“I’m sure he speaks from frustration rather than anger, my lady.” Mistress Hopkins patted Rhys’s arm and gave him an unconvincing smile. “We just need to find the right physic.”
“But what if you can’t? What if this thing never heals?” Rhys replied.
As his voice rose, Verity took his hand. “Mistress Hopkins is very skilled at her work, Sir Rhys. I’m sure she’ll find a solution.”
Rhys pulled away from her touch. He knew it was pointless to argue, but deep inside him fear stirred. Was he destined to grow weaker and weaker until he begged to be put out of his misery? God’s teeth! Without his prized ability to fight, he would be as helpless as he had been as a child against his stepfather’s fists.
Mistress Hopkins picked up her basket. “I must gather some fresh herbs for a warm poultice. Wait here, my dears, and I’ll be back in a moment.” She shut the cottage door, leaving an uneasy silence behind her.
Verity crossed to the fire and sat down in the rocking chair, her gray riding skirts gathered closely around her. Her hair was hidden under her hood, which meant he could study the beauty of her profile. Gingerly, Rhys swung his legs over the edge of the table. He hadn’t been alone with Verity for more than a moment all week.
“So I smell like death. Is that why you have been avoiding me?”
She turned her head to look at him, her expression shocked. “Of course not. That was not what I meant, Sir Rhys. You must know that—”
He raised his eyebrows and she stammered to a stop. “Then if that’s not it, what is wrong?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
He sighed. It seemed she did not mean to make this easy. He was too weary to let her lead him through the complicated maze of a woman’s mind. Sometimes a man had a need to be direct.
“Verity, what did I do wrong?”
“You have done nothing wrong.”
There was a ring of truth to her words that comforted him a little and emboldened him to continue. “Then why are we at odds?”
She met his gaze. “I wasn’t aware that we were.”
“We haven’t talked about what happened on Lughnasadh.”
“What is there to discuss?”
For a stunned moment he simply stared at her until a faint blush stole up her cheeks and she raised her chin.
“Do you not remember what we did?” Rhys asked.
“Of course I do.” She bit her lip. “Should I have thanked you more formally? I’m not familiar with the courtesies expected of those involved in the rituals.”
“The
courtesies
?” Rhys was aware of his temper rising again, which was unusual in itself. Until recently, he hadn’t even admitted to having a temper. “Are you suggesting that what we did was out of
duty
?”
She looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly together in her lap. “I do not understand why you are angry.”
“Because . . .” He looked at her and shook his head as a sick feeling of inadequacy burned a hole in his gut. “Did it mean nothing to you? Was I just fortunate to stumble across you at that moment and be the one to swive you?”
She jumped up from her chair. “No, I chose you. I wanted—” She broke off and turned away from him.
He slid down from the table, aware of the jarring in his shoulder, and advanced toward her. “Aye, you chose me and like a fool I let you take me in.”
She swung around and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss her or shake her.
“It wasn’t like that. I
wished
for you and I got what I wanted: a whole night with you.”
“And having had me, you are satisfied?”
She nodded, her expression pensive. “You were everything I expected and more.”
“Then—” Rhys stopped talking as Mistress Hopkins came through the door, her basket full of herbs.
“Now, Sir Rhys, sit back on that table, and my lady, bring me some of that boiling water from the kettle over the fire.”
There was nothing Rhys could do but prepare for another unpleasant poultice to be slathered on his shoulder. He didn’t understand what Verity meant. She’d wanted him; she’d
said
so.
Then what was wrong? Why had she decided he was worthy of only one night? Dread curdled in his gut and lower, in his manly parts.
His breath hissed out as Mistress Hopkins applied the poultice to his skin, and beads of sweat trickled down his face. At least it wasn’t his right shoulder that was damaged; he could still use his sword. But for how long? Grimly Rhys admitted to himself that the weakness was growing, expanding into his whole body. How long would he have, and how in God’s name was he going to be able to save the queen and protect Verity?
Verity glanced across at her silent companion as they walked their horses slowly back to Richmond Palace. It was a fine day for riding, but Verity was not in the humor to challenge Rhys to a race and he was in no condition to attempt one. Luckily, he was an accomplished rider who didn’t seem to need his upper body strength to guide his horse at all.
To her dismay their conversation about what had happened between them at Lughnasadh hadn’t proceeded as she had imagined. She’d assumed he would be grateful for her restraint and relieved that she didn’t expect devotion from him. Instead he had seemed angry that she wasn’t demanding more of him.
She slowed her horse until he came up alongside her. His face was set, his mobile mouth a thin line that spoke eloquently of his pain.
“Are you all right, Rhys?”
He hardly spared her a glance. “As well as could be expected, my lady, after being poked and prodded by a healer.”
“I’m sure Mistress Hopkins will find a way to restore you to health soon.”
“She’d better, or else we’ll all be in trouble.” His tone was as dark as his expression.
“All I know is that we need to find this Vampire and kill him as quickly as possible.”
“Indeed, my lady.”
Verity gathered her reins more tightly in her gloved hand. “Are you angry with me, Sir Rhys?”
“Why would I be angry? You have said your piece. I understand that I am no longer necessary to your comfort and I will endeavor not to bother you with my tiresome attentions.”
Inside Verity cringed. Had she truly hurt him? Did he actually wish her to profess her love, to beg him for another night in his arms? It seemed unlikely, considering what she knew of him.
