Page 48 of Caroline the Cruel
Caroline nodded.
“She convinced her husband to give her a small piece, and she whittled what looked like ten sewing needles. King Karis used those as darts to deliver a commanding blow to Everstal decimating its royal family so only a few survivors were left. Of course, they didn’t know rosenwood was only required to kill the Dallimore who held the power. When they felled the Dallimore King, the power transferred to the youngest daughter, Morine who was in hiding. The Kingdom fell into chaos for years until she was old enough to wrestle control back and push us out, like you did. The rest is history. When I got assigned to your guard, it was one of the closest chances we’d had. And had you not been saved by the Gods, I’d have achieved the impossible. But you lived and here we are.” Breicher drained the rest of his glass as she did the same.
“I think I could love you if my death weren’t the intended end to your tale.” The look in her eyes clearly showed her pain, and she got up, not bothering to dress before she exited the chamber in her towel.
Breicher gathered their things and carried them back to their adjoined rooms, her words replaying in a rhythm in his mind. She could love him? Surely, he hadn’t heard that right. And why did the thought of her affection make his skin heat? He rubbed at the tight spot on his chest as he stalked in front of the connecting door between their bedrooms, but the light was dim beneath, suggesting she’d retired for the evening.
It wasn’t until her soft panting floated through the door, followed by a subtle cry that caught her falsehood. Caroline was a good liar and Gods, that little sound was so very sexy. He deposited her things beside the door and rubbed at the renewed stiffness at his groin. She’d been thinking of him, so he’d do the same, drawing out his pleasure, a vision of her a phantom in his mind.
Chapter 5
Hetoldhertheexact location. It was only a small betrayal to explain the layout of Veetula’s white stone castle, Kierengaard, and Caroline grasped the floor plan easily. Her keen mind was another thing striking about the queen. It was like a razor she constantly sharpened. Nothing escaped her notice. Still, as he’d drawn each level, each passageway, and spire of his towering home, his stomach rolled.
Breicher had to swallow this betrayal down because she had his blood. There was no escaping her or her wishes. And she wouldn’t hesitate to use her power on him. If he didn’t comply, the situation would only become worse. She would have brought them into the city with the power she’d stolen from the Gods and made a terrible scene as she wreaked havoc through the streets. He had no doubt. He grimaced at the thought of her disrupting the peaceful way of life in Veetula and creating unnecessary fear which never led to anything but suffering. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she’d slipped the little blade ring on her thumb while they’d been talking, so he was certain she was prepared to do whatever it took to take the northern kingdom.
“Ready?” Caroline wrapped her fine, icy hands around both his and Angus’s wrists. A warm, tingling energy vibrated across his skin—the Gods stolen power—and a floating sensation overtook him. Breicher suspected he was no longer present in his own body as the queen whisked them away.
Tonight was the winter solstice, the coldest time of the year in his frozen homeland. Each season, the night the sun was at the furthest point in its orbit, Veetula held an elaborate celebration that went on well into the night, celebrating the sun’s rebirth. The Ivanslohe’s encouraged guests to dress in bright oranges and yellows, which created a lively atmosphere and made the Great Hall, which was usually decorated in icy blues and whites, feel like a sunny winter sky. He remembered the last one he’d attended, only a few short months before he’d left to infiltrate Everstal.
He and Hollis had gotten so drunk that his brother’s wife, Queen Agna, had admonished them, demanding they leave the hall for all the ruckus they were causing. So, what had they done? Invited the rowdiest party guests to join them in the archery range, then asked for volunteers to test their aim. Even spitting drunk, the two of them were an ace of a shot. Of course, the next day, Agna had sent healthy purses of silver to the contestants for their little games with her apologies.
This joyous festival was when Caroline decided to strike.
Gasps and whispers sounded across the Great Room as their party apparated on a breeze landing in the center of the vacant sky blue and white mosaic dance floor.
