The Fifth Moon's Lovers (The Fifth Moon's Tales Book 3) Page 3

  The refreshments arrived a few minutes later, brought by the new cabin boy. “Where would you like to eat?” the young man asked, balancing a heavy tray on arms that still needed to grow muscles.

  “Put it in the breakfast nook, thank you.” Valentine pointed at the table by the curved window that covered half of the nook’s wall.

  The sailor set the tray on the wooden table, then turned on his heels and faced Valentine with his head slightly bowed. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “That is all for now,” Valentine answered, ready to be alone.

  By the time the cabin boy had closed the door with a soft click, Valentine had already forgotten about the meal waiting for him, his thoughts solely focused on Mirella.

  An hour later, the captain announced they had received the green light and maneuvered the Beagle out of the hangar. The ship levitated several hundred meters into the sky before the engines roared to life, propelling it higher and closer to the atmosphere. From the observation deck in his cabin, Valentine relaxed on a comfy chaise lounge and watched the lateral sails unfurl like fringed butterfly wings, two per side.

  The Beagle slowly soared into the night sky, elegantly swimming through the ether like a marine creature.

  Chapter Four

  Curled on the bench of her parlor, Mirella watched as the silhouette of the Beagle Voyager hovered over Lobo Mansion. From her apartments, she had a better view of the hangar looming in the distance, and she had been sitting there for a while, looking out the window for a last glance of Valentine.

  The big cruiser shadowed the grounds, its vertical white sails billowing as the lateral wings fluttered, their long tendrils trailing softly behind. A thick blanket of purple clouds hid the Fifth Moon from sight, but once in a while, silver rays escaped in waves of light that illuminated the landscape, alternating darkness and brightness in perpetual motion.

  She kept one hand pressed against her stomach and didn’t blink until the ship was but a dot in the sky. Even when she could no longer discern the dot, she remained sitting on the bench, thinking of her husband’s bittersweet goodbye.

  Valentine’s motives to leave Lupine had seemed genuine, but there was something about him that she couldn’t divine, and that worried her. She had sensed his despair. Valentine had laughed when the occasion required him to look jovial, but when he made love to her, his intensity had been all-encompassing and tinged with a heartbreaking sadness. She hoped he would find his answers and come back to her as his usual self. Valentine could be arrogant and hard-headed, but she loved him the way he was, and it pained her to see him upset.

  “Would you like a cup of violet-infused tea?” Crea asked. “It’s freshly brewed, and I also brought wild-apricot tartelettes.”

  Her lady’s maid had been hovering at the edge of Mirella’s sight for the last hour. She had left for a few minutes, returning with a tray she deposited on the breakfast table facing the large wall-to-wall window.

  Mirella hoisted herself up on the cushion, then swung her legs to the floor. “Only if you accompany me.” She walked the few steps to the table and waited for Crea to take her place at the other end. “Take a break,” Mirella said, indicating the chair in front of Crea.

  Like on any other instance when Mirella had offered her reprieve, Crea hesitated for a moment but eventually sat. After serving her mistress, she poured some tea for herself, straining the purple petals between two silver teaspoons.

  Mirella let the color swirl in her cup, observing how the rich hue of wild flowers mixed with the already pink beverage, then she added a third dollop of cream to the usual amount already provided by her efficient lady’s maid.

  Crea smiled but didn’t say anything.

  “One of those days,” Mirella commented, reciprocating the smile with a wink. “Plus, in my state, I can do whatever I want.”

  “I would’ve thought you already could, being the Blessed Bride—” Crea’s eyes widened, and she brought a hand to her mouth as if she had never meant to speak the thought out loud. “I apologize.”

  Mirella waved her spoon and let out a long sigh. “You are free to say anything you want. I thought we had already agreed on that.”

  Crea looked up from under her thick lashes. “May I be honest with you?”

  “Of course.” Mirella grabbed a tartelette shaped like a heart from the dessert plate. The flaky treat was still warm and melted on her tongue, soliciting a satisfied moan from her when her teeth sank into the fruit compote core. The tartness of the wild-apricot set off the honey used to thicken the orange jam. She had not preferred bitter flavors in the past, but had acquired a taste for them just recently, and her lady’s maid must have noticed because she started choosing food accordingly in the last few days.

  “It still doesn’t feel okay to share meals with you and talk to you as if we were equals.” Crea’s eyes darted low at the end of her confession.

  “There’s no difference between you and me. It’s just birth that put us in different stations, and circumstances can change.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do.” Mirella pointed her chin at the array of sweets displayed on the plate. “Now, have something to eat. I don’t want to get fat all by myself.”

  “Thank you,” Crea whispered, reaching for one of the pastries.

  “Did you know that the harem is being dismantled?” Mirella asked.

  She was still shocked by Valentine’s announcement. More than any other gift he could have given her, his decision to send away the courtesans pleased her beyond words. In fact, she had not been able to say much to him when he announced that the closure of the harem was a done deal.

  Crea nodded amidst mouthfuls of the sweet. “Yes, it’s the talk of the day among the servants.”

  “Did you speak with any of the courtesans?”

