The noontime sun was warm against Lucian’s back as he flew over the expansive property of the Norfolk duke. Just like the day before, he sensed the heaviness in the atmosphere within it, along with a very distinct metallic scent. He knew this scent very well; it had surrounded him in the battlefield many times, and would occasionally be present in his nightmares.
The stench of blood alchemy.
The more pervasive it was, the more powerful the alchemists, and such was the case for the knights within the estate. Lucian could sense them as he glided over the closest outpost of the dense forest, his small raven-shaped shadow skating across the leaves. The trees eventually gave way to the tamed grassland of the clearing, and he caught sight of the large oak tree where he had encountered Celestine the day before.
She’s not here. That must mean she’s in the mansion.
Lucian was once again betrayed by a small flutter of excitement in his abdomen, which had begun to plague him whenever he thought of the woman he was about to rescue. He could almost feel the gentle pressure of her fingers on his skin when she had caressed him yesterday, the alluring scent of sugar mixed with warm skin filling his mind.
What the hell am I thinking? The exhaustion has truly addled my brain. Lucian gave himself a small shake, as he took advantage of a gust of wind to speed towards the direction of the mansion. He shouldn’t waste another second mulling over unnecessary things. He was here to carry out the plan to retrieve Celestine, and the faster he could execute it, the quicker he could go back to his duties at the palace and help his father with the war efforts.
Lucian scanned the surroundings, and took note of the locations of the little packets of concentrated energy that peppered the grassy path towards the mansion—alchemical wards. He observed the large marble structure of the ducal residence itself, and sensed a large number of them scattered throughout its many rooms and floors. There was no way that Callisto and the others could infiltrate this place unnoticed. Something as simple as releasing one’s aura would be enough to trigger them, even more so actually using magick.
But unbeknownst to Aurelians, there was one thing their wards couldn’t detect—shape-shifting. Therianthropy, as it was called, remained a sacred art exclusive to the Elysian royal bloodline. Only the descendants from the House of Asterius had the potential for it, and the process of mastering it was a well-kept secret from the other noble families of Elysia. And even then, there was no guarantee that one could use it properly. In fact, there had only been three royals who had managed to do so in the last century, and Lucian was one of them.
And so Lucian had taken it upon himself to personally carry out high stakes missions involving espionage, despite his advisors’ strong protests. It was a risk he was more than willing to make; the royal lineage could be secured by his sister, but this was something only he could do. His duty to the kingdom came first.
With a determined flap of his wings, Lucian navigated towards the top of the mansion. He angled himself downward onto the grey slate roofing, and just before he could land, he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. The familiar burst of pain came immediately. Heat engulfed every inch of his body as if liquid fire had replaced his blood, shooting through his vessels and scalding everything in its wake. The excruciating sensation of flesh tearing apart and bones breaking consumed him. In this very instant, he was malleable. Ready to take form.
One second Lucian was a raven preparing to descend, and the next, he was a black cat stepping foot on the rooftop. It all happened in a span of a heartbeat, the pain disappearing as quickly as it had come. He had done this so many times that the agony that came along with shape-shifting had felt natural to him.
The tiles were hot beneath his paws, but he trotted down towards the edge of the roof unperturbed.
It should be here, Lucian thought, looking down. Directly below where he stood was the marble balcony that led to the bedchamber where he had seen Celestine occupy yesterday. He had turned into a raven and followed her and her friends back from the clearing, but he wasn’t able to get a good look inside since she had closed the curtains upon entering. She had probably taken a bath—
Lucian stopped himself before his mind could go into more dangerous directions. Instead, he fastened his sights on the balcony below. It was wide, but not nearly enough for him to execute the plan. As he had surmised, he would need to shape-shift twice after putting Celestine to sleep; the first time to bring her to the rooftop, and the second, to turn into a being that was capable of flight whilst carrying her—a dragon, he had decided during last night’s meeting. From there, he would fly onto the meeting point just outside the property, where Callisto and the others were waiting. He just needed to wait until nightfall, since moving under the shroud of darkness would minimize the risk.
A prickle of unease skittered across Lucian’s spine, startling him. He instantly surveyed the environment, skimming through the roof, the treetops and then through the ground below. But aside from a group of household staff and some knights that came and went, there was nothing unusual. What was that? Could he be imagining things out of fatigue? No, he definitely felt something amiss, and he had learned early on not to ignore his instincts in missions like this.
Perhaps it was the idea of turning into a dragon that disconcerted him? He had never shape-shifted into something of that scale before. The largest he had gotten was a bear, and that was during training. Assessing the situation, he figured that the biggest peril would be failing to stay in form long enough, since the larger the animal, the more taxing it was to maintain it. But it should take only ten minutes for them to reach the meeting point. Surely, he could manage the flight.
So… what was he missing?
A sudden burst of muffled voices from the bedroom caught Lucian’s attention, one male and one female, but he was too far to identify them, much less understand what they were saying. Was it Celestine? Did something happen to her? Alert, he jumped off the rooftop without a second thought and landed onto the stone railing. He hurried towards the crack in the door leading inside in case he needed to intervene and protect her.
“… is not just unusual but downright suspicious. I need to go there right now, Luce.”
“Please calm yourself, Lord Silas. I understand that this is strange, but barging into the parlor room might cause more trouble.”
So the commotion was because of Silas and Lucille—the “brother” and the friend. But where was Celestine? Lucian peered inside. The distressed expression on the man’s face did little to appease his own growing sense of worry.
“Father can punish me after I find out what this is all about. I can take whatever it is. What’s more important for me is to be there with her.”
“Could you please wait until—Ah, that must be Mary. Thank the gods.”
There was a faint knock on the door before a petite young woman with mousy brown hair entered, eyes practically glittering with excitement. Unlike Celestine’s friend, she was wearing a black-and-white maid’s uniform, and must have been part of the lower staff.
Silas went to her right away. “So? What did you find out? Did any of the footmen say anything? The stable boys?”
Mary nodded animatedly, her bangs flopping in the air. “Yes, my lord. They said there’s a visitor from the palace. The other maids are all abuzz over it.”
“What? A visitor?”
“Yes, my lord, a woman. Very beautiful, according to those who saw her. Some were speculating that she was going to be the next duchess until they found out that she’s working for Prince Caspian directly.”
“But why would father call Celestine there then? He’s practically erased us bastards from his life, so it doesn’t make sense for him to introduce her to a visitor—someone close to the prince, at that.” Silas cast a dumbfounded look at Lucille.
Seeming to enjoy the attention given to her, the girl named Mary added, “There’s something else, my lord.”
“What?”
“They said there’s something odd about her. She had a sort of red tattoo underneath her left eye. A tattoo! How horrid, right? Totally unfit for a lady, if you ask me.”
Lucian froze. The hair all over his body stood on end. His lungs were suddenly devoid of air.
His instincts were right. Danger was upon them.
She’s… here.
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