Unleashed Fury (BloodRunes: Book 1) (15 page)

Jezebel lifted her eyes and sneered at the
maid. The twit didn't notice the expression, however, as she was
trying to reaffix a flyaway strand of hair that had worked its way
out of the elaborate masterpiece on Jezebel's head. Annoyed that
her sneer had been lost on the girl, Jezebel instead scowled at
herself in the mirror.

The maid finally got the problem strand back
into place, but Jezebel still wasn't satisfied. She kept having the
face of that floozy servant girl back at the manor pop into her
head. She just couldn't shake the image of her beautiful deep blue
eyes and gorgeous supple lips.
Damn her
! She swore to
herself.
How dare she intrude even on my thoughts
. She
turned her head from side to side in the mirror, inspecting the
maid’s work on her hair.
At least Devon reported that he hasn't
seen her with Gryffon since that day in the market. And now Gryffon
is here with me where I can keep a close eye on him
. She should
just throw him out, but she couldn't admit even to herself that she
had failed in her attempt to have him court her. Besides, he was
stuck staying at the manor until he had fulfilled his debt to her.
He had nowhere else to go.

His family had apparently lost their house
and holdings in a vain attempt to find a healer who could save
Gryffon's mother. Gryffon had then appealed to Jezebel's father who
had worked out a deal to have him work for Jezebel in exchange for
the money. Gryffon's mother had died anyway, and his father had
soon followed. Gryffon was the last in line, and was left with
nothing. He'd simply have to come around eventually. When he did,
she intended to make him pay for making her work so hard for
it.

She spent the next hour bullying the maid in
an attempt to satisfy herself with her reflection, but it seemed
that no matter what she did, she couldn't help but compare it to
that
girl. Finally, fed up, she threw a tub of powder from
the dresser. It slammed into the ground in a tiny explosion of
white, and ceramic shards clattered across the floor. She stomped
off, her shoes crunching into the pieces, and left the mess for the
incompetent maid to clean up.

She stormed down the hallway to the suite
that Renee occupied and briefly rapped on the door in a polite
gesture before pushing it open. Renee was standing in front of her
own mirror, her round face looking quite rosy from effort.

“Oof,” she exclaimed as a maid drew the
drawstrings of her corset. Jezebel smiled and felt her mood
improving as she surveyed the hideous gold dress that Renee had
squeezed her not-so-girlish form into. The gold accentuated her
pale complexion and made her look washed out and sickly.

“Renee,” Jezebel greeted the pudgy woman as
she helped herself to an armchair. She sat carefully, so as not to
ruin her own maid's handiwork, and watched with amused contempt as
Renee's maid laced the rest of the dress and moved on to her
hair.

“Jezebel,” acknowledged Renee sounding out of
breath. “You're looking lovely as always.”

Jezebel nodded acceptance of the compliment,
but refrained from commenting on Renee's own appearance, stifling a
laugh.

A few hours later, the two women stood in a
gigantic ballroom listening to endless speeches about the new King.
As the ceremony wound down to a close, they joined the procession
line to pledge their fealty to him. Renee kept standing on her
tiptoes to peek over the people in front of them in an effort to
steal a glance of the King. Jezebel held herself still in a more
regal fashion, resisting the urge to look herself.

“You know,” murmured a voice beside her, the
breath lightly tickling her neck as it moved stray hairs across her
skin, “we'll be electing a whole new Council soon.”

Jezebel started to rudely comment that she
was well aware of the customs, but stopped herself mid-breath as
she saw who it was standing next to her, obviously on his way back
to his table after having already been announced to the King. “My
lord,” she gasped, curtsying deeply to Lord Carlon, a man who was
extremely influential in court. He had almost tripled his holdings
with raids into the savage lands to the north, and consequently had
tripled his power and prestige in court as well.

His lips formed a small smile and he
continued, “I hear that you are interested in one of these
positions. What makes you think that you are eligible for one?”

