Ardor's Leveche (20 page)

The captain said nothing to her as they walked, keeping a straight military stanch as he walked. There was a ceremonial sword on his left hip and an obsidian dagger strapped to his right thigh. In the dark navy blue dress uniform of a Storian officer, his appearance would have impressed Ardor under different circumstances.

The room to which he led her was to the left of a large set of double doors—richly carved and shining lustrously. Two guards stood to either side of the elaborate portals, their laser pikes pointed toward the high ceiling.

“The queen’s bedchamber,” Sanchez informed her as he reached down to open the door to her room.

Breathtakingly beautiful, the room was done in shades of mauve and pale green with deep burgundy and emerald green accents. A long emerald green- and ochre-stripped settee perched in front of a beautiful beige marble fireplace veined with pale green striations. To either side of the fireplace were two overstuffed club chairs done in a moiré pattern in dark burgundy. Overhead a magnificent chandelier with at least a hundred fat white candles hung in the center of the room. The bed looked sumptuous in a multicolored coverlet with plush, fat pillows propped against the gleaming brass headboard. An enormous oak armoire inset with tortoiseshell panels and brass pulls set against one wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to either side of it, and in front of a large bay window was a chaise lounge and small marble table upon which sat a crystal oil lamp with a fluted shade.

“Quite lovely, isn’t it?” Sanchez asked as he closed the door behind them and let go of her arm.

“Exquisite,” Ardor agreed, looking at the astonishingly lovely accoutrements scattered about the room.

“It belonged to Queen Isabella,” Sanchez said in a soft voice. “She chose every piece of furniture, every bolt of cloth and had it made to her specifications.”

111

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Ardor glanced at him and was stunned to see tears in the man’s dark eyes. She watched him walk over to the settee and run his hand along the carved back.

“She spent nearly every moment of her life in these rooms.” He walked over to the chaise lounge. “She would sit here for hours on end either looking out over the waves of the Storian Sea or daydreaming or with her nose in one of her precious books.” He sat down on the edge of the chaise. “This was her only joy in life other than her two sons.”

“Gabriel and Manuel,” Ardor said and saw him wipe at a tear that eased down his cheek.

“I spent many a wondrous afternoon sitting on the floor beside this chaise when I was a boy,” he said, looking down at the floor. “Gabe and Manny and I.”

“You are a part of the royal family?” she asked.

He looked up, a frown creasing his handsome face. “Family?” He shook his head.

“No. Gabriel and I were best friends.”

That news shocked Ardor for neither the Reaper nor his brother had hinted at such an acquaintance with the man who led the king’s forces.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Ardor shrugged. “We rarely had any discussion, Captain. He was too concerned with—”

“Making love to you,” Sanchez finished the sentence and smiled. “You have his scent all over you, wench.”

So that was why he had been sniffing her, Ardor thought. She had to be careful around this man. He was dangerous.

“I know you were sent here by Bowen to assassinate the king and I have every intention of making sure you carry out that assignment,” Sanchez said. He reached inside his uniform tunic and pulled out a gleaming silver dagger. He laid it on the chaise. “Did Gabe or Raoul tell you where the hidden room is located in the king’s chamber?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ardor said. She didn’t trust this man. If Gabriel did, he would have told her about his childhood association with him.

“It is to the left of the standing mirror. The second panel from the wall. Push on the panel twice and it will open. You can pull the panel shut with a handle in the middle.

There is a hallway that will lead you down to the throne room. The floor is thickly carpeted but I suggest you make as little noise as possible.”

“Why are you telling me this, Captain?” she asked, making herself tremble. “Aren’t you afraid I—”

“I am the man,” he said, cutting her off, “whom Bowen contacts when he needs to get word to the king. I knew you were coming here and I had been instructed to make damned sure you carried out your assignment. I was to give you any help you needed and then make sure you were spirited away to safety so Manuel could take the throne.

112

Ardor’s Leveche

When the prison ship you were on was intercepted by Lord Savidos, those plans were put on hold. No one knew who he was. No one even suspected.”

