Sunset, She Fights Page 5

  They snuck out of the castle through one of the many hidden corridors in the ancient structure. Whoever had built the place had wanted either privacy or escape routes. She guessed it was the latter since the castle had been built to defend the kingdom from the fae in a war that never transpired.

  Once they were clear of the garden, she answered Pora’s question. “I don’t train just to fight, as you bloody well know. The sword master helps me control my ogre impulses.”

  “Seems a waste, if you ask me.”

  Her ogress agreed, but Rainne didn’t say as much. It was hard enough fighting her desires; she didn’t need a cat urging her on. What she needed was time away from the castle to clear her thoughts and to work out frustrations. A good whooping from Master Njeeb would do the trick. She always felt better after one of their sessions. Rainne rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms.

  Njeeb didn’t disappoint. He trained her hard from the minute she walked through his door. Within a few minutes, sweat beaded on her skin. A half hour later, her muscles strained with every movement. A lunge from the sword master ended with the tip of his blade a hair’s width from her heart. She blinked and looked at the sword, her mind working hard to grasp what had happened.

  Master Njeeb stood straight, his sword at his side. “Rainne. Look at me.”

  She heard her name and blinked again before glancing up. His face swam in a sea of colors. Brown skin, black hair, grey eyes, pink lips: they all circled and wavered.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She seemed fine when we left the castle.” Pora answered, his cat voice higher pitched with worry.

  “Pora! We have a rule. No one can know you talk.”

  Pora waved a paw at her, his other paw on his hip. “No, you had a rule. Everyone at the castle knows I talk and they haven’t dissected me yet. Now, you tell the sword master why you’re so out of it tonight. Go one, tell him what you did.”

  She stared at Pora. His little grey face swam in a hazy wave, but his words pierced her carefully protected heart. He’d betrayed her. Or had he? It was her rule, after all. He was a grown ass cat—if he wanted to talk, it was his choice to risk the consequences. Still, the selfish part of her wanted him to keep silent so no one would take him away from her.

  “Rainne?” Master Njeeb touched her arm and she swung back to the present.

  “I had an extra cup of xanslip. It hurts so much—I just needed something to ease the pain.”

  “Xanslip?” Njeeb removed her sword from her fingers and sheathed it. “You’re in no condition to train. Pora, take her back to the castle to sleep it off.”

  She kept her focus on Pora’s tail and stumbled through the garden to their secret entrance. Once in the claustrophobic walkways, she stretched her fingertips to trace along the rough stone. The cool of the castle helped clear her mind, but not entirely. Muddied thoughts slowly churned and she fought through them to keep her focus on finding her room.

  Pora’s little globe of drossfire bobbed a foot in front of him and they followed it down another corridor into the heart of the castle. A whiff of sweet pea and powder tickled her nose and she stopped.

  “What are you doing?” Pora grabbed her hand and pulled, but she shook her head.

  “He’s here.” She sniffed the stones while her hands searched for the outline of a door. About ten paces farther along, she found what she was looking for. “Help me, Pora.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  She growled at him and felt for the latch that would allow her entry into the rooms beyond the thick stone walls. It made a soft click and she looked at the cat. “Are you coming?”

  “This isn’t going to end well. Think, Rainne. What are you going to do?”

  “I just want to smell him.”

  Pora’s little mouth fell open and his eyes went huge and luminous. “Did you say smell him?”

  She grinned like a sappy schoolgirl. “It’s divine. Like freedom and love and warmth and safety all combined.” Like everything she’d never have.

  “One sniff. Got it? Just the one.”

  She carefully opened the door and pushed the heavy tapestry aside. Finnick had put the prince in their finest guest rooms, but even so, she wondered whether the prince thought them too provincial. She’d heard tales of Elvenwood’s grandeur. Her castle was little more than a fortified pile of rocks.

