Page 27 of A Waltz with Lord Death
“Well?” The king raised an eyebrow. “Speak.”
As if relenting to her request, Death spoke in her ear again, and she repeated what he said word for word. “The plague comes from the east. It is infecting entire towns and cities. At least a third of populations are dying, and many more are becoming so sick that Death is on their doorstep. The winter will slow its progress, but not for long.”
Death’s shadow hounds prowled around the room as if in search of scraps. They sniffed with their noses low to the ground, slowly making their way to the front of the room. The hounds stopped before the king, unseen as they sniffed at the man’s feet.
King Armand stroked his dark gray beard as he studied her. “What can we do to protect ourselves?”
Behind her, Death’s whisper sent a chill down her spine. “Nothing.”
However, his answer would not award her a place in the king’s court. “The plague arrives on the backs of demons’ wings. Cover every entrance with a ward and do not allow outside visitors into the castle.”
“But it is winter!” Queen Isabel cried with a hand pressed over her heart. “By the end of the season, many of our people are forced to seek refuge within our walls.”
Death murmured in her ear again. “Tell her to bring everyone in now.”
She ignored his suggestion. Many of her wealthy, would-be customers would not be happy to share space, bedding, and food with commoners.
“As I mentioned, Your Highnesses, winter will slow the plague’s progress. Instruct your people to wear wards around their necks and all will be well.”
A lump formed in her throat at the hefty promise delivered from her mouth. If anyone wearing a ward contracted the plague, it would not end well for her.
She chastised herself. In her fortune-telling career, she had always been vague about promises and results. She relied too heavily on luck this time. Would fate be kind to her? Or would her lie crash down on her like a wave beating her into the dark depth of its blackest waters?
“Meira, take it back before you can’t anymore.” Concern layered Death’s voice, but she had come this far already. She would not tarnish her reputation now. She stood tall while whispers echoed around her, and she tried her best not to bite her nails as the king and queen leaned toward one another to convene.
Finally, the king lifted a hand and the entire room quieted. “Instruct my servants on how to make these wards. In the meantime, I encourage you to enjoy yourself, and my people will seek your counsel.”
Music started up again, but no one danced. Instead, anxiety and fear danced across the floor in small circles, touching each and every heart in the room.
Anxiety melted off her shoulders when everyone’s attention turned elsewhere, all except one.
“Meira!” Elise rushed into her arms and embraced her tightly. Her husband ambled behind while unashamedly leering at other women. “I have not seen you in three years.”
She held her friend at arm’s length and looked her over. “You look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. Your husband is one lucky man.” Her husband simply grunted and allowed other beautiful distractions to lead his gaze. Her poor friend ignored his behavior.
“And you as well.” Elise smiled and looked to her right. “Will you introduce me to your friend?”
Meira’s heart jumped in alarm when she realized Death had shown himself to her, and likely to everyone else in the room.
In her moment of stupor, Death bowed and gave Elise a similarly charming smile he’d given to her upon their first meeting. “Allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Lord D.”
“What does the D stand for?”
“I cannot give it away. Meira has been trying to guess my first name since we met. Keeping her in the dark is far too entertaining.”
Despite herself, she found herself smiling.
Elise lifted a hand to him. “You may call me Lady Farrington, though Meira calls me Elise.”
Death gave her an apologetic grimace. “I cannot take your hand, as I have sworn I would never touch another woman other than Meira.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks when he familiarly touched the small of her back. She knew he only said it to avoid touching Elise, as his touch would likely kill her. But she liked the idea of being his and only his.
Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?
“How I envy you, Meira,” Elise said quietly while looking longingly at her husband who had flitted off like a bird in the springtime. “Gerard does not share the same sentiment because I cannot produce him an heir.”
“Oh, Elise. I am very sorry to hear it.”
Death’s intense stare caused Elise to momentarily squirm before he asked, “Do you happen to be sick, Lady Farrington?”
