Blood Life (4 page)

“Don’t worry, my darling.” He walked over and pulled her to him by the elbows. “Calm down, baby. Shhhhhh,” he cooed. “Just take a deep breath and I’ll go fetch Devendra.”

He held her for a moment before leaving.

Alexandria wept. She knew if her father found out about her relations with Roman, he would not hesitate to have him executed. She couldn’t bear losing him. Everything she loved would be taken away from her without remorse.

Please, father, not this time; I beg of you.

The fear haunted her deep inside, threatening to devour her sanity. Continuing to force herself to breathe, she threw on her cloak, then hurried out to meet Roman.

Devendra waited patiently for them to mount. Alexandria slid her arms around Roman’s waist and pressed her cheek against his back, closing her eyes and praying for salvation, for her father was the devil.

Five

Her room has never felt so cold, thought Elizabeth as she stood silently, gazing out Alexandria’s window. She cursed herself for telling Morgan his daughter wasn’t in her bed; she panicked and wasn’t thinking clearly. But, in all honesty, she couldn’t have stalled him long enough to find Alexandria without his rage clouding the air.

Ancestry made Alexandria a Morgan, but it was Elizabeth who had raised her as her own child. In her eyes, Alexandria would always be hers and now her daughter was missing.

Elizabeth’s eyes continued to sweep the courtyard and surrounding land. She looked down at her thumbnail which she’d bitten to almost nothing.

“Oh, where are you?” she sighed to herself.

Although Morgan’s guards covered every section of land, she somehow knew Alexandria was just outside the gates. Squinting into the distance, she spotted the silhouette of a horse at the edge of the forest.

“Oh, Alexandria, what have you done?” she whispered, raising trembling fingers to her lips.

Moving in a secretive hurry, Elizabeth made her way through the hallways unnoticed. She checked over her shoulder before entering the last corridor.

“Elizabeth!” A deep authoritative voice startled her. “Have you found my daughter?”

As hard as she tried, Elizabeth could not bring herself to turn around. That would mean she would have to face the voice and explain why she was sneaking around in a tiptoed hurry: her posture crouched and arms slightly out to her sides.

Morgan walked around her frozen form, crossing his arms as he moved. She managed to convince herself to meet his glare. His eyebrows raised so high, she wondered if they would disappear into his hairline.

“No, your Majesty, but I’m in the process.”

Surely the King noticed her nervousness. Why on Earth had she said anything to him in the first place?

“This is your duty. Stop gallivanting around these halls and find her!”

“Yes, Sire,” she said, softly, bowing her head to him. She did not breathe until she closed the door behind her. The pain of anxiety in her chest made itself known, throwing her off balance for a moment.

Maneuvering her way through the back hallways and stairwells, she managed to get out into the courtyard. Her eyes darted along the forest line, attempting to locate the outline of that horse. Unable to find any signs of human or animal, she searched the gates.

Within a few glances, she noticed her Princess jogging cautiously across the courtyard, toward the stables, with her hooded cloak seized in her hands.

Elizabeth started walking, swiftly toward her, only to be restrained by a terse grip on her shoulder. She froze, once again losing her breath.

“You have done quite enough, Elizabeth, now go back to your quarters. I’ll retrieve my daughter,” Morgan said sharply.

“Yes, your Majesty,” she replied, biting her lip so hard it bled into her mouth.

Morgan bolted after Alexandria. Elizabeth heard herself scream, “No!” before she could stop herself, and fell to her knees.

Alexandria, who was not jogging very fast, whipped her head in the direction of Elizabeth’s cry. Morgan caught up and reached out to his daughter, clutching on to her hair, causing her to fall backward into the grass. He stopped himself a few feet in front of her sprawled out body and turned to face her.

Breathless, he moved in, watching her try in vain to crawl away from his rage. He reached down and took her wrist, harshly pulling her to her feet. Alexandria couldn’t look him in the eyes at first, but when his breathing slowed, she lifted her eyes, her vision clouded against her matted, wet eyelashes.

