When Ash Falls (London Fairy Tales #4)(49)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Surprised, Ash gave him a nod of approval and looked around at the misfits. They were loyal. He had to give them that. And right now, they would have to do. Because the woman he loved — the woman he would die for — was with the enemy, and he’d made a promise to her. A promise to protect her until his dying day.

“This is what we are going to do,” Ash said, injecting steel into his voice. He barked instructions in rapid succession.

Each guard nodded and disappeared as soon as he’d been dismissed.

“Pierce and Hunter,” Ash said aloud. Damn, he hated involving them.

“Thy name sounds so sweet upon your lips.” Pierce sauntered up to him, his smile giddy until he noticed Ash’s expression. “What the hell happened?”

“She’s here.” Cornelius, the only remaining guard, spoke up.

“Lots of she’s running about.” Pierce’s eyebrows shot up.

“Sofia’s stepmother… she’s… evil… wants to kill the princess.” Cornelius gritted his teeth.

Pierce focused in on Ash. “What do you need? Consider it done.”

“I need you to be yourself…” Ash nodded. “…with the stepmother. Can you do that?”

“Be myself?” Pierce’s eyebrows furrowed.

Cornelius sighed. “He means for you to seduce the elderly woman.”

Pallor swept over Pierce’s face as he visibly recoiled. “Elderly?”

“Cornelius,” Ash warned. “Remember what I said. Do you think you can accomplish such a task?”

Squaring his shoulders, Cornelius drew a stout breath. Then he nodded and ran off.

“Pierce,” Ash said, smacking his friend on the shoulder. “We’re to play a game.”

“Oh splendid. I do love a good chess match. Tell me, am I going to topple the queen?”

“One could only hope.”

“A scuffle before lovemaking.” Pierce grinned and pulled the pistol from his pocket. “All in all, a lovely evening.”

“We have to save her.” Ash pushed his emotions back into the furthest recesses of his mind. He had to think clearly, without emotion, without feeling. He could not — would not — put Sofia in more danger than she was already in. With a cold stare in Pierce’s direction, he pulled the pistol from his pocket. “Shoot to kill.”

“Always do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

It is always imperative that when aiming to kill — one does not hesitate. Hesitation leads to death, most likely your own. —The Grimm Reaper

SOFIA AWOKE WITH A start. Her arms were tied in front of her, placed on her lap. The room was dimly lit, or perhaps it was her vision. Peter stood a few feet away, his dark eyes gleaming with hatred, and her stepmother — her very own stepmother — stood by his side.

She looked every inch the royalty she was, from her crimson dress with matching headdress to the giant feathers poking from her head. Her neck was draped in diamonds and rubies, so much so that it appeared as if she’d worn every piece of jewelry she owned.

Ruby slippers peeked from beneath her heavy velvet gown.

“So…” Esmeralda’s voice chilled Sofia to the core. “…you’ve been busy.”

Sofia glared.

“Then again…” Esmerelda’s eyebrow arched. “I always knew you were never good enough to be princess… but an English whore?” Her lip curled into a snarl. “My, how the mighty fall.”

“Just following my stepmother’s shining example. Tell me, how many lovers did you take during your marriage? Was it seven, or ten?”

The vile woman’s eyes narrowed.

Sofia tossed her head. “Oh, I see you’ve lost count. Age has a way of doing that to one’s brain.”

Esmerelda stalked toward her. The slap echoed across the face. The rings may as well have imprinted themselves permanently onto Sofia’s skin. Wincing, she reached for her cheek, only to have her wrist grabbed by her stepmother.

“Stupid girl.” With a jerk, she released her wrist and laughed, the lines around her face deepening with hatred as her icy blue eyes examined Sofia from head to toe. “Peter, come here, dear.”

Peter strode toward them, each step precisely placed, his smile menacing.

Despite her resolve to be strong, Sofia shivered.

“Well…” Her stepmother arched her eyebrows. “…may as well get it over with.”

“Over with?” Sofia repeated, looking between them.

“You have ten minutes.” Her stepmother sniffed. “I’ll wait in the hall, and then we’ll make our leave.”

Peter’s smile turned positively bone-chilling. “I only need five.” His eyes focused in on Sofia’s décolletage. He licked his lips.

She stepped back, the backs of her legs hitting the chair. “Wait, what are you doing?”

The sound of her stepmother’s laughter caused a sob to catch in Sofia’s throat. Her own stepmother.

“I’m doing what I should have done ages ago, my dear.” Peter tilted his head. “Teaching you a lesson.” He reached for the sleeves of her gown and ripped them clean off; her dress hung loosely around her breasts. She reached up to keep it in place, only to have her hands pried away again.

Peter reached for her breasts. “Like ripe… apples.”

Her lower lip quivered as she tried to pull away.

He cursed and jerked her against his body. “There will be no escaping this.”

Sofia squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined a world where there was no evil, a world where Peter wasn’t touching her intimately… a world where only she and Ash existed.

A happy ending where the ashes from her father’s grave weren’t a sign of evil things to come — but a marriage to a man she loved.

Cornelius stumbled down the hall ahead of Ash and ran right into the lady in the red dress.

“Mistress!” he exclaimed. “You’ve arrived! And not a moment too soon!”

Her eyes narrowed, piercing him with a glare. “You betrayed me.”

“I was deceived by her lies.” Cornelius sniffled. “I loved her!”

“Please…” The woman rolled her eyes. “…she’s but a child.”

“But her skin… white as snow, her lips as red as a rose.” Cornelius placed his hand over his heart.

The woman touched her own face, her hands shaking. “But she is not the fairest of all. She will never take my place.”