Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (21 page)

His fingers flinch
and his head jerks up. I can see his surprise and offer a slight
smile. “My apologies.”

I withdraw my hand
and watch as he clenches his own, slowly drawing it back into his
chest. His hand quakes, though he does not attempt to still it. “The
hunt of which I speak coincides with Lamphae, the spring day of the
moon. The festival spans over three days, though the hunt is a single
night. Dusk to sunrise.”

I find myself
leaning toward him, drawn by the hypnotic rhythm of his voice. “I
know of this festival.”

He nods. “It
is meant to be one of rejoicing, to celebrate the arrival of spring.
For our kind, it has taken on a darker tone.”

Without warning,
Fane pushes up to his feet and walks past me. He moves to the window,
his shoulder pressed against the wall as he stares out across the
castle grounds. “This hunt does not involve humans.”

“I’m not
entirely sure I like the sound of that.”

He nods yet does not
turn to look back at me. “This hunt involves only one person
against a group of immortals.”

“That hardly
seems fair.”

“Precisely.
That is its purpose. This person must prove they are worthy of their
position.”

“Their
position?” My eyebrows dip with confusion. “You speak in
riddles.”

Fane sighs and draws
away from the window. I notice his shoulders have slumped and his
face looks drawn with weariness. “It is a tradition that when a
mate is selected by Vladimir, she must undergo this trial. If she
survives the night, she is allowed to remain at his side. Her
position as lady of the castle shall never again be brought into
question.”

“Mate?”
I spit out the word as if it is poison upon my tongue. “I am
not an animal to simply be mounted and then tossed aside.”

Fane
smiles. “No, you most certainly are not, and
that
is why you will survive.”

A numbness begins to
spread up from the bottoms of my feet as his words sink in. I
struggle to swallow and find my mouth too dry to succeed in my
attempt. “How many other women have succeeded?”

His smile vanishes
as he casts a pained look in my direction. “You would not be
here now if any of them had lived the night.”

“Oh!”
I sway in place, sure that at any moment I will lose control of my
limbs and tumble to the floor in a state of shock.
He
expects me to fight. I am not capable of such a feat!

I am only vaguely
aware of his steps as he crosses the floor and kneels before me. I
blink as he places a hand upon mine, clutching it tightly. “I
am here to help you prepare.”

“Prepare?”
I expel a laugh dripping with bitterness. “I have only ever
held one weapon in my entire life and you saw the punishment I
received because of it.”

My voice trembles,
though I am unsure if that is natural or if it stems from the
terrible quake that is rising through my arms and legs. My skin
prickles with sensitivity and I become increasingly aware of the fact
that Fane’s thumb is brushing gently along the back of my hand.
I stare down at it, focusing on this one sensation, and I fight to
push aside my terror.

My heart thrums
loudly in my ears as I look to the window and out over the grounds.
It is deserted, left unattended during the long daylight hours. How
easy it would be for me to set the hay barn alight and run, yet how
far would I reach before Vladimir and his dogs track me down? Would
they leave my limbs intact or maim them beyond repair? I am sure
Vladimir does not have need for both of my feet, though it would only
make the game that much more pleasing to him.

“I do not
think I can do this.” I pull out of his grasp and surge up to
my feet. I feel restless and confined. I begin to pace, shaking out
my hands at my sides to release some of my fear. Finally, I cannot
stand the motion any longer and I close my eyes, leaning my forehead
against the cold glass of a window.

The idea of this
hunt seems altogether barbaric, though not the least bit surprising.
I should have known something like this would come about. I have
heard rumors, gossip among the ladies of the castle, that I am not a
fit mate for Vladimir. Although I sorely agree with them, I did not
think the whispers would lead me to this.

I am a fool.

Will they hunt me
with swords on horseback? Release the hounds to sniff out my trail?
Will they even give me a weapon to fight back with?

This will be a fight
for my life, a life that only this morning I would have happily given
away, yet when faced with the knowledge that I will be hunted like an
animal, I find myself angry instead of accepting my fate.

