in that they’d keep the balance between the classes. But as it was, greed corrupted all of Sylus, keeping her living in a hovel, with never enough to build a more dignified home.

  Arabelle gazed around the room once more, imagining what it would be like to live so well without needing the scraps the Pervis family gave her. She’d never go back now, but she was determined to build up the woodhouse into a proper home. Perhaps not as fine as this one, but more than the shabby shack where she’d lived most of her life. If she survived her own revolution, that is.

  “From the beginning it is then. I am a servant in the House of Pervis in the village of Sylus. Or at least, I was, until quite recently. I…” Arabelle paused and tried to find a more delicate way to confess this, but there wasn’t one. “Well, I tried to assassinate the Prince of Varis at the ball in the Glass Tower.”

  Sienna choked on the pastry and coughed.

  “Sorry. Are you all right?”

  Sienna recovered, her face pink as she threw her head back and laughed. A pleasant sound. Not delicate at all, but full of joy and mirth. Arabelle laughed with her.

  “That prince I just stole you away from?”

  “The very one,” agreed Arabelle. “As you can see, I wasn’t successful.”

  “But why? Had he harmed you before? Was it revenge?”

  “No. I’d never met him before. There is much more to my story, but suffice it to say that the vampires in the Glass Tower are killing more and more of my people. Of the peasantry. And they go unchecked. There is no point to report the deaths to the Tower, for how could we know they aren’t the very ones killing our people?”

  “But why kill the prince then?”

  “I have not said all.”

  Arabelle sat up and pulled her sleeve down off of her shoulder, revealing the tattoo. Sienna sucked in a breath.

  “I am with the Black Lily. I’m sure you don’t know what that is, but—”

  “Of course I know what it is, who you are. I have heard the merchants I deal with in Hiddleston mention the Black Lily. They speak of a woman, a peasant, who carries hope in her heart for each one of them, hope for a world where there are no chains and no more death… My God, you are the Black Lily.”

  Sienna gazed on her with admiration, a light in her look that gave Arabelle strength once more in her cause. She lifted her sleeve back up over her shoulder.

  “The assassination was to mark the beginning of our revolution. But I failed. My gold-tipped dagger did not find his heart. And he’s apparently stronger than the average vampire. The gold in his bloodstream alone should’ve killed him.”

  “He is a Varis.”

  “Yes. That he is. I underestimated his strength.” She underestimated him in many ways, it seemed. “But we have a new plan, but I need to— Oh, Deek!” Arabelle shot off the couch. “I completely forgot. I must get back to our safe house and be sure he is all right. You see, the prince and his Legionnaires figured out that Deek, my friend, was part of the Black Lily. The prince wanted to trade me for Deek, since I was the one who tried to kill him. We created a distraction and all of us fled. That’s how I came to be in these woods. I fled the meeting place, then the prince found me and was taking me back to the Glass Tower. The rest you know.”

  Sienna stood with her.

  “Before you go, may I suggest a change in attire? It seems those clothes are a little rough for wear.”

  Arabelle laughed, for the woman didn’t even question why she was wearing boys’ clothes. She liked Sienna more and more by the minute. Dirt stains marked Arabelle’s knees and backside when she took a gander. A tear had ripped along the shoulder.

  “I suppose I do appear out of sorts.”

  Sienna arched a brow and marched toward her dressing screen. “You are the Black Lily.”

  “The leader of—”

  “No, you don’t quite understand. The Black Lily is more than a rebellion, more than the merchants and farmers and laborers who make up its members and long to see its success. You are its crowning flower, the dark bloom that promises both rebirth and an avenging hand.”

  “My,” said Arabelle with a gulp when she followed her toward the dressing screen.

  Sienna rummaged in a wardrobe behind it.

  “I thought you were an artist, but now I think you’re a poet.”

  Sienna whirled around with a sapphire dress in hand, spun of a fine thin material that appeared durable.

  “I may be both of those,” she agreed, not with arrogance but with complete honesty. “However, I am even better at fashion.”

  Arabelle shook her head in disbelief. “I have never cared about fashion. It’s not important to—”

  “I am convinced that you are a highly intelligent woman, from the brief meeting and conversation we’ve had. But you are wrong if you believe your appearance is not important. You must not only play the part of leader, but also look the part. Now, take off those hideous breeches and that torn shirt. I have clean water in the ewer on my vanity you can use as well.”

  Arabelle wasn’t modest, but she’d also never disrobed in front of someone she hardly knew. Of course, she had experience putting her clothes back on in front of a practical stranger, thanks to the prince.

  She turned her back to Sienna and removed her shirt then walked to the ewer and began sponging off the dirt along her arms and chest. She splashed her face clean, feeling revived.

  “I lost my corset, I’m afraid.”

