A Frigid Grasp - 9. A Call for Blood

“This suit is too stuffy.”

“One suffers for art.”

“This looks like someone puked colors over me.”

“Hardly.” Arden rolled his eyes as he fixed the last tassels on Damal’s outfit. He looked pleasant, and he kept the man’s usually-unruly hair slicked down with a special gel that was all the rage lately. The fact that the ensemble was emerald-green was Damal’s displeasure alone. “There, now you will draw the attention of men and women alike and for good reason.”

“I feel like a huge fucking lie.”

“Everyone’s a liar in Minoire.” Arden straightened his own teal outfit, a decorative silver pauldron over his right shoulder and an intricate mask concealing most of his face. Over his head was a cowl that shadowed most of his face. His original outfit was tucked away in a closet. His satchel, an intricate black bag with tassels and ropes, hung on one shoulder. He pulled back the hood to get a better look at himself in the mirror. “I think I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine,” Damal whistled. “Never knew you to look so good in noble clothes, Good Doctor.”

A knock sounded on the door before Roland let himself in with two cups of cocoa in his hands. Seeing Arden, he stood there, gaping. “Maker, you look dazzling.”

Arden smiled and strode to Roland, teasing him with a quick kiss on the cheek. Arden loved Roland’s outfit. The dress uniform fit the man’s frame rather well, and the trousers offered enough insight to how well he stayed in shape. “Thank you, Roland. Are one of those for me?” His finger pointed to one of the mugs. Roland nodded and handed Arden the one on his left. “You’re so thoughtful, Roland.”

“Oh my god, you two are disgustingly…sweet.” Damal laughed. Roland shot him a disapproving look, and Damal skipped out to the door, but not before calling back, “You can fuck AFTER the party!”

Roland groaned and took Arden’s hand in his. “Maker, but that child is insufferable.”

“He’s your age, Roland,” Arden chided, sipping on his mug. He squeezed Roland’s hand back with a little smile, just for him. “I rather like seeing you like this, Captain. I’m sure you’ll make heads turn at the party.”

Roland pulled at his collar, suddenly feeling a tad stuffy. “Well, I should hope so. Rustan had his tailor finish this for me some time ago. He was adamant I would come to one of the balls.”

“I should thank his tailor then. I’m quite jealous, though. This tailor must have had ample time to measure you.”

“Oh, you’ll fare better, I imagine,” Roland teased back. “Arden, I don’t know what it is… this… is, so I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Well, I’d like to give it a try and we could go from there,” Arden offered, his smile almost innocent even under the mask. “I know how new this all must seem to you. And I’ve been dying just trying to control myself.”

“You needn’t hold back on me.”

“Then I’ll take you up on that.” Without warning, Arden lunged, lips planting on Roland’s with a ferocity that Roland was all too eager to reciprocate. It wasn’t long before the Captain had the Doctor pinned against a wall, stealing his breath with frantic, urgent kisses. Arden whimpered under the assault when they heard someone clear their throat behind them.

Rustan was letting himself in and shut the door behind him, glaring pointedly at his brother and his assistant. “This is some twisted romance novel that I’m sure I’ve read somewhere before.”

Roland cleared his throat and stepped back, jerking as he caught Arden from falling tot eh ground. The doctor’s knees had buckled during their little tongue battle. “Sorry,” Arden laughed nervously, hands gripping Roland’s arms. “Will this be a problem?”

“Only if you cause a scandal in public,” Rustan admonished. “We’re running short on time. I suggest you two clean up and get downstairs. We have an escort of guards that will accompany us to the party. Please do behave yourselves.” With that, the man left.

Roland and Arden’s eyes met before they were giggling to themselves. At least they had something to look forward to tonight.

Arden recognized the guards in their escort as the bare few who could jest with the Captain. He had also seen them enough for them to recognize each other, as Elliot Goulding, of course. Antonio, Damal’s boss, had sent scouts to keep an eye on the party and them from a distance. The Captain had begrudgingly agreed to the arrangement.

