Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Vasilisa had no problem gaining access to the inside of the farmhouse. No one had thought to safeguard it against any creature other than vampires. She slipped under the slightly open window, a crack only, that revealed they were in the study, where the occupants of the house were gathered.
Lada wept continuously, shaking her head. Her denials were so loud in her mind, Vasilisa and Afanasiv had to turn the volume down.
“You had one assignment, Lada,” an older man in a long black robe said. “One. Your parents assured us that you would be able to carry out this small task for us. In return, we would ensure you and your daughter would once again be together.”
Lada pressed a hand to her mouth as if she could choke back the sob that slipped out around her fingers anyway.
“Enough of this, Vovo.” A tall man, younger than the others sitting in the six chairs facing Lada, stood. He was very good-looking, his features chiseled and sharp. His eyes were a slash of silver in color and appeared quite stormy. His hair was also very silver and thick, like the winter pelt of the wolf. He shoved his chair out of the way with calm movements and walked around the row of five judges left sitting. He placed his hands behind his back as he paced across the room with slow, deliberate strides and then walked right up to Lada to stare into her eyes.
Afanasiv held his breath. Just that stare held immense power. Barnabas projected a gentle, caring man. He appeared almost sorrowful, his eyes drooping with pain and empathy for Lada. “My dear, this inquisition must be so terrible for you. Everyone, including your parents, shouting questions at you. No one allowing you to finish a sentence. Threats against you and your daughter.” He half turned as though to censure Vovo.
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and stepped closer to Lada, one arm very gently wrapping around her waist while the other dabbed at her tears with the cloth.
“There’s no need for these tears. We can come to an understanding without all this shouting. Someone needs to stand for you. I thought your parents would do so.”
Again, he turned, this time toward the three rows of three chairs set up facing the six judges. He gave the couple in the front row a long look of condemnation. The woman who bore a small resemblance to Lada squirmed. The man with a receding hairline shook his head.
“You have too soft of a heart, Nikita,” Lada’s father said, addressing Barnabas by the name they knew him by. “She was to deliver the royal to us. Trap Andros, get him to ask her to marry him. How could she have failed when she was so prepared? She was coached in everything he liked. Still, she failed. It’s a humiliation on our house. A terrible burden for our family to bear.”
“Perhaps the fault lies with the royal and not with your daughter,” Barnabas protested, dabbing at the tears running unchecked down Lada’s face. “Andros is a playboy. He very well could have seduced this lovely girl and then deliberately insulted your house by leaving her after everyone knew he had used her so ruthlessly. Men like that feel so entitled. They go off with their friends and laugh over their conquests, never thinking about the way they wreck lives.”
Lada flinched under the commentary Barnabas had supposedly defended her with. He’d painted her as a naïve woman Andros had taken advantage of. All the while he continued to dab her face with that cloth.
Afanasiv realized the handkerchief contained some kind of drug. Each time Barnabas placed it around Lada’s nose, she would shake her head and weep softly.
“He didn’t ask you to marry him after all the preparation your parents gave you?” Barnabas asked sadly. He couched it as a question.
Afanasiv felt Vasilisa hold her breath. Lada couldn’t lie to the mage. Her senses had to be confused by the drug he was subjecting her to via the cloth. Lada shook her head adamantly, but she didn’t utter a single word.
A soft knock on the door had Lada’s father snapping out a quick inquiry. A servant partially opened the door. “Miss Vasilisa and a friend of hers, Skyler, wife to Dimitri, are here to see Lada,” she announced.
“Ask them to wait in the sitting room,” Lada’s father said.
Barnabas smiled at Lada. “This is such good news for you, dear. Vasilisa will certainly be able to tell us whether or not her brother is a playboy and was just playing with your affections. If she backs up your story, surely everyone here will apologize for not believing you.”
“Nikita,” Vovo said. “She brings with her a Sange rau. We all know Dimitri is Sange rau. His wife must be.”