Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) Read online

  Morts? Here?

  More shadows emerged from the niches in my periphery. How many others were here? Had they been waiting to ambush us? And where were the cathedral guards? They should have heard the fighting by now. Thaddeus staggered beneath his opponent, but before I could step in, Vera rammed her hilt into the man's skull. The man slumped to the ground, and Vera grabbed Thaddeus's hand, jerking him back to his feet. The three of us sprinted for the sign marked "Uscita" hanging above one of the doors, our tread echoing through the nave. I expected the doors to be locked and was surprised when they weren't. With a twist and a shove, I opened the door and the three of us bolted into the frigid night air.

  The wide, circular piazza shone with the golden hue of lanterns, and a light drizzle made everything wet. We sprinted down the broad stairs, ducking as more darts whizzed past. A few Italian guards lingered near the columnar arms of St. Peter's Basilica, and when they saw us they started forward, shouting things in Italian. But more Morts also emerged from behind the columns of the colonnade, and they ran toward us.

  "How did the bloody Mortis worshippers know we were coming here?" Thaddeus yelled as we sprinted past a fountain.

  My boots splashed through small puddles on the cobblestones. "You're asking me? They're your father's men!"

  "That doesn't mean I know—Hellfire!" Thaddeus yelled, pitching forward. "That dart almost got my cheek!"

  "Well, quit talking and pay attention!" Vera yelled back.

  We reached the end of the long colonnade, and I glanced back. There were at least a dozen Morts tailing us. The Italian guards seemed to be hanging back, too scared to enter the melee. We could never outrun so many Morts. Not here. Not without magic. Sirens wailed in the distance and Thaddeus shrieked in fright. "What is that sound?"

  We sprinted, but I had no idea what we were sprinting toward. I had no idea how to find Drago—especially in a city this size—and we certainly couldn't do it with Morts on our tail. Vera cried out and staggered.

  "Are you hit?" I yelled back at her.

  She hobbled along. "No, just…twisted my ankle. I'll be fine."

  Thaddeus cursed behind me and grabbed her hand, pulling her after him. I swore under my breath. I shouldn't have let them come. We hadn't even left the portal, and we were caught, outnumbered and vulnerable in a city none of us knew, and without magic to aid us. We'd have to stand and fight the Morts. Odds like these didn't usually concern me, but with Vera injured, I didn't think we'd stand much chance. Even if we somehow survived it, there would be the Italian government to contend with. Considering we'd just broken at least a dozen laws of the Magical Pact, we wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

  A throaty engine rumbled through the streets. I couldn't pinpoint its source, but the rumble revved. Suddenly, a pair of high beams blinded me. I held up my hands to shield the light from my eyes, straining to see as I ran. Thaddeus yelled something about the sky falling and it being the end of the world. A sleek, black convertible squealed its back wheels, spinning the car around and screeching to a halt right in front of us.

  A Ferrari.

  The man inside waved and yelled, "Get in!"

  6

  DARIA

  "I apologize for my delay. It's been a rather long morning," Danton said as he led us out of the garden at a brisk pace. His tone was as dreary as the weather.

  I tried not to let my spirits dampen with it. "Should I even ask?" I asked. Our boots crunched as we stepped out onto the gravel path.

  He glanced sideways at me, giving me a tight smile before looking ahead. "Probably not, but Father has agreed. There are, however, a few…issues he wants to discuss with you."

  This didn't sound good at all. "Hm," I said. "So your father has agreed to what, exactly?"

  Danton veered us right, down the wide path leading back to the estate. "Don't worry. I made it very clear your offer remains contingent upon Orindor's aiding Valdon in this war."

  "Is that what took all morning?"

  Danton inhaled, lips tight. "Yes."

  "I'm not sure what the problem is. That was your father's original offer."

  "Yes, but we weren't at war when he made it."

  "Ah." Yes, this was sounding worse by the second. "I take it this is the issue your father wants to discuss with me?"

  Our footsteps crunched. "I believe so," he said, "though he wouldn't specify—not to me—but he wants to speak with you immediately."