  “I won’t ask how,” said Sienna. “I have something better anyway. This bodice goes on the outside of the gown.” She held up a sapphire bodice with black lace overlay. “Wonderful support, but comfort as well. Not nearly as constricting as a corset underneath, and it matches beautifully with this gown. Blue isn’t quite my color, but on you it will look lovely.”

  Arabelle finished sponging herself from top to toe, dropping the rag in the ewer now swirling with dirty water. She’d had more than one tumble in the dirt since her bath in the pool last night. She remembered the way the prince had looked at her last night when she walked out of the pool. No man had ever looked at her that way. Sure, she’d had men stare at her with desire before, more than a few times. But not like Marius. As if the whole world could burn around him and he’d never notice, with only her in his sight.

  She slipped into the muslin chemise Sienna held out for her and then the new dress.

  “Here, let me help you with the bodice.”

  Sienna laced up the back, drawing tight to keep her supported, but not so tight she couldn’t move or breathe.

  “I have some fresh stockings for you as well. Here you are.”

  She handed over a pair of fine white stockings that would reach the thigh. Arabelle was accustomed to shabby wool stockings that never went past the knee.

  “I don’t know how to thank you for this. Or to repay you.�
��

  She sat on a stool to slip them on.

  “No need.” Sienna waved a hand as she took up a cloth and brushed off her black boots. “These are fine boots, though.”

  Sienna dropped them at her side and pulled Arabelle’s loose tie from her hair.

  “Let me help you with your hair so we can hurry.”

  She ran her brush through the tangled locks, catching once, then twice, before she began braiding it for her.

  “Thank you.”

  Arabelle suddenly felt quite shy. No one else had brushed her hair since her mother died. Actually, no one had treated her with quite so much kindness all at once as this mere stranger. And she was an aristocrat. Or had been once. Now, she was a healer—of the body and spirit, it seemed. She smiled at her good fortune.

  “What is it?” asked Sienna.

  “Nothing really. I’m just so glad we met, is all.”

  “I’m sure you are. Or you’d be locked in the dungeon of the Glass Tower right about now,” she teased, tying the end of her braid and giving her shoulders a squeeze. “I think you’re all set now. Slip on your boots.”

  Deek had given her these boots last harvest. They were made of fine leather, smooth and darkened to a nice sheen. “I need to find out if Deek made it all right.” She laced up one boot, then slipped on the next. “He should be at our safe house, unless the Legionnaires were able to track him.” Arabelle stood from the stool.

  Sienna beamed a wide smile.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Look.”

  Sienna took her hand and led her to a wall-sized looking glass next to the vanity. Arabelle was shocked, having never seen herself look so—

  “Stunning,” said Sienna. “You are absolutely stunning. Now this is how the Black Lily should look.”

  She wouldn’t disagree. There was an air of confidence about her that was certainly there before, but now it stood out in the way the dress and bodice squared her shoulders and accentuated her waist. The way her clothes highlighted her femininity and her strength. The loose drop-skirt showed she was a woman, but she was no dainty flower out for a stroll in the garden. Her knee-high boots proved she had work to do.

  Sienna stood at her side, her crimson bodice very similar to the sapphire one on Arabelle.

  “Did you make these yourself?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  Arabelle shook her head.

  “You have more skills than I thought imaginable for one woman.”

  She arched one auburn brow. “In society, I was known for being quite an accomplished woman.”

  “I’ll bet. I wonder if we can acquire a belt that would hold a sheath and blade?”

  “I think we can manage that.”

  She remembered her blade that Marius had wrapped and stored in Willow’s saddlebag. She worried for Willow, hoping she had made it home. Her mare would return to her paddock at the shack. Somehow, Arabelle would need to find a way to reach her. But not now.

  “All right then,” said Sienna. “Let us go to your friend.”

  “Wait. You’ve done enough. I don’t want to endanger you more than you already are for helping me.”

  Sienna walked to the wall, swept her red cape around her shoulders, hooked the clasp at the neck and pulled the hood up, then picked up her walking stick.

  “You might as well forget about that. I’m your newest member of the Black Lily.”

  Arabelle laughed. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

  She beamed with pride as they walked out into the yard, the first pink light of dawn breaking over the trees. Sienna whistled a loud, shrill sound. Duchess and Luca trotted into the clearing a moment later.

  “Come over here,” said Sienna, walking up to Luca and petting him along the center of the forehead. His eyes drooped. “Luca, this is Arabelle. She is our friend.”

  Arabelle held out her hand. The gargantuan beast sniffed then licked her hand. She could hardly believe it. She petted him along his neck as she’d seen Sienna do to Duchess earlier.

  “We need your help, big boy.”

  The alpha wolf nuzzled Sienna, brown eyes blinking softly, as in assent.

  “Thank you, my friend. Come on this side, Arabelle.”

  She walked around to find Sienna cupping her hands together.

