Laurent forced himself to blink twice. “Madame Le Tallec,” he replied warily.
Her eyes narrowed into slits as she leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. “All I am asking, is that you do what you do best. It shouldn’t be difficult, given the likes of you.”
Laurent shut his eyes to focus on the trickle of the nearby stream as he processed the sheer absurdity of her request. First of all, her sudden proximity was dangerously overwhelming. And second, it was true what everyone said—like her bellicose husband, the woman was mad.
“Don’t be daft! If I have to spell it out for you, by all means.” Her shrill cry shattered his thoughts, and a moment later she lunged forward to grip his cowhide vest. She jostled him, ice-blue eyes bulging. “Kill the princess. Drown her in the river, make it look like an accident. Lord knows you’re good at covering your tracks, and I will make sure you’re never caught. You have my word, Darkling. I don’t care how you make it happen, but make. Her. Disappear.”
Gently as possible, Laurent pried the woman’s fingers from his clothing. It was obvious she was unaware just with whom she was dealing. Fists clenched, he took a long step back. “I can’t do that.”
Vivien’s cold glare broke—but not for long. “Then get one of your kind who can,” she offered, smoothing her expression.
His jaw tightened. It was one thing for a Breton noble to ask a Darkling to kill a low-class harlot; though rare, it did happen from time to time, usually after a wayside mistress was discovered. He had many associates willing to do so for whatever meager fee was thrown their way—money meant sustenance for the starving ones, after all. Not to mention the others in his coven who would immediately jump at the opportunity. But it was ludicrous for anyone, even the duchess, to expect him to execute the future monarch. The coronation ceremony was less than a week away, for God’s sake.
“The royal family holds the duke and yourself in the absolute highest regard.” He shook his head slowly. “Also, isn’t your son quite friendly with the girl?” Laurent never cared to keep up with affairs of the mortal kingdom, but his own position within the forest hierarchy required some general awareness. He at least knew that if the Le Tallec boy married into the royal family, the Darklings would have problems much bigger than starvation.
“That is none of your business,” Vivien said curtly.
“We’ve finally managed to decrease our attacks on the surrounding towns, almost halt them altogether…” He trailed off. “Why would you want us to regress? Why could you possibly want—”
Vivien sighed, her breath billowing into the cold like smoke from a disheartened dragon.
“Just so we’re clear here, I don’t owe you any explanation. But if it helps… it’s this simple. Her ascension to the throne would prove disastrous for our kingdom, and especially damaging to her parents’ reputation.”
“Fine. You think she’s unfit to rule. So, execution is the solution?” Laurent scoffed. “That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think? And quite frankly, I don’t see how any of this is my problem.”
Ignoring him, Vivien continued. “I am a patriot as much as anyone else. We can’t have a successor with her… abnormality taking the throne. We won’t.”
Laurent blinked. There it was.
Of course. How could he have missed it?
It was no secret; a decade ago, word had spread fast as fire among the trees, quicker still. The Trécesson girl was the first known person within the entire kingdom, able to communicate with the Darklings of Brocéliande. The kingdom of Brittany considered his kind—and anyone else who wasn’t human—more revolting than infectious plague victims. Of course, this had caused an uproar, but the kingdom’s dissatisfaction was something he’d assumed everyone had grown used to. He never expected anyone—certainly not the duchess—to wish death upon the poor girl.
He shivered and refocused on Vivien whose impatience faded into something like nostalgia. She too seemed lost in thought as she stared distantly at the dimming horizon. The orb continued its final descent below the stratocumulus plane, projecting rosy pinks that melted into violet twilight.
His vision had sharpened considerably with dark encroaching. A distance off to their right he could now make out the brick towers barely peeking out from the canopy. A sprawling fortress built for keeping monsters out, the Château de Trécesson sat at the southwestern corner of the High Forest.
“Vivien.” Laurent placed his next words decidedly. “Another ruler isn’t in my interest at this time.”
She spun away from the sunset, face twisted. “Excuse me?”
He ran his palms down the front of his vest, smoothing out the places where it had bunched under her grip. “The Brocéliande communities continue to struggle. When desperate creatures dare venture to the castle to cordially appeal to the king, their guards either lock them up in the dungeon or shoot them full of arrows. I know, because many of my own have taken an arrow to the knee.”
“What are you proposing then?”
Laurent paced, ancient gravel crunching under his feet. He pulled a wooden flask from his pant pocket and took a quick swig, wiping his ruddy mouth with his sleeve before continuing.
“Ogre plundering and korrigan infestations in Paimpont have been down to nearly nothing lately. I’ve taught the coven to remain inconspicuous while feeding in the boroughs. The last town raid I authorized was half a century ago, and while that was a terrible mistake on my part, we’ve learned from it. I take complete responsibility, Vivien. We don’t kill anymore, and any life lost at the hands of a vampire is against our order,” he said through clenched teeth. “Shapeshifters have been advised to stop their thievery, and the Fair Folk—well, they’ll do what they please, but at least they keep to themselves. That’s been a substantial improvement for all of us.”
He attempted to keep the animosity from his voice, but couldn’t quite manage. “Darklings don’t deserve to be punished any more than they’ve already been. If it’s up to me, we’ll refrain from doing anything that would further ruin our standing. The princess can speak to those of our kind who cannot communicate with humans. One day, she may decide to lift her father’s law. So, I’m not proposing anything, Vivien, because I refuse to harm her.”
It seemed the duchess hadn’t expected that response from him, either. Vivien’s brief scowl morphed into a grin before fading into nonchalance. Her eyes gleamed bright. “You know, for a vampire, you’re very level-headed.”
“I’ve been around a long time.”
A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “You are right.”
Her blonde hair swung mesmerizingly as she paced away. She glanced back at him, the shoulder of her dress slipping slightly to expose the smoothest porcelain skin. “But think. How will she fare when the entire kingdom fears her? You’ve heard of the recent town riots, I’m sure. Paimpont is a mess. They’re protesting her reign.”
Laurent shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He’d heard indeed. The other day, townsfolk had apparently pelted the town crier with rotten apricots. “Yes, but what does that matter? That throne is rightfully hers. She’ll become queen, whether they like it or not.”