Five years had passed since he stood in this room. It was the same. Breicher took in the velvet panels hanging from the wooden rafters, sheets of blue ice, the color of the winter sky in the kingdom where he’d grown up. Embroidered on the panels was his family crest—a navy mountain elk surrounded by doves weaving snow-colored ribbons around the king of the forest’s antlers.
The first time Hollis had taken him hunting, he had only been fifteen, and barely able to muscle the string of the bow in position. It had taken them days of tracking, but finally they found a massive buck with a rack sizable enough to rival the one on the crest. His heart ratcheted so high his vision blurred. It must’ve been the adrenaline, but that time when he had drawn the string it had been effortless. But he hadn’t expected it and wrenched it back so hard in his excitement, the bow had wined, scaring off the cautious animal. Hollis hadn’t stopped laughing until they were both in tears.
He didn’t want to think about him, feel the pain the happy memories caused, but he scanned the long room for his brother still. Hollis was going to kill him for this betrayal, but there wasn’t a choice. Surely, he’d see that. The dais sat at the opposite end of the entry. Along the two linear walls were long dining tables covered in ice sculptures, elaborate silver candleholders, and tiered platters stacked with decadent offerings. Guests were taking their seats, while others were still walking about the open space in the middle, mingling.
His brother perched on his throne, casually leaning over, flirting with a pretty serving girl delivering his wine to a bedizened goblet, which he lazily held in between two fingers of his outstretched hand, and Breicher shook his head. His auburn-haired Queen was engaged in similar behavior with a young male seated at her side, openly twirling a lock of his sand-colored hair.
It wasn’t a love match. The fact that Breicher had been the second-born son had been a relief to him. It had meant he might find love with whomever he chose to spend the rest of his life with. Because divorce was not an option in Veetula. Especially for his family, so the choice had been a point of gratitude for him. But the calling of duty had stirred, so he volunteered to take the mission to infiltrate Everstal and assassinate its queen and now he was poised to marry her.
He could almost laugh at the turn of events.
The crowd quieted as they took account of his, Caroline, and Angus’s presence, the screeching of instruments halting their song echoed across the vast space.
“Oh, don’t stop,” Caroline commanded. The musicians looked from her to the Royals on the dais, then back. “Your playing was so lovely.” She clapped her hands in mock encouragement.
A wicked toothy grin opened across her face, exposing her flawless teeth. “You know who I am?” she addressed them. It wasn’t really a question and several of the musicians flinched, expecting to feel her power slither across their skin.
After several moments of thick silence, a single player ran their tentative bow across the strings of a violin and light music filled the air again, encouraging other players to re-join the chorus.
”No, not that. Play something darker. More triumphant.” She didn’t even look their way as she waited for them to obey her command.
A conductor murmured something to the band that Breicher couldn’t make out. The musicians flipped a few pages, and a deep, foreboding melody misted through the hall.
Caroline sighed. “Much better. Angus?”
To the crowd, there was no mistaking who Caroline was and what she was there for. Her white locks were falling over themselves atop her head, piling inside and securing the too big crown she never wore, which was her family heirloom and symbol of their power. He’d learned how she hated the gold against her cool, milky skin, but she was wearing it tonight, so there was no question of her supremacy. A rose made from rubies sat at the center of the gilded coronet, the only part not partially obscured by her hair. Between golden spikes, each was tipped with an enormous diamond which pierced the full circumference through the mounds of white.
His intended had chosen a loose gown in the perfect ivory, like a bride on her wedding day, and it was trimmed with a fine woven rope of finely spun gold. All the warmth cloaking her made her glowing silver eyes that much more a striking contrast. His gaze caught on her lips as he studied her, painted the deepest scarlet, almost black. Her finishing touch was the sash she wore across her chest made from a garland of handwoven, fresh white roses.
If one didn’t know better, they might think she was one of the Gods she had destroyed.
“Bow before your new queen,” Angus commanded.
