Chateau Talaud stood silently in the afternoon sky. Months of growth had crawled across the land, nature reclaiming its right. The vineyard had grown wild on some of the acreage and had fallen into barren disuse in others. They walked silently through the gated archway, now crawling with wild vines. The twin pools just beyond the path were filled with brackish, green water now filled to the brim with recent rains. A turtle ran quickly from the tall weeds at the pool's edge that was farthest from the chateau and dove into the inky depths.
Matty and Kyril gasped with excitement before returning to their shy, cautious dispositions.
Jeremy looked up at the chateau, squinting against the sun, before veering right towards a smaller cottage a short distance from the main house. The mere sight of Talaud made him anxious, nervous. His body trembled and he shook his head to shake off the feeling. The beaten path there was barely visible, but visible still. The door opened without a key and Jeremy entered with familiarity. It was a two story, humble country cottage. It was made of stone, washed in pale yellow. Clapboards sat closed over several windows where several birds had inched inward and made nests in the niches. Its roof shared the same Spanish terracotta shingles as the main house as they were built together.
As Anna walked into the cottage after Jeremy, she saw a small bronze placard by the door which read: Petit Talaud. Her fingers slid over the gilded lettering before entering and surveying the living room. It was a modest cottage, furnished with a couch and two high back chairs. The high ceiling beams above the fireplace were blackened from the smoke of the hearth's use. To the left of the fireplace was a tall, narrow bookcase filled beyond capacity. And to the right of the fireplace was a small framed portrait of a beautiful woman. As she walked closer, she saw that the woman had large, pale eyes and dark hair.
Jeremy followed Anna's gaze and took several large strides to the wall, pulling the portrait down. He held it protectively against his chest.
"Who is that," Anna asked.
"The past," he said shortly, almost painfully. He refused to elaborate further, propping the frame backwards against the wall.
Beyond the living room was a low ceiling dining room. A large oak table was seated in the center, seating six people modestly. A coal-burning parlor stove sat in the corner of the room, darkened with soot from being used as a heat source. Beyond the stove sat a large kitchen fireplace. At the end of the room was a tightly wound staircase that led upstairs. In one room, its windows facing the vineyard, sat two twin beds with a large dresser along the wall. Jeremy settled the large trunk of possessions for Matty and Kyril into this room. Anna opened the trunk and gave the boys a few of their toys to play with. She spread out a soft blanket onto the floor and placed Xia on her stomach. The baby looked about, lifting her head and chest, babbling happily before rolling over into sitting position. Anna bid the children to be on their best behavior and followed Jeremy into the next room, closing the door softly behind them. The room was larger, with a wide paned bay window along the west corner wall. There was a richly covered full sized bed and a moderate sized settee placed in this room. Jeremy put her trunk in the corner. He nodded to himself.
"We will stay in this room."
Anna's eyes flew from the view outside the bay windows and turned to Jeremy. She looked at the single bed, the settee and then back at Jeremy.
"We," she asked, her brow rising.
"I'll sleep there," he gestured towards the couch.
"Is that so," Anna's tone sounded annoyed, slightly scandalized.
"I cannot trust that you wouldn't try to escape if you slept alone with the children."
Anna stayed silent—for she had considered the prospect several times over their journey.
"So we will stay in this room," Jeremy reaffirmed.
"Fine," Anna said shortly. "You will sleep there."
She gestured to the couch.
Jeremy nodded.
"I already said I would..."
"Fine," Anna said again, annoyed, and walked from the room.
He did not speak for two days.
When Prince Matthew stepped outside of Euxinograd after slaying his own soldier, Tyler was almost too stunned to move. His prince's face was the color of crimson, his blue eyes shining peculiarly. Tyler combed over him with urgency, looking for a wound but found none. Thank God. Matthew allowed Tyler to take him into the royal carriage, bound for Vrana with haste. No amount of plying could evict a word from his lips. Tyler had wiped his face with his own silk handkerchief as he spoke tenderly to him. Matthew hardly blinked or moved as Tyler touched him reassuringly, exceedingly thankful that he was unhurt. They made it to Vrana without issue.
The bath water was tinged dark pink when Matthew submerged his body into the tub. He was scrubbed with hard brushes and doused in scalding water until he was clean and flushed. Matthew was covered with thick towels before being dressed in fine linen and taken to his bedroom to rest. Food was brought to him on numerous occasions but he did not eat. He did, however, drink brandy throughout the next day and into the next.
On the morning of the third day, Tyler woke to Matthew on top of him, settled snuggly between his legs. He sighed with relief and opened his eyes to Matthew pressing a dagger against his throat. Tyler blinked in confusion, and then fear.
"It breaks me into pieces to know of your treachery," Matthew said, his voice hoarse from disuse.
Tyler swallowed back, recalling his conversations with de la Salvatore as well as the compulsion driven actions he had undertaken. He couldn't deny it.
"What did he say," Tyler asked, his voice shaking. Had de la Salvatore embellished anything?
"So it's true," Matthew's eyes blazed anger and pain. "Is there not a soul left I can trust?"
"Matty…"
"Prince," he spat back, "Matthew."
"Prince Matthew," Tyler began again and stopped, swallowing back hard. Tears began to form and he shook his head slightly. "Had I a ring to negate compulsion…had I vervain flowing in my veins…had I your courage…"
Matthew sharply hissed in his breath, pressing the dagger against Tyler so sharply that beads of blood trickled down his neck. Tyler hardly flinched and encircled his right arm around Matthew's waist.
