Chapter 79: Seventy Nine
A Hundred and Fifty-Some Years ago.
Lucien
I was being followed.
I’d felt eyes on me in the revelry, and it wasn’t the usual kind of attention that spelled stripping clothes afterwards and the occasional watching of skin slapping against skin.
No. It was malicious, the kind that made your blood curdle. I could smell the blood lust, even in a crowd of thousands, and I’d stepped out to lure whoever thought themselves foolish enough to try kill me in my own home.
And predictably, they followed. Down the abandoned wing of chambers where Ilya’s barely used rooms lay desolate. Down to my own bedchamber.
I halt by the doors and without turning, I said with a yawn, "No use hiding if I can smell you all over the place. You smell like shit."
A whisper of movement, and I turned just in time to avoid losing an eye to a rusted hairpin. My hand closed around a too slender wrist to be a man’s, as opposed to the dreary, manly garb and obviously stolen guard uniform. I slammed them against the wall, and the red cloak slipped enough for me to see their lips.
Something about them made me pause. By the gods, how much had I drunk tonight that I’d begun to consider tracing the fine lines of another man’s mouth?
I shook my head, clearing the fog on my mind as he continued to thrash against me. "Who sent you? Silvermoor? Impressive work, actually getting this close."
He snorted, though his voice dipped with hate. "Getting in was the easy part. Killing you, I wager, might be a little challenging." He grunts sharply. "I don’t suppose you’d just bare your neck for me and let me rip it to ribbons?"
I arched a silver brow. "With a hairpin? Adorable."
He dropped the hairpin and we both watched it fall to the other hand closer to my heart. In little less than a second, he fisted it and stabbed me in the chest. Or tried to. Because it turned to ice the moment it pierced my skin.
In that moment, his head snapped up in surprise and I saw a little more of his face. An uneasiness spread through me, a feeling of nostalgia and familiarity. Images assaulted my mind of that mouth on my neck, on my skin. A maddening smirk. A mischievous wink. The smell of jasmine. Rose gold hair.
My brows furrowed, perplexed, and I dropped him almost immediately. "You. I know you."
He began scrambling back like a little mouse caught in a trap, but my fist wrapped around his ankle, delicate, so very breakable, and I tugged him back almost too easily to where I crouched. I reached for the cloak and peel it right off.
And got struck in the chest by memories from decades ago, long forgotten. A face I’d tried to piece together in dreams that eluded me. The last time I saw that face, there was a youthful mischief to it. I could remember now, to my own chagrin, the smell of innocence, misplaced confidence and wildness. Now, there was only rage. And a deadly edge that made every curve and plane of her face so damned lethal.
The last few decades had been a slave to her, softening her features yet somehow making it harder.
How could I have forgotten--Right. "You compelled me," I said sourly. "You stole my pouch. You tipped me four brass coins. And then, you stole my memories."
"The performance merits the reward, don’t you think?" the woman gods knew if her name was truly Lyra said to me, angrily grabbing at her cloak.
I tore it off before she could don it again. "What on earth is your deal? You’ve been stalking me?"
Her amber eyes blazed with rage. "Don’t romanticise it. I’ve just been looking for the right opportunity to get you alone. So I can murder you without consequence."
I cocked my head. "Why? Because of my poor performance?"
She didn’t take the joke. Somehow, she didn’t look like she’d ever had a sense of humour. Which was strange, considering the circumstances under which we met for the first time. "What happened to you?"
Her lips remained shut. And then, she began to shiver. And hiccup. And it was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. Because in the next second, she bursted into an angry wail. "I-I don’t remember how I g-got over the wall. It’s b-been..." Hiccup. "H-happening more frequently. C-cant even leave home. D-don’t--" Hiccup. "remember where I’m going. B-bound myself to the basement. Still... Still."
Her words made little sense.
My ears twitched at the silent shuffle of footsteps behind me and I closed a hand around her shoulder, pulling her into my chest while tugging down the face of her hood, some useless instinct to protect getting the better of me.
"Is there a problem, Sire?" Nath said behind me. "There’s been a breach in security. Collin was found lying out in the cold, stripped of his uniform and--"
"I trust you have it under control," I murmured. When he didn’t leave immediately, I turned slightly, peering over my shoulder. "Well? Leave. Except you’d like to join me in the tub for a steamy bath?"
The burly man paled, lowering his head. "I--You honour me with your invitation, but I must sadly decline as I--"
"Be gone."
When Nath’s hurried footsteps retreated from behind me towards the stairs beyond, I turned my gaze to the still sobbing woman. Her face was a red mess. And she was right uncontrollable.
"Ah..." I was out of my element here. For one, the last time I’d dealt with a wailing woman was with my daughter, Jessa, and she was only a handful and some years old. And even then, the only way she ever calmed was when she’d bitten my cheeks with her little fangs. Not sure that could suffice in this moment--not that I was even considering it.
"Stop screeching," I snapped, irritated.
She didn’t hear me. If anything, she only sobbed harder, filth and salty tears staining the front of my tunic.
"Dinner?" I tried again and her stomach grumbled in response, her crying quieting a little. Ah. Progress. "Great. Dinner it is."
I pushed her away, keeping her at arm’s length. "I do not know what to make of you, woman. One night, you’re a mercenary. The next, you’re an assassin. In the next second, you’re a mess. Consistency clearly isn’t your strength." The smell of horseshit made my eyes water. "But gods, do you reek."
Rising to my feet, I parted the doors to my chambers with little more than a flick of my wrist. She shuffled in after me, her movements tight and shaky, eyes scanning every corner like she expected an unnamed threat to surface any second.
The doors slammed shut and I swiveled the moment she lifted her dirty, muddy boots to my priceless rug of wolf-fur. "No. You will not carry any more of that filth into my chambers." I pointed at the door where she stands. "Undress there and leave the clothes. You may use the bath chamber over there, but do not touch my things."
She sniffled, looking down at herself. Nose red, she said in a small voice as she held her cloak around her tightly. "Undress h-here?"
A sneaky smile lifted my lips. "Shy? It didn’t seem that way when you were mewling all over my cock the last time."
Her amber eyes strayed from mine, her cheeks reddening. "Turn around."
"Say please."
She moved so fast, I couldn’t have predicted it. I blinked and her dirty boot slammed into my forehead.