The Red Queen (4 page)

Then, from a distant memory, a song reached her. The lyric was ancient— a language she couldn’t place. It entranced her. She was a princess in a blooming garden; a moonbeam of gold dust twirled around her. Winged fairies put a crown of delicate flowers on her head before shooting back into the air. A prince stepped into the picture. It was the silver-haired boy. He gazed at her with love, yet she wasn’t sure about her own love for him. Still, her desire for him arose in response to his presence.

“Ash?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with delight at the recognition.

“Lucia.” Ashburn blew out a breath.

She
liked the way he said her name, as if she was indeed his princess. He was grateful that she identified him. Fondness toward him swelled in her, and she had an urge to touch him. She put her beads back on her wrist and stepped toward him, but then stopped in her tracks. Maybe she shouldn’t do that. There were so many people around them, gawking at her.

“Láska,” the hazel-eyed boy called again, trying to step in front of Ash and remove him from her sight.

She darted her gaze toward him, amused that he was trying so hard to get her attention. Fine, she could give him a few seconds for his effort. As she fixed on him, her eyes widened, not at the nasty cuts on his face, but at the amount of pain in his eyes.
Did he lose someone dear to him?
Sympathy for him brought back a memory. She realized who he was. He was the real prince, not the other boy.

“What happened to you, Prince Vladimir?” she asked.

“I picked a fight,” he said.

“Why would you do that?” she asked.

“My opponents were extremely annoying,” he said.

“You can't fight everyone who is annoying,” she advised. “Soon you'll be fighting the whole world.”

“Then I'll fight the whole world,” he said.

He’s a wild card.

A light illuminated another slice of memory. Why did she keep having fragmented flashbacks? “Vladimir Blazek,” she said. His name associated with so many things.

He quirked an eyebrow to flaunt his carefree charm, but Lucienne had caught a flash of disquiet in his eyes. Did he often brace for the worst? She wouldn’t doubt that by looking at his swollen face.

“If I’m not mistaken,” she said matter-of-factly, “‘being extremely annoying’ is what everyone usually says about you.”

Vladimir blinked. Then there was a spark in his eyes. She used to talk to him like that when they’d met at Desert Cymbidium, her family’s military school.

“That’s slander,” he said. “Now you see why I had to teach them a lesson and show them the consequences of infuriating me.”

She cocked her head to the side, regarding his slit bottom lip. “It seems you got the consequences.”

Ashburn snorted in delight at her mockery of the other boy, as did the men in the room. Lucienne swept her gaze to Ashburn. His hostility toward the Czech prince was like an open furnace. Obviously, he wasn’t thrilled that Vladimir grabbed her attention. Was Ash the one who gave the prince bruises? No, Ash didn't seem like a fighter. He had an air of cold calculation and tight self-control.

Vladimir followed her gaze and glared at Ashburn, who returned it at full measure. Both desired to give the other a death sentence. Did it have anything to do with her?

“You two are like a pair of buffaloes,” she said, “ready to charge each other.”

The boys at once relaxed their poses, evidently not wanting to be regarded as buffaloes, but the muscles in their jaws still twitched in tension. Lucienne giggled at their display, yet they didn’t find it funny. They looked alarmed, which made her giggle more.

The room was quiet, except for her laughter. The older woman stopped crying and came to pat Lucienne’s back as if afraid of her choking. This compassionate move, as if for a baby after feeding, promoted another of Lucienne’s memories. This woman was her nanny. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, then irritation, she shrugged off Aida.
“I'm a big girl.”

She then paid no mind to her nanny. Her interests lay with the hot boys. Why did they look so grim?
Maybe it was—

She looked down and saw her white shirt and jeans. The cold, empty white wardrobe enveloped her like a stone coffin. White conjured impending doom. She must expel it with fire. Bright red fire.

“Where is my red gown?” she asked with a snarl, tearing at her white shirt.

“I’ll bring it.” The nanny scrambled out of the sun room and returned soon with a red robe in her hand. She covered Lucienne. “Now calm. Here’s your pretty red gown.”

