The Temple of Indra’s Jewel: (20 page)

“Yes,” he said, rubbing it. “My
kindermädchen
mentioned it once when I was a boy. She said
Großmutter
was worried by the shape, so I wore a cap until my hair covered it. That’s why I sent the woman away from you. In my heart I know you are no witch—no more than I—and I don’t care even if you are. I didn’t want to risk her finding a mark like mine on you, even though I didn’t see any myself.” His eyes lit up mischievously. “Although perhaps I should look again.”

“Thank you for that. People are quite superstitious in this time, aren’t they?”

“They aren’t in your time?”

“Well, yes, but not in the same way. There’s no real danger to superstitions. It’s more for fun—to scare ourselves.”

He looked puzzled. “Why would anyone want to scare themselves?”

“Yes, it sounds silly, doesn’t it? Anyway, how unusual is it that Cullen has the same mark? I bet that there is something unique on my body as well that reflects that Sapphira and I share a soul. I mean, why not? If this dark spirit is tied to me in every life, then maybe you are as well.” I paused before rambling on. “It would explain why you’re always there to rescue me. I bet I was never meant to travel to Monaco in the first place. Maybe my ties were to you, and you just happened to be in Monaco at the time.” I burrowed into the warm curve of his shoulder.

The thought that he could be a counterpart to Cullen relaxed me, because if he were tied to Cullen that meant he was not tied to Nick. Not to mention it made me feel a little better about being in love with both of them.

“Do you really believe me, Viktor?”

“Of course,
mein
lieber.
Although right about now, I wish I didn’t.” He sighed and smiled ruefully down at me. “Because I don’t want to see you go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T
wo days later, Viktor startled me as I dozed against his shoulder in the palace coach headed for Monaco.

“Lady Sapphira?”

Gasping, I shot upright too fast; a muscle in my neck pulled and tightened.
Ow.
Where—?

I’d been dreaming. As I woke, the dream fled, but I grabbed at it: my Gigi swimming, showing me the Purple Delhi Sapphire and reading me a story about her sister. Doing all three things at once. No, Gigi had been telling me the story while rowing the boat that I was swimming beside. I realized that, of course, was a real memory that was somehow mixing with the truths I had learned of Aunt Zafira’s life. She had pulled the jewel from her pocket and leaned forward, giving it to me in the water. Her father Eugene swam up and took the jewel from us, laughing and throwing it away. Yes, now I remembered my quest to find the jewel. I wiped at my stiff and sweaty neck, feeling slightly drunk with departing sleep and with the sense that I wasn’t entirely attached to this world.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“You were moaning, so I nudged you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Why have we slowed?”

“I’m not sure,” Viktor said, looking out the window.

I leaned over him. “That coach looks like it’s broken down. We have to stop.”

“No. We can’t stop.”

“Viktor, there’s a child.”

I gave him a look that I hoped could melt butter, and Viktor sighed.

“Must be a lame horse. We’ll see if anyone else has stopped or gone for help.”

A half hour later we were crowded in with a clergyman, two older ladies, three men and one small boy travelling with his father, a Belgian industrialist. Viktor and the driver were less than thrilled about it, but I was not about to leave them stranded. I had read all about highway bandits. While Viktor had led a sheltered life, I had not.

I gathered from Georges, the child, that he was used to travelling under cramped conditions, although he was not happy about it. After several stops, Georges found his place on the other side of me. We played games and chatted to pass the time, until we found ourselves dozing. I leaned on Viktor and the youngster leaned on me.

We were stirred awake again as the stagecoach hit a large bump in the road. Georges whined about a stiff neck and rubbed at it frequently, and Viktor looked pointedly annoyed. The coach picked up speed. There was a constant swaying motion, which sent a sick feeling through my stomach. As I contemplated the remainder of the cramped, nauseating journey, I decided to make idle chat to take the boy’s mind off his pain as well as my own.

“So, Georges,” I began, loud enough to be heard over the clattering stagecoach wheels and jingling harnesses. “Do you enjoy going with your father on these trips?”

He paused, thinking hard for a moment.

“No, Mademoiselle. Not particularly. I do so enjoy it once we get there, but I really do dread the ride.” He leaned in a little closer, as though whispering. “It’s so stuffy and dreary, and sometimes people smell really awful.”

The boy’s father jerked his head and glared directly into Georges’s eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh at his sharp, truthful tongue.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” said a gentle older woman two seats down.

“Yes, I think anyone would agree with that.” I smiled sweetly and once again directed my attention back to Georges.

He looked down sheepishly.

“Next month Father and I are going all the way to Istanbul.”

“My, my, that is a long way, dear, especially for such a little man,” chimed in the older woman, who I learned was named Ada.

“I’m not little,” the boy said, raising his head defiantly. “Besides, it will be worth it. Right, Father?”