  They tiptoed past a cozy reading nook to the bedchamber where Theo slept. His belongings were displayed on a chest and she paused to inspect their neatness. A silver comb sat beside a pen and pad of paper, each a finger’s width apart. The ring the prince wore nestled on a cloud of velvet as black as the stone. She reached for it and a shock went up her fingertips to her heart. She snapped her hand away and rubbed it on her trousers. Jewelry had never caused her problems in the past. The only explanation she had was that perhaps Theo’s ring was spelled to keep anyone from stealing it. Whatever the reason, she would stay far from the wretched thing.

  A ray of moonlight shone on Theo’s face and he looked even more ethereal. His golden hair draped over the pillow and she resisted taking a lock in her hands to feel its silkiness. The elven part of her screamed for them to leave, but the ogress in Rainne was fully in control.

  Her blood heated and she swooned against the bed. A strand of his hair swept across her fingertips and a ripple of excitement went straight to her core. She shouldn’t be here. They needed to leave before she—

  Slowly, she leaned forward and breathed in the prince’s scent. Her lust grew with each passing second. Goose bumps formed on her skin, sensitive to the slightest wind. Her nipples beaded beneath the leather jerkin, aching to be suckled. Her heartbeat reverberated in her skull—a wild steadiness in its rhythm.

  Pora grabbed her pantleg and tugged, but she was too big for him to move. She stopped an inch from Theo’s face and licked her lips, yearning to taste him again. The prince moaned and rolled to his side, brushing his cheek against her nose. Lust spiraled between her legs and her vision clouded with need.

  A sharp pain stabbed her calf and Rainne reeled around to find Pora glaring at her, his rapier extended. She blinked at her surroundings, then glanced at the sleeping prince. Dear gods, she needed to leave.

  With a nod, she hurried from the bedchamber to the secret passage. Pora sprang through the door after her and she closed it with a sigh.

  “That was more than one sniff.”

  “I can’t help it. When I’m around him, my body burns to be satiated.”

  Pora’s tail flicked back and forth. “Yeah, well, get to your room, then you can satiate yourself all you like.”

  They didn’t speak the rest of the way. She couldn’t be angry at Pora. He was right; she needed to regain control before the ogre took things too far. Once in her bedchamber, she fell into a chair without undressing. She just needed a moment, then she’d get ready for sleep. Just one second of peace, then she’d go to bed.

  Sunlight stung her closed eyes and she rolled to her side. She’d have a word with Alona about opening the bed curtains too early. It didn’t matter if Finnick requested her presence, she’d rather get told off than blinded at sunrise.

  Birds chirped their morning greetings—a little too close. Their high-pitched songs pierced her elf ears. Rainne groaned and blinked herself awake. A tuft of grey fur filled her view and she smiled.

  “Good morning, Pora.” She reached to pet the cat and froze. Blood covered her pale fingers.

  Panic raced across her thoughts to every nerve ending as she struggled to sit up. The ogress’s leather jerkin was too big for her and hampered her movements. The sword tangled in her legs. She scrambled for footing against the dirt path. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision. With a grunt, she shoved herself up to stand.

  Trees and shrubs lay before her. She swung around where the path led out of the forest toward the castle. Why was she in the forest? And why was she still wearing the ogress’s clothing?

  She h
eld out her bloodied hands, but saw past them to the path where tufts of grey fur spread around her like a goose down pillow had exploded.

  “No. No, no, no. Pora?” Hot tears streamed over her cheeks. There was so much fur. Too much. Her breathing came in gasps and her head pounded. “Think, Rainne. Breathe.”

  She stood for a full minute, breathing in and out, low and steady. Her heart continued its crazy gallop, but at least she was able to form coherent thoughts. She bent and prodded the closest pile of grey. It flopped over and she sank to her knees in relief. Rabbit ears covered the disemboweled belly.

  Dry heaves rushed from her gut and she turned away from the thing. Her stomach retched and emptied itself again and again. When there was nothing left, she stood on unsteady legs and wobbled toward the castle.

  She rubbed her hands against the ill-fitting trousers, but the blood was too caked on. She had to get to her rooms before Finnick found out she hadn’t returned before sunrise.

  Hot tears dripped from her chin. It was getting worse. Soon, she wouldn’t have any control over the ogress and then what would he do with her?

