Storms of Lazarus (Shadows of Asphodel, Book 2) (28 page)

Wendel looked around the room, then detoured to a walnut cabinet.

“Still?” he said.

“Yes,” Wolfram said.

Wendel tried to open the cabinet, but the locked doors rattled on their hinges.

“The key,” Wolfram said, and he handed him a small brass one.

Wendel unlocked the cabinet and found a pear-shaped case. He unlatched the case and freed a violin from its velvet coffin. The violin’s wood gleamed a rich chestnut, and he caressed its curves with soft wonder in his eyes.

“Has it been tuned?” Wendel said.

Wolfram wiggled his hand. “Mother does, on occasion, though she claims she can’t bring herself to play it anymore.”

Wendel grunted more than a little derisively. He tucked the violin under his chin and dragged the bow over its strings.

A terrible screech split the air. Ardis winced.

“Juliana was right,” Wolfram said. “It does sound like a tortured cat.”

Wendel scowled. “I would never torture a cat. The bow simply needs more rosin.”

Wendel put down the violin, as gently as if it were a baby, and found a little metal tin. Inside the tin was an amber cake of rosin. He rubbed it over the hairs of the bow, his lips pursed with devoted concentration.

“Allow me to prove you wrong,” Wendel said.

He touched his bow to the strings, then narrowed his eyes.

“Did anyone hear that?” he said.

“Hear what?” Ardis said.

Wendel opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said.

Wendel tugged the bow across the violin and played a single clear note. He fingered the strings as he climbed through one scale, then another, and another. With every repetition, his playing softened and sweetened.

Wendel lowered the violin and laughed.

“I tried to play in Constantinople,” he said. “I even bought a questionable violin from a merchant in the bazaar. Only to have the violin taken away from me by the assassins, once they realized that would punish me.”

“That’s a shame,” Wolfram said.

Wendel looked down and blushed. “I have forgotten so much.”

Wolfram went to the walnut cabinet and found a battered book of sheet music. Wendel flipped through the old pages, his eyebrows angled in a frown, then flattened the book on a table. He lifted the violin to his chin.

“Bach’s Partita Number Two,” Wendel said.

Ardis held her breath. Wendel began to play, the notes hesitant, not always harmonious. He frowned at the paper, then closed his eyes. After a minute, the tension in his shoulders melted. The melody shimmered like quicksilver. Soaring and falling, a swallow in the wind, a storm unfurling across the sky. Wendel’s face tightened with bliss as he lost himself in the music. Lightning shivered down Ardis’s spine.

Clapping echoed from the other end of the room. Startled, Wendel lowered the violin.

A lady in red lingered by the door. Ornate beadwork glittered across her crimson gown, her black hair twisted in a sleek bun. The lady’s eyes reminded Ardis of her own, and Ardis recognized her when she smiled.

“Lady Maili!” Ardis said.

“Please,” Maili said, “keep playing. I didn’t intend to interrupt.”

Wendel fidgeted with his bow. “I’m very much out of practice.”

“Such modesty,” Maili said. “And I’m glad to see you both after that tragedy in Vienna. Ardis, are you entirely all right?”

Ardis hugged herself and shuddered at the memory of the inferno.

“I am now,” she said. “What brings you to Königsberg?”

“I’m visiting with my husband, Lord Max Weissman, on our way to London.”

Wolfram smiled. “Maili and Max are quite the world travelers.”

Wendel fussed over a string, then placed his violin in its case. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed his head.

“I will spare your ears any further torment,” he said.

“If I didn’t know you better,” Ardis said, “I would call you shy.”

Wolfram smirked at Wendel. “Are you?”

Lady Maili settled in a gilded chair and smoothed her gown over her legs.

“Please,” she said, “play for us.”

Wendel arched an eyebrow and glanced at Ardis, as if he needed her approval.

“You play beautifully,” Ardis said. “What else can I say to flatter you?”

Wendel turned down the corners of his mouth as if trying hard not to smile.

“Let me think,” he said.

She looked him in the eye. “Play.”

