The Lady Knight

I stared at it, eerily calm. Mayhap it was because I had been waiting for him for quite some time now. Mayhap it was because I had always known he would find a way to announce the fact that he was always there, watching, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Now he had sent me a severed hand. As a present. As a reminder.

How very thoughtful of him.

"Well done, Diego," I murmured, surprised to find my voice steady.

"D-Diego?" Lisa huddled close to my side, "who is he, Jules? A Vantaugian?"

"Aye, the name sounds rather Spanish," Kat's lips barely moved.

"Nay, he is a Monriquan," I took a deep breath, "a traitorous Monriquan assuming the identity of a Vantaugian to do all his dirty work." I had never been so certain.

At that, Lisa went rigid. "He should be hanged," she hissed, her soft voice filled with unusual venom, "I myself will tighten his noose if it comes to that - "

"Poppet," Kat still remained slightly crouched, staring hard at the hand, "do you see that?"

I crouched down beside her, taking the lantern from her hands to see the hand better. At once, I realised what she meant. A simple, gold ring shone on its ring finger.

A ring that looked vaguely familiar.

I squinted, squatting down, attempting to discern the crest on the ring. Two blood-red dragons facing each other, bordered in pure, untarnished gold.

I reached out to touch it. The cool surface. The indents of the dragons.

My blood ran ice-cold. I swiftly drew my hand back, flinching.

Nay. It could not be.

Kat sucked in a sharp breath. "Poppet - "

I was no longer listening to her. Without a second thought, I picked up my skirts and fled back inside the ballroom, heedless of those in my way. I vaguely heard Kat run after me, as my eyes desperately sought the dais for a certain Duke above all the dancers.

However, he was not there. Only Lady Rosanna was perched upon her high chair, sipping her blood red wine, her usual artificial smile playing upon her lips as she surveyed the guests below. The seat beside her was painfully empty.

I felt my insides constrict and twist into knots in speechless fear.

Kat skidded to a stop beside me, panting. "I tasked Lisa to guard that hand," she winced, "poppet - "

"Help me find one of the Captains on duty, and relief Lisa of that task at once. She must not be left alone, under the circumstances," the words left my lips in a rush, "I need to – "

"All right, I will. But you need to calm down, poppet. You are starting to attract attention," she managed a shaky, warning whisper, "the last thing we need is for the men to find us. Especially the Crown Prince -" Her eyes nervously darted about, catching the stares of curiosity and bewilderment at our appearance thrown our way.

"I care not a whit," my heart was beating hard and fast against my chest, "that devil could have done anything to Oncle Tom by now - "

"What about Papa?" a sharp voice demanded just then.

Tess.

I turned around to trace the sound of her voice. She was engaged in a waltz with one of the noblemen on the dance floor, mere steps away from us. Her countenance had grown pale, and her ocean blue eyes were narrowed, as they bore holes into my person.

Damn it. Had she heard?

I nodded at Kat, who scampered away to do as I had told her earlier.

In the meanwhile, Tess had left her partner's arms with no hesitation whatsoever, without so much as an explanation. The poor man stared at her back, bemused, as she strode purposefully towards me, her gown billowing about her ankles.

Sighing, I met her halfway. "Look, Tess, I do not have time – "

She was not listening to me. She took my arm, and dragged me to a corner of the ballroom none too gently, all the while checking whether her mother sitting on the dais was looking at her or nay.

Once she was certain her attentions were elsewhere, she turned to me, her ocean blue eyes blazing. "You will tell me what you know now," her voice was low, "did Mama do anything to Papa? Is he harmed? What – "

"He is missing, Tess," I cut her off in frustration, "and I just found a severed hand outside, with Oncle Tom's ducal ring on it, and I do not know if the hand belongs to him. Have you seen him?"

She grew even more pale at that. "Nay, I have not seen him since the beginning of the ball," she took a deep, shuddering breath, "merde, we must find him at once."

That was how I found myself an unlikely ally. Together, we spent the next fifteen minutes scouring every inch of the ballroom as discreetly as possible, asking Oncle Tom's friends and everyone who knew him about his whereabouts.

No one had seen him for over an hour at the Ballroom.

Where could he possibly be? What had Diego done to him -

I felt pure, unadulterated fear for my uncle trickle down my spine like iced water, and I could feel Tess' own radiate off her body in waves, and potentiate mine.

Although her countenance was void of all emotions, her shaking hands betrayed her turmoil. "I knew it," she murmured now, "I knew it. She has exacted her revenge."

My forehead creased. "Pardon?"

Her gaze snapped to mine, her ocean blue eyes burning with pain. "There is no point in explaining it to you. You see and understanding nothing outside of the closeted life you lead in Bordeux," she muttered, and shook her head, "we had best search the Manor. Papa is clearly not here."