“Where have you been?” he said through his teeth, digging his fingers into her arm.

“Father,” she cried.

Her eyes welled up as his hand met her cheekbone in a back-handed slap. She was knocked off her feet again, her face buried in the grass.

He picked her up and pushed her, from behind, toward the Estate.

“Go get yourself cleaned up.” He paused, studying his daughter with a look of revulsion. “You disgust me!”

“But, Father, if you will listen to me; just let me explain,” she pleaded, hoarsely.

“Now!” he ordered.

Morgan moved past her and stomped into the building. Alexandria ran past him, down the halls and upstairs to her lonely room. Elizabeth followed hastily, yearning to comfort her.

Alexandria collapsed onto her bed, curing into a fetal position.

“Hush, my darling, it will be all right,” Elizabeth whispered, moving over to the bed.

Alexandria continued to cry as Elizabeth sat down next to her, stroking her hair. When her sobs quieted, Alexandria looked up at her maid.

“There, darling, do you feel better? I’ll go and fetch a wet cloth for your face.”

Elizabeth left the room. Alexandria thought of Roman, his warm breath against her neck, the boiling flesh between their love. The soft, comforting voice he whispered into her ears and heart. She needed him so desperately she felt she could no longer live without him. She wondered how she made it as far as she did without knowing him.

“So where were you last night?” Elizabeth’s feminine voice confused Alexandria at first. She was hearing Roman’s only a moment before.

“Elizabeth, I have so much to tell you, but I am afraid you will not approve. Then I will have no one to—” She broke off in deep thought, pushing herself up on her elbows to look out the window.

“Why would I not approve? You know perfectly well that being gone without a trace this morning was wrong and against your father’s wishes, that is why there must have been a very good reason for your actions. That is clearly understandable to me because I strongly trust your judgment.” She paused, taking in Alexandria’s response to her words, which was nothing. “Are you listening to me?”

Alexandria pulled her eyes away from the window to look at her maid. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

“The reason for this escapade I will not hesitate to ask and expect from you.” She eyed Alexandria who was completely unresponsive to the lecture. “Your father is only so protective of you because many men are invading the Estate asking for your hand, but none of which he approves of because they are not worthy, and you know what else—”

“Elizabeth, please,” she said, sitting up. “I will tell you what happened last night, but you can never tell my father.” She searched Elizabeth for approval. “Please, I will explain everything if I have your word.”

After a moment of hesitation, Elizabeth gave her word. She studied Alexandria’s expression. It was one she had never seen on her Princess’ face before. The innocence was replaced with forbidden passion. “Oh, Alexandria, what have you done? You look as though you have death on your face.”

“His name is Roman, and—”

“No, no, no. Don’t go on. I cannot bear it.” Elizabeth jumped up and paced the room, shaking her head and covering her ears. “Don’t tell me anything more!”

She suddenly stopped pacing. Her eyes practically bulged out of her head, widening to focus more fully on Alexandria. “Wait a minute. You have not done anything alone with him have you? Oh, of course not, what am I suggesting?” She laughed nervously. “I must be going mad to think that you two engaged in—”

“Just listen to me. His name is Roman and he lives out in the forest just north of here. He’s beautiful . . . just wonderful and . . . he loves me deeply as I do him. I met him weeks ago. We have acted as children, sneaking around to be together . . . all so mysterious and frightening. I simply adore him, Elizabeth; you really must meet with him.”

“Child, please don’t tell me you’re in love with a peasant. He is, isn’t he? The only places to live north of here are peasant villages.” She studied Alexandria, frowning at her, hoping she would shake her head to confirm she was not in love with a peasant. “Oh, no, Alexandria,” she warned, shaking her head furiously, “your father will go mad! He will not have it! You know that; why do you insist on hurting yourself?”

