Testament (2 page)

My thoughts were interrupted by a fleshy hand pressing against my backside. I fought the urge to whirl around and tear the very arm off whoever dared violate my personal space. The boozy eyes of Richard’s trusted advisor, Roarke, bore into me. With a lecherous waggle of his eyebrows, he slurred, “Hello, lovely, won’t you fetch me another gin and tonic?”

“Certainly, sir,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

I stalked away, gripping the serving tray so tightly my knuckles turned white. Bursting through the swinging kitchen door, I headed to the bar.

My brother’s best friend, Micah, stood behind the bar filling orders. “What bug do you have up your ass?” he questioned, when I slammed down the tray in front of him.

“Nothing. Just give me another gin and tonic for the asshole.”

Micah arched his eyebrow. “Lemme guess. Was Roarke giving you shit or something?”

“Let’s just say he needs to learn to keep his hands to himself.”

The color drained from Micah’s face. “That pig. Someone oughta beat his head in.”

“Yeah, like that’ll happen. For some reason, Richard keeps him around, even though he has to be the worst advisor in the world as drunk as he always is.”

Micah eyed a dirty ashtray on the end of the bar. Scooping it up, he ground the ashes with the end of a swizzle stick. “What are you…?” I began, but I didn’t have to finish. The gleam in his eye told me everything.

He dumped the finely ground contents into Roarke’s glass. “Just a little something extra for the esteemed advisor.”

“You’re impossible, you know that right?” I said, while smiling in spite of myself.

“I try.”

Shaking my head, I grabbed up the tray and drink and headed out into the dining room. I smacked the glass down in front of Roarke and spun away with lightning speed before he could touch me again.

My eyes scanned the crowd, surveying who needed refills or plates taken away. A loud, obnoxious voice drew my attention back to the head table. If I thought Roarke was drunk, then Richard defined completely wasted.

While the others around him twittered nervously, he continued bellowing loudly. Finally, he bolted up from his leather-studded chair.

“Where’s my son’s beautiful bride-to-be?” He lunged forward, knocking some plates to the ground. I rushed to pick them up. He didn’t acknowledge me at his feet. Instead, he bellowed once again, “Where the hell is Kellan’s fiancée?”

An eerie hush fell over the crowd. In the seat next to his father, Kellan’s tanned face grew red. I thought he might be embarrassed, but then I noticed how his body trembled in his chair. Seething anger appeared to be pulsing under a carefully constructed veneer.

“Sir, she is resting after her long trip,” Richard’s secretary, Mrs. Andersen replied.

Richard appeared taken aback. “Resting? When I’m throwing a banquet in her honor?” He peered around the table until he found his social secretary. Her face had gone so white she could have blended in with the tablecloth. Anyone who had worked for Richard for any period of time knew it was in their best interest to stay on his good side. His temper was notorious.

“Surely, you didn’t make such a grievous mistake as to not stress the importance of tonight’s occasion?”

“No, sir, of course not. It’s just she was adamant about resting before this evening’s ball.”

“Well, send for her, then. I want all my friends and family to see the girl I’ve chosen to be my son’s bride.”

Mrs. Andersen bobbed her head and hurried out of the dining hall. Richard slid out from his chair to start into the crowd. When he did, his boot heel ground my hand into the broken plates. I couldn’t help but cry out. I clamped my free hand over my mouth as soon as I could. Servants were barely to be acknowledged least of all heard from.

Blood seeped out onto the marble floor as I bit my lip to keep from crying. The next thing I knew, someone was wrapping a napkin around my hand. Jerking my head up, I met Kellan’s intense blue eyes. “You’re bleeding.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” I snapped.

His blond eyebrows shot up. It was more than evident no one had ever spoken to him that way—at least not in the last few years. Inwardly, I groaned. I had to let my big mouth get the better of me. If shooting, fiery pain wasn’t coursing through my hand, I would have probably shrunk in fear of the trouble I was potentially in. “I-uh, I’m sorry I said that. It’s the pain,” I lied.