  "Should I change first?" I asked, gesturing at myself. I was, after all, still wearing a riding ensemble. Hardly fit for discussing diplomacy with Lord Pontefract, my future father-in-law.

  Father-in-law.

  Ugh. The word made me cringe inwardly. This was not at all how I'd envisioned my future.

  "There's no need to change," Danton replied, "and I'd rather not keep him waiting."

  Danton opened the doors and led me inside, closing them behind us. Servants smiled at us as we passed, and many of the lady servants blushed as they looked at their lord—so much so I wondered…

  No, I couldn't and wouldn't wonder about…that. I had other, larger matters to handle, like saving the world. But saving the world wasn't progressing as fast as I'd hoped, and Danton's weary physique and evasive responses weren't helping my confidence.

  "By the way," Danton spoke in a gentler tone, "I hope you know I won't allow Lady Isla to spread any ill rumors about you."

  My cheeks warmed. "I was hoping you hadn't heard any of that."

  He squeezed my arm and glanced sideways at me. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I was glad you said what you did. In fact, I found myself rooting for you." I gave him a doubtful look, and he grinned. The blue in his eyes changed—deepened, almost, as if the ice in them were melting. "Not that I'm surprised you said any of it," he said, "considering your, ah, rather unbridled reputation. Don't get me wrong…I do like that about you."

  This time I laughed. "Well, you're one of the few."

  "I'm proud of you for having the courage to tell Lady Isla what so many others have wanted to say for a very long time."

  "You're not going to gallantly defend your fiancée?"

  "Oh, but I am defending my fiancée." He smiled broadly at me.

  I looked away from him and followed the run of rope festooned from pole to pole. "Technically, I'm just your guest."

  "No, the matter is sealed. All that's left is to inform Lord Justine of the change."

  "All that's left," I scoffed. "You make it sound as if it's as easy as telling your groom to feed your horse."

  "Well, it is."

  "Right. Maybe if your horse had rabies."

  He laughed. It was a genuine laugh, pleasant and full, and it made me wonder if he laughed very often. For some reason, I doubted it. "It's not so bad," he added. "These things happen all the time."

  But I doubted they happened all the time to Lady Isla. "So who will be doing the honor of bringing these common tidings?"

  "Father," he said.

  I eyed Danton with disapproval.

  His sigh was equipped with an eye roll. "And yes, Your Prudent Highness, I will be informing Lady Isla myself."

  I grinned despite myself. "Such disrespect already."

  Danton stopped at the entrance to a wide hallway and turned to face me. "I want you to feel comfortable with me, Daria," he said just above a whisper, his eyes liquid blue. "And I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to fix my reputation in your eyes—I do, truly. I care what you think of me. I'm not sure why, but I do. And considering what I know of you, I don't think acting the sycophant is a good way to start earning your trust."

  His honesty made me even more uncomfortable. I wanted him on my side—yes—but I didn't want him caring about…anything, really. It made me feel as if I were betraying my heart—betraying Alex—just by allowing someone else to care.

  "However"—he glanced down the long hallway, which ended in a pair of large and guarded double doors—"my father isn't so…congenial."

  "Is this a warnin
g or a reminder?"

  "A reminder. And he's not in a particularly good mood at the moment."

  "Because of me?"

  He hesitated.

  "I thought that was why you waited till this morning to tell him," I whispered.

  "Yes, well, he's…under a lot of pressure."

  "From who?" Though I already had my dark suspicions.

  Danton's gaze flickered to the double doors again then settled back on me with warning. "Daria, you and I will talk later. In private, where we can't be overheard. I promise you. For now, try to watch your words to my father. While I greatly admire that unbridled reputation of yours, it won't work favorably with him. He's walking a very fine line, and any misplaced sentiment could make him retract his offer. That is why it has taken me the better part of the morning."

  So many things in such a delicate balance. Why did everything always have to be so complicated? I didn't have patience for politics, just like I didn't have patience for chess. I couldn't keep track of everyone's moves and countermoves, and I couldn't keep track of everyone's interests. I barely knew what my own moves were. All I really wanted to do was throw off all the other pieces and let the kings battle it out—alone, where no one else could be sacrificed.

