Trial By Blood: Book Three of The Blood Royal Saga

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TRIAL BY BLOOD: BOOK THREE OF THE BLOOD ROYAL SAGA

Delia Remington

COPYRIGHT

TRIAL BY BLOOD is the third book in The Blood Royal Saga by Delia

Remington.

Copyright © 2018, Delia Remington.

ISBN: 9781947181076

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Printing, October 2018

Published in the United States by Eagle Heights Press, a division of

Eagle Heights LLC., Fayette MO USA

http://www. eagleheightspress.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed,

or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means

including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission

in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ALSO BY DELIA REMINGTON

ALSO BY DELIA Remington

In The Blood

Out For Blood

See more at EagleHeightsPress.com

DEDICATION

For my tribe.

For the cheerleaders.

For those who taught me.

For the Room 217 Writer gang.

For the women who blazed a trail.

For those who will follow after.

For you, beloved reader.

Thank you.

Part One

CHAPTER ONE

The Tomb by the Pounding Sea

BYRON

You have got to be kidding me. Sybill was carrying my sword cane and goggling at the view of the gravestones beyond the open gates as they slowly creaked open.

Well, I didn’t have much choice given the circumstances, did I? I shook my head, but my tone softened when I saw Marie struggling out of the boat onto the shore of the cemetery island of San Michele. The entire front of her white dress was soaked in blood, and her hands were shaking. Help her, would you? I think she’s in shock.

Sybill looked back and then hurried to her side, speaking softly to Marie and wrapping an arm around her waist to help steady her. Hey, it’s okay. We’re safe.

We will never be safe. And they have him. They’ll kill him, you know. They’ll kill him. It’s all my fault. I ruined his life. Stumbling, Marie clung to Sybill with white knuckles as though if she let go she might collapse completely. I’m a disaster to you and everyone else.

Hush. Don’t talk like that. This isn’t your fault.

I cleared my throat, and Sybill looked up at me with a sour expression. Get inside. I’ll get rid of the boat.

As soon as they were safely behind the high walls, I started the boat engine, lashed the wheel so the prow was aimed toward the lagoon, and loosed the lines. The boat headed off unmanned out across the water, and I prayed it wouldn’t be found too near us.

Wasn’t that our ride? Sybill said.

I entered the gates and swung them shut behind us with a loud clank. That was going to lead them straight to us. Now come let me get you both settled someplace safe.

Does it get any more cliché than this? A graveyard? Seriously, you’re not really expecting us to stay here, are you? Her eyes were distressed and panicky, but there was nothing for it.

I expect you to have survival instincts. You want to go on living? Well, this is the best I’ve got. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to find us first class accommodations. I was a little busy saving our lives.

Marie began crying softly, and she went limp in Sybill’s arms.

Oh Jeez. Sybill lost her grip, and Marie slipped down onto the stones in a heap. Help me with her, would you?

I hurried over and picked Marie up. She rested her head on my shoulder, arms around my neck like a child. Though she was not heavy, the extra weight made my foot ache, but I kept silent about it, trying not to let the pain show on my face. There was nothing else for it. Marie was in no shape to walk. Hurry. We need to get out of sight.

We made our way out of the entrance and into the first high walled enclosure. There was a semicircular row of open doors that led into family crypts, and paths fanned out toward them like spokes in a wheel. Sybill wrinkled her nose. You’re not going to put us in one of those, are you? They stink.

I shook my head, walking straight up the paved center path toward an archway. This is too close. We need to go further in.

The narrow avenue of stone pavement continued on to the center of the second enclosure, but smaller gravel paths made a grid of walkways between row upon row of gravestones. The paths were flanked by pointed and fragrant cypress trees, drenching the whole place in long patches of deep shadow. I could see the dome of the church to my left, its spires gleaming in the moonlight. Stopping beneath the arch, Sybill gaped open-mouthed, then whispered as she hurried to catch up to me. This is creepy. I don’t want to stay here.

I snorted and kept walking. Creepy is the least of our worries. You’re a vampire. What do you think is going to hurt you here?

Ghosts? She looked around with wide eyes.

Tsk. No such thing.

How do you know?