Kellan’s caring expression turned into a smirk. “From the color of your hair, it would seem more a character trait, than the pain.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“Redheads are known for being fiery tempered.”

“That’s an old-wives tale.”

He rocked back on his knees and eyed me. “It’s not an old-wives tale if it’s true.”

“Whatever,” I grumbled.

Before I could argue anymore, Kellan pressed his hand tighter around my mine and squeezed. The pressure was so intense I jerked away. “Jeez, are you trying to finish me off?”

He rolled his blue eyes. “For your information, smartass, you need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.”

“Yes, I
know
that.”

“Oh, and just how did you know that?”

“Um, yeah, anyone knows that, especially my know-it-all brother who was going to be a doctor before…” I trailed off.

Kellan grunted. “If you knew it, then you should realize I was doing what I had to do and not get all dramatic about it.”

“Well, I think there are some shards still in there.” I glanced up to see Malachy staring open mouthed at me from the kitchen doorway. “I’ll get someone to take a look at it.”

Although I started to pull away, Kellan still held my hand. “Make sure they clean it properly. You might even need stitches.”

“I will. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

I rose up and started to the kitchen.

“Hey Red!” he called.

Skidding to a stop, I whirled around. “Be careful with that temper of yours.” And then he winked at me.

Flustered, I turned and hurried to the kitchen. Micah met me at the door, concern etched across his handsome features. “What happened?”

“I was picking up plates, and Richard stepped on my hand.” I tasted the blood from where I continued biting my lip.

Micah gently took my hand in his and unwound the bloodied napkin. He turned it towards the light and grimaced. “Yep, there are a few pieces in there. Want me to get them out?”

I cocked my head at him. “No, I wanna keep them in there as a souvenir.”

“Eesh, touchy, touchy. You do a little handle holding with Kellan, and you become an even bigger bitch?”

“I was
not
hand holding.”

“Well, whatever you guys were doing, it surprised the hell outta me. I mean, Kellan talking to a lowly servant? What’s the world coming to?” Micah said, as he dug a pair of tweezers out of one of the drawers.

“Ow!” I cried when the metal plucked out the first imbedded pieces.

“Sorry.”

Gritting my teeth, I pinched my eyes shut until he was finished. I’d never had a high threshold for pain. It was certainly a weakness.

I didn’t open them again until after Micah had cleaned the wound and was winding gauze around my hand. When he finished, he brought my taped hand to his lips and kissed it. “All better,” he said, with a grin.

Heat spread through my cheeks. “Um, thanks.”

He opened his mouth to say something else but shouting from the dining hall made him close it. “What’s going on
now
?” he murmured.

We edged to the doorway. Venessa stood in the middle of the room. Disgust radiated on her face. I immediately deciphered it was directed toward Richard whose blood-red face made him look ridiculous rather than regal.

He pointed a finger at Venessa. “I asked you to be seated.”

“And I asked politely to be excused to prepare for tonight’s festivities.” Jerking her shoulders back, she yelled, “Besides, I refuse to prance around like some prize you’ve won!”

“Man, has she got a pair,” Micah murmured under his breath.

I smacked him on the arm. “Oh yeah? Well, if you ask me, he’s the one who is out of line. She has every reason to be furious at such a suggestion.”

Micah snorted. “There you go, rearing that feminist head of yours.”

Richard grabbed Venessa by the arm, jerking him to her. “You will be obedient!”

Kellan stepped forward. “Father, you’re drunk and being ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re saying,” he protested.

Richard sneered at him. “Perhaps you can convince her to join us. It might be nice for you to show a little initiative for once.”

His father’s challenge sent a red flush creeping from Kellan’s neck up to his face. In a strangled voice he said, “I’ll do nothing of the sort, and I’ll ask that you leave Venessa alone.”