“I’m sure the king was very annoyed to learn his son was alive,” Ardor said.

“Annoyed?” Sanchez repeated. “He was furious. I’ve never seen him so insane with anger. He feared Gabriel would come after him and so to draw him out, he had Manuel accused of treason.” Sanchez clasped his hands together and drew in a long breath.

“After Manuel was murdered, I was the man Bowen and his puppet master Morrison planned to place upon the Storian throne. I would have taken that throne until I learned Gabriel Leveche was alive.”

“So now, you’ll just turn it over to Prince Gabriel,” she said. “How generous of you.”

He looked up at her. “I’ve never wanted the crown, wench,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “All I have wanted was what was right and just for my people. In that regard, Gabriel and I think alike. He may not want to rule our people but he is the only one who I feel can.”

“None of that matters to me,” she said. “I just want to get back to Cengus.”

Sanchez’s slow smile warmed the coldness of his dark eyes. He stood up and walked toward the door. “You are good, wench,” he said. “I had heard you were.” He put his hand on the door pull then turned his head to give her a warning look. “When you carry out your assignment, make sure you leave the dagger on the floor beside the body. I know I don’t have to remind you to wipe the fingerprints from it first, though.

Since the king is known to enjoy the charms of a new woman long into the night of their first time together, no one will think much of his absence until the last dinner bell is rung. He’s never been one to deny himself a good meal. As soon as his body is found, there will be chaos. I’m sure Gabe gave you instructions on what to do and not to do until he can come for you.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Are you suggesting I murder the king?” she asked, opening her eyes wide.

Sanchez grinned. “All I’m suggesting is that you be careful, wench.”

With that said, he opened the door and left.

Ardor stood where she was, her lower lip clamped between her teeth, looking at the dagger lying on the chaise lounge. It was a wicked-looking weapon—curved blade extending from a thick leather-wrapped hilt, the blade guard formed in the shape of an elongated S. Even from a distance of ten feet or so, she could tell the cutting edge was finely honed and she knew it would be as sharp as any blade she had ever wielded. The dagger had been created to kill and it called out to her a siren’s song that bade she pick it up and caress it.

Pulling her mind from the blade, tearing her gaze from it, she looked about the room. This had been Gabriel’s mother’s room and it bore the stamp of a loving hand in the choice of knickknacks and paintings. Each item said it had been chosen with infinite care—the colors blending in with the green and dark pink motif. It was a lovely room 113

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

that made her feel calm while at the same time eliciting a deep sadness that the original occupant had met such a horrible end.

Without knocking, four maids entered the room with arms full of satin and velvet gowns. One carried several pairs of delicate-looking slippers on a silver tray while another carried a fancy carved chest Ardor suspected was filled with jewelry.

“His Majesty bids you pick out the gown you wish to wear this day,” the shortest of the four women said in a snide voice. “Your bath is being prepared. If you need help, you have but to ask.”

“Bath?” Ardor questioned.

The woman pointed at a door in the corner of the room. “The bathing pool is through yonder door.” She clapped her hands and the other three women hastily put down what they were carrying and scurried from the room, none of them making eye contact with Ardor.

“I have been assigned as your personal maid,” the woman said and it was obvious from her tone she found the task distasteful. “When you have bathed, I will help you dress and attend to your hair.”

Ardor lifted her chin. “I’ve been bathing all by myself since I was five years of age. I have been dressing myself since then, as well. I need no help.”

One fine golden brow lifted and the maid’s lips pursed before she said, “And I suppose you have been attending to your own hair.”

“I can braid with the best of them,” Ardor snapped.

Shaking her head at the remark, the woman turned to go. “If you need me, ring. If not…” She shrugged, opened the door and left.

“Bitch,” Ardor said under her breath. She looked toward the door and knew she’d never set foot in the room where Gabriel’s mother had been drowned. Though the Reaper had made no mention of his mother to her, she well remembered the sublims on Storian history that Bowen had insisted she undergo before starting on her mission. Out of respect for the woman who had given her lover life, Ardor said a quick prayer for Queen Isabella’s soul.