Jezebel ignored the implication that perhaps
she was not qualified, knowing better than to upset someone like
Lord Carlon. “My father has been very involved in court politics
for some time, as you know, my lord. I took it upon myself to
listen and to learn. Also, my father fully supports my claim,
although he has not formally announced it.”

“Does he now.” His lips quirked again.

“I think that the rest of the Council would
be quite pleasantly surprised to find that I already know what
usually takes them years to figure out for themselves. My
information network is quite well-established and very reliable.”
She added this last comment, gambling that the lord would not take
offense. Normally the practice of having networks with the purpose
of spying on other nobles was accepted, but not spoken of. Her
gamble paid off, and she was rewarded with a broader smile.

“You are a bold one, and I agree that you are
very well-informed. Be aware, however, that even with the most
extensive networks, there is always more than what meets the eye.”
He arched a brow at her and gave her an appraising look before
saying, “I shall look forward to supporting your candidacy once you
formally announce it.”

With that, he walked off, leaving her
dumbfounded in the line of people. She felt frozen in place until
Renee's voice brought her back to the present, and she realized
that the line had moved up. The people behind her were starting to
grumble.

She glared at them all before huffily
stepping forward. She tried to force her excited nerves to be
still. Inside, she was giddy, trying to remember the last time she
had seen Lord Carlon, and wondering what it was that had caught his
attention with her. Perhaps what she had taken for an appraising
look was actually a look of interest – in more than just her
ability to fill a Council seat. She laughed to herself, drawing odd
looks from the people around her. She paid them no heed.
Well,
if Lord Carlon is interested in me, he certainly is in a position
to make it worth me bothering to return it,
she thought to
herself gleefully.
Maybe his wife is getting a little round in
the hips after all those babies and she's lost her appeal
. The
lord was substantially older than Jezebel, but that was all the
better as far as she was concerned. It simply meant that he'd be
out of the way sooner. A little subtle flirting and a few choice
words, and she'd oust the old wife and become the new Lady Carlon
in no time, to enjoy all the benefits and power that the position
held. Then, when he finally met his end, she would reap all the
rewards.

The line in front of Jezebel and Renee
separated, and Jezebel was surprised to see that her musings had
lasted all the way to the dais where the King stood accepting the
fealty of his subjects. Renee made a low noise of appreciation as
the crowd parted and the King came into view. Jezebel lost her
train of thought for a moment as she gazed at him. He was the most
perfect specimen of a man that she had ever laid eyes upon. Dark
brown hair flipped out from underneath the jeweled crown, and his
intense deep eyes brushed over her as he nodded acceptance of their
pledges of fealty. Within his strong jaw, his mouth was set in a
perfect smile that he held for all his subjects. The only mar to
his features was a long scar that extended across his left cheek.
In Jezebel's opinion, it only served to make him look that much
more strapping. She could almost imagine the fateful scene as he
bravely fought off his enemies and received the wound while holding
back scores of men. Jezebel felt a small shiver run down her spine
as she rose out of the bow and met his eyes briefly. Their dark
depths held her for a split second before he looked away. Jezebel
felt herself awed by their new monarch as she made her way off the
dais.

“Isn't he dreamy?” Renee asked, coming up
next to her along the line of buffet tables that had been set up
for the occasion.

“Mmm,” was Jezebel's only answer as she
absently watched Renee pile a plate high with pastries. Jezebel's
revulsion grew as Renee stuffed one into her mouth, and licked the
frosting off her fingers. Jezebel chose a plate of fresh fruits and
then moved into a group of people. She weaved through the crowd to
find someone worthy of speaking with, leaving Renee behind to stuff
herself.

She chatted with a few higher nobles before
spotting Gryffon in the corner with a group of men. Devon had
reported that he hadn’t been seen with the strumpet, and no one had
mentioned the incident, so she decided to give him one more chance.
She made her way over to them and overheard a conversation about
hunting. She put on her most dazzling smile as she swept in front
of him, cutting him off mid-sentence as she came between him and
the group. “Gryffon, dear, won't you come dance with me?”