My breath hitched in my chest as I waited for Richard’s response. Agonizing seconds ticked away as father and son stared each other down. Then Richard stepped forward. “Sit down.”

All eyes rested on Venessa. Drawing her shoulders back, she defiantly stated, “I will not just be some sexual object for you and your guests to leer at. My appearance is not the reason I would make wife for Kellan.”

“Then leave!”

Venessa met Kellan’s gaze and smiled sadly. Then, she turned and fled from the room.

“Good riddance,” Richard grumbled, ambling back to his seat. Before he sat down, he observed the uncomfortable silence hanging over the room. A forced smile appeared on his darkened face. “I do apologize for that unpleasantness. Please, eat and drink to your heart’s desire. Do not let a rebellious girl ruin your good time.”

Kellan continued to stand in the middle of the room. When he met his father’s gaze, he shot him a look of disgust, then, fled the room. Without another word, Richard eased down into his chair. Surveying his empty champagne glass, he snapped his fingers.

“Well, that’s my cue,” I said to Micah. “Thanks again for fixing up my hand.”

“No problem.”

As I started out the door, he stopped me. “Be careful out there, okay?”

I smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

Once I got home from the insanity at the palace, every fiber of my being just wanted to curl up and die. The lumpy couch, with its long outdated design, seemed to call my name. But I knew what I had to do or fear the wrath that was my older brother, Griffin, or Griff as he was called. He would expect dinner when he came in from working in the fields. And after the craziness of my day, the last thing I wanted to hear was whining.

So, I grudgingly trudged into the kitchen and started preparing some stew. Just as I finished dumping the vegetables in the pot, a book on the countertop caught my eye. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t help it. My fingers hesitated over the faded cover before snatching it up and pulling it close to me.

The aged scent of its decrepit binding filled my nostrils. Closing my eyes, I pressed my nose against the yellowed pages and inhaled the sweet, soothing smell. It had belonged to my parents, and it had once sat on a high shelf of the library in our home. It was one of the few possessions of theirs I had left. Reading was something I savored—a connection to the past and an escape of the horrors of the present. But enjoying the contents between book covers had slipped away from me like so many other important things in my life. Or my former life, I should say.

The clanging of a soup ladle brought me out of my trance. “Dammit, Cadence, look what you’ve done!” Griff shouted.

I jumped like I had been shot, sending my book clattering onto the stone floor. Meeting his furious gaze, I could only utter, “Huh?”

He rolled his dark eyes at me. “You burn what little food we have and all you can say is ‘huh?’” he muttered, shoving the pot off the red-hot stove burner.

When I surveyed the scorched, black mess bubbling in the pot, I finally realized what he was talking about. I’d been so immersed in my imaginary world I forgotten all about the boiling stew.

“Oh no!”

He shook his head at me. “At least you’re consistent. I mean, I don’t know what I would do if I came home to find a perfect dinner set out on the table.”

I squared my shoulders and shot him a look. “Well, if you’re so dissatisfied with the way I cook, you can always pitch in. I work all day just like you, too!”

“Yes, the truly ironic part is you work in the
kitchens
at the palace, yet you have no gift for cooking.”

“I’m a
dining hall hostess
, brother dear. I don’t actually cook the food. I just schlep it to Richard and his hanger-ons.”

Griff grunted. “Yeah, well, looks like you’d pick up some skills after all this time. Besides, how are you ever to get a husband if you can’t cook?”

Bending down, I swept the book off the floor and waved it at him. “It wasn’t like I was ever trained to do this, smartass. Before the Great Fall, Mom never imagined me doing anything like cooking or cleaning for a living.”

His soulful brown eyes stared at me for a moment, unsure of how to react. I had brought up one of the unmentionables: our mother. It had been over a year since we lost our parents, but the pain still raged within us, so much so we did our best not to talk about them. “Yes, I know all that.” He held up his hands in front of my face. “These hands weren’t mean to work in the fields either.” Sidestepping past me, he plopped down at the table.