  Ogres took what they wanted. Bloodlust, sex—they were one and the same. Their cravings were never satisfied. She touched a bloodied finger to her lips. Maybe this was Finnick’s plan all along—wait until her ogre became out of control, then kill her. Wouldn’t he look like the hero then? Big brave master of the castle killing the evil ogress. They’d throw him a parade, most likely. Then he could take over as duke and who would stop him? God’s truth, they’d probably put the damn crown on him and insist he stay as their protector.

  She silenced the little voice that said he already was their protector. If she gave Finnick any sort of credit for taking care of the duchy, she might have to consider other actualities she wasn’t ready to accept. Not after all the years she’d spent honing her anger.

  She staggered into the hidden passageway with a muttered curse. She’d be damned if she let Finnick take her home, much less take her life. A door snagged on her tunic and she ripped the fabric pulling it free. She paused, afraid she’d disturbed the occupants in the room beyond. She heard faint sounds of footsteps and murmured conversation, but she didn’t try to discern any more than that. The only guests they had at the moment were the prince and his valet. Whatever they discussed, it was no concern of hers.

  Hearing them moving about spurred her faster through the cramped passage. Pora would be frantic, as would Alona. She burst into her dressing room with a gasp, grateful to have not been caught.

  Pora reached her first, with Alona a few steps behind. They stood in the doorway, their faces full of shock. The relief at seeing her friend overwhelmed her and she grabbed him roughly, holding him close. Sobs wracked through her chest and Pora purred into her neck.

  “I don’t know what happened, so please don’t ask.” She wiped her eyes with the bloodied back of her hand and frowned. “Run me a bath, Alona.” The maid nodded and turned away, but Rainne caught the look of horror that crossed her features.

  “Whose blood is that?” Pora asked when she’d gone.

  She set him down and rubbed her temples.

  “Rabbits. At least, I hope that’s all it is.” She stripped the leather bracers off her arms and pulled off the heavy jerkin. At last, she felt as though she could breathe.

  “Are you saying you don’t remember?”

  “I’m saying the last thing I recall, we were at the sword master’s hut. I don’t know how I ended up in the forest.”

  “The forest? God’s blood. This is worse than I thought.” Pora’s whiskers vibrated and she frowned, knowing he was right.

  “I think maybe the wolves the other night sparked something primal in me, and now,” she held up her hands, “maybe I need to be locked up at night.”

  “Your bath is ready.” Alona helped her undress and used a warm cloth to remove most of the blood.

  As Rainne sank into the hot water, she fought to remember anything from the previous night.

  “Alona, make sure Egritte tells the prince he’s well enough to travel. I don’t care if it’s a blatant lie—he needs to leave the castle.”

  Her maid nodded and glanced at Pora. A silent conversation transpired in that one look. Whatever the two of them were scheming, it was probably for the best. The sooner Theo was gone, the better.

  6

  The doors to Duchess Fleur’s rooms sat ajar and Theo hesitated before pushing them open. He looked around for a servant and found none. Strange. In fact, there weren’t many servants in the whole of the castle, let alone taking care of the ailing duchess. Which made no sense considering the lands surrounding Duir were profitable.

  There should be liveried pages and valets and ladies-in-waiting, but he saw only a few maids on his way to Fleur’s rooms. The Master Finnick and lovely Lady Delarainne didn’t dress in finery, nor were their clothes tattered and worn, but spoke of a casual elegance befitting a country manor. If there weren’t many servants in attendance, it wasn’t for lack of funds. Theo scratched at his chin and surveyed the well-appointed room.

  Duir Castle had wealth, and he suspected it also had secrets that would explain the limited staff. He reminded himself to not dwell on family drama that wasn’t his. Whatever went on at the castle, he need pay it no mind unless it interfered with his plans. He intended to take Rainne with him to Elvenwood, but hadn’t quite concocted a scheme to entice her away from her home. His mother would tell him he needed to make it seem like Rainne’s idea, which would be ideal if Theo had any idea how to proceed.