Gryffon gave her a stern look and answered
shortly, “I don't dance,” before stepping to the side to resume his
conversation.

Jezebel clenched her teeth and turned her
attention to a man standing next to Gryffon. He was nothing special
to look at, but not a total loss either. She batted her eyes at him
flirtatiously and asked, “Would you do me the honor since
other
people obviously have no class?”

The man was quick to respond which pleased
Jezebel, but she felt like she had been slapped in the face when he
had the gall to ask for Gryffon's permission.
A
s if
Gryffon is in charge of me, ha!
Gryffon barely even looked up
and didn't even have the couth to be jealous. Jezebel did her best
to flirt outrageously with the man she was with whose name she
didn't catch, but Gryffon hardly gave them a second glance. Soon
Jezebel grew tired of him and excused herself, feigning fatigue.
She needed someone to vent to.

*

Jonathan's eyes scanned the crowded room,
searching for Jezebel. Soon he spotted her, looking severe in a
blood red dress. She was amongst a group of older women which
included the wives of some of the Council members. He made his way
over to her slowly, stopping to chat with people on the way to
seemingly end up behind her by sheer coincidence. She was in the
middle of bragging to them about some supposed merger between her
lace shop and another store. Jonathan knew this to be a lie, and
had a feeling that the ladies knew as well, if their bored and
slightly affronted expressions were anything to judge by.

He stepped in closer and waited for her to
take a breath and pause in her boasting. “And when will you be
announcing your candidacy now that you have sufficient support?” he
asked her when she finally stopped talking for a moment. He felt a
tinge of satisfaction as she jerked around towards him; the motion
betraying that he had succeeded in his attempt to surprise her.

“Ah, Jonathan,” she greeted him, the venom
almost dripping from her lips.

Jonathan noticed the distinct lack of title.
She turned to the ladies she was with and held out a hand
indicating him, “Ladies, this is Jonathan. He's been helping me to
decorate my new sitting room. Aren't you, my dear?” She turned to
him and gave him a sweet smile with laughter in her eyes. She
obviously thought to embarrass him by implying that he was a
decorating consultant and thereby a lower noble.

Jonathan let none of his inner anger show. He
simply smiled back and took each of the ladies hands in turn as
Jezebel introduced them. “Indeed, it's a pleasure to meet you all.
Do you mind if I steal away Lady Jezebel for just one moment? I
noticed a piece by the door that would look simply superb in her
new sitting room, but I'm not sure if there's the budget for
it.”

Jezebel was not quite as quick to cover her
anger as he had been. Her cheeks flushed brighter red than the
blush that was applied to them. She excused herself through
clenched teeth, and stalked off ahead of him, refusing to let him
lead her. He gave a little shrug to the confused looks of the
ladies and followed in her wake. “And just
what
do you think
you're doing?” she reared on him.

“Why holding up our end of the bargain, of
course,” he answered easily. “You wanted a Council seat, did you
not? And what have you been doing on your end?”

She stopped in her tracks for a moment, and
Jonathan realized that perhaps she had thought that the support
from Lord Carlon came out of some real interest in her personally.
He smiled, watching her squirm from this revelation. “I have a list
of names in the room for you. You may stop by at eleven this
evening to get them.”

Jonathan was disappointed that he wasn't able
to have gone farther with that particular line of insults. He was
also somewhat annoyed at her deciding that she could order him
around like some kind of lap-dog, but he decided not force the
issue -
yet
. Master would be pleased to be given names, and
Master being happy made Jonathan happy.

“Is Lord Carlon part of the Order?” Jezebel
had the insubordination to ask.

Jonathan grabbed her wrist roughly, carefully
shielding the action with his body, and then shoved her towards the
wall with a smile carefully fixed upon his face. He leaned in close
to her and hissed, “I don't know what you're talking about,
my
dear
, but it would do you well to remember that spreading lies
could cost you more than you care to pay. It's not for you to know,
and you will remember who is in charge. Don't forget that I too am
influential with powerful people. One slip-up from you could be
quite hazardous to your health.”