solve the situation. He couldn’t even wake her up. Venero had never felt so powerless in his life.
He was giving serious consideration to the idea of kissing Gemma, right on the lips, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything to help his curse—but just because it might wake her up—when there was a sudden blur of blue and green.
The pavofel leaped to the bed beside its mistress. It crouched, tail lashing and eyes gleaming, and Venero didn’t dare to linger. He jumped from the bed, barely escaping the pavofel’s swiping paw, and fled to sanctuary beneath that chest of drawers. The pavofel followed, and slashed beneath the chest with claws bared. Venero retreated so that he was pressed against the wall, apparently out of range of the beast.
He’d never liked pavofels, but this one, he hated with particular vigor.
It prowled around the chest and he had more than one heart-stopping glimpse of its bright eyes as it bent to peer into the shadows. Wretched beast.
Finally, it abandoned the hunt and returned to its mistress’ side.
Venero peeked out but the pavofel was on the bed, watching him. The ends of its tail flicked, those eyes in the fur seeming to stare at him, too. Venero eased back into the protective shadows, hoping the princess awakened in the morning.
His first chance of escape in years couldn’t be lost as quickly as this.
Could it?
* * *
Gemma awakened with a foul taste in her mouth. Her head was pounding. She was sleeping on her back, like a trusting child, not the warrior she knew herself to be. She sat up in a hurry, feeling vulnerable. She was still in the bridal chamber but she was alone. Even Felice was gone from the bed.
Where was Urbanus?
What had he done before he left?
Gemma didn’t feel any different and couldn’t smell any indication in the bed linens that Urbanus had consummated their marriage while she was drugged and out cold. She felt her eyes narrow as she surveyed the quiet room. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do such a thing. What had changed his mind? She could still smell the Seed, and its summons was a persistent hum in her blood.
The door to the adjoining chamber was closed.
It was probably locked, too.
The hue of the light indicated that the sun had risen. How long had she slept? One night or more? She realized that she could hear Felice hunting somewhere in the chamber, so she wasn’t completely alone. Gemma got quickly out of bed and checked the door to Urbanus’ chamber.
Locked. Of course. The keyhole was blocked, as if he’d left the key in it.
She pressed her ear against the wooden door.
Silence.
She smelled lantern oil and frowned. Why was it so strong? Surely Urbanus hadn’t retreated to his chamber to refill his lamps? She couldn’t imagine him doing such a menial task, much less thinking it was more important than consummating their marriage. She dropped to the floor and tried to peer under the door but the angle was wrong and the gap too small.
Gemma stood and considered her own chamber again, then noticed that the maid had brought water for her. The realization annoyed her—someone had come into her chamber and she hadn’t even noticed. That was how powerful his toxin had been. Anything could have happened and that made Gemma angry.
She flung her chemise across the chamber and washed with haste. The water was just barely warm, so it had been there for a while. Where was Urbanus? What was his plan? The worst part was that she’d been tricked by him and it was her own fault. That voice, whoever it belonged to, had warned her, and she’d still been enchanted. Gemma made a little growl of frustration as she scrubbed herself clean, wondering again why Urbanus had just left.
Their marriage was unconsummated, which meant, she supposed, that it could be annulled. It didn’t do anything to help her avenge Arista, though.
“Well done,” that voice declared, no longer as unfamiliar as it had been. “Didn’t I warn you to watch his
He was giving serious consideration to the idea of kissing Gemma, right on the lips, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything to help his curse—but just because it might wake her up—when there was a sudden blur of blue and green.
The pavofel leaped to the bed beside its mistress. It crouched, tail lashing and eyes gleaming, and Venero didn’t dare to linger. He jumped from the bed, barely escaping the pavofel’s swiping paw, and fled to sanctuary beneath that chest of drawers. The pavofel followed, and slashed beneath the chest with claws bared. Venero retreated so that he was pressed against the wall, apparently out of range of the beast.
He’d never liked pavofels, but this one, he hated with particular vigor.
It prowled around the chest and he had more than one heart-stopping glimpse of its bright eyes as it bent to peer into the shadows. Wretched beast.
Finally, it abandoned the hunt and returned to its mistress’ side.
Venero peeked out but the pavofel was on the bed, watching him. The ends of its tail flicked, those eyes in the fur seeming to stare at him, too. Venero eased back into the protective shadows, hoping the princess awakened in the morning.
His first chance of escape in years couldn’t be lost as quickly as this.
Could it?
* * *
Gemma awakened with a foul taste in her mouth. Her head was pounding. She was sleeping on her back, like a trusting child, not the warrior she knew herself to be. She sat up in a hurry, feeling vulnerable. She was still in the bridal chamber but she was alone. Even Felice was gone from the bed.
Where was Urbanus?
What had he done before he left?
Gemma didn’t feel any different and couldn’t smell any indication in the bed linens that Urbanus had consummated their marriage while she was drugged and out cold. She felt her eyes narrow as she surveyed the quiet room. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do such a thing. What had changed his mind? She could still smell the Seed, and its summons was a persistent hum in her blood.
The door to the adjoining chamber was closed.
It was probably locked, too.
The hue of the light indicated that the sun had risen. How long had she slept? One night or more? She realized that she could hear Felice hunting somewhere in the chamber, so she wasn’t completely alone. Gemma got quickly out of bed and checked the door to Urbanus’ chamber.
Locked. Of course. The keyhole was blocked, as if he’d left the key in it.
She pressed her ear against the wooden door.
Silence.
She smelled lantern oil and frowned. Why was it so strong? Surely Urbanus hadn’t retreated to his chamber to refill his lamps? She couldn’t imagine him doing such a menial task, much less thinking it was more important than consummating their marriage. She dropped to the floor and tried to peer under the door but the angle was wrong and the gap too small.
Gemma stood and considered her own chamber again, then noticed that the maid had brought water for her. The realization annoyed her—someone had come into her chamber and she hadn’t even noticed. That was how powerful his toxin had been. Anything could have happened and that made Gemma angry.
She flung her chemise across the chamber and washed with haste. The water was just barely warm, so it had been there for a while. Where was Urbanus? What was his plan? The worst part was that she’d been tricked by him and it was her own fault. That voice, whoever it belonged to, had warned her, and she’d still been enchanted. Gemma made a little growl of frustration as she scrubbed herself clean, wondering again why Urbanus had just left.
Their marriage was unconsummated, which meant, she supposed, that it could be annulled. It didn’t do anything to help her avenge Arista, though.
“Well done,” that voice declared, no longer as unfamiliar as it had been. “Didn’t I warn you to watch his
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