"I love you, you fool," he cried. "When you took others to bed in front of me, I loved you still. When you cut me down with harsh words to cause laughter amongst your men, I loved you still. When you abandoned me for months at a time, I loved you still…"
Matthew's eyes began to grow glassy as he shook his head.
"You've the tongue of a charlatan," his voice caught.
"I loved you when I met you as a young boy in Sarajevo. I loved you as a young man when we became reacquainted on visit to Hungary. I love you, Prince Matthew, ardently…passionately…in every moment I've ever known you. I have always been your man. Only the darkest magic of hell has pulled me from your grasp and not without my constant struggle. I tried to tell you, but the words would not come. I tried to write you and the letters would not form. I love you, you fool, and strike me dead if you find my words to play you false."
The trickle of blood continued to flow in a thin stream down Tyler's neck and pooled into the hollow of his collarbone and stained his nightshirt.
Matthew's hands shook severely, his tears falling onto Tyler's face. Tyler's other arm went around Matthew's waist and he held him tightly, the dagger still at his throat. Matthew looked down at him and suddenly threw the dagger to the floor and roared into Tyler's shoulder. His hands grasped Tyler's shoulders painfully, his fingers digging deeply into his skin. His entire body shook.
"My children," he said, his voice muffled.
"I know, my love," Tyler turned his face into Matthew's neck, kissing him as he held him. "We will find them. And we will seek vengeance."
Matthew nodded into his shoulder, a slight release of tension left his body.
"Yes," he said, lifting his head to look down at Tyler.
"Tell me what you need me to do, my Prince, and it will be done." Tyler spoke softly.
Matthew thought hard, his head jumbled with so many thoughts. The slain soldier's face flashed periodically in his mind. He shuddered, focusing his attention to his children.
"Someone," he said, "someone had to have seen them—in a carriage or a train. We have eyes everywhere and de la Salvatore, no matter how clever he thinks he is—he could not have gotten to all our emissaries. "
Tyler nodded.
"Make quiet inquires," Matthew said carefully. "This must be done delicately yet quickly. We have six months until my son is born. Six months to find my children who were stolen from me. Once we have them…once my son is born…yes, vengeance will be dealt in spades." Matthew was quiet for a moment before speaking. "De la Salvatore will be killed by my hand and my whore of a wife will be wrangled back in line. Damn them both to hell."
The Mekitsa was still warm, steam rising into the air, when it reached Elena.
These delicate, deep fried flatbreads were piled atop one another on a plate of fine bone china. They were dusted with sugar and drizzled with honey and walnuts.
Elena extended her thanks to Caroline who watched her with concern before leaving the room. Damon shut the door behind her and moved towards the window. He pulled open the plush curtains and tied them back with their cord. Elena squinted in the sunlight and shrunk back, her fingers going to her temple.
She hadn't been able to keep down food for the last two days. She stared down at her breakfast plate with distrust. Lifting her fork slowly, she began to cut the Mekitsa. Damon sat in a chair beside the window, watching her. Elena put the fork down suddenly, her gaze still downcast.
"Where is my husband," she asked, her voice small. She realized then that she was afraid of what Damon would say. Was he in the dungeon? Was he…murdered? Dear God…
"Vrana," Damon said shortly.
Elena looked up in surprise.
"Vrana?"
"He's staying there until after you give birth," he remarked.
Damon stood and walked towards her, taking the fork off her tray and stabbing it into the flatbread. He sopped it in honey about the plate before raising it to her mouth, to which Elena ate while watching him. After she swallowed a mouthful, she spoke.
"How was that managed? Matthew is not a man to take orders…"
"I drive a hard bargain," Damon cut another piece of the mekitsa and placed it at her lips.
Elena backed away and looked up at him. "What kind of bargain?"
"It's better if you don't know. Please eat."
"Damon..."
"Do you trust me," He asked abruptly.
Elena blinked with surprise.
"Yes, of course I do," she said with a conviction that pleased him.
"Then do not ask me. Any sort of…exertion…any sort of stress is dangerous for you. You probably wouldn't be very fond of what I've done. And I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm worried as hell."
"I don't like how that sounds..."
"I knew you wouldn't. I just need you to trust me."
Elena said stared up at Damon and said nothing.
He looked down at her and placed the fork back on the tray. His fingers reached for her jaw, touching it her skin just barely. He dropped his hand and walked towards the window, looking out at the palace grounds.
"Promise me you won't kill him," she heard herself say. "I couldn't…I couldn't live with it. He is not a great man. He is not even a good man. And he is most certainly not the man that I love. But my children…"
Damon's heart clenched. He turned his head into his shoulder, his eyes catching hers.
"I promise," he said.
They were both quiet for a time. She picked up her fork again but her nausea had returned. She thought of the morphine that Damon had thrown into the fire a few days prior. She would have licked the floor of the fireplace if she thought she'd find any remnant of it there. The thoughts shamed her…she was weak. She had always been weak. She sighed and fell back against her pillows. Sleep was her only solace now. She blinked, suddenly realizing how tired she was. She turned and looked at Damon, his dark silhouette cut out in the bright sunlight. He was the picture of a god. She smiled sleepily as she thought of him. Though she did not deserve him, she was grateful he was here. He turned his face slightly and the light captured his features. She saw deep concern there before she lapsed into sleep.