His father grunted and nodded before returning his gaze to the window.

“Sometimes when I’m at home, in bed or eating breakfast at the table in the morning, I imagine that the house is moving and we’ve already started our journey. Wouldn’t that be nice, Mademoiselle, if you could just travel in your house?”

“Well, perhaps you’re on to something. Why don’t you invent something and have your father build it?” I whispered, catching a curled smile from the boy’s father.

Georges gazed at me with an interested, narrow-eyed expression, as if the wheels of his young mind had only just begun to turn.

“Yes, that’s a great idea, isn’t it, Father?” He looked up cheerfully, forgetting all about his sore neck for the moment. “And we’ll call them sleeper wagons.”

Sleeper
wagons.
That rang a bell. I smiled to myself, thinking of modern-day trains. I thought of the Orient Express and wondered how long it would be before they discovered luxury travel. I paused, looking Georges over.

“What did you say your name was again, sir?”

“Georges Nagelmackers.”

It
couldn’t
be,
I thought to myself.
Well
then,
he
could
be
about
the
right
age.

It was several hours past dark when at last the carriage stopped and the door was tugged open. The coachman’s sullen face peered in. “You’re next then, young fella?”

Georges looked at his father, who was taking a nap.

“Father, we’re here.”

“Are ye getting out or not? It’s starting to spit.”

“Of course.” Mr. Nagelmackers nodded, coming back to consciousness.

“Please fetch our bags down for us,” he said, letting a yawn slip.

The man snorted. “Already done.”

Twenty minutes later we passed through the gates after speaking briefly with the guards. I stepped from the coach and looked around. Monaco Palace loomed before me, solid, silent and lit up, despite the hour. A few trees clustered about the drive, struggling to make a barricade against the rising wind. Thunder cracked, and I could see black clouds settling in against the darkening horizon.

“I don’t like this,” Viktor said.

“Yes, it’s very foreboding, but too late. We already agreed this is the way it has to happen.”

Viktor had reluctantly agreed after several hours of arguing to drop me off at the front door and return to his cousins to await my signal. I didn’t think he would ever give in, being the wayward brute that he was, but my saving grace had been the fact that the history books stated I would not be murdered for another week. Still, it was hard to blame him for being concerned. I’d managed to get myself in a number of dangerous situations. Yet, here I was, safe again, at least temporarily.

“Be careful,” he whispered, pulling me tight to his chest. “If anything feels wrong—even slightly—get out of there. Come to Herr Franz’s. I’ll be keeping watch.”

“Of course,” I agreed, more to appease him.

“All right, then?” the coachman said, swinging up to his box. “Shall we be off then, sir?”

That earned him a nasty look from Viktor, who was not about to be rushed. The moonlight played across his face.

“We’ll see the lady to the door.” His gaze was pure stone, and the coachman could see it would be useless to argue.

“No. You’d better stay here. I don’t want to have to explain you,” I said, quickly placing my hand on his chest.

He nodded. I wanted to kiss him but under the watchful eye of the guards I decided against it. Instead I marched up the wide, shallow stone steps to the huge wooden doors just as the rain started to pour. An arch, dark with age, loomed overhead. The door opened as I approached. I turned to wave good-bye as the noise of the carriage rumbled away. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so cold in all my life, and I quickly crossed the threshold.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Y
our Highness!” shrieked Lisabetta, grabbing my arm, her face creased with a medley of emotions.

“I want to hug you and shake you all at the same time.” She dug her fingernails into my skin.

“Make up your mind before I bruise.” I got a glance at her cheekbone; it looked dark. “Speaking of bruises. Where did you get that?”

“Never you mind.” She pulled me upstairs, where we were once again in the Princess suites.

“Where have you been all this time?” she demanded. Her arms enveloped me, and she stroked my back as if she were soothing a child. “The Comte de Chalais has been tearin’ the countryside apart looking for you.”

“Henri?” I questioned.

“Yes, and I’ve been worried sick!”

I pulled away, and she paused long enough to look me over.

“It’s a long story, one most people wouldn’t believe.”

“Now don’t go lumping me in with most people.” She frowned, looking around the room. “Anais!” she yelled, waving a hand. “Bring some warmed cider before the Princess catches her death.”

Anais glanced at the door and then at me before shuffling quickly into the vestibule.

“And don’t forget the drop of whisky to chase the dampness from her bones.”

“Yes, madam.”

I
could
use
a
nice
stiff
hot
toddy
after
that
trip.

“And then you can finish drawing her a nice warm bath. I’ll get it started.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, now go.” Lisabetta stood quite still, eyes fixed on me, until she heard the door shut. Her face showed lines of strain, and shadows of sleeplessness smudged her eyes. I felt suddenly guilty, realizing that these women truly cared about Sapphira. I had been thoughtless to take off on them. Although what choice had there been?