In a quiet, deadly voice, Alexandria responded, “I will marry Roman or I will take my own life! You must allow me my life or I will take it from you all!” She pounded her chest with fists, fire burning in her emerald eyes.

Elizabeth froze, hurt and terrified by her words.

She continued, maintaining strong eye contact with her maid. “My father will mourn the blasphemous death of his only daughter,” she promised, bobbing her head, “and it will be his fault for not trusting me to fall in love on my own, to make my own decisions and to be happy for once in my life!”

She scanned the room, walking over to the window once more to look out at the courtyard. She reached up to examine the welt that formed under her eye. Her father’s slap stung from the salt water of her tears.

Elizabeth was deeply hurt, as Alexandria had never breathed a terse word to her in all her life. Afraid to say anything that might upset her more, she decided to speak her true feelings, risking her position at the Royal Estate. She spoke against her King but for her Princess. She made a vital choice that she hoped Alexandria would accept and nurture. “This place breeds hate, from your father to everything else, except you.”

Alexandria turned her head sharply, surprised by Elizabeth’s admission. “Yes,” she agreed, smiling at Elizabeth. “You are my only ally. You are the only one here who I can trust to listen to me and to understand.”

Several long moments passed before Elizabeth joined her at the window, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your mother loves you very much, you must know that. She would die for you.”

Alexandria made a spitting sound. “And I shall die because of her foolishness,” she swore, spinning around to face her maid. “I am a prisoner here! My mother never stood up for me. She has never helped me; she cares only of her pills and drug-induced euphoria, while here I sit rotting without so much as a—”

Alexandria stopped short at the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside her chamber. She looked wide-eyed at Elizabeth.

“It’s your father,” she whispered, looking around the room for something to do. Morgan would not be pleased with Elizabeth’s interference before he had a chance to speak to Alexandria himself.

Alexandria’s face went sour as Elizabeth walked out carrying her dirty clothes. Morgan, who stood outside the door, gave her a hard stare then walked into his daughter’s room, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth tiptoed back up to the heavy oak door, straining to translate their muffled voices.

Inside the room, Alexandria watched her father closely as he paced across the floor with his hands clasped behind his back. His head was angled downward, but his breath was loud and irritated through his nose. Alexandria positioned herself on her bed, pulling a pillow to her chest and crossing her legs Indian style. She anticipated his thoughts, wondering if he planned to cast her away into his dungeon or to kill Roman. She would rather it be her.

Finally he turned to face her. She met his gaze, fearless, until the words began to pour out from the very depths of his soul.

“Alexandria,” he started, keeping full eye contact, “I want to remind you of who you are: a Morgan.”

“No, that is not who I am, but who I was bred to be,” she retorted spitefully.

Morgan hesitated. “Why must you constantly go against my wishes? You need to accept your maturity now and take what is fated for you as the Morgan Princess. You will be Queen after your mother passes and your husband will be King. Our nobility is known throughout the Spectrum. Your every action reflects on the Royal Family.” He paused, watching her face for the tiniest recoil.

She remained hard and against every belief instilled in his mind. She would not come around. Some women, upon setting their minds to things, would hardly reconsider. Morgan was convinced his own daughter was one of these women. Although they often made the best guards and confidantes, loyal and headstrong until the end, their stubbornness was, for the most part, intolerable.

Morgan tried desperately to swallow his rage. “When you do things that are not respectable of a King’s daughter, the word spreads faster than you can imagine,” he explained, walking over to the side of her bed. She opened her mouth to rebut, but he raised his finger to quiet her. “I do not tell you this because of my own selfishness, but I cannot have you undermining my authority as King. Sometimes, my dear, peasants are cruel in their thoughts of you. I know because like I said before, word spreads quickly. You are the King’s daughter and deserve the fullest respect from every passerby, whether it comes from their thoughts or their lips. I could not bear to receive word that my daughter was a charlatan; neither do I want to believe that you are. You must understand that nothing you do goes unnoticed to me.” His stare sliced into her.