Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(51)
Penelope’s mouth went dry. “But it is only a prophecy. Just words.”
Rufus and Petri exchanged a glance. Rufus said a few words in Nvengarian, and Petri shook his head. “You understand not,” Petri said.
“I know that you and Sasha believe in the prophecy,” Penelope said quickly. “I know Damien believes in it too, though he claims he does not.”
Rufus rubbed his short hair as he translated for Petri. Petri gave a harsh laugh.
It was frustrating to have a conversation in this fashion. Penelope waited impatiently for the two to talk and for Rufus to translate back into English.
“Petri does not believe in prophecies either,” Rufus said at last. “I do, but Petri has had harsh life. No, he says the prophecy does not kill Damien. The Grand Duke does.”
Penelope gripped the arms of her chair. “Who?”
“Grand Duke Alexander Octavien Laurent Maximilien, head of Council of Dukes.”
Penelope remembered Damien mentioning the man called Alexander, though she didn’t have much information about him. “This Grand Duke sent the assassin?”
Rufus nodded. He snarled something in Nvengarian, then said, “He is evil man.”
Petri agreed, his scowl dark.
Rufus said, “If Prince Damien returns without princess, then no prophecy. No prophecy, then …” He broke off as though groping for a word.
“What?” Penelope put her hand to her throat. Damien had said nothing of this. He’d gone on about rings and love and being drawn together. He’d mentioned nothing at all about dying if he did not take Penelope to Nvengaria.
“Like this,” Rufus said, and beckoned to Petri.
He mimed tying a blindfold around Petri’s eyes, then stood him against a wall. Petri waited, calm and still. Rufus picked up a tall silver candlestick and shouldered it like a rifle.
Rufus grunted as he jerked into the perfect mime of ready, aim, fire. An explosive sound came from his mouth as his imaginary gun went off, right at Petri’s chest.
Penelope rose from her chair, her hands to her face. “Dear God. You mean he will be executed.”
Rufus brightened. “Yes, that is word. Executed.”
Chapter 15
Penelope froze in place while the room whirled around her. She saw not Petri against the wall, but Damien, waiting stoically while blue-coated Nvengarian soldiers raised rifles and fired a volley of bullets into his body.
She could hear the roar of the guns and smell the acrid stink of gunpowder and the iron bite of blood. Damien’s blood.
Her knees weakened. The floor rushed up at her, then she found herself supported by the strong arms of a concerned Petri, who barked an order at Rufus. Rufus, alarmed, got rid of the candlestick and found brandy.
Petri made her drink it, pressing the glass to her lips himself. His handsome face, faintly scarred, hovered close to Penelope’s, holding worry.
The bite of brandy made the room stop spinning, and Penelope drew a long breath. “Thank you for telling me, Petri,” she whispered.
Rufus translated, and Petri nodded.
Petri’s blue eyes held relief but also grim determination. He cared for Damien, Penelope could see that. He’d do anything, she understood, to save his master’s life, including tie up Penelope and drag her to Nvengaria.
They heard a step, and all three looked up as Damien entered the room.
* * *
Damien’s light mood evaporated when he saw Penelope surrounded by Petri and Rufus, who seemed to be ministering to her. Penelope’s face was white, ringlets of damp hair straggling across her cheeks, her eyes enormous.
He regarded the tableau with a narrowed gaze. Rufus looked guilt-stricken, Petri defiant.
Penelope rose slowly, never taking her eyes from Damien. She moved to him as though dazed, and not until he touched her arm did she blink.
“Damien,” she said softly.
They’d told her.
“Petri,” he growled in Nvengarian. “I will boil you in your own blood for this.”
“She deserved to know, sir.” Petri’s back was straight, his eyes steady, as he answered in the same language. “She needs to marry you. I know you will go back to Nvengaria with or without her, and I can’t let you go back without her.”
“Do not blame Petri,” Penelope said quickly. “I do not know what he is saying, but it is not his fault. It is yours for not telling me the truth.” She glared at him, her beautiful eyes sparkling with anger.
“Don’t defend him, love,” Damien said. “I told him to keep his mouth shut.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Damien saw Rufus trying to sidle away, and pointed a stern forefinger at him. “I will deal with you later.” To Penelope he said, “I want your decision to be a true one. I want you to marry me because it is your choice.”
Penelope’s cheeks reddened. “You told me you’d carry me off if I said no.”
“I might still,” Damien said. “But I wish it to be a true choice from you.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed, her face even more beautiful for her anger. “Damien, of course I cannot let you die. How do you think I’d feel if I learned my decision sent you to your death? That I’d condemned you because I worried you would ignore me after we marry? No matter how much you ignore me, I will not let this Grand Duke execute you.”