Two hundred years of experience. Now stop talking, and let me think. I paused by a dry stone fountain, the water having been shut off until spring. Nothing moved besides us, and the only sound was of the wind in the trees and our feet on the gravel. I turned slowly, looking at our options. Many of the crypts were designed to hold cremated remains in tiny vaults on the wall. No good. There were no fresh graves, and I knew that even if that were an option, Sybill would never agree to lie buried in a box until I returned. That left only one choice. I walked over to a nearby bench and set Marie down carefully. Just wait here a moment.

Sybill came to sit beside her, eyeing me with uncertainty.

Ignoring her, I turned away and walked over to the door of one of the four large family tombs that stood facing one another across the intersection of paths. The door was padlocked to keep out vandals and tourists. I swore under my breath, then turned back to look at Sybill. Do you have any hairpins?

What?

Hairpins. This door is locked.

She smiled in surprise. You’re a regular James Bond, aren’t you?

I don’t know what that means. I shook my head, holding out my hand toward her. Just tell me if you have any or not. I would rather not break this lock if I don’t have to.

I don’t, she said, taking off her wig to reveal her startling blonde spiky hair, so in contrast with her gown, but I’m sure Marie does.

Without saying anything to Marie who was sitting still, staring out vacantly across the graveyard, Sybill reached up and pulled two hairpins out of Marie’s wig. Marie blinked, but didn’t say anything. Here, said Sybill, bringing them over and placing them into my palm. You sure you know what you’re doing?

Watch and learn, I said.

It didn’t take long before the lock clicked and the hasp slid open. I pocketed the lock, then pushed the door back, revealing the interior of the crypt. The air was close and musty inside. Clearly, no one had entered in quite some time. The flowers on the tomb had mummified, and there was a fine layer of dust over everything. Still, as I looked around, I could see it was light tight. This will do.

Sybill peeked in. No way. It’s not big enough for all three of us.

I won’t be inside.

What? Where are you going? Her eyes were wildly searching mine and full of fear.

Someone has to get word to Polidori and Mozart. They need to get out of there before the coven arrives. Marie needs you. That means me.

But…how? You got rid of the boat.

I laughed. You really don’t know anything about me, do you? I’m a strong swimmer. I can make it there before long.

Swimming? She gripped my arm tightly. But it’s so far.

I patted her hand reassuringly. First of all, I swam across the Hellespont almost two hundred years ago. I’ve had centuries of practice since then. And secondly, do you really think I could drown? We don’t have to breathe, remember? I’ll be fine. Trust me.

But what if they’re already at San Lazarro?

Then Mozart and Polidori will need rescuing, won’t they? I smiled and leaned in to kiss her forehead. I’m sorry things went so wrong tonight. This was not how I pictured our date ending.

She stared up at me. This wasn’t how I pictured it either.

Oh? What did you think would happen? I stepped in closer, brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. I don’t know. I guess I hadn’t thought it through that far. I just wanted to have a good time, really.

I nodded. So did I.

Rotten timing.

That it is.

Just then, a clock rang out four times. Speaking of time, I’m running out of it. I have to hurry if I’m going to be there before dawn.

She reached a hand up and touched my cheek. Thank you for saving us. You were amazing. Like Zorro or something.

I’ll teach you sometime, just like I said. In the meantime, let’s get you both inside.

And like that, we parted, focusing on the task at hand. Standing on either side of Marie, we hoisted her to her feet and then walked her into the tomb together. Sybill helped me lower her down onto the floor, brushing away the patina of grime and spiderwebs covering the stone slabs.

I’ll be back as soon as I can, I said, kissing Marie on the forehead. Then I turned and stroked Sybill’s hair one time before handing her my sword cane with solemnity. Take care of yourselves.

She nodded, and I backed away before wasting any more precious time. I pulled the door shut, then pulled the padlock out of my pocket. I knew the caretakers would notice if the crypt appeared to have been tampered with. I couldn’t risk exposing Sybill and Marie to the sun because of a careless mistake. I had to trust I would be back the following night to free them. Silently, so Sybill wouldn’t become alarmed, I slid the lock into the hasp on the door and clicked it shut.

Talking of swimming to San Lazzaro was a far different prospect than actually doing it. I’d learned to navigate these waters by boat, certainly. Swimming was something else entirely. I’d behaved as though it were of no consequence, but as I stood there staring down at the dark water, I realized I had no real idea of the exact distance. I suppose that’s what I got for trying to prove I had everything under control.

