Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Read Online Free PDF Page A

scent?
    “What are you standing there for? Go and fetch the queen some warmed wine.” Verity jumped as Lady Rochford turned to glare at her.
    She retreated from the bed and relayed the order to one of the other ladies. Trying not to draw attention to herself, she walked around the queen’s bedchamber sniffing delicately at the air. She hadn’t been this close to the queen before, or in such an enclosed space. To her dismay there was more than one scent she could identify as Vampire.
    The queen lay back on her pillows, her expression distant as Lady Rochford continued to whisper to her. One of the other ladies touched Verity’s shoulder and nodded toward the door. Verity was quite glad to leave. Knowing that Vampires had been so close to the queen’s person seemed to bear out Elias Warner’s fears about the queen. But why would he care? He was a Vampire. Verity wrinkled her nose. None of this made sense.
    She let out her breath and stared at the now closed door. There was no way around it. She needed help and it seemed that Rhys Williams would have a part to play whether she liked it or not. Verity paused to consider where Rhys might be and reckoned he would most likely be eating in the great hall with the king and all his other courtiers.
    She straightened her back. Much as it pained her, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. She would have to make her peace with Rhys and ask for his help. She knew that the life of the queen was far more important than swallowing her pride.
     
     
    Rhys had taken a seat in the middle of the banqueting hall so that he could watch who came and went through the main doors. The queen wasn’t present, which meant that most of the queen’s ladies weren’t there either. It also meant that the atmosphere in the hall was rowdier than usual. The queen’s two brothers, Edward and Thomas Seymour, sat on either side of the king. Their family star was in the ascendant and their ambition glaringly obvious even to Rhys.
    But the Seymour family had much to be joyous about. Jane had ensnared the king and was carrying his child. If that child was a boy, the king’s elation would spill over and even the lowliest member of the extensive Seymour clan would find himself on the rise. But if it wasn’t . . . Rhys speared a mouthful of pigeon on the end of his dagger from the trencher he shared with his neighbor and chewed slowly before washing it down with the watery ale.
    Despite the heat, fires had been lit in the vast fireplaces and he was sweating like a pig in the fine black velvet doublet Christopher had lent him. Rhys touched the leather pouch secured at his waist. He had plenty of coin; perhaps it was time he had some new clothes made for himself that weren’t quite so stifling.
    Rhys cleaned off his dagger on the rough bread and finished his ale. He stiffened when he saw the unmistakable figure of Verity Llewellyn appear in the doorway. She wore a green gown with matching sleeves and a silver bodice that plumped her breasts up almost to her chin. Even as he appreciated the sight, Rhys realized that other men were starting to notice Verity too. He bade his eating companions a civil good-night and made his way around the edge of the hall toward Verity.
    By the time he got there, she was surrounded by some of the younger court gallants and backed up against the wall. To his surprise she didn’t look frightened by all the attention. Her expression remained calm and pleasant as she responded to whatever slurred gallantries fell from drunken lips.
    Rhys caught her eye over the heads of the fools. He deliberately widened his stance and placed his hand over the hilt of his sword. “Cousin, were you looking for me? May I escort you outside?”
    Verity walked toward him and the men fell away from her, grumbling among themselves. “Thank you, Cousin. That would be delightful.”
    The tallest of the men turned to Rhys and then seemed to think better of arguing. Rhys held the man’s gaze until