  "All right," I said, "but you and I will talk later."

  He clasped my hand between both of his, his gaze earnest. "You have my word."

  I didn't think Danton's word meant very much, but I kept that to myself. Lord Commodus Pontefract wasn't the only one walking a fine line here.

  The hallway was wide, lined with large, square windows on either side that cast muted rays of light across the blood-red runner lining the floor. I kind of felt like Dorothy in the Emerald City, walking down the long hall to visit the great and powerful Oz, only I wasn't surrounded by friends, and I wasn't going home. Wherever that was.

  The guards didn't react as we approached. In fact, they stood so still I wondered if they were empty suits of armor on display, but once we were close enough, I saw there really were men inside. Danton rapped sharply on the dark wood door, and without waiting for a response, pushed it in.

  What was it with these lords and their expansive halls? Did they need that much space to hold their ego?

  Lord Commodus Pontefract awaited us atop a pedestal of flat stairs, seated in a chair much too large for any human being. The rest of the room was empty, except for a handful of guards standing near the support columns spanning from floor to arched ceiling, and all the walls were lined with cathedral windows and portraits. Huge portraits—all men and all of them frowning—of past Pontefracts. Those cold blue eyes were a Pontefract staple. Every single portrait had them.

  Danton led me forward without preamble, our boots clicking on the glossy stone floor until Danton stopped us at the foot of his father's pedestal. Lord Commodus Pontefract sat in his too-large chair, his jeweled fingers drumming the end of his too-large armrest. Those eyes—cold and ruthless and blue and so like his brother Tiernan's—sent a cold shiver down my neck. Danton had inherited those eyes, but his hadn't iced over completely. Not yet, anyway. Lord Pontefract wore rich robes of red and black (surprise), and his sleek black hair had been parted harshly down the middle. The effect made the bones in his pale face hard and unforgiving, and his long nose looked more like a beak. He was a very harsh and intimidating man, all hard lines and no mercy, and now he was going to be my father-in-law. Assuming I didn't make a mess of things.

  "Father." Danton bowed his head. "I've brought Princess Daria Regius, as you requested."

  Lord Pontefract eyed me with those cold eyes and not a twitch of welcome on his grim face. "So I see."

  Danton stood still and erect beside me, holding on to my arm with a firm grip. I didn't know if he was holding on to me so tight because he was nervous, or because he feared I might run. I wanted to. Either way, he was cutting off my circulation and my hand was going numb. I flexed my fingers to encourage blood flow. He noticed, and relaxed his grip a little.

  Finally, a smile cracked on Lord Pontefract's face, severing the heavy mood at once. He stood in one fluid motion then descended the stairs, the hem of his robes slipping over the steps, and when he reached us, he grabbed my hand in his. "Your grace, it is an honor. When Danton told me you'd arrived, I almost didn't believe it." He brought my hand to his thin lips and planted a light, cool kiss on my knuckles. "And in these precarious times, I thank the spirits you made it safely to Orindor." He released my hand and smiled. The intensity of his gaze made me feel like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard.

  "I am too, my lord," I said much more confidently than I felt. "And thank you for receiving me with such short notice."

  "But of course." He eyed me a moment longer, then, without warning, snapped his fingers. The sound cracked through the large hall, and a butler stepped forth from the shadows.

  "My lord?" the butler asked, all humility.

  "Fetch us a bottle of Cappor," Lord Pontefract said, the emphasis on the "por."

  "Yes, my lord." The butler turned on his heels, but Lord Pontefract stopped him.

  "And a dish of olives."

  "Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else?"

  "Make it quick."

  The butler bowed and vanished, and Lord Pontefract motioned for Danton and me to follow him to a long table I hadn't noticed earlier, situated along the side of the room. He took a seat at the head, while Danton pulled a chair out for me beside his father and took his own place opposite me, on his father's other side. Lord Pontefract swept his jeweled hand over the top of the fat sconce at our end of the table, and a flame sprang to life inside.