Go on, you bastard, I said to myself. They’re counting on you. The sooner you dive in, the sooner it’s over. Not like it’ll kill you, and you’ve lived through worse.

For the most part, it was true, but the last bit was debatable. After all, Venice had used the lagoon as an open sewer for centuries, counting on the tides to wash the muck out to sea. Muttering curses, I sat on the edge of the quay, removed my boots, and then slipped into the water. Though the cold didn’t bother me, I certainly didn’t like it either, but the smell made me want to retch. Dead fish and slime and petrol and a cloying scent I didn’t wish to ponder too closely. As I left the cemetery behind on my way toward the deeper channel, I decided this whole venture was the most idiotic thing I’d ever attempted, and the list of possible candidates for that designation was long.

Physical discomfort aside, the logistics of swimming the distance to San Lazzaro were a significant hurdle to overcome. In the dark, being eye level with the waves rather than at the helm of a boat, one island looks much like another. I had to rely on instinct and intuition to guide me, hoping I wouldn’t be too late to accomplish my mission.

CHAPTER TWO

Fait Accompli

ERNESTINE

Despite the closeness growing between Raul and the Marquis, I believed Raul and I could work side-by-side without rancor. That is, until I witnessed the Marquis calling him son and giving him a place of importance and responsibility. Raul had not earned such recognition. He had not spent long years proving his worth.

It seemed to me, the Marquis’ sudden interest in his new plaything had only a few possible causes. Perhaps this was one of his games, an amusement at my expense. He enjoyed pitting people against one another and watching them squirm. Then again, perhaps he was testing my loyalty.

I refused to believe he actually preferred Raul’s company over mine. The boy was too ignorant and weak to be the source of interesting conversation, at least as far as I could see, and he had very little else to recommend him other than an eagerness that I found difficult to believe. Raul had developed an annoying enthusiasm for following orders, and I didn’t trust his sincerity. It seemed impossible to think the Marquis was taken in by such an abrupt about face.

Whatever the Marquis was up to, however, it wouldn’t do for me to speak these things aloud. If I seemed jealous, I would only look weak and uncertain of my position. Moreover, it would indicate I had let my emotions cloud my thinking, which was a cardinal sin in the Master’s eyes. The only prudent response, therefore, was to take no notice whatsoever and instead demonstrate my usefulness and dedication.

With a renewed determination, I headed to my office for the first time since my arrival. Sitting behind my desk, I reached into my briefcase and pulled out my cell phone. I pushed the button to call Mozart first. No answer. He was supposed to be sticking with the queen. Clearly something had gone awry with that plan, and he had not informed us. That meant either he had changed sides or been killed. Killed would be very inconvenient. I left a message, telling him to call immediately.

Next, I called Robespierre, my father’s friend in Venice. I had known the man for years. Indeed, he was one of those responsible for freeing him from prison during The Terror, and the two had been working together for years to track down the queen, intent on making her pay for her crimes. When we’d discovered she and her protege had traveled to Venice, the man had volunteered to be installed among the coven in order to gather more information. So long as Casanova was head of the coven, we couldn’t move to bring her into custody, but we had made inroads with some members who were sympathetic to our cause, and Robespierre had gone with the intent of apprehending her.

However, the voice who answered the other end of the line was not Robespierre at all. Instead, it was a woman who spoke.

Who is this? I said. I need Robespierre right away.

Monsieur Robespierre is dead.

I sat up in my seat. What? How?

Killed in the line of duty.

By whom?

A man aiding the escape of the former queen, Marie Antoinette, the woman said. They fled and have not yet been apprehended.

Had Mozart betrayed us? What man? Was he Austrian? German maybe? Short and ugly?

We believe it was an Englishman. Dark haired and handsome. He had a woman with him.

Not Mozart then. This was an as yet unknown, accomplice. What else can you tell me?

Signore Casanova has been taken into custody by the coven. He is believed to have been working with the queen, though as yet, this is speculation. The coven is keeping him in the prison of the Doge’s Palace.

Do we have access to him?

Access is restricted to only a select few. They refuse any outside interference into the matter.

Get to him. I don’t care how you do it. I need the name of the man who killed Robespierre. Contact me at this number when it is done.