Wendel cleared his throat and took back his violin.

A rumble crawled across the sky. Thunder. At least, it sounded like thunder until it was accompanied by the shriek of metal on stone. Wendel ran to the window and yanked aside the curtains. His hand gripped the cloth.

“Christ,” he said. “Time for an intermission.”

Ardis sprang to her feet and ducked under Wendel’s arm. She pressed her hand against the cold glass and peered outside.

The clockwork dragon clung to the highest tower of the castle. It curled its tail around the stones and flared its wings. The dragon clawed at the roof, its talons scattering tiles and splintering the wood beneath.

Wendel swore under his breath. “It’s going to tear down the castle.”

“What will?” Wolfram said.

Wendel turned from the window and let the curtain fall, but it was too late to shield his brother from the sight of the clockwork dragon. Wolfram leaned against the wall, his jaw slack, and gawked out the window.

“What an enormous monstrosity!” he said.

Wendel shook his head. “Now isn’t the time for polysyllabic exclamations.”

“We have to get out of here,” Ardis said.

Lady Maili hovered behind them. “What is it
this
time?”

“You don’t even want to know,” Ardis said.

Wendel closed his violin in its case and cradled it under his arm. He strode to the door and held it open. Lady Maili took the hint and hurried through, but Wolfram lingered by the window. Ardis tapped his shoulder.

“Wolfram,” she said.

The clockwork dragon whipped its tail and smashed a window. Glass rained onto the courtyard. The dragon snaked its neck and stared at them. Ardis yanked the curtains shut. Wolfram turned and ran with her.

A collision shook the ceiling. The windows shattered in a symphony of broken glass. Ardis stumbled and glanced over her shoulder. The clockwork dragon swiped at the window like a cat reaching into a mouse’s hole. Its claws gouged the windowsill and snagged the curtains, shredding the velvet into tatters.

“Ardis!”

Wendel’s hand clamped on her arm, and together they bolted into the hallway.

Flustered, Lady Maili fanned herself. “We’re safe inside, aren’t we?”

“No,” Wendel said.

Wolfram frowned. “This castle is solid stone.”

“That dragon is solid destruction.”

As if to underscore his point, the dragon attacked the broken window. Its claws raked across the stone with a grating screech that prickled the little hairs on Ardis’s arms. She retreated from the ruined music room.

“Stay away from the windows and doors,” Wendel said.

“My husband.” Lady Maili sucked in a breath. “I left Max in the conservatory.”

Wendel frowned. “What? Why?”

“We were invited to a dinner party.”

Wendel swore and started running. Ardis followed him, the others in pursuit.

The conservatory proved to be clear at the other end of the castle. Panting, Ardis clutched the burning stitch between her ribs. She straightened and looked around. A glass dome arched above, frosted by the cold, though the conservatory itself felt muggy. The rich aroma of rot and green growth scented the air. Potted palms arched over the lily pads floating in a small tiled pool. Candlelight glimmered in the water.

The dinner party, lords and ladies alike, mingled in this bottled oasis.

“Max!” Lady Maili said.

A gentleman in a tailcoat strolled across the conservatory. He rumpled his brown hair and gave Maili a bemused smile.

“I wondered where you disappeared to,” he said.

“Max.” Maili rested her hand on his arm. “Let’s go home.”

“So soon?” Max glanced between their faces. “Prince Wolfram, why is everyone so breathless? Been playing a game?”

Wolfram shook his head. “Hardly.”

“Wendel!” Juliana’s voice chimed across the party. “Have you come to play for us?”

Wendel glanced at the violin under his arm, then handed it to Ardis.

“I trust you to keep this safe,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome.” Ardis sighed. “Though I wish it were a sword.”

She had left Chun Yi at the hotel. There never was a safe time to let down her guard.

Juliana glided between the palms, shoving their fronds aside with her slender arm. Her jasmine perfume clashed with the wine on her breath.

“Hello, Wendy.” Juliana’s eyes glittered darkly. “Uninvited, yet again?”

“I’m here to save you,” Wendel said, “yet again.”