With that, she strode away from me towards the exit. I hurried behind her, frowning.

Tess all but threw the double doors of the exit open, and I slammed them shut behind me. I was slapped in return by the chilling cold wind almost at once.

My eyes instinctively closed for a brief moment, and in that brief moment, I heard Tess suck in a sharp breath.

Even before my eyes could open, my hand shot out to push her behind me protectively, anticipation pumping through my veins, prepared to face my enemy. When I did see what had frightened her, however, I had to stifle a scream myself.

"P-Papa?" she stammered as I was stunned into silence.

"Tess? Julie?" Oncle Tom's voice was soft, "hush, it is only me. What is the matter?" He lay a hand gently against each of our heads in concern.

Two hands. Two warm, whole hands.

I froze where I stood, feeling my heart pound in my ears. Thud. Thud. Thud.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tess raise a hand to cover his and grip it tightly. "Are you all right, Papa?" she asked quietly, "are you harmed in any way?"

"Aye, darling, I am quite all right," his forehead creased, "why - "

"Thanks be to the Lord," she released a sharp breath through her lips, looking rather exhausted all of a sudden, "Lord, Papa, you frightened me to death this evening."

It was then that I found my voice. "Me too," I shuddered, feeling relief flood through me, "where the hell were you for the past hour, Oncle Tom? Why did you not inform anyone before leaving the ballroom? Have you any idea what you put us through – "

"I am sorry, but I lost my ducal ring, children. The ring has been our family for generations, and I have lost it over the course of a single evening," he explained, frustrated with himself, "I have been searching high and low for it, both in the ballroom and the Manor - to no avail, I might add."

Frowning, I lifted his hand from my face and held it up in the moonlight to see it better. There was no ring on the ring finger, where the ducal ring bearing the crest of Roche should have rested.

I sucked in a sharp breath. How would it be there? It was currently sitting on the severed hand.

Clearly, this had been a jest. A very cruel one.

Diego had merely wished to offer me a scare, a taste of what he was capable of by sending me that hand. Real, physical harm was not his intention this time. I could almost imagine him snickering from wherever he was watching me.

Watching us.

My hands curled up into tight, painful fists. That son of a –

"Mayhap I should continue searching for it in the daylight, when I can see better. Clearly, this search is yielding no results," Oncle Tom's tired voice cut into my thoughts, "come, children, let us return to the ball."

I shook my head. "I...I need to speak to my Captains, Oncle. I will join you later," I told him, before glancing at Tess, "in the meanwhile, please ensure he remains with you, safe and sound." I held her gaze, willing her to understand the seriousness of my request.

She nodded at me, curt and precise, her ocean blue eyes solemn. In the meanwhile, Oncle Tom looked between us, curious, waiting for one of us to explain what was going on.

Simply giving him a strained smile, I walked away.

***

Prince Nicholas

"Argh!"

I sat upright in my bed, jolted out of my sleep as my heart raced with the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

What the hell was that?

I looked around in my brightly lit bedchamber, panting slightly. Even after the screams had stopped, they still continued to ring in my ears over and over again, unnerving me entirely.

Who in the world had let out such an ear-splitting screech of agony at this time of the night?

White hot fear spread through my entire being. Before I knew what I was doing, I had jumped out of my bed and donned on a coat over my nightclothes. Grabbing a full candle, I hurried out of my bedchamber along the dark corridors, determined to find the source of the screams in one way or another.

Whoever it was surely was in great pain. They clearly needed help, and I had to reach them fast as I can before it was too late –

At that moment, a chamber, with doors wide open, came into view. Unlike the corridors, and the rest of the closed chambers, light seemed to be shining quite brightly from within this particular chamber. It cast a long shadow of the small, slender woman dressed in her nightgown, who stood on the threshold, gripping the door handles tightly.

I skidded to a stop in my tracks, shocked, as I took in her long, blonde curls, the profile of her heart-shaped face, her scarred cheek, her glassy hazelnut brown eyes.

"Julie?"

She did not turn around, or say anything. I strode towards her, countless questions running through my mind which I fully intended to demand answers for.

However, I was silenced once more when I saw the state of the chamber she was standing outside.

The chamber was certainly dusty, and the pale lilac tapestry was fast yellowing due to age. The cupboards in the room were toppled onto the ground, and the gowns and other clothes that were previously folded in them were now strewn across the room.

Miniature portraits which once hung on the wall were torn down, leaving the walls in a very bad shape. The huge bed which stood to the right of the chamber was also damaged - the bedposts brutally hacked at, the bed sheets torn with clear vengeance, and the pillows ripped open to allow the cotton fluff to float across the room by the night breeze, mixing with the grey dust that covered the floor.

