“Good evening, Lady Rhiannon and Lady Sian. Is the queen’s bedchamber empty?”
The older lady looked up from her sewing and nodded. “Indeed, my lady. The queen and Lady Mary have gone to the great hall to eat with the king.”
Verity lowered her voice. “I need to search the queen’s chamber. Will you let me know if anyone approaches? I’ll be as quick as I can.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Verity picked up her skirts and tiptoed into the silent bedchamber. It still smelled faintly of Vampire, a stale mixture of spoiled flowery scents that deeply worried Verity. She gazed at the large canopied bed where the queen slept and shuddered at the thought of having to share it with the pudgy King Henry.
She studied the oak paneling that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. It was possible that there was a perfectly human way for the queen’s bedchamber to be entered secretly. She’d heard rumors that the palace was riddled with passageways, including the ones Rhys had shown her beneath the chapel. Mayhap there was a secret passage a mortal could use as well. She noticed that the wall opposite the windows had an irregular pattern in the paneling, which had been broken up with the carving of a single Tudor rose.
Hardly daring to breathe, Verity crossed the room and stood in front of the carving. She ran her fingers down the wall and detected the slight edge of an opening that ran from above her head to the floor.
“Lady Verity!”
Without a second thought, Verity turned and ran back the way she had come. She took the vacated chair beside Lady Sian and concentrated on evening out her breathing. Lady Sian handed her a piece of sewing and she bent her head as if she were completely engaged in her task. A mere moment later, she heard the harsh voice of Lady Rochford and the milder tones of Lady Rhiannon, who had obviously tried to delay her.
Verity looked up as Lady Rochford swept past the fireplace and into the queen’s bedchamber. Luckily, Lady Rochford seemed not to have noticed anything amiss. She was too busy complaining about the heat in the queen’s rooms and ordering the servants to open all the windows. Verity agreed with her about the heat. The king was so afraid of illness that he preferred to keep the palace shut up tight against what he considered the unhealthy effects of fresh air.
Lady Rhiannon joined them and took back her sewing. She glanced at Verity. “I see that you managed to avoid the gorgon.”
Verity risked a smile. “I did. Thank you. I was hoping you might both grant me a favor. The king wishes me to guard the queen every night. I would be more than willing to take your places on the nightly roster.”
Lady Sian laughed. “And allow us to sleep in peace in our own beds? Do you think we will refuse you?”
“If you know of any other ladies who would be willing to swap with me without drawing the attention of Lady Rochford, I would love to hear from them.”
“I will ask.” Lady Sian paused as Lady Rochford swept past them again, two servants at her heels. “Are you worried that Lady Rochford will find out and stop you?”
“If she dares to inquire, I’ll tell her that it is at the king’s command. I doubt she’ll be willing to confront him.”
Lady Rhiannon nodded. “We have no love for that woman. In fact,” she whispered, “we’ve wondered whether she is a Vampire like her late husband. There is a certain smell around her . . .”
“I have wondered that myself,” Verity replied.
But why would Lady Rochford want to harm a queen who held her in such high favor? Verity shook her head. Perhaps they were all wrong and Queen Jane, like many women, was simply struggling to carry a child.
Verity looked up as the double doors opened and the queen and her attendants entered the apartments. Queen Jane appeared to be in good spirits and was smiling at something Lady Mary was telling her. Verity heard the distant chimes of the chapel bell and carefully counted them. She needed to speak to Rhys before she came back to the queen’s side to begin her nightly vigil.
She curtsied in the queen’s direction, nodded gratefully to her two companions, and headed for the door. For the first time since coming to court, she made sure she knew exactly where her silver-tipped dagger was as she walked along the shadowed passages and halls of the great palace. Her heart was beating far too quickly. Elias Warner had described her as prey and she could understand how that might feel.
Rhys was waiting for her in the queen’s chapel, his head bent in prayer. The flickering candles made his hair gleam like burnished copper. She slipped into the pew beside him and knelt to pray herself. The familiar words comforted her and she began to relax. Rhys’s shoulder was solid against her own and she wondered what it would be like to lean on him and to take comfort in his strength.
But was any man capable of offering a woman his protection without expecting her to give up strengths of her own? Rhys hadn’t stopped Rosalind from becoming the fighter that she needed to be. But then everyone knew that Rhys had loved Rosalind . . .
Rhys made the sign of the cross and Verity followed suit. He got up from his knees and offered her his hand to help her up. They walked back into the vestibule of the chapel and she touched his sleeve.
“You look very fine tonight, Sir Rhys.”
His cheeks flushed as he contemplated her hand on his sleeve. “I was tired of wearing borrowed clothes. I had this made for me.”
Verity traced the black embroidered leaves and flowers that climbed the dark green silk from his wrist to his shoulder. He also wore a black sleeveless padded over-gown, which opened at the front to show the rest of the embroidered green jerkin. “It is lovely.”
“But not very practical.”
She smiled at him. “Then let us hope that we aren’t attacked by any Vampires tonight. I would hate to see such magnificence ruined.”
Rhys looked her over. “You aren’t dressed to train either.”
“I have no time to train tonight.” He opened his mouth to argue and she continued, “I am guarding the queen, so I do not have time to change.”
“The king agreed to your request?”
“Not without some suspicion as to my intent.” Verity shivered. “He is a frightening man.”
“He is the king.” Rhys studied her closely. “You seem upset. What else has happened?”
“I had the opportunity to search the queen’s bedchamber while she dined with the king.”
“And?”
“I think there might be a secret door in the paneling.”
Rhys frowned. “You think, or you know?”