  “Just step in my hand and I’ll give you a boost up.”

  “Pardon. What?”

  Arabelle’s heart leapt at what Sienna was suggesting she do—climb onto a hart wolf.

  “You want me to get on his back?”

  “Of course. They’ll give us a ride to your woodhouse. Just whisper the directions in his ear as we go and he’ll get us there.”

  Setting aside the fact that the woman wanted her to ride a hart wolf, she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that he could understand her.

  “Are you telling me that hart wolves speak our language?”

  Sienna giggled. “No, silly. They can’t speak our language. But they understand it quite well.” She rubbed Luca again on the head above his eyes. “They’re magical creatures, the hart wolves,” she said with an edge of wonder and awe. “But that conversation we’ll have to save for another day. Now, we must get to your safe house and formulate your next plan.”

  Arabelle gave a nod, mustering her courage. “Right.”

  With a step into Sienna’s cupped hands, she pulled up onto the beast’s back.

  “Just hold the fur at his shoulders. You’ll find it grows thick there, easy to hang on to.”

  Arabelle shook her head in disbelief. Sienna was astounding, in every possible way. Duchess crouched with her belly on the ground, allowing Sienna to simply swing a leg over.

  “A noble woman riding astride? Not very proper,” teased Arabelle.

  Duchess stood and walked over to stand next to her mate. Sienna grinned.

  “I never was very good at being a proper lady. Now, lead on, Black Lily.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The hart wolves moved in silence along the periphery of the path, just out of sight, though Marius could smell their presence well enough. Dawn crept into the forest, slowly coloring the black trees gray as light filtered through the leafy canopy above.

  A horse whinnied. Marius halted to listen, thinking it might be Willow, then realized he was coming up on the fork in the path where he’d tied off Erebus. The wolves growled.

  “Go on, you beasts. I’m leaving, so you can be off.”

  Marius jogged up the path and rounded the bend to find the black stallion right where he’d left him the night before. It had only been a few hours actually since he’d set out on foot to follow her.

  Arabelle.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of her. Nor could he stop considering what she told him. Were there truly vampires in the palace infected with sanguine furorem? It seemed impossible for this kind of sickness to be rampant, as she claimed it was, and for him to never know. The very idea infuriated him. He and Nikolai had made it their priority to keep their men in line and had kept a keen eye out for signs of the madness in the ranks.

  He hefted himself up into the saddle and clicked with a nudge of his heel to get his horse in full gallop. A quick glance both left and right told him his escorts had vanished back into Silvane Forest. As he sped along the trail, the wind pushing against him, he wondered if he’d made the right decision in letting her go.

  Yes, there were four hart wolves to defeat before he could whisk her away. He could’ve certainly killed all of them before he’d weakened at all. Even with their speed and strength, they were still no match for a Varis prince. What not many people realized was that a prince carried the blood of the original vampire line, his own father, more potent and stronger than those whose bloodlines had been watered down over time. He was more lethal than many realized.

  But the fact was, he didn’t want to kill the beasts. Their mystical origins and connection to the Silvane Forest were legendary. Creatures that were animal but also something more. Like h
im.

  Using vampire speed, he could’ve easily escaped with her and outrun them. He could’ve stolen her away to the palace as originally planned. But the more he talked and learned of Arabelle, the more he dreaded taking her to the Glass Tower. He could hold her in no other place but the dungeons. To imagine her chained and interrogated by the Legionnaires sparked a raging fire in his gut. He could never allow it.

  He ventured back into the heart of Larkin Wood, the bright green leaves waving in the morning breeze.

  Yes. It was better to have let her go, while he discovered whether there was any truth to her allegations.

  “Your Highness!”

  He slowed Erebus as a troop of Legionnaires approached, Nikolai at the helm.

  “Whoa there,” said Marius as they met.

  “Great stars, am I glad to see you,” said Nikolai, urging his horse to his side.

  Nikolai reached out. Marius clasped his forearm in greeting, smiling back at his oldest friend.

  “When you didn’t return and we lost the scent of your trail, we thought something terrible might have happened.”

  “I’m all right, friend. You can stop worrying.”

  “Aye. But your mother is completely out of sorts.”

  Marius gave a greeting nod to Riker and the other men.

  “Let us get back to the palace then. Riker, if you’ll lead the way and keep your men at a distance. I need to speak with the lieutenant privately on our journey home.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” said Riker, motioning for his troops to lead and flank the Prince of Varis.

  As instructed, the Legionnaires moved farther off. Marius and Nikolai walked slowly behind them.

  “What is it?” asked Nikolai. “Where have you been all night?”

  “In the Silvane Forest. With Arabelle.”

  “What?” He looked around as if she might materialize out of the woods. “Then where is she? Don’t tell me she got away.”

  “No. Not exactly. I let her go.” Marius laughed. “Though the circumstances were quite interesting.”