Page 72 of Blackthorn

“True enough. Then explain to me why you are determined to dislike Lady Charlotte.” Lemoine had worn a sour expression since Charlotte’s arrival and never uttered a kind word.

“May I be frank?”

“Certainly. It’s a holiday. Let’s indulge with scathing honesty.”

Lemoine’s posture relaxed. “I see how fond you are to that…to Lady Charlotte. I worry that this attachment will hurt you when she doesn’t last.”

“Your concern touches me,” he said. Truly. The woman was not a confidant and certainly not a friend—Draven hadn’t had one of those in two centuries—but she was reliable and devoted to him. “What makes you think she won’t last?”

“She tore apart the Aerie the week you were away, searching for who knows what,” Lemoine’s words tumbled out in a rush. “She’s a snoop. She has no regard for the established order of the Aerie. She asks questions about operations and is always writing in notebooks. That’s spy behavior. Check her trunk. You’ll find proof.” Lemoine nodded, thoroughly convinced by this spy fantasy.

“She was searching for her friend, who she believed to be held captive.”

Lemoine scoffed. “A likely excuse. I told her that was not the case.”

“And she should trust you because?” Draven asked. “You were the one who delivered the wormwood-laced wine to her. Frankly, since we are still being frank, I wouldn’t trust a word out of your mouth. Now that I think of it, have we ascertained how the wormwood found its way into Lady Charlotte’s wine that day?”

Color drained from her face. “Not yet, Lord Draven. The kitchen was very busy that day preparing the feast. Any number of people had access to Lady Charlotte’s tray.”

“Curious how with the perpetrator still at large, you insisted that we hold another celebration.” Not a question, but an accusation. “Knowing I care little for the holiday. Explain yourself.”

“Sir…Lord Draven…I meant no offense.” She stumbled over her words.

He only half-listened to her apology. The wrongness of the atmosphere struck him again, but he was unsure how much of that was real and how much was his annoyance.

He never cared for the holidays but bowed to their necessity. People needed joy and hope. Lemoine was correct in that regard. Long winter months wore on the spirit. A day of indulgence and dancing kept people content and productive. His discomfort did not matter.

Charlotte had questioned how the solstice affected him. The hunger was unending. The strain was constant. What he had not shared with Charlotte was how the barrier that kept him removed from the world, from his past, was thin. Memories were closer to the surface, and they offered nothing worth remembering.

On Earth, there had been little to celebrate other than surviving another year on an overcrowded, overheated planet. On days like this, he feared that the modern age romanticized Earth with its highly advanced technology. No one ever mentioned the wildfires that turned the air to poison, the droughts followed by inevitable food shortages, or the riots over clean water.

Draven had been more than willing to volunteer for a colony ship. Any ship. Knowing the ships only took the best Earth had to offer, a young Draven knew he would never be a prized physical specimen. He was neither a soldier by physique nor inclination. He focused his studies on the skills most useful to a colony and settled on genetic manipulation. Humans were amazingly flexible, and with a subtle nudge to the genes, they could adapt to whatever planet they settled on.

In theory. The execution had not been so simple.

Life on Nexus was harsh. He understood that. Terraforming only covered a fraction of the planet. The native species treated Earth flora and fauna as an infection, always battling. Fortunately, he had carved out a refuge and that was what they celebrated every year. Two hundred and eight years ago during the winter solstice, he took the military base by force and renamed it the Aerie.

Lemoine was still prattling on.

He waved a hand and she fell silent. “I do not wish to hear your excuses. Now see to it that no one attempts to poison my bride a second time.”

The music ceased as the song reached its end. The noise of the crowd fell into a lull. His fangs ached and his body tensed, detecting a danger he had not perceived yet.

Then the screaming started.

Chapter Twenty

Charlotte

The Aerie

Assembly Hall

The first arrow went straight into Jane’s upper thigh. Her eyes went wide. She stumbled before she fell back, catching herself with her hands. On the ground, Jane touched her thigh, probing the area around the arrow. The red stain on her gown grew larger.

Jane held up her red fingers, disbelief on her face.

Charlotte kneeled by Jane, utterly stunned. It took far too long to process what she was seeing. All she could think of was how Draven would never allow this nonsense.

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