“I didn’t have the opportunity to open it. Lady Rochford was coming.” Verity hurried on. “But this means that it might not be a Vampire threatening the queen. It could be anyone who has access to that secret passageway.”
“I suppose that is true.” His mouth set in a now familiar obstinate line. “But I still think there is a Vampire involved somewhere.”
“Hopefully I’ll be able to tell you more after tonight.” Verity squeezed his arm. “If anything happens, that is.”
He took her firmly by the shoulders and looked down at her. “You will be careful? I intend to patrol as near to the queen’s apartments as I can, so call for me if you need me.”
Verity scowled at him. “I’m not a child. I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep the queen safe.”
“Good.” He let go of her and turned to open the heavy arched door that led out of the chapel. “Shall I escort you back to the queen?”
“If you wish, but she will not allow you inside her apartments at this hour.” Verity chose not to wait for him and stalked ahead, her earlier fear submerged in a tide of exasperation at Rhys’s attitude. She sniffed disdainfully and caught the hint of rosemary to her left just as she heard a whispered, “There she is!”
Even as she drew her dagger and turned to face the threat, she heard Rhys’s sword hiss out of its scabbard and he was suddenly beside her. “Run, Verity.”
She ignored him and concentrated her attention on the two Vampires who were running toward them. Neither appeared to be armed, although their fangs were already elongated and gleamed in the moonlight.
“Verity—”
“If they are after
me
, Rhys, I can scarcely run away. They’ll just follow.”
Rhys had no more time to plead with her as he launched himself at the bigger Vampire. He could only pray he’d finish this one off quickly enough to give Verity a chance to escape. He met the male head-on, his sword already angled to slice through the man’s neck. The Vampire ducked and rolled to his right and then came at Rhys again. Barely avoiding the snapping fangs, Rhys pivoted on his feet and brought his blade around in a swinging arc that caught the Vampire on the back of the neck. The force of his swing continued the motion and sliced clean through the surprised Vampire’s throat.
Rhys cursed as he was sprayed with blood. He should have known it was a mistake to dress up in his new finery to impress Verity. The Vampire’s head hit the ground and bounced along the brick pathway. The headless body fell more slowly, rather like a tree, and Rhys had to sidestep it in his rush toward Verity, swiping at his eyes to clear the blood.
To his great relief, Verity appeared to be holding her own against the female Vampire. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the Vampire’s face and her dagger was positioned to stab the Vampire’s flesh. He waited for the right opportunity and then yelled, “Verity, duck!”
She looked up at him and the Vampire snapped at her dagger hand, ripping away her sleeve. She dropped her weapon and cried out, but Rhys was already dispatching the female, his sword cutting cleanly through her neck. A moment later he knelt between the fallen bodies and made sure to stab both Vampires through the heart. He brought his fingers to his lips and whistled, hoping to God that Dafydd and his Druid patrol might be within earshot and come to their aid to dispose of the bodies.
An answering whistle made him breathe a prayer of relief and finally turn his attention to Verity, who sat with her back against the wall, her dagger once more in her hand.
“Verity, are you injured?” She shook her head, but he could see that she was trying to conceal her right hand from his gaze. “Verity—”
Dafydd appeared and Rhys had to turn away from her. He gave his full attention to ensuring that the headless Vampires were swiftly bundled into sacks. Dafydd and his men left as silently as they had arrived. Rhys gazed down at the remaining pools of blackened blood, tasted it on his lips, and grimaced. As soon as the sun rose, the blood would disappear. He could only hope that in the darkness no one else would see it.
He turned back to the wall and realized that Verity had gone. His heart seemed to stutter to a stop. His keen gaze caught a glimpse of fresh blood on the path and he followed the trail, his sword out, his face bloodied. He hoped he didn’t run into any of the king’s courtiers and frighten them to death. But he had to find Verity. He had to.
Verity had waited until Rhys turned his back on her and then she made for the bushes as fast as she could. She had no wish to see what Dafydd and his men intended to do with the bodies. She reached the secluded fountain court where she’d once dumped Rhys in the water and her stomach rebelled. By the time she finished retching and rinsing her mouth out with the tepid water, Rhys was upon her, his expression furious.
“What by all the saints were you doing?”
Verity ignored him and tried to get to her feet, but he knelt beside her and shook her shoulder. “You should never wander off with a fresh wound. It is like offering yourself up as a Vampire’s next meal!”
She scowled at him. “Stop shouting at me. You should be glad I didn’t stay to puke on your boots.”
“I’ll shout as much as I like if you ever do anything so reckless again.”
She closed her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at him. He let go of her arm and she heard water splashing as if he was washing himself. Pain throbbed down her right arm and she half opened her eyes. Rhys seemed occupied, so she slowly unclenched her fingers and studied the gash on her hand.
She gasped as Rhys’s water-cold fingers closed around her wrist. “Did the Vampire bite you?”
“It’s just a little cut.”
Rhys ignored her and with his dagger he slashed her sleeve away from wrist to elbow. He suddenly went still and then slowly raised his head to stare into her eyes. Something in his expression chilled her. Had he noticed the marks left by Elias’s bite?
“Verity . . .” Rhys whispered.
She tried to look unconcerned. “I tell you, the wound is nothing.”
He shook his head. “Not that.” She shivered as his fingers traced the dark outline embedded in her skin. “By all that is sacred, why did you not tell me you bear the mark of Awen?”
Chapter 8
“I
t is none of your concern.” Verity tried to pull her hand away, but Rhys wouldn’t let her.
“Verity . . .” Rhys hesitated as if for once uncertain of how he should proceed. “The mark of Awen is a sign of great favor from our gods. Why have you concealed it?”