A shambles. That’s what it was. Incompetence on every side, and I was left to repair the damage from a distance.

Once again, I dialed Mozart. This time, he answered. He was insolent and argumentative, but I ignored his audacious behavior, giving him strict instructions to go to Venice and take control of the situation. Sending Mozart to regain order in a chaotic situation was ludicrous at best. I knew it. He was wrong in every way for the job. No one would respect him or believe he held any sort of authority in Venice on my behalf.

Mozart, however, didn’t realize any of that. His ego made him believe he was actually important enough to be given that level of responsibility. No one else would have credited it, but his self-centeredness and inflated sense of importance lent my instructions real weight in his mind.

Truthfully, I never said it with the intent of his succeeding. My real purpose was not to render him into a lieutenant under my command. No word of mine could ever make that happen. I simply wanted to know where his loyalties lay. Would he do as he was told, or would he show his hand as a traitor?

All the time he’d been embedded with Marie, I had harbored my suspicions. He’d given me too many delays, deflections, and excuses to convince me he could be trusted to bring Marie to us. Yet he hadn’t actually been pushed to the sticking point until this crisis. It was time to force his hand. While I would have preferred another way of obtaining the truth from him, this opportunity presented itself, and I wasn’t about to let him weasel his way out this time.

He fancied himself charming, believing he had me fooled, but I had seen through him from the first. He was only being used to spy on Marie out of convenience, not because he was the ideal man for the job.

Punishment, though, he did fear, and he was coward enough to be useful to me, despite my distaste for the little man. Mozart was ugly, boorish, and puffed up with a false sense of aggrandizement based on his musical genius. Despite that genius, I found him tedious. He skated the edge of what I would tolerate from a subordinate. If I hadn’t been so impatient to work someone into Marie’s good graces, I’d have chosen someone else. But they had a history, the fugitive queen and that ugly little man, and so I’d been forced to make do in spite of my misgivings.

Given what I knew of the man, I thought it far more likely for him to throw in his lot with the fugitive queen than to do my bidding. In a way, I was hoping for it. I didn’t trust him and hadn’t from the first. An open betrayal on his part would give me all the reason I needed to punish him right along with her once we had them surrounded and in custody.

Just as I hung up the phone, Raul’s voice came from the doorway at my back. Rough day at the office?

I turned to find him standing, leaning against the frame of the door with arms crossed, a crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You here to gloat or are you willing to be useful?

The Master sent me to offer my help, he said.

Raising a brow, I scoffed openly. Aren’t you solicitous? What’s brought on this sudden change of heart?

He shrugged, licking his lips as he considered his answer, then his eyes met mine directly. Maybe I’m ready to make my own choices for once.

I laughed, chuckling at the irony in his statement. Well, what do you know? You might just get to be a real boy after all. And what makes you think I’m going to trust you?

What choice do you have, Ernestine? He said these words coolly, slipping his hands into his pockets as he stepped forward into the room, looking back at me with challenge in his eyes. I’m the best chance you have to catch her. You need me. So…here I am.

Mmm. Here you are. Lips pursed, I kept my gaze firmly fixed on his, studying his expression for any sign of weakness. Very well. I want you to make a list for me. Write down the name of every person you’ve heard her mention in the time since she kidnapped you.

As I spoke, I stepped to the desk and brought out a notepad and pen, handing it over to him.

He stared down at the paper, then furrowed his brow. You’re kidding, right?

Not kidding. I shook my head, then gestured toward the chair in front of my desk. Have a seat. And be thorough.

This is ridiculous, he said, his lips curling as though he’d tasted something bad, but he sat all the same, placing the notepad on the edge of the desk. There’s got to be a hundred names at least.

Write, I said firmly. You and I both know she was far too secretive for the list to be that long. Probably most of the names will be useless. But somewhere along the way, she may have slipped up and told you something she shouldn’t. I’m counting on that. You said you wanted to be useful. So write.

Raul sighed. I saw the last bit of resistance he had left fall away. He set his jaw and began making a list.

Thank you, I whispered, reaching down to pat his shoulder with approval. You’re doing the right thing. You’ll see.

His eyes darted in my direction and then back down at the paper, his hand still moving without stopping. Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you.