“Well, I figure a resonating ‘Fuck you’ would be a bit much.”
“I’m sure they got the sentiment all the same.”
“And you? Lord Killian?”
Lord Killian chuckled. “I think I rather like being used to piss off your family. Actually, I found it rather entertaining.”
“I’m glad I could amuse you.”
“Oh, my sweet Prince. You were amusing yourself.”
Rowan nodded. “That may be true. I find tormenting my father to be most amusing. But, as you’ve said, I need my beauty rest so I will bid you goodnight, my Lord.”
Rowan turned to leave but Killian caught his arm. Rowan looked at him, a slight frown on his face when he saw the serious and stern eyes of the Duke staring back at him. “Was there something else?” Rowan asked, the irritation clear in his tone.
“Just one thing.” Killian said, pulling Rowan closer and leaning in so that Rowan could feel the Duke’s hot breath on his neck. “I wasn’t lying before when I said that I always get what I want. When I set my sights on something, I will stop at nothing to get it and right now, I want you. So, let this be a warning to you, little Prince. If you have any plans of running, don’t. Things do not bold well for those who cross me. If you run, I’ll chase. And trust me, I’ll find you and when I do, I’ll crush your skull with my bare hands and enjoy every moment of it.”
Rowan sighed, tilting his head slightly as he forced a smile. “Then rest assured, my Lord. I have no intention of running. In fact, the only thing that would keep me from standing at your side before the alter tomorrow night is my own death.”
Lord Killian smiled his dashingly wicked smile, a smile that reviled even the devil himself. “Then, I shall see you tomorrow next.” Killian once again kissed Rowan’s hand then bowed to his fiance. “At midnight, our appointed time.”
“I’ll count the minutes.” Rowan pulled his hand back with a quick jerk. “Until then, goodnight…my husband.” Rowan gave Killian a departing bow then left for his apartments. A small smirk played across his ruby lips as he thought, Farewell, Lord Killian, for we, shall not meet again. Not in this life and hopefully not in any other.
“Your plan had better work, Emilia.” He whispered into the darkness that surrounded him. “If not, my death will be on your hands.”
POISON
Rowan sat on his bed, the vile of potion Emilia had given him held tightly in his hand. He looked up, his eyes drifting over his white and gold wedding suit. Wedding suit. He thought with a bitter laugh. Soon to be my burial shroud. He looked down at the vial in his hand once more. There was a good chance that what he held in his hand was actual poison and not the sleeping potion that Emilia claimed it was. Rowan knew that.
Lady Emilia, like her mother, had no love for Rowan. Murdering him would be easy for them, especially if they could convince him to do the deed himself. This was why he hesitated to bring the vial to his mouth and drink it. With the threat of actual death looming over him he wasn’t sure that he could go through with it. What was his alternative though? Run? Lord Killian had already warned him against that. If Rowan ran Lord Killian would kill him with his own hands. His other option was to go through with the marriage.
He sighed, none of his choices seemed that great. Each ended with death. Well, marrying Lord Killian wasn’t an absolute death sentence but close enough. He couldn’t imagine being married to the man. His reasons weren’t just what he had seen with his own eyes, if that wasn’t bad enough, but the things he’d heard about the man made his skin crawl. Lord Killian was known for his cruelty and his excessive punishments of both his servants and the people he governed in his own lands.
The most recent story to come out of Grayholm was of a commoner with lands he rented from Lord Killian. The property held a small cottage and barn with limited live stock and a small parcel of land that he farmed. The man was a widower with four sons and three daughters. The man was blood born of course, having once been human, and his children, though born vampires, did not come from noble blood so were considered blood born as well. This made them less in Killian’s eyes. The human blood from their father tainting their blood line.
One particularly hot and dry summer made planting more difficult and come harvest time, his yield was not what he had expected it to be and so brought in little profit. The farmer tried to explain this to Lord Killian. He pleaded to his landlord to give him more time to raise the rent money. He had seven children to feed, animals to care for, and a farm to run. Lord Killian had no compassion for the man though or his starving children and threatened to throw the lot of them off his land. The farmer begged him to reconsider.
Lord Killian’s heart was hardened to the man’s pleas but he was willing to make a deal with him that would allow him to remain on the land for another season. Lord Killian normally didn’t make such deals but he had, on multiple occasions, visited the farm and became quite enamored with the farmer’s youngest daughter, Sabina. She was a beauty in her own right. Though much too thin, she still maintained quite a curvy figure. Her golden hair framed her heart shaped face perfectly, and her milky white skin shone in the moonlight. She was truly a sight to behold.
Lord Killian demanded the girl as payment. At first her father refused but knowing he had no way to pay his debt and having been given a promise by Lord Killian that the girl would not be harmed, the farmer finally gave in. Killian then took Sabina to his manor house where, for several months, she was kept as his mistress. Rowan didn’t know if Lord Killian had mistreated the girl while she was in his care but he could only imagine. Soon though, Killian grew tiered of her and took on a new lover. Sabina was then given to Killian’s guards where she was continuously beaten and raped.
Not able to withstand more of the abuse and Lord Killian refusing to send her home to her family, Sabina eventually killed herself. Rowan heard that Lord Killian was angry more than anything else. Angry because he’d lost his personal property, not because a young girl lost her life. Her demanded compensation from the girls father–one of his remaining two daughters–and when the farmer refused, Killian had his house burned to the ground, seized his life stock, and forced the man and his children off his lands.
This was only one of many stories that had come out of Grayholm. Lord Killian was a tyrant. A cruel, heartless, lecherous, snake. Rowan could only imagine what would become of the kingdom if Lord Killian were left to rule. Rowan figured he’d be safe until Killian took the throne then, who knows what would happen to him. Maybe Killian would grow tired of him as well and his fate would be the same as poor Sabina’s had been.
Rowan shuttered at the thought. No. He could not allow that to happen. His father was a cruel and heartless bastard but at least he’d kept Rowan’s virtue safely guarded. The same couldn’t be said of Lord Killian as he’d already made his intentions perfectly clear. Perhaps death wasn’t such a bad option after all.