Lucienne caressed the red velvet, her confidence returning, which put her in a much better mood. She even let Prince Vladimir wrap her in his possessive arms.

She laid the side of her face on his broad shoulder. From this angle, she glanced up at Ashburn through thick eyelashes. He looked so stunning, and he watched her with a pained, stormy expression, as if he wanted to tear her from Vladimir. Then why didn’t he act on it? She wouldn’t stop him. Did the Czech prince really have a claim on her?

She scanned the other men in the room to determine their relationships with her. She registered that they were her guards. She twisted away from Vladimir. “Why do I need to be guarded by so many men? Am I in danger?”

“You’re safe with me,” Vladimir said.

Ashburn sneered. Lucienne turned to him with a half smile. She didn’t like the prince’s answer either. His conceit didn’t sit well with her, so she decided to pointedly ignore him.

“Do you like my red dress, Ash?” she purred, flaunting her feminine charm. But her dazzling smile only brought out misery in his eyes. What was wrong with him?

Vladimir, however, immediately tensed, his muscles bulging on his arms and beneath his black designer shirt. His jealousy was tangible and entertaining.

“I like anything you wear,” Ashburn said, but he wasn't flirting.

Vladimir shifted his weight and blocked her sight of Ashburn again. He laid his hand against the small of her back, using a firm touch to draw her attention back to him.

“You must be hungry, Lucia,” Ashburn said. “Aida made you your favorite omelet.”

Amusing. Ash was using the primary human need—food—to get her leave Vladimir's arms.

These boys each wanted to pull her in his direction, but she would show them she was in charge. Then her stomach unexpectedly grumbled. That wasn’t lady-like. She brushed aside her embarrassment. She was hungry. She shoved Vladimir aside and went back to her seat.

Ashburn gave her an encouraging smile as she cut a piece of omelet and put it into her mouth. It tasted good. Ashburn and Vladimir sat across from her, but neither touched their dishes. Lucienne flicked her gaze between them.

“They stare at me as if they want to eat me, Aida.” She addressed her nanny, her gaze locked on the boys. “I must be delicious.” She giggled again and flung a seductive look at Vladimir, then at Ashburn. Which one wanted her more?

But instead of showing desire, their eyes held identical pain and wariness. If it weren’t for the undeniable tenderness dwelling in the depth of their sadness, she’d have thrown her plate at them. They made her feel like she was eating at her own funeral. Suddenly, the memories of attending the funerals of Orlando, Marloes, and her other loyal warriors flooded back. With that piece of memory, grief struck her.
No!
She wasn’t equipped to deal with that amount of sorrow and guilt. She must put them in a box, as Kian had advised.

“Where is the box?” she demanded. Grief kept hitting her. It was too much!

Everyone looked puzzled, and then traded nervous glances.

Lucienne tossed her fork onto the table. It clanked. “You all look at me as if I’m crazy,” she hissed. She was also humiliated that the boys didn’t desire her as she’d wanted. “Did I ask any of you to pity me?”

“It’s not pity, Lucia,” Vladimir started. “I—”

“You’re a liar,” she said.

“Lucia.” Ashburn reached her. “I don’t know about him,” he said over Vladimir’s growl, “but I’ve never lied to you. Look at me and see the truth.” 

She peeked into his eyes. Their color shifted from ice blue to silver gray with thick emotions, which made her pulse quicken. His young male musk distracted her more. It was calling her to him, tugging her toward him. Her eyes brightened. There was something between them, and it was lovely and lush. She put her palm against his face, her anger whiffing away. “I want you, Ash,” she said.

Ashburn sucked in a breath. She knew he shared what she felt. He wanted her even more than she did him. Then what was he waiting for? Shouldn't he start kissing her?

Vladimir shoved Ashburn away and cut in between them. “Lucia, you’re tired,” he said. “I’ll take you to your bedroom.”

“No, you won’t take me anywhere.” She didn’t even look at him, her eyes fixing on Ashburn. “And I’m far from tired.”