  “I have a few friends among them, girls that worked at the same pleasure den I was indentured to.”

  “What’s the mood?”

  After wiping the dough crumbles from her lips, Crea answered, “Some of them are happy to start anew. Others would like to continue the profession. Master Lobo has promised to help them open a co-op. He’s a good man.”

  Mirella’s heart swelled, and she automatically caressed her belly. “He is a great man.”

  “He even told the girls who don’t want to leave that they can stay and work at the manor, and he is going to provide education to anyone who asks.” Crea’s eyes filled with moisture. “Would it be okay if I enroll in a few classes?” she asked, then hastily added, “I won’t be remiss in my duties. I’ll study at night and—”

  “I can manage on my own. You can have as much time as you need to study.” Mirella finished her cup of tea, then reached for another pastry. “What would you like to study?”

  “History and economics,” Crea answered, then lowered her eyes once again.

  “That’s—” Mirella put the pastry down.

  “Stupid. I know—” The girl’s hands fisted on the table.

  “I was going to say that’s brilliant.” Mirella leaned forward and stretched her hand to place it over one of Crea’s fists. “I hated my classes, but I was never given a choice to decide what I wanted to study. Since birth, I’ve been groomed to be a blessed bride and to please my husband.”

  “Don’t you like being the Blessed Bride?” Crea frowned.

  “I love being married to Valentine, and that wouldn’t have happened otherwise, but I never liked the whole Blessed Bride concept per se. I hated when my tutors taught me that I should submit to a werewolf I’d never met. The other girls my age went to balls and came out to society. They had suitors and stolen kisses, while I was relegated in my high tower, waiting for my twenty-fifth birthday to be shipped away to my husband—” Mirella stopped in the middle of her speech when she realized Crea was staring at her with wide eyes. Understanding she had been an insensitive brat, Mirella gave Crea a rueful smile. “Listen to me complaining.” She sighed, then shook
her head. “I know it doesn’t sound half-bad compared with the life you had.” She squeezed Crea’s hand. “It’s me who has to apologize now. Forgive my outburst.”

  Crea shook her head. “No need for apologies. I never realized that you had been imprisoned as well.”

  Mirella shrugged, already regretting her previous words. “I was pampered after all.”

  “It doesn’t sound that much fun the way you describe it.”

  “Forget I’ve said anything. Valentine has just left, and I already feel cranky without him.” Mirella took a good chunk out of the second tartelette, and the wild-apricot compote spilled all over her face, making her laugh.

  Crea joined in the laugh and fixed another cup of hot tea for Mirella.

  Mirella dusted her mouth with a lace serviette, then cleansed her palate with a few sips of tea before attacking the third pastry. “I was thinking that I would like to help the courtesans—”

  “How?” Crea raised her eyebrows.

  “In any way I can. I could coordinate with the ones who want to remain and find them suitable occupations if they also want to study. The manor is big; there’s work for everybody.” Mirella savored the last bite of the sweet and mentally swore that was her last treat. “I can also help with the co-op.”

  “Would you, really?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  Crea gave her a long look, then smiled. “You are a good person.”

  Mirella opened her hands and said, “It isn’t their fault that Lupine society created the need for harems. Of course, I don’t like the idea of Valentine with another woman, but he has lived a long life before I even existed, and I know he hasn’t entered the harem since I came to live at the manor. I don’t know if I could be equally understanding if he still sought courtesans like so many in Adris do.” The mere idea made her sick to the stomach.

  “When I worked at the den, most of the clients were married men who couldn’t afford to keep a harem.” Crea’s stare unfocused for a moment before snapping back to Mirella. “Anyway, it’s the way it is.” Her expression remained pensive as she folded her napkin in half.

  “I’ve never asked, but before you became my lady’s maid, what did you do?” Mirella asked.

  At the question, Crea’s eyes lit and her features softened. “I worked as a lady’s maid for an older patron who passed away recently.”

  Mirella paused stirring her tea. “I thought you were at the manor the whole time.”

  “No. After Master Lobo rescued me and the other girls, he asked us what we wanted to do. The others wanted to be courtesans, but I didn’t, and he found me a good house. When my employer died, I asked Master Lobo if I could come to the manor while I found another job. He ended up assigning me to you.”

  “I’m glad things worked out the way they did. I like you a lot.” Mirella reached out again to pat the girl’s hand.

  “You are the best employer I could’ve asked for, Mirella.” Crea’s voice broke at the end.

  “Here, have this tartelette or I’ll end up eating it instead,” Mirella said to lighten the mood, but in truth, she had eyed the fourth pastry and would have devoured it if alone. “I’ve never been so hungry my entire life.”

  “It’s normal. A girl from the den became pregnant, and she kept the baby. She wouldn’t stop eating, but then she would suffer from morning sickness and swear she would never eat again, only to devour her next meal.”

  Mirella couldn’t help but chuckle at Crea’s description of her friend. “I’m going to be that woman soon.” With a sigh, she pushed the dessert plate away from her and closer to Crea.

  A knock on the outer door interrupted their laughter. Crea stood and went to answer, only to come back a moment later with Gabriel and Dragon in tow.

