A Kiss at Midnight

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Court of the Dragon, April 1877

A scream was cut off halfway.
A blade fell from crimson slicked fingers.
A suit of obsidian and currant red armour crumpled to the ground.
Another was thrown against a column of pewter grey. Life fled the soldier's eyes, leaving behind only a reflection of his killer.

Scarlet warmth dripped from elongated canines, the creature's top lip curled back into a snarl. Its claws clicked against the cobblestones, footsteps falling into line with its rhythm. Rage a wildfire ravaging Barrymore's features as he strode towards the large doors of charred spruce. Fur of carob brown brushed against his hand as a Beast werewolf of his own creation walked by his side. The remaining men behind him were human yet each was eager to paint their weapons in grisly displays of blood.

The doors let out a shriek as they crashed against the walls of the main chamber. Inside, a woman dressed in a gown of cream and soot let out a gasp. A pendant of raven feathered eagle graced her neck. She was a lady in the court of Queen Katerina of Hungary. Her nails dug into the shoulder of the young woman standing next to her.

Five guards sprang to life, surrounding a nobleman, crossbows in hand. Strands of midnight rose from a widow's peak, the ends to brush the pointed chin of his face. Thick brows of the same shade framed eyes of chestnut brown. The metal wings of a dragon encircling his left ring finger.
An interesting piece given the nobleman despised the very creature yet he wore it because the dragon was also the house crest of the Voivode of Wallachia of whom, he had pledged his true loyalties to.

"Herzog!" His name a snarl torn from Barrymore's lips as he approached the other male. Fear flickered across the nobleman's face yet his feet remained rooted in place.
"Where is she? Where is my Elise!"

Her name extinguished fear's flame.

Herzog took a step forwards. "She died, an unfortunate tragedy really." No sympathy accompanied his words.

Each word a slash to Barrymore's chest causing him to stagger back.
Anguish welling up to the surface. No, what he was saying could not be true.
His body desperate to turn towards the door, to see her. To watch as her grip tightened on her skirts of wine and cream as she made haste into his long awaiting arms. To pluck those wretched pearls from her curls of midnight and send them scattering to the stone beneath their feet so they could finally be together.
Yet no, scent of lavender sought to wrap around him.
The sound of her footsteps did not reached his ears.

Barrymore clenched his jaw as waves of grief sought to plunge him under. "When?"

"Early March of this year was it Dmitri?" Herzog turned to glance over his shoulder.
Behind him, a second nobleman. Shaggy brown copper hair brushed his square jaw, his lean frame clothed in a black robe. A glove of the same shade covered his right hand.

"I believe so," Dmitri answered.

Rage again sunk its fiery maw into Barrymore's skin. "We had a deal!" His feet moving as the roar left his lips.
A guard fumbled.
The whistle of an arrow.
A sharp scrape across Matthias's shoulder, blood welling up but he refused to let it slow his pace.

"I gave you the wolves and in exchange you took Elise away from me. You were supposed to keep her in safe hands until my return." The words drowned out by his thunderous growl. Even the Beast werewolf stepped back. Its head lowered, eyes wary.

A sneer twisted Herzog's features. "You think you can waltz in here and lay the blame of her death at my feet. The night your precious Elise met her end, I was not even here. I thought I had left her in capable hands only it seemed I was mistaken. More so, there were a complication or two which I did not foresee when requesting your wolves. I could have informed you of them had you not decided to disappear for two years."

"What complications?" Barrymore asked, his gaze flickering between the two men.

A smile crept onto Dmitri's lips. "Don't you worry about them. We rectified such matters."

A thought occurred to Matthias, whispers across the lands spoke of a rare flower. The Morana Lily. If he got it in his possession, he wouldn't have to hold Elise only in his dreams.

"Where was she buried?"

Herzog held up his left hand, his thumb rubbing at the middle joint of his index finger. "We don't know nor do I care. Some fool summoned the Lucien Order at the appearance of your wolves and during the melee, she was slain by them. Of course, you cannot track them down due to their use of wolfsbane," Herzog continued. Wolfsbane rendered a werewolf's nose useless.

A snarl tore from Barrymore and in this moment he thought of no greater pleasure than ripping their throats out.
Then he saw the young woman standing next to the lady. She bore a scant resemblance to Elise and her expression was one of intrigue as she looked at him. Matthias gestured to her, his other hand clasped over his wound. "Who is she?"

"She is a gift for you in light of what has happened," Herzog replied. "Take her."

He clicked his fingers. The lady releasing her grip and the younger one was sent stumbling in Barrymore's direction. He lunged, her arms catching onto his.

"We should bandage your wound, sir," she remarked, her tone polite.

He regarded her for a moment. "What is your name?"

"I no longer remember my original name." She tilted her head in the direction of the lady who let out a sniff. "They mostly call me, Ezrabeth Bathory. A maid called me a bastard once so I ensured she never spoke again." Delight treading its way through her whispered words.

Matthias's lips curved into a smile as he lifted one hand. The backs of his fingers a light touch on her cheek. Oh, she was perfect.

The memory released its hold and Barrymore once more found himself in his chambers. Thick curtains of juniper green was drawn, a single oil sconce alight while the rest of the room remained casted in darkness. His body slumped in an armchair by the window, one Hessian booted foot stretched out on a dark green carpet. In the years after discovering the passing of Elise, Matthias turned Erzabeth into a Beast werewolf and she had adjusted quite splendidly to her new nature. He also discovered the Morana Lily was indeed a real thing and since he could not bring his love back then no-one else would either.

He may have gained a lordship through bloodied means but her loss continue to taunt him. He threw these parties in hopes of meeting a lady like Elise.
Year after year, many a lady caught his attention but none held it.
Until he laid eyes on Ilona.
She was Elise, returned to him and tomorrow night would prove it.

He leaned towards the window, drawing back the edge of one curtain. His chamber overlooked the garden. Parasols in hand, a few ladies were gathering around the area marked in sand for the fencing duel. Ribbons of their house colours in their other hand to soon adorn the rapier of the one they believed would be victorious. A gentleman Barrymore recalled being Lord Whitmore was locked in a practice duel. He watched Whitmore's misjudged lunge before his gaze wandered across the garden.

To land on a couple who were cutting across the grass, her hand resting upon his arm. His hair pinned by a ribbon of cerulean blue at the nape of his neck. He lowered his head, his lips to graze the shell of her ear. An jagged patchwork visible on his side profile.
Barrymore's mouth twisted into a scowl.
Carrick.
A knock at the door.

"Enter," he said, his gaze not straying from the window.

Erzabeth stepped inside. "Everything is in place for tomorrow night. What time shall I tell her?"

"Eight o'clock."

She inclined her head. "Just a reminder, you are due downstairs soon."
Barrymore gave her a nod.
Ezrabeth turned to leave only to hear her name on his lips, halting her.

Barrymore was now looking at her, one hand close to his face. "I don't care what method you use. How you do it but ensure that by the week's end Carrick Ellis breathes his last."

Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "I'll endeavour to have it done."