As they neared the venue, they could hear the party was in full swing. The sun had just set and the lanterns on the streets lit the many paths and roads. There were new lanterns hung outside the door, further lighting the street. A few guards were in masks, hired help instead of the Home Guard. Arden looked every part the nobleman as they were let in without a second glance. Someone announced their entrance, complete with titles. “Presenting! Lord Rustan Amadeus Valeria! And adopted brother, Lord Guard Captain Roland Valeria-Gallahad. Accompanying them, Master Elliot Goulding of Bassan, assistant to Lord Rustan Valeria! And…” The man fumbled his introduction for Damal. “Advisor to the Masses, Damal von Dietrich.” The quiet mumble earned mumbles and snickers from the crowd present.

“Was that title necessary?” Damal muttered under his breath. All the same, Arden heard him.

“You needed a title you could play on your own and deviate with. I figured it was the best one.” The group were greeted by the host just as their escort dispersed. Arden watched as pleasantries were exchanged between the Valerias and the Lancelots.

The head of the house, Lucius Lancelot, was a tall man with silver-white hair, well into his senior years but going strong if his posture was any sign of it. He held his head high and his hair was slicked back regally. His gaze was warm as any welcoming host’s would be. His daughter and the celebrant, Cersei Lancelot, was an elegant brunette who looked like she could read you for filth and break your ego, heart, and reputation all in a few words. Her gaze was condescending if not falsely warm. She studied Arden with a trained eye, and smirked. Arden offered a wan smile in return, refusing to hide under her gaze. The older woman beside her was Gwendolyn Lancelot, who stood tall and had her chin up. She was impassive, at best. Her hair was only beginning to gray and her eyes were sharp as she studied the party.

“Such a shame your brother could not make it,” Rustan remarked to Cersei as he kissed her hand in greeting. “I was wondering if he’d be able to visit.”

“The Knight-Commander is rather tight with him,” Cersei explained. Arden noticed how she didn’t seem to mind that at all, nor took pleasure in it. Indifferent. “It can’t be helped. The way of the Templar asks for devotion to the cause and the Creed.”

“So I hear.”

Cersei smiled and moved her gaze from Rustan to Arden. Roland was speaking privately with Lord Lucius Lancelot. “And you must be the infamous assistant I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Rumors already?” Arden huffed as he kissed her hand. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks, my lady. Hardly a month.”

“And yet you’ve done much errands for dear Rustan here. It’s remarkable, really. How did he ever find you?”

“I was looking for work when I was acquainted with his brother, Roland. He referred me to Rustan. The rest, as you say, is history.”

“And yet you’ve done remarkably well for yourself.” Cersei sized up ‘Elliot’ from top to bottom, and smirked when she deemed him satisfactory. “You must be quite remarkable if they chose to put their trust in you.”

“I was all too eager to prove myself. I am glad that Lord Rustan Valeria was charitable to me.”

“And you’ve proven that you’ve earned my respect,” Rustan added. “Lady Cersei, if you don’t mind, I would like to make the rounds with Elliot here. I’d like him to be more familiar with the other nobles. But I’d like to speak with you again later. Will that be alright?”

“I suppose a fledgling must learn how to fly.” She glanced back between the two before nodding her consent. “I’ll see you later then, Lord Valeria. It’s a pleasure making your acquaintance, Master Elliot.”

Rustan led him around and did as he promised, and Elliot had the luxury of making small talk with the other nobles. A lot of them were very, very haughty, to say the least. Only a handful were much more subtle or much more graceful. It was a while before Arden encountered a familiar face. “Ah, Mistress Flavell, I presume?”

The Mistress Flavell was dressed in a fine purple gown and wore jewelry that were few but intricate. She smiled at Arden with a curious cock of an eyebrow. “Hello there. And you are?”

“Master Goulding, assistant to Lord Rustan Valeria. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Lord Valeria spoke highly of you and your family, and I’m glad to finally put a face to the name.”

She looked behind Arden and to Rustan, who was engaged with three other nobles. “Only a few families here have their wits about them, some might say. You’re fortunate to be his assistant. The young man shows much promise. He reminds me of my son Henry: good intentions, much potential.”

This wasn’t new information to Elliot. Rustan had mentioned some Flavell history while they were going over the noble families. “He must be a great man.”

“Always has been,” she agreed sadly. “You know, there’s something about you that strikes me familiar. You remind me of a travelling doctor who was here none too long ago.”