  “Are you okay?” the vampire asked Mirella.

  “Of course I am.” She noted the men’s worried expression. “Why?”

  “We thought you were in Valentine’s quarters.” Dragon passed a hand over his short but unruly mane.

  While Valentine kept shaving his hair as a reminder of the duel he fought against Dragon, the Solarian was letting his blond locks grow back.

  “But you are fine—” Dragon looked around, his aquamarine eyes studying the room with an intense stare.

  “I am.” Mirella’s hair stood on end on the back of her neck, and she shivered. “Why?” Her gaze darted to the window, looking for the dot of Valentine’s ship, but besides the dark sky, nothing else had been visible for more than an hour. “Did something happen?”

  Dragon and Gabriel exchanged a brief look, then the vampire stepped closer to the table.

  “Someone entered Valentine’s quarters and left a message behind,” Gabriel said.

  “What do you mean? What message?” Mirella stood, and Crea was immediately behind her.

  “It doesn’t matter. The room is being cleaned as we speak.” Gabriel raised one hand when Mirella made to move around him. “You don’t want to go back there.”

  “Why?” Mirella asked.

  Gabriel looked from Mirella to Crea, then back to Mirella. “There’s still some smell lingering.”

  “Smell of what?” A bout of nausea made Mirella recoil.

  “Blood,” Dragon said when Gabriel didn’t answer. “Someone brought a lamouris carcass to your bedroom.”

  Without warning knocks, Martali, Valentine’s head guard, strode into the parlor. Several guards followed him, all dressed in full combat gear.

  “Blessed Bride, I wanted to make sure you are unharmed,” the head guard said, then his head imperceptibly turned toward Crea before refocusing on Mirella.

  “We are both fine. Do you know who did that?” Mirella asked.

  “Not yet,” Martali answered. “I have already dispatched my elite guard, and they will get back to me as soon as they have checked that the estate perimeter has not been compromised.”

  “I don’t think the Blessed Bride was ever in danger,” Dragon said, his hand scratching the blond stubble on his chin.

  “I agree.” Martali walked back to the entrance. “The carcass and the message were meant to scare her—”

  “What did it say?” Mirella asked the head guard.

  “Someone traced the words ‘Leave Lupine’ on the wall facing the fireplace.” Martali hesitated a moment, then added, “In blood.”

  A stronger wave of nausea gripped Mirella, and she clutched her midsection while leaning forward. Crea grabbed her elbow and kept her from falling, but Dragon and Gabriel were right behind.

  “Maybe some verbena tea will soothe you.” Crea stroked her back, then helped her sit.

  “We’ll take care of the Blessed Bride,” Gabriel said, nodding at Crea. “You can go.”

  The girl only left when Mirella confirmed that she would be fine.

  “This is the Leader’s work,” Mirella said, her gaze going back to the window. “Is Valentine safe out there?”

  “We won’t be able to contact him until he’s onboard Sidera Prime and communication mirrors can be used. But my assessment is that a terror tactic has been used to destabilize the household and scare you, Blessed Bride. If whoever is behind this attack had wanted to harm you, they would have already.”

  Mirella hugged herself, and Dragon promptly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The garment was large and enveloped her like a warm blanket. She whispered her thanks, then said, “It’s someone from the house, isn’t it?”

  “Lobo Manor is impregnable,” Martali said with pride. “Nobody can enter without my saying so.”

  “Then, we must interrogate everyone who works here.” Gabriel leaned against the window’s frame, folding his arms low.

  “I’m already on it,” the head guard said. “One of my men is organizing the interviews, starting with all the servants who have direct access to Master Lobo’s apartments.”

  “How many people work here?” Dragon asked.

  “About five hundred,” Martali answered.

  Mirella was
surprised by the high number. “I had no idea so many people tended to the house.”

  “And they all live in the manor since the estate was built in the middle of the Great Plains,” Martali explained.

  As Mirella knew firsthand, it took two hours to reach Adris with Valentine’s fast airbike, much longer if one traveled by terrain vehicles like the majority of the working class did.

  “It will take several days to talk to every single one of them, but I will get to the bottom of this, I promise,” concluded Martali.

  “And in the meantime, Dragon and I will guard the Blessed Bride with our lives,” Gabriel said as the Solarian brought his fist to his heart in a silent oath.

  Crea returned a few minutes later with a kitchen servant in tow who carried a cart loaded with food and beverages. “I thought you might need to fortify yourself before resuming your duty,” she said, her hands fiddling with the hem of her sleeves. “It’s going to be a long night, and you might not have time to take a break later.”

  “Thank you, Crea,” Gabriel and Martali said at the same time.

  “That was very thoughtful of you.” Dragon leaned over the cart and grabbed a plate he proceeded to fill with food.

  At the sight of the sweet bread, tarts, and savory pies, Mirella’s stomach revolted and she barely reached the connected bathroom before throwing up for several minutes. Crea didn’t leave her side until Mirella was done, then handed her a soft cotton towel and accompanied her back to the parlor when she finally stopped heaving.

  “I’m fine,” Mirella said for the hundredth time that evening before anyone else could ask her the question.