Only the pianoforte that stood at the other end of the room remained untouched.

I looked back at Julie, noticing her wide, terrified eyes and her trembling lips. At once, I knew.

"You were the one who screamed mere moments ago," I remarked quietly.

Her eyes registered faint surprise for a moment, before they returned to their misery. "'Twas only a nightmare," she shook her head, stepping into the war-torn room, "the same, the usual. Nothing to worry about. Return to bed, Nick. You must be tired after the Ball." She forced a smile up her lips for my sake.

I crossed my arms. "You must be tired also."

"But I am not the one involved in a Potential Quest," she shrugged, "you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and Roche is a huge duchy. You need your rest. Go on, return to bed." She sighed tiredly, gesturing towards my chamber.

I gazed at her, concerned. "What is happening?"

The artificial smile vanished. "Leave, Nick!" she snapped at me, her eyes burning as she blindly shoved me, "what does it matter to you what I do or do not do? Return to bed. I need to be alone, and you need to be awake and alert tomorrow. For the Lord's sake, return to bed and cease pestering me!"

With that, she brushed past me and stumbled towards the biggest, life-sized portrait in the room, which lay carelessly on the floor beside the huge bed. That portrait also seemed to have been torn down from the walls like the rest of the portraits hung in the room.

It was the likeness of a young woman sitting in front of a pianoforte, presumably the one resting in the room right now. Golden blonde curls cascaded gracefully down her back, framing her small, heart-shaped face like divine light.

Her huge sapphire-blue eyes seemed to stare straight into my very soul, filled with joy, her lips pulled up in a faint, fond smile. Her slender fingers rested lightly on the ivory keys on the pianoforte, as she posed for whoever painted this portrait.

However, the fact that this blue-eyed woman was wearing the very same forest green gown that Julie had worn earlier this evening, and the fact that she looked similar to what I vaguely remembered of her in my childhood, sent my mind reeling.

It was a portrait of Lady Jeanne Van Helsing, my late pianoforte mistress.

Despite my cloudy memory, I was able to recall that she had been a legendary pianoforte prodigy of our time, whom I had idolised in my youth with the same respect and awe that I still idolised her husband, Lord Henri.

Julie dropped down on her knees in front of the portrait, all façade of defence and strength stripped down, as she gazed at it, her eyes wide with horror. Her pale countenance was contorted with such crippling emotional pain that I felt like a horde of horses had just trampled all over me, merely from watching her.

By the Lord, I could not walk away. Not now. I could not let her hurt alone.

I will not.

My legs subconsciously took me to her side, and I knelt down next to her hesitantly, afraid that she would snap at me again.

She did not notice me, however, as she reached out tentatively to touch it with trembling fingers. At that very moment, I could have sworn I saw two, fat teardrops, gleaming in the candlelight, hit the canvas before they vanished.

"That is..." I found myself whispering, before I could review the sensitivity of my words.

"My mother," she choked.

I was aware. However, what was her portrait doing here? In Roche?

"Before she married my father, she was Lady Jeanne De Beauharnais," she explained distantly before I could ask her, "the current Lord Roche's younger, and only sister. Roche Manor was once her home, and this was her bedchamber when she lived."

My eyes widened in shock. I had not known that this was her immediate family. She had been so distant with them all day that it had not occurred to me that they might be so close in relation to her.

"But that means Lord Thomas is your own maternal Uncle. And Lady Rosanna is your – "

Her eyes snapped to mine, fierce. "Dare not call her my Tante," she growled, "she is no Tante of mine. She is most likely the one who is responsible for this mess. Her revenge for my brazenness towards her earlier this evening." She gestured to the trashed room, sighing heavily.

I felt my own blood boil at the mention of this evening, and an image of the demoness reincarnate that was Lady Rosanna flashed through my mind.

"I heard," I hissed, feeling disgust rise at the back of my throat when I recalled, "by the Lord, she had no right to say such things to you. I swear, had she been a man, I would have – "

"You heard?" she inhaled sharply, as she grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me hard, "how? What did you hear? How much did you hear?"

I stared straight into her eyes, unfazed. "Enough to see what kind of person Lady Rosanna truly was," I answered quietly, "enough to know that if I had not sent your friends to see to your well-being, her cruel words would have damaged you beyond repair."

She froze. "You sent Kat and Lisa?"

"It did take me quite a while to find them in the crowd, but I did." I gave her a piercing stare, silently willing her to explain what had caused Lady Rosanna to utter such ugly words to her this evening.

"And you heard and saw nothing else?" she insisted, clearly desperate to be certain.

She was hiding something from me. I was certain of it. She was fiddling with her thumbs again.

I raised an eyebrow. "Should I have?"