“I have longed
for death these past few months,” I whisper, watching as my
breath fogs against the window. “Longed for it with the very
fiber of my being, though I refuse to go out like this. No, my death
will be on terms. Vladimir does not control my destiny.”

A small smile begins
to form along Fane’s lips, though I raise a hand to stop him.

“I was born
into privilege. I do not know these woods nor how to survive in them.
I know nothing of how to conceal myself or my scent. I only went into
the woods to play in the stream with my brother and sister or chase
after butterflies. I am no hunter.”

“That is why
you have me.” Fane’s approach is swift as he pauses only
a few scant inches behind me. “Vladimir does not want to see
you lose.”

“If that is
true, then why force me to endure this trial?” I am unwilling
to expend the effort to mask my misery as tears gather along the
corners of my eyes. Is there no end to the depths of my torment? Have
I not suffered enough? Does Vladimir seek to truly destroy every
portion of my soul?

My shoulders slump
as I play out the wretched events of this coming hunt. When I reach
my own death, an odd sense of peace falls over me. “Perhaps
this is the solution I have been looking for,” I whisper. “I
have been attempting to take my own life and Vladimir has thwarted
all of my attempts. If I were to allow myself to be slain, I could
finally be at peace.”

“No!”
His strong grip on my arms startles me and I shrink back. Horrified,
Fane instantly releases me and moves away, his face a mask of regret.
“My apologies. I never intended…”

I stand up straight
once more and offer him a hesitant smile. His reaction, although
surprising, seems almost natural for him. He is the only one who has
shown me even an ounce of kindness since I arrived. I am certainly
not about to extend him any form of trust, of which he has yet to
earn, though I am most willing to accept a heartfelt apology. “I
know you did not mean to hurt me.”

“You do?”

I nod. “No one
who truly means to hurt someone would ever look that stricken.”

He chuckles and
nods. “I am not accustomed to harming a lady.”

“And a man?”
I press.

The planes of his
face harden as he looks away. “That is another matter.”

My curiosity piques
as I stare at this battle-hardened man before me. Although he
attempts to conceal his revulsion, it is clear as day to me. A hint
of a smile tugs at my lips as I realize I am not the only one who has
a soul in this room.

“I only meant
to stop you from considering that course of action. I know the agony
with which you have lived, and although I may not know the depths to
which this violation has hurt you, I do know something of pain. I beg
of you to not give in.”

“Why should I
not?” I ask, touched by the rawness of his voice. Yes, he knows
of pain. A great deal of it by the sounds of it.

His face softens as
he looks at me. “You are worth saving.”

The tenderness of
his words startles me. A hint of a smile tugs at my lips as I see a
blush begin to rise along his neck. He averts his gaze, though not
soon enough to conceal the emotion within. This man may be cunning,
yet I believe him to be sincere. The eyes never lie.

“How old are
you?” I ask.

He blinks, obviously
startled from his thoughts. “I have been immortal for far
longer than you.”

I purse my lips and
try to read between his vague answer. “Are you as old as
Vladimir?”

“No.” He
shakes his head and waves of fine golden strands fall about his face.
“I am not nearly so old.”

I am not entirely
sure why he allows it, though I can hear a distinctive bitterness
edging his words. Surely he has never spoken so freely before.
Otherwise, he would be without a head by now. Everyone in this castle
worships Vladimir Enescue, either for his power, his money, or for
his love of debauchery. Fear and loyalty many times run side by side.

“You trust
me…” I whisper, knowing that it is not a question. He
lifts his head slowly to look at me. “You should not do so.”

“For what
purpose?” He steps forward, his intense gaze piercing. “You
loathe him the same as I. Does that not make us kindred spirits?”

Although my heart is
screaming to agree, I shake my head. “He would kill you where
you stand for speaking those words.”

“Perhaps it
would be worth it.”

A warm blush rises
in my cheeks as I look away. There is something about the way he
looks at me now that makes me wonder if Fane has been just as lonely
as I am. A friend would be nice, yet it is a luxury I cannot afford.