Vladimir turned to Ashburn and gave him a blunt order, “Leave.”

“Like hell I’ll leave her in your incompetent hands,” Ashburn shot back.

“She isn't herself,” Vladimir said through clenched teeth. “The thing in you is making her worse.”

Ashburn turned to Vladimir, eyes narrowed in fury. “The thing in me?”

Lucienne also glared at the Czech.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Vladimir said.

“Who caused her to be like this?” Ashburn asked.

They talked about her as if she weren’t here, as if she were a weak girl. How dare they! She was …. Who was she? The vague recollection of her role came into focus. She was the Siren? Yes, and a terribly powerful one. She must show them that, but how?

Something in her consciousness twinkled, but then slipped through her grasp. She studied the boys closely, desperate to find clues. The veins in Vladimir’s temples jumped. Guilt and self-loathing darkened his hazel eyes, diminishing the remaining light in them—it was scarce already.
The guilty one
, she realized. Ash had said Vladimir had caused her harm. If so, he deserved to be punished, but she needed to find out what kind of harm he’d done her.

“She’s better off without you,” Ashburn said. “Why don’t you do us all a favor? Get off this island and disappear.”

“Want to get rid of me?” Vladimir laughed viciously. “It won’t happen. I stick to her. You, on the other hand, should get lost.”

Earlier on, she’d worried that none of them found her attractive, but that had been baseless. Look at how they were fighting for her! She couldn’t help but curl her lips in a grin.

“I know all about your dirty secrets,” Vladimir said, a menacing smugness flashing in his eyes. “Yes, I know what that
thing
in you has been doing to her. Even now you’re influencing her. Remove yourself this second, or I’ll remove you myself.”

The thing in Ash? What was the Czech prince talking about? She did feel an unnatural pull from Ash. Was he trying to do her harm too? Both of them? Her breath shortened.

Rage turned Ashburn’s eyes to stormy gray
.

Oh, this one is so pissed
. Was he going to leave? Lucienne leaned toward Ashburn. If he exited from the scene, she’d lose a suitor. The Czech boy was starting to grate on her nerves.

Her movement brought back the attention of both boys. The Czech prince gazed at her, almost pleading. The vast gentleness in his hazel eyes failed to melt her heart. Lucienne was no fool. She didn’t fall for pretty, dangerous men easily. No, he was the fool to hope she threw herself into his arms while all she had in mind was to punish him for his rudeness. A cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she shoved him away. The tremendous hurt in his eyes appeased her sense of justice. He’d hurt her first. Ash had spelled out the truth.

“Let’s go for a walk, Ash,” she said, reaching for his hand and leading him out of the sun room and down the long hallway.

Ashburn clasped his hand around hers tightly. Vladimir and the guards fell in behind her. The Czech prince’s jealousy and anger were sizzling. Lucienne rubbed her face against Ash’s shoulder briefly to make the prince even madder. How easy it was for her to wrap them around her fingers. Lucienne was pleased with herself, but she hid her smirk.

The air was crisp outside the mansion, and the red forest ahead promised a good walk. Giddy, Lucienne quickened her pace, her hand still interlinking with Ashburn’s. The touch felt luscious. If she lured Ash deep in the woods, away from these prying eyes, he might kiss her.

“Are you cold, Lucia?” Ashburn asked.

“I’ve never felt better,” she said.

“Lucia,” Vladimir called after her, demanding her attention, but she purposefully ignored him. She allowed him to tag along just to torment him. She let her hip brush against Ashburn’s with each gait.

Like a flash, Vladimir darted to her other side. She’d seen him limping. How had he moved this fast? “Lucia, come to see my collection?” he coaxed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, trying to turn her away from Ashburn. “I’ve acquired a rare sword—”

“Do I look like a tomboy who’s into weaponry?” she scoffed. “You’re crazy.” Why did everyone wince when she said the word ‘crazy?’ She shook off the prince. And what kind of idiot would want to win a girl with a display of swords? She was disappointed in his courting skills. “And you should have a doctor treat your face. You don’t look good!”