  A voice from the conservatory made him pause. Finnick could clearly be heard, but though Theo waited, no other voice replied. He stepped to the side where he could see into the room without being seen and listened.

  “My darling, I don’t know what to do.” Finnick sat in the chair Rainne had occupied the day before, with his back to the windows.

  His steepled hands supported his bowed head. A pocket watch glinted between his fingers and a gold chain draped to a waistcoat pocket. He remembered seeing Finnick toy with the thing earlier. Now, he held it as if it were a talisman and gave him strength. Theo touched the obsidian ring on his finger.

  “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but it’s no use.” Finnick’s mousy brown hair concealed his eyes, but Theo supposed they were closed as if in prayer.

  He stifled a sneeze and frowned at the dust floating in a ray of sun. This was no way to live—shuttered inside without proper housekeeping. He’d have a word with Finnick after they discussed other matters.

  Finnick reached a hand to grasp Fleur’s and the sound of soft sobbing echoed in the empty room. “I’ve failed you, my love. Oh, that you could advise me. I’ve tried to keep her safe, to keep her out of harm’s way. She hates me for it. Hates me for trapping her here with only servants for company. She should be having balls and romance.” Finnick blew his nose into a handkerchief and shook his head. “What are we to do?” He sniffed and tucked the cloth into a pocket, then nodded as if a decision had been made. “It’s a new day, darling.” He lifted himself and bent over the duchess’s sleeping form to place his lips on her forehead. “We can only hope the gods are smiling upon us this day.”

  Theo’s heart ached at the intimacy he spied. He turned to leave and nearly bumped into Rainne. She stood not more than a pace behind him; tears welled in her eyes, making them darker than they actually were.

  “Lady Delarainne.” He whispered to keep Finnick from hearing.

  “Rainne, please.”

  “Of course. I forgot. I came to see your stepfather, but it appears he is otherwise engaged.”

  “I heard.” Her fingers grasped the amulet he’d spied the previous day. It looked like a small urn with a stopper. An unusual charm, but nothing about Duir Castle was ordinary.

  In the other room, Finnick’s deep baritone related the weather and what was happening in the surrounding lands. He painted a picture for the duchess that was at once loving and full of remo
rse.

  “Perhaps we should go.”

  Rainne nodded absently. Her lips trembled, as did the fingers that clasped the charm. She smelled of soap, lilac, and freshly pressed clothing. Her braided hair was still wet from a bath. A lone tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She flicked it away, but then did the strangest thing—she stared at her finger as if she’d never seen tears before.

  He took her arm, surprised to find it not doughy, but muscled. Tendons and sinews shifted beneath his touch as he gently led her to the door. She meekly thanked him before wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Without a word, she directed them away from the duchess’s rooms and out a side door. Sunlight momentarily blinded him and he held up a hand to shield his eyes. Rainne continued walking, apparently not bothered at all by the harsh sun.

  She strolled down a path, her fingertips trailing along the open petals of a flower he didn’t recognize.

  “It’s not much, but you said you’d like to see the garden.” She shrugged and tilted her head toward the many flowering plants.

  The gardens at Elvenwood were immense and scattered across the mountainside. Duir’s garden was indeed much smaller, but there was a certain charm in the way vines crept up the stone walls and colored pebbles marked the footpaths.

  “It’s perfectly lovely, thank you.” He veered to the left and walked with his hands clasped behind his back. Every so often he paused to sniff a bloom, but otherwise, he kept to himself.

  As much as he tried to push thoughts of Fleur and Finnick and Rainne out of his mind, they continued to snake their way into his subconscious. Something was going on at Duir, but it didn’t concern him. The less he involved himself, the better. He’d leave soon enough and whatever troubles Duir Castle held would be behind him. He twisted the ring he wore on the third finger of his left hand. The very same ring his ancestor Crown Prince Bastiaan had worn those many centuries ago when he was to be wedded to the fae princess who deceived and manipulated him, then placed the unbreakable curse on his family. Theo nearly spat, but stopped himself at the last moment.