I clear my throat
and step away from him. “Can you help me learn to wield a
sword?”

“Yes.”
He dips his head in acknowledgement and the intensity between us
abates. “Among other things.”

There is no hint of
doubt in his response. My gaze roams his stance—casual yet that
of a skilled warrior. I can spy callouses along the insides of his
palms, evidence of his many years of training. I had not thought an
immortal could develop callouses, yet apparently I still have much to
learn about my kind.

“Will you
teach me to fight back?” I ask, fearful he might scold me for
even thinking something so ridiculous. No one has ever challenged
Vladimir and lived, yet none of his enemies have ever been as
intimate with him as I am.

“A word of
caution might be in order, though yes, essentially I will give you
all the necessary skills you would need.” His smile is slow and
broad. “I have faith that someday you will be quite the force
to be reckoned with.”

Fear
grips me at the thought of what Vladimir would do to me if I were
ever to raise a sword against him.
Would
it truly be any worse than what he has already done to me?
a
voice whispers in the recesses of my mind.

I could be free…

The nighttime air
holds a bitter chill. A frost hangs on the horizon, waiting to
unleash another bout of misery upon us. My dress flutters in the
wind, the ribbons cinched at my arms flapping against my sides.

The tight curls of
my hair came loose from their combs not long after we departed from
the castle, despite being housed within a closed carriage during our
journey. Vladimir and Lucien sat across from me, speaking in eager
yet hushed tones. I did not care to listen to their conversation. The
fact that they were excited told me that whatever it was they had to
discuss would sicken me.

The wagon caravan
journey to the nearby village took little over two hours. The steady
clomping of the horses’ hooves kept time as we burrowed into
the darkness. I searched for Fane as we departed, yet he was nowhere
to be seen. He vowed to remain by my side. I find myself hoping he
will fulfill his vow when we arrive.

Our earlier
conversation weighs heavily upon my mind. Vladimir’s hunt
tonight will give me a small dose of what is to come. I fear being
set loose to fend for myself. A night may seem like a blink of an
eye, yet when you have rabid wolves nipping at your heels, it can
feel like an eternity.

Sadly, I do not
share Fane’s faith in my ability to survive, though I have
sworn to myself I will try, if for no other reason than to be in
control of my own demise. If I am to die, it will be by my hand and
no other.

“You seem
tense,” a deep voice calls, drawing me away from my musings.

I look away from the
darkened carriage window to find Vladimir staring at me. His face is
cast mostly in shadow. The lantern fixed to a pole nearest the
driver’s bench swings to and fro on the uneven path.

“I will not
pretend to enjoy something so vile.” I tuck my hands into the
folds of my dress so he is unable to see the trembling in my fingers.
I hate how easily his voice can bring out a panic within me. How can
I ever hope to survive a hunt when I can hardly contain myself before
one man?

Lucien’s
chuckle is low and throaty. “She does not see the benefit of
our sport, brother. Perhaps we should explain it to her. She is
obviously of simple mind.”

I grit my teeth,
though I seal away the quick retort that teeters upon my lips. I
loathe this man with every ounce of my soul. I would gladly watch his
soul rot in the fires of damnation. On that day only will I prance
and smile at such a death.

“Come, Lucien.
She has proven to be quick of mind. How else could she have bested
you in my chambers?”

I brace at
Vladimir’s open mockery. If he were anyone other than Lord of
Castle Bran, I have no doubt his head would be left rolling behind
our carriage by now. Lucien’s smile is tight as he leans
forward to survey me. “A mere oversight on my part.” He
locks his darkened gaze upon me and I fight the urge to shudder. “It
will never happen again.”

Vladimir pats his
brother on the arm. “See to it that it does not. I dare say you
are a greedy one when it comes to blood. I felt a bit addled by your
healing.”

Lucien smirks and
slowly sinks back into shadow. I do not need to see his eyes to know
he continues to watch me. My skin crawls as Vladimir slips from his
seat to join me. “Pay him no mind, my dear. Lucien has always
been a fickle man.”