Chapter
2
Rhys tugged irritably at the stiff linen shirt
Rosalind had insisted on making him to go with his new doublet and
hose. Despite his birth, he was far more accustomed to playing the
servant than the master, and he felt decidedly out of place. It was
already hot in the packed outer court of the king’s audience
chamber, where he and all the other petitioners gathered, hoping to
be seen by their monarch. Christopher had instructed him to present
his new papers to the king’s official and wait to be escorted into
the royal presence.
Two of the king’s
Welsh yeomanry in their red and white livery guarded the entrance
into the presence chamber. Rhys wondered how they felt serving an
English king, but he doubted they would be interested in conversing
with him while on duty.
“Sir Rhys
Williams?”
“Aye.” He looked up
at the man dressed in black who called out his name, and with some
difficulty pushed his way through the crowded room.
“The king will see
you now.”
Rhys managed a
grateful smile and followed the court official past the guards and
into the relative quiet of the king’s presence chamber. Of course,
the king was never alone, being constantly attended to by the
gentlemen of his bedchamber and members of his privy council, but
at least Rhys could breathe more freely.
“Ah, Sir Rhys. It is
a pleasure to welcome you back to court.”
“Your Majesty does me
great honor.” Rhys stepped forward and knelt at the king’s feet.
Rubies glinted on the king’s leather shoes.
“You may rise, Sir
Rhys.”
Rhys stood and fixed
his gaze on the king’s massive chest. It was only the second time
he’d been this close to King Henry and he could feel the power and
authority that radiated from him. In truth, the king seemed fairly
relaxed and jovial, but that might be because his current queen was
pregnant and he was anticipating the birth of his
heir.
“I have received a
letter from Lord Christopher Ellis recommending you to my service,
Sir Rhys.”
“I would be honored
to serve you in whatever capacity you require, Your Majesty.” Rhys
hated the compliance in his voice, but what else could he do? In
order to save the king from the Vampire threat, he needed to be as
close to him as the Vampires were.
“I will consult with
my chamberlain and he will find you a suitable
position.”
“Thank you, sire.”
Rhys bowed low again and backed away as the next petitioner was
announced. He had no wish to share Verity’s concerns with the king
until he had spoken both to Elias and to Verity herself. There
might be nothing amiss at all.
One of the king’s
gentlemen touched his shoulder when he reached the door. “Sir Rhys,
you may lodge in the East Tower with the other single gentlemen.
Send your servant with your bags to Master Hugh Fraser and he will
assist you.”
“Thank you.” Rhys
found himself smiling as he walked away. He hadn’t brought a
servant with him, only his horse, Artio, so he supposed he would be
unloading and taking his own bags to Master Fraser. He paused and
beckoned to one of the page boys who was passing through the
hall.
“Where are the queen
and her ladies, boy?”
“They are in the
pleasure gardens, sir.”
Rhys was already
familiar with the layout of the palace, so he had no difficulty
finding his way to the gardens. His thoughts turned to the last
time he had been at court, and to the beautiful Olivia Del Alonso,
Christopher’s half sister. He never spoke of her with Christopher
but often wondered what had become of her. Was she still at court
and would she remember him? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her
or not. She’d seemed so young for a Vampire and so . . . unspoiled.
Seven years might have changed her into a hardened killer who would
be happy to suck him dry. One never knew with
Vampires.
He shaded his eyes
against the bright sunlight and searched until he found a cluster
of well-dressed ladies sitting in the shade of some oak
trees.
Queen Jane was easy
enough to spot. She sat in the center of her ladies and wore a gray
silk gown stitched with pearls that matched those on her gable
headdress. Rhys had no memory of meeting Jane Seymour before she
had married the king, but even he could see that she looked pale
and tired.
He approached the
group and waited until one of the ladies drew the queen’s attention
in his direction. When she gestured for him to approach, he moved
closer and went down on one knee.
“I apologize for
disturbing you, Your Majesty. I am Sir Rhys Williams. I wished to
make myself known to you, and to a distant cousin of mine whom I
believe is amongst your ladies.”
The queen’s smile was
small but polite. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Rhys. Which
one of my ladies do you believe you are related to?”
Rhys smiled back. “I
wish it were all of them, Your Majesty, but I seek Lady Verity
Llewellyn.”
“Lucky old Verity,”
someone whispered as Rhys tried not to react to the wave of
feminine interest surrounding him.
“I am here, your
grace.”
Rhys looked up as a
woman stepped out from the shadows and came toward him. Her long
blond hair was contained by a French hood and her wary blue gaze
was fixed squarely on his face. She was taller than Rosalind and
her figure was more rounded, but she had the same remarkable
grace.
Queen Jane waved Rhys
to his feet. “Mayhap you would wish to speak to your cousin in
private, Sir Rhys. You may walk with her in the gardens, but make
sure you bring her back before we go inside.”
Rhys bowed low.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He offered his arm to Verity. “My
lady?”
Anticipation
shuddered through Verity as she rested her fingers on the silk
sleeve of Rhys’s brown doublet. He led her back toward the main
path that ran around the edge of the garden. She’d almost not
recognized him. In the ten years since they’d last met, his skinny
frame had filled out and he seemed at ease with both his height and
his body. There was an air of command about him now and an edge of
hardness to his mouth.
His doublet was
modestly adorned with black embroidery and cut to flatter his broad
shoulders. Unlike some of the gentlemen at court he needed no
padding to exaggerate the curve of his calves or plump out his
chest. A workmanlike sword rode on his hip and she guessed that
like most Vampire slayers, he had a silver-tipped dagger or two
concealed about his person as well.
“It is a pleasure to
see you again, my lady.”