She pouted. “With what? Your pitiful violin?”

Wendel stared icily at her. “Now isn’t the time to be a bitch.”

Juliana gasped with more authenticity.

“How dare—”

“Everyone needs to leave. Immediately.”

“Why?” Juliana sipped her wine. “Assassins?”

“Actually, no.”

“Wendel isn’t lying,” Wolfram said.

She puckered her lips. “Oh, shut up, Wolfie.”

“Fine,” Wendel said. “Die. See if I care.”

Juliana looked like she wanted to strangle him.

Wolfram, glowering, strode past them both and stopped by the pool. He cleared his throat and clinked a fork on a wineglass.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” he said. “Please, exit the conservatory.”

“Why?” someone called. “This party is just getting started.”

Laughter echoed under the glass dome.

Wendel touched his brother’s shoulder. “This party is over.”

More laughter.

“Aren’t you the bastard prince?” shouted a drunk.

“Disinherited.” Wendel sneered. “There’s a difference.”

Waldemar shoved through the crowd, the medals on his chest clinking.

“What the hell is this commotion about?” he said.

“The clockwork dragon,” Wendel said.

“Where?”

Wendel looked him in the eye. “Here.”

His timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

The clockwork dragon landed on the conservatory dome, scrabbling its claws on the glass, flaring its wings for balance.

Cracks spiderwebbed through the glass and crazed to the edges.

Waldemar stared skyward. “Holy—”

The dome yielded under the dragon.

Shattered glass exploded on the guests. Ardis ducked and shielded her head with her arms. Shards rattled on the floor. She stole a glance as the dragon bent into the conservatory, delicately, and gaped its jaws over Wolfram.

Steam drifted between the dragon’s fangs and misted Wolfram’s hair.

Wendel tackled his brother and knocked them both into the pool. Water splashed out and wet the dragon’s snout. Snorting, the dragon recoiled. Wendel and Wolfram climbed to their feet. The pool sloshed at their knees.

“You saved my life,” Wolfram said, drenched.

“Don’t bother—”

Juliana shrieked.

The dragon lunged for Wendel. He saw it coming from the corner of his eye and flung himself sideways. The dragon bit a mouthful of air. With a hiss, the beast slithered between the steel beams of the shattered dome.

Spitting water, Wendel staggered to his feet.

The dragon swatted him with its claws and knocked him back into the pool. It pinned him, holding him underwater.

Ardis ran for the pool. “Wendel!”

Wild-eyed, Wolfram smashed a chair on the dragon’s arm. The wood splintered, but did nothing to hurt the clockwork.

Wendel groped at the dragon’s claws. Bubbles of air broke the surface.

Ardis’s heart hammered so hard it deafened all thought. She dropped Wendel’s violin by a palm and vaulted into the pool. The dragon tilted its head to watch her, but let her advance. As if she was no threat at all.

Ardis waded to Wendel, scattering lily pads, and ducked underwater.

Wendel lay pinned to the bottom of the pool, his eyes open, his hair drifting like seaweed. Still holding his breath. Barely. She reached under his arms and yanked, but she had no hope of beating the dragon’s weight.

Ardis reached into Wendel’s coat and found his black dagger.

She surfaced, panting, and stared at the scales armoring the dragon’s arm. Even the biggest enemies had a weakness.

There.

Ardis stabbed the dagger behind the dragon’s wrist. Oil gushed like blood.

The dragon hissed and jerked back, lifting its claws from Wendel. He burst from the water with a gasp. Ardis grabbed Wendel by the arm and dragged him away from the dragon. They scrambled from the pool together.

“Run,” Wendel rasped.

“Not without you,” Ardis said fiercely.

The clockwork dragon reared back, its wounded arm lame, and bared its fangs.

Waldemar, tipsy and armed with a rapier, marched to the dragon. He didn’t bother with a heroic pose, like Ardis thought he might, and thrust his rapier into the dragon’s armored belly. The rapier stuck between a crack, and the dragon scuttled back. Waldemar dropped the blade before he could be yanked with it.