She struggled to think of something to say. “I’m sorry if I have offended you in some way. I hope that your displeasure will not affect our partnership.”
“Never fear. I have a job to do and I will do it.” He stared straight ahead between his horse’s ears. “And if you are happy with everything as it is, why shouldn’t I be?”
Verity gave up the effort to be pleasant and urged her horse forward into a canter. Rhys wouldn’t be able to keep up, and at that moment she had no wish to see his face ever again.
“It is kind of you to speak with me, Master Warner.” On her return she had decided to seek out Elias. There were several things she wished to ask him without Rhys’s unforgiving presence beside her.
Verity smiled carefully up at Elias as he handed her over a small stile and into the wilder part of the extensive palace gardens. They’d left the court listening to a reading from a book of sermons by the queen’s chaplain, which seemed to soothe the exhausted-looking queen.
“Please, call me Elias. In Vampire terms we are practically related.”
“Because you have taken my blood?”
“Indeed.” He kissed her wrist and she felt the delicate, seductive scrape of his fangs. She gently disengaged her hand and sat down on the low stone wall.
“It is blood that I wanted to talk to you about.”
He dusted the stone and sat down next to her, his expression interested. “What kind of blood?”
“I was wondering how long a Vampire can go without feeding.”
“It depends on many things. The older the Vampire, the longer he can last without blood. The quality of the blood matters as well. For example, if I feed from a Vampire who is more powerful than I am, I need less blood than I would from a human or a lesser Vampire.”
Verity sighed. “That’s not very helpful. I was trying to work out when the Vampire who preys on the queen would need to feed from her next.”
“I would imagine that the longest Janus could last without any blood at all would be, at most, a month, but remember, he could be feeding elsewhere.”
“The Vampires who attacked us said that they were starving.”
Elias contemplated his long, beringed fingers. “Some Vampire masters keep their servants hungry so that they will do their bidding more easily.”
Verity shuddered as she recalled the sticklike monster hunched over Rhys. “The Vampire I hit with the silver tray was sucking on Rhys like a starving baby.” She looked up. “Maybe there was a reason for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he wasn’t just feeding from Rhys, but making sure he gave him something as well. Something that is preventing him from healing.”
“It can take some time for a bite to heal, my lady. There is a substance in our saliva that helps to keep blood flowing as we feed.”
“I understand that, but this wound?” She met Elias’s silver gaze. “It won’t stop bleeding and it still smells of Vampire.”
“Then your healer hasn’t cleaned the wound properly.”
“No, it is different. It smells of death.”
All expression disappeared from Elias’s face. “Like the Vampire we seek? I hope Janus isn’t able to—” He stopped speaking abruptly.
“What is it?”
“If what I fear is true, Rhys Williams is in grave danger.”
Verity grabbed his sleeve. “What?”
“I’m not sure if I should tell you, my lady.”
“Please, I need to know anything that can help him!”
“It might not help at all.” Elias hesitated. “There are Vampires whose bite is fatal.”
“All Vampires can kill—”
“If they tear out your throat, yes, but most Vampires feed without killing. There are certain others, however, whose bite is like a deadly disease that destroys their victims more slowly, from within.”
Verity tried not to show her fear. “And this Vampire’s servants would also have such a power?”
“I fear it might be so, my lady.”
“Do you know of anything we can do to stop it?”
Elias shook his head slowly.
“But we must do something to save Rhys!”
“Not to mention that this might be the same Vampire who is drinking from the queen.”
Verity made her way back to the palace in a daze of tangled thoughts. She saw Olivia sitting near the back of the assembled courtiers, her face a study in boredom, her hand raised to her mouth to conceal a yawn. As unobtrusively as she could, Verity approached the Vampire and touched her shoulder. When Olivia looked up, Verity gestured for her to follow as she walked through to the queen’s deserted bedchamber.
“What do you want, Lady Verity?” Olivia asked.
Verity studied her rival. She was wearing a dark red velvet gown that made her skin glow. Rubies glittered on the bodice of her dress like drops of blood. She’d thought long and hard about what she needed to do next, and Olivia, unfortunately, was the only person who could help her.
“The wound on Rhys’s shoulder will not heal.”
Olivia went still. “What do you mean?”
“We think that there was something in the Vampire’s bite that is preventing him from healing and maybe even doing him far greater harm.”
“Who do you mean, ‘we’?”
“The Druid healer, Elias Warner, and I.”
“Rhys doesn’t know this himself?”
“He knows that his condition isn’t improving. The rest is mere conjecture at this point. It wouldn’t make him feel any better to know.”
“So you don’t intend to share your fears with him.”
“We will share them if we have to. At this point, I’d prefer to find a solution rather than worry him.”
Olivia met Verity’s gaze, her blue eyes steady. “What can I do to help?”
“We fear that Rhys’s affliction was given to him by a servant of Janus, the Vampire we seek.”
“The same Vampire who is attacking the queen?”
“It is possible.”
“Then we need to kill him.”
“Exactly, and if Rhys starts to weaken, I will need your help.”
“To fight with you?”
“Not only that, but to teach me how to fight better.” Verity hesitated. “Would you be willing to help me?”
Olivia considered her for a long moment. “If I must. I assume you don’t want me to tell Rhys about this either.”