His soft Welsh accent
warmed her. He reminded her of home and safety, and all that she
had lost. It made her want to fling herself into his arms and beg
for his help. But it would not be wise to allow him to think she
was weak. She still had no idea why he was here, or what he wanted
from her.
“It is a pleasure to
see you again too—it is Sir Rhys
now?”
“I have lately been
made a baronet.”
Verity clasped her
hands. “How exciting. When did you return to court?”
“I returned this
morning.” He hesitated and looked down at her, his hazel eyes
careful. “I am here on a matter of great importance to us
both.”
An imp of mischief
made Verity choose to misunderstand him. She attempted a laugh and
flattened her hand over her jeweled bodice. “I hope you are not an
emissary from my grandfather. I have told him a thousand times that
I have no wish to entertain any more suitors.”
“I have not come from
your grandsire. I—I would never even have thought of us . . .”
Rhys’s stunned expression and stuttering denial made Verity want to
kick him. Instead she opened her eyes wide and tried to look
innocent.
“Oh . . . of course
you have not. I do beg your pardon.” She squeezed his arm, felt the
muscles tense beneath the fine fabric. “Why would you ever think of
me in those terms? You had eyes only for my cousin
Rosalind.”
A flush darkened
Rhys’s pale skin and he looked away from her. “Your cousin Rosalind
is very happily married to another man.”
“Happily? She married
an Ellis. How could she ever be happy?”
Rhys’s mouth quirked
up at the corner. “Trust me, she is.”
“You have seen her
since her marriage?”
He paused and then
glanced around to check that they were alone. Shade from the elm
trees that grew along the side of the path put his face into half
shadow. “That is why I am here.
Rosalind asked me to come and assist you.”
“She received my
letter?” At his nod she continued. “Why couldn’t she come herself?
Did her husband forbid her?”
Rhys chuckled. “He
most certainly did.”
“And you allowed him
to treat her like that?”
“He is her husband and on this occasion I am in
complete agreement with him. Rosalind is an extremely bloodthirsty
woman, but even she wouldn’t consider herself capable of fighting
Vampires in the seventh month of her pregnancy.”
“Oh.” Verity stared
at him. “I can see that might be a hindrance.”
Rhys nodded, his
expression sympathetic. “Which is why she sent me. I understand
your brother, Jasper, has been injured and that you have gallantly
offered to take his place guarding the king and queen. You need no
longer worry about that.”
Something about the
way he spoke to her—kind but dismissive—made her feel small and
unnecessary. She raised her chin so that she could look into his
eyes and found her attention wandering to the dark auburn of his
hair and the way the sunlight brought out the copper and crimson in
it.
“There is always
supposed to be a member of the Llewellyn family guarding the king
and queen. It is our duty.”
“I know that.” He
hesitated. “But some of the Llewellyn family have trained their
whole lives to protect the monarchy.”
“And some of them
have not.” She paused. “Like me, you mean.”
“I’m sure your
intentions are good, Verity, but in all conscience, I can hardly
allow you to risk your life in the service of the Tudors when you
have no real notion of what you are doing.” He patted her cheek.
“It is not a simple task. I trained with Rosalind for years before
she became such an accomplished Vampire slayer.”
Anger gathered like a
fist in Verity’s chest. As a child she’d idolized Rhys, had built
silly fantasies around how he would marry her one day and they
would live happily ever after. Even when he was smitten with
Rosalind she’d reckoned that given the chance she could change his
mind. If only she’d really known what an arrogant, patronizing man
he would turn out to be, she could have saved herself hours of
useless daydreaming.
“I do not believe you
have the right to tell me what to do, Sir Rhys.”
His brows drew
together. “I beg your pardon?” There was ice in the softness of his
accent now, but she didn’t care.
“I am a Llewellyn;
you are not. As a Druid, your duty is to me and my
family.”
“And I am offering to
do my duty.”
“And dismissing my
help.”
All traces of
amiability disappeared from his face and she could see the hard
strength and purpose beneath the charm. When had he become such an
inflexible man? What had changed him?
“My lady, I do not
need your help.”
“Are you quite sure
about that? As a Llewellyn, I have access to the king and the queen
that you will never have. You need me
more than you realize, Sir Rhys.” She glared at him. “In fact,
perhaps you are the one who is superfluous here and should
leave.”
Before he could
reply, Verity deliberately looked past him toward the queen’s party
and bobbed a curtsy. “I have to go in now; the queen is retiring.
It was a pleasure to see you again, Cousin, and I wish you Godspeed
on your journey home.”
She whisked past him
and headed for the safety of the queen’s ladies. Indignation filled
her thoughts. How dare he presume that she was useless? He hadn’t
seen her for ten years and his immediate assumption was that
because she was female she would only hinder his cause? Had he ever
thought that about Rosalind? Somehow she doubted it. Verity wanted
to smack his patronizing face but contented herself with walking
away from him as if he had never existed.
Rhys remained rooted
to the spot and watched Verity chatter to her companions as they
entered the palace. In the sunlight her hair held every color from
white to brown gilded with gold like a ripening field of wheat. He
wanted to go after her and demand that she listen to him, but he
suspected her answer would be the same.
He cursed under his
breath and headed back to the stables, where he had left his horse
and his bags. Unfortunately, some of what Verity had said was true.
He did need her cooperation if he truly wanted to solve this
mystery of what was wrong with the queen.
It never paid to
underestimate a woman, especially a Llewellyn, but he feared he had
already fallen into that trap. Christopher would be amused, but
Rhys should’ve known better. Now he would have to exert himself to
charm his way back into her good graces.
He threw a coin to
the stableboy who had been watching his possessions and picked up
his bags. Not that charming Verity Llewellyn would be a hardship.
She was as beautiful as he remembered—and he’d always enjoyed a
challenge.