  Magic was so easy for him, so effortless I hadn't even felt the pulse of energy when he'd made the flame. This unnerved me a little, and it also furthered my resolve to hide my own abilities from him as long as possible. He could use my title, but I didn't want him having any access to my magic.

  "There, this is much better." Lord Pontefract threaded his fingers together and set them on the table. "I find diplomacy much more endurable over drinks. Don't you agree, your highness?"

  Danton watched his father with ice-cold eyes.

  I met Lord Pontefract's inquiring gaze and gave him a brilliant smile. "I'm sure I'd agree if I liked them."

  Lord Pontefract stared at me and then laughed, a loud boom of sound that wasn't the least bit authentic. He then glanced sideways at his son. "I told you you'd find a more docile wife in Lady Isla."

  I felt a swell of irritation from Danton's side of the table, but his face betrayed none of it. "Docile, perhaps, but not necessarily a trait one wants in the Lady of Orindor."

  Lord Pontefract rubbed his chin and looked back at me, amused. "True, though it's a trait a man might want for his lady's other duties."

  Danton's cheeks splotched pink and his gaze dropped to the table. My cheeks flushed hot, too. Lord Pontefract had said it all in jest, of course, but it felt unnatural, like a viper slithering into your lap to cuddle. It kept sliding closer and closer only so it could bite with more accuracy. Before anyone could say another word on the matter of docility—and to my relief—the butler returned. He set an ice-filled goblet before each of us, unstoppered a beautiful crystal decanter filled with a rich amber liquid, and filled our glasses. Once he finished, he set the decanter on the table, placed a pretty glass bowl of stuffed olives between us, and then bowed in retreat.

  "Will that be all, my lord?"

  Lord Pontefract waved him off. "Quite."

  The butler returned to the shadows, unseen, though I could feel his presence nearby. Just in case Lord Pontefract snapped for anything else.

  "Of course you know Cappor is made only in Orindor." Lord Pontefract picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid, making the ice jingle. I did not know this, but I didn't comment. Instead I glanced at Danton, whose steely gaze had settled back on his father, and I found myself trying to understand their relationship. I didn't sense much affection between them, and then I wondered if that was good
or bad for me.

  "That year's batch of junipine berries was supreme, I must say," Lord Pontefract was saying.

  I turned my attention back to him. "Junipine berries? I don't think I know what those are."

  Lord Pontefract took a sip and set down his goblet with a refreshed-sounding sigh. "Forgive me: I forget you are so newly acquainted with this world. Junipine berries aren't unique to Orindor. They're found all over Gaia, but they are poisonous in all places except here, in Orindor. Our pedologists claim it has to do with the particular nutrients in our soil, but whatever the reason, we are the only region able to make Cappor. It is quite an extensive process. This bottle"—he gestured to the decanter—"has been aging for fifty-six years."

  The ice-cubes in Danton's glass clanked as he took a small, slow sip. Feeling my gaze, he glanced at me over the rim of his glass, and then let the glass hover near his mouth. "Don't feel as if you have to drink it."

  Lord Pontefract frowned at his son.

  "I don't," I said, grabbing the cold and sweaty glass. "But I can't say I don't like something if I've never tried it. And who knows…maybe your Cappor will make a drinking diplomat out of me." I glanced sideways at Lord Pontefract with a grin.

  Lord Pontefract sat back, looking pleased—and surprised—by my response, and I hadn't realized how tense Danton had been until his shoulders visibly relaxed. Then I took a slow sip.

  Nope. It tasted just like every other drink I'd ever had in this world.

  My throat burned, and it took all my concentration not to make a face while forcing it down with a gulp. I set the glass back down and wiped my lips only to find both men watching me.

  "It's…different." I smiled, then coughed. An imperceptible smile cracked on Danton's lips. "Maybe it's an acquired taste."

  Lord Pontefract gave me one of those smiles that was really just an enlightened frown only arrogant people seem to have mastered. He then picked up a two-pronged fork and used it to stab an olive with barbaric force. "I hear you intend to wed my son."