“The one involved in the recent searches Lord Gallahad is conducting?” Arden asked, tone carefully innocent. “I heard he was held in high regard, but not many shared his views. It was the talk of the streets when I arrived here in the city.”

Miss Flavell nodded grimly. “That man does not deserve the rumors people whisper about him. I’m a good judge of character, you know. I could tell the man had a good heart. This kidnapping was the work of greed.”

“Master Gallahad mentioned something along the lines of foul play, but he wouldn’t say much else.”

“I personally suspect the Lancelots. It’s no secret they’re chummy with mercenaries. However…” She looked around, casting a glare over the entire room. “Mercenaries are not known for their loyalties. Any noble with the coin would pay for a hit. The noble family of doctors, the Espoirs, take pride in leading the medicine trade here in the city. But there have been rumors of the Good Doctor being a mage, which puts the Lancelots in focus. And then there are people who simply don’t like the idea of charity going against their business. A lot of families here are invested.”

“In other words, too many possibilities to make a firm accusation,” Arden surmised. “Hopefully, the Home Guard could shed some answers about this. If this small doctor was a concern, one can imagine how many honey pots these families have their hands in.”

“That I agree with.”

“But what makes you unsusceptible of suspicion, Mistress Flavell?”

The Mistress’s laugh was bright and surprised, pleasantly so. “I’m honored you think highly of me, but I’m too old and tired for such drama. Better to watch and see where the chips fall.”

“I can’t actually argue with that logic. You look like you would enjoy yourself more at home.”

“It just bothers me how the children feel so entitled to their wealth.” The Mistress Flavell sighed wistfully and looked across to a table of youth. “Yet I cannot blame them. They’ve been coddled. What parent would not shield their children from hardship? And yet most of these parents have never tasted hardship to begin with.” She took a furtive sip from her wine glass, smacking her lips as her eyes grazed over the festivities. “A shame, really.”

“You’re saying they lack humility? I just thought they were born obnoxious.”

She barked a laugh and quickly shielded her mouth. “Such wit. You read them as they are, don’t you?”

“I try. No point dancing around them when they’ll take their sweet time.”

“Then I suggest you do the same, Good Doctor.”

Arden stiffened but didn’t let his surprise show. “Madame?”

“You may have changed looks but you act the same. There was something remarkable about you when we first met. And I’ve more than seen you again in this ‘disguise’ of yours.”

Arden shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “Well, not many folks have gotten to know me and this disguise, Madame. I was hoping I was doing a good job.”

“In my fair view, dear, the only difference is that you’re not tending to the sick and wounded.” Her grin was toothy and knowing. “I’m glad to know you haven’t left us.”

“It looked like there was much to do here. I doubt he would make any progress by leaving, even if that was his original plan. Whoever attacked the Good Doctor was aiming solely for him. This person would follow him regardless. Better to deal with it now than later.”

Mistress Flavell nodded her understanding. “If that is the way of things, I won’t ask further. Just, do be careful, won’t you, dear? It’d be a shame to lose such a good man.”

“And yet we lose them every day,” Arden quoted. Rustan called for him, gesturing him to come over. “If you’ll excuse me, Madame. My retainer is calling for me.”

“I’ll be around. Enjoy the evening Master…”

“Goulding,” Arden supplied and he took his leave to rejoin Rustan. “Anything you need, Rustan?”

“Why don’t you join Roland, Elliot? I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”

“Where is he?” Arden looked around and spotted Roland fending off a group of tittering young women. “Oh…”

Rustan laughed and clapped Arden’s shoulder. “Exactly. Now good luck.”

Arden strode dutifully to Roland to save him from the chittering harpies that were flocking around him. “Master Gallahad, do you have a moment?”

Roland looked relieved to see Arden at his rescue, and he separated himself as briskly yet calmly as possible from them. “My apologies, but duty calls.”

A gruff man hollered over the throng. “But you’ll be back?”

Arden smiled sweetly from under his mask, but he muttered a grim “Unlikely” to the poor chap. He pulled Roland away and strode beside him. “You and your impeccable charms.”

“They just stormed me like magpies to a feast,” Roland grumbled