Her grip on my shoulders slackened, and her expression swiftly turned emotionless as she averted her eyes from mine.

"Nay, of course not."

She was doing it again. Why did she insist on putting up her walls against me, as if I were an outsider who cared not? I had seen through each and every one of her artificial smiles today, and throughout the rest of the journey here. Yet, she persisted in trying to convince me that nothing was wrong.

I would not deny that stung badly. Every time.

But I knew I deserved it after all those years I spent trying to hurt her and make her as miserable as possible. I had given her no reason to trust me. Not in the past, not now, and I knew it.

However, that did not mean that I had to cease trying.

"Julie." I called her softly.

***

The Lady Knight

"Julie."

I knew that tone of his all too well. He was going to put forth a question.

My shoulders tensed, as I stiffened. What was he going to ask me? Could I answer him with the truth regardless of what he asked? More importantly, if I had to lie, could I do it convincingly?

Of course not. What a jest. I was horrible at lying.

"Yes?" my voice was barely above a whisper.

However, what came out of his mouth next was completely unexpected. "Let us clean this chamber," he stood up, breaking into a faint smile, "let us return all to their rightful places, and fix them once more. How about it?"

I stood still like an idiot, my mouth hanging open. "I beg your pardon?"

He bent down to pick up Mama's portrait and pushed it into my hands gently. "Forgive me for giving you a choice in the matter. Get to work, Van Helsing," he remarked wryly, "there is a lot to be done."

And that was how Nick and I found ourselves hammering the portraits onto the walls, stitching up the bed sheets, stuffing the cotton on the floor back into the ripped pillow cases and stitching them up, folding the strewn clothes and keeping them back inside the cupboards, moving the cupboards back to their rightful places, sweeping the floor for the next five hours.

The bedposts, however, were something we could not fix, as we did not have wood at the present. Nick offered to run down to the nearby woods to get some, but I stopped him. I did not want him to enjoy a perilous rendezvous with the wild animals on my account.

In the meanwhile, Nick kept an easy banter flowing that never stayed on one topic for too long as we worked. I was never good at initiating conversations, so I allowed him to chatter endlessly, retorting when required and laughing at his Captain Everard-like jests.

Slowly but surely, I began to detach myself from my inner demons that had haunted me since this evening, and threw myself into restoring Mama's room to its former glory.

When he hammered in the final nail of Mama's life-size portrait, he leaped off the broken bed post and flipped himself in a somersault in the air, before landing beside me with a soft thud like that of a jungle cat's paws.

"There," he crossed his arms, surveying our efforts, satisfied, "all done."

I glanced up at Mama, whom seemed to be smiling down at the both of us in approval from her portrait. From my peripheral vision, I could see Nick gazing up at her in awe as well.

"That gown you wore in the evening," he murmured, "it was hers, was it not?"

A small, sad smile unfolded on my lips. "Aye."

He made no further comment on it, as his eyes fell on the window. "'Tis almost dawn soon," he remarked, noticing the lightening skies, "we shall ask for wood from Lord Roche at breakfast and replace the bedposts. However, we had better catch a few hours of sleep now, else we will be unable to stay awake when the Sun rises. Come now, allow me to escort you to your chambers." With that, he smiled down at me, offering me his arm.

I nodded, placing my hand in the crook of his arm, as I allowed him to lead me out of Mama's bedchamber. The moment my feet stepped across the threshold, however, I paused subconsciously.

A mixture of dread and fear filled me, destroying the peaceful happiness that had resided in me earlier when I had been cradled within her four walls, within her invisible presence.

"Nothing will happen to your Mama's chambers in our absence," Nick assured me, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"How would you know?" I blurted, feeling like a child.

He smiled again, soft and tender, as his other hand closed over mine. "Trust me."

With that, he gently tugged me up the stairs towards the guest chambers, on the far end of the corridor where my own chambers were located. I pushed my door open.

The candles that lit up my chambers had melted into short stumps. Even my bed had been waiting for me, inviting and comfortable.

"Well, sweet dreams, Julie," he grinned, "I shall see you at breakfast." He turned to walk away.

"Hold." It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Why? a voice in my mind hissed at me, why did you call him back?

Even I had no idea why.

He paused and faced me, surprised. "Yes?"

Before I knew what I was doing, I was striding towards him swiftly. Standing up on my toes, I placed my hand on one of his cheeks, and pressed my lips briefly against the other.

"Thank you," I faintly blushed, stepping back, "for everything."

His eyes were unfocused, huge with astonishment, as he stared at me, nonplussed. Chuckling weakly at his expression, I turned back to return to my own chambers.

I saw him raise a trembling hand to his cheek where I had kissed him, still dazed, as I shut the door.

***