She came toward me and began to undo my laces.

“Come on now, Sapphira; let’s get you out of those damp clothes.” Her eyes sparkled in the candle light as she stripped the wet petticoats away.

She disappeared into the bathroom, or the water closet as she called it, and returned with a robe.

“You said Henri was worried, Lisabetta. Where is he now?” I mumbled as she filled the tub.

“I said he was out searching the hills for you. I said I was worried,” she corrected me. There was something funny about that remark and the way she said it, but before I could ask her about it she was out the door, soiled clothes in hand. I had a feeling she had intentionally taken off to avoid an explanation.
Well,
she
won’t
avoid
it
for
long.

I sat down to sift through the pristinely polished mahogany desk, but a light tapping broke my concentration.

“Come in” I called, glancing at the door. It creaked open, and Anais bustled in. “Here’s your cider, Mademoiselle.” She set down the tray laden with goodies.

“Thank you, Anais, that’s very thoughtful of you,” I answered, sauntering over to the great hearth.

“Shall I pour it for you now, Princess, or would you prefer to wait?” she asked.

“Yes, please pour me a cup now. Thank you,” I answered, smiling at her.

I glimpsed out the window, wondering what Viktor was doing, and smiled politely as she handed me the cup and saucer.

“I’m sorry if we upset you earlier, Madam, but we were just so anxious over your disappearance,” Anais exclaimed, setting the pot down. “And Monsier Chalais was so vexed.”

“That’s all right, Anais. I understand I’ve put the palace into a bit of an uproar. So what exactly has been going on?” I asked, taking a sip and letting the warm whisky cider concoction slide down my throat, heating my insides.

“Just a minute, Your Highness. I need to finish filling your bath or Lisabetta will have my hide.”

I smiled, knowing that was probably the truth of it. Once done, she left the room for a moment, allowing me the privacy to sink into the water before both she and Lisabetta returned. I immediately faced them.

“So, which one of you is going to tell me what happened?”

They looked from one to another.

“I can sense there’s something wrong. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare deny it, Madam.”

“Is Henri angry?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Did he hit you, Lisabetta?”

No reply.

“Well?” I asked, lifting my brow.

“That man,” Lisabetta huffed. “He could hold a candle to the devil,” she whispered, as if the walls could hear. “He was surely aggravated with your disappearance. He went out in search of you a week ago, returning last night in a terrible temper.”

“He’s here? I want to see him. I’ll tell him what I think of him.”

“No. He’s left again. I humbly caution you to watch your tongue when you see him. I’ve never seen him so foul.”

Henri
, I mused to myself after the ladies left. I could understand his frustration if he was worried, scouring the countryside for his—what was I to him anyway? He seemed to be in tight with Sapphira’s family. A cousin? Or just another man interested in courting Sapphira?

Surely there was an explanation for his rash behaviour—but to hit a woman. It must have been the pressure. How would he explain to his Prince that he lost the Princess? That had to be it. But the more I thought about it the more suspicious I grew.
Why
should
Henri
be
so
furious?

I walked to the mirror, feeling silly for what I was about to do, but I felt I had no other choice.

“Sapphira,” I whispered. “Are you in there?”

No response.

“Sapphira, I need your help. Is Henri the snake? Please show me. Give me a clue.”

Still nothing. I stamped my foot. I was a fool for thinking a mirror might talk to me. I stalked over to the desk, prepared to scour through it once again hunting for clues, when I misjudged and cracked my head right on the doll shelf. Feeling woozy, I sank to the ground and closed my eyes.

When I opened them I was surrounded by the Rococo splendour of the ballroom with its variously coloured marble, gold Baccarat chandeliers and huge mirrors. I recognized the voices of Princess Maria and Henri, the Comte, speaking. A sudden bizarre realization hit me. They had lapsed into Monegasque and I understood them.

Relax
, said the voice in my head.
Go
with
the
dream.

I pushed on a panel to my left and disappeared behind the wall, allowing me to get closer to them. The passage had spy holes, and I peered through one.

I tried to relax as the voice had asked of me, and as I did, I felt my consciousness of reality fade away, as if I was going into a deep sleep.

“You’re cross with Sapphira. She doesn’t mean anything. She’s just entertaining herself.”

“
Au
contraire
. She means something.” His eyes perused the hearth. “She means to torment me.” His tone was without expression. “She does it very well.”

“Why don’t you offer for her then? You know I’ve wanted the two of you to wed for this past year. It’s past time she had a husband.”

“I’m grateful, but I don’t think your son the Prince would find me worthy of her.”

“You know your own merit.”

“Of course, but he is Prince, isn’t he, and it is his decision. Perhaps you could speak to your son. This travesty has gone on long enough. She’s a spoiled, wilful child who needs a strong husband who can guide her.”