“Thank you, wench
,
”
came the immediate words.

Relieved to hear Gabriel’s voice even in her mind, Ardor asked if he was close.

“Close enough
,
”
he sent to her.

“Sanchez knows who I am
,
”
she sent back.

“You can trust him, Ardor.”

“Are you sure?”

“I read his thoughts as he was speaking to you. He can be trusted.”

Ardor wasn’t so sure. There had been something sneaky in the way the man had looked at her.

“He told you where the hidden room is within my father’s chamber
,
”
Gabriel said.

114

Ardor’s Leveche

“Aye.”

“I don’t know how long it will be before I can come for you. Just
know
I will be there,
wench.”

She could feel him pulling back, his last words merely a whisper. Wherever he was, he aware of her every movement and for that she was grateful. Glancing at the luxurious clothing lying on the bed, she took in a long breath, held it for a moment and then let it out as she walked toward the borrowed finery.

115

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Sanchez came for her two hours later. Once more the door opened without a knock to ask permission. The warrior strode in with a grim look upon his features but as soon as he saw her, he stopped, his gaze traveling down her from head to toe.

“By the gods but you are a lovely woman,” he said as though the words had to be drawn forcibly from him.

“I will take that as a compliment although I don’t believe you mean it,” Ardor said.

The Storian captain closed the door behind him and came a few feet closer. “I’ve never meant anything more, Milady. You will make a beautiful queen for our handsome Prince Gabriel. I envy you.”

Ardor blinked. “Envy me?”

Sanchez cocked one shoulder. “Had I been asked, I would have preferred to be born as one such as you but that was not the will of the gods. I am what I am whether it is to my liking or not.”

In that one telling sentence, Ardor understood all there was to know about Diego Sanchez. Not only did he desire to be a female, he was very much in love with his childhood friend. “Does he know?” she asked.

“By the gods I hope not!” Sanchez exclaimed, shock passing over his handsome features. He put a hand to his chest. “I would rather be hanged, drawn and quartered than have him know!”

She could feel the astonishment of her lover wafting through her mind and clamped down on her thoughts.

“Please, Milady, do not—”

“I will never say a word to him of your feelings, Captain,” she assured him, coming toward him, her hands outstretched. When he took her hands, she smiled up at him. “I know, now, though, that I can trust you with his life.”

“Always,” he said and brought her right hand to his lips. “I would give my life for his.”

“You know his father was the one who turned him over to the Coalition to be executed?” she asked.

Sanchez was staggered at the news and his expression said as much. His hands tightened on hers. “Nay, Milady. I did not!” he said and fury sparked in his midnight eyes. “I know Bowen ordered it and I was looking forward to the day I could ram my dagger into his gut and twist it.”

“That honor must be reserved for Gabriel,” she said.

116

Ardor’s Leveche

“One way or another, Bowen’s days are numbered,” Sanchez swore. He walked over to the chaise and leaned over to pick up the dagger. He brought it over to her. “I have come to collect you for the king.”

She took the dagger from him and felt the hefty weight of it in her palm. It was a killing blade and its song would be deadly.

“You are wearing stockings?” he asked.

Ardor nodded and lifted her skirt to place the weapon between her silk-clad thigh and the satin garter. She smoothed her skirt down. “Although I will gain a great deal of satisfaction from seeing my assignment completed, the thought of that pervert touching me sends chills down my spine.”

“I have had wine provided for His Majesty as is always his request,” Sanchez said.

“This time it is a highly potent wine. I beseech you not to partake of it.”

“You poisoned him?” she gasped.

“Not poison,” he replied. “There is a strong measure of tenerse within the wine. He will be only marginally conscious after the first few sips. When you go to him, call him
mi águila
. That was the name his lady-wife called him. He will be in such a state he will think you are she.”