“I will speak to him but know that it may take a little time. Please be patient.”

He snorted. “Most women her age have children already.”

“Most women haven’t been coddled as she has. It’s made her difficult, but she’ll come around.”

“Will she?” He stole another look toward the hearth before bowing. “Now if you’ll forgive me, she’s been missing a good 20 minutes, so I’ll go and bring her back.”

“I won’t have violence this night.”

“Don’t fret; I won’t shed blood and ruin your party, but don’t follow me.” His voice was soft but firm. “Stay out of it. This is what she wants, what she’s tried to provoke me to all evening. Surely you can see that?”

I sped through the hidden passageway and came into an open courtyard.

“Good evening, Princess.”

“Oh, good evening, Baron.”

“Grabbing some fresh air?”

“Yes, I wasn’t feeling quite myself. Have you seen William Ferris?”

“Not since earlier. Perhaps I should escort you back inside. Your chaperone would not like us being out here alone. It’s not suitable.”

“In a moment. What chaperone do you speak of?”

“The Comte de Chalais—he watched us dance earlier.”

“Henri?” My gaze flew to his face.

“Is it true you’re betrothed to him? That’s what they say.”

“Of course not. Who are they?”

He shrugged. “Everyone.”

“He is nothing to me or the Prince.” A panther in a sheep’s clothing, I thought crossly. “He does not belong here. My mother and her advisor allow him at court and I tolerate him. He may hold delusions of being my future husband, but I do not.”

“Of course not.” He looked faintly shocked. “I didn’t mean to make you—”

He was coming. I smothered a leap of panic as I caught sight of him in the doorway. He was moving deliberately, almost menacingly, down the stairs. I took a step closer to the Baron and swayed. “I believe I feel a little faint.”

He instinctively put a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Perhaps I should call someone.”

“No, just stay—”

“Good evening, Baron,” Henri said, coming toward us. “I believe it’s a little cool out here for the two of you. Why don’t you go inside? We’ll be right behind you.”

“We were just going in,” I said quickly.

“Yes, in a minute,” he added. “Go ahead, Baron. We’ll be right in. I need a word with the lady Sapphira. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

The Baron glanced nervously from me to Henri. I was getting the feeling that he might scurry away at any time.

“I do feel chilled. Would you send Chloe back out with my cloak, Baron?”

Immense relief crossed his face, and he bowed. “As you wish.”

I watched him dart across the courtyard.

“You’re usually better at choosing your prey. Losing your touch?” His gaze was also on the Baron. “Were you actually interested in him?”

“No.” Why bother with deception? “I only hoped to use him to make another jealous. And I don’t mean you.” I turned to face him, my anger building. “What would you have done if I hadn’t sent him away?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Killed him,” he said casually. “I was very irritated with our young Baron. I was considering a little poison at dinner.”

“You have no right to be irritated. You have no claim on me.”

He smiled. “Is that so? Do you really believe that? Your mother doesn’t think so.”

“She’s delusional as well, then. Why don’t you just give up? I will never be your wife. Marry one of those whores you’re so fond of.”

“Such a mouth. What whores?”

“Do you think I don’t hear of the women you bed? You’ve not left a willing wench in all of Sardinia untouched, and heaven knows what you do on your journeys.”

“Well, you won’t have me. What do you recommend I do, Sapphira?”

“Since when do you care? My feelings haven’t mattered in the past.”

“Don’t harbour a grudge. We were children, and I promised you I wouldn’t do it again without your consent. Anyway, it’s your fault, you know. You may not realize it, but you beg me to take you with that luscious body and those pleading lips. Who am I to say no?”

“You disgust me.”

“Silence. I grow weary of your teasing and your games. You have stirred me to action with the sword of jealousy. Very clever.” He tilted his head. “But dangerous.” He drew a deep breath and attacked. “I demand you wed me. I do not wish to force myself on you, but I will if I have to. Once you are with child you will be forced to marry me”

“I hate you.”

“I… care about you.”

“No you don’t. You care about power.”

“Oh, yes. That’s true. I also care about power. We could rule these lands together. Wed me.” He tried to smile. “You could hardly do better. I’m a fine match. We could be a great team.”

“Never. I will never agree to marry you, and my brother will never force me.”

“Well, then, I guess your brother will have to be dealt with.”

I shook my head, opening my eyes. I was back in the bedroom. My vision was still blurry.

“Thank you, Sapphira,” I whispered.

So
Henri
was the snake she feared, and I was now in the den of vipers. But why? Why did he want to marry Sapphira so badly? An infatuation? He was already powerful and influential. What did he have to gain as her husband that he wouldn’t have had otherwise?

The next day, I heard Henri and his men arrive home on horseback. I hurried downstairs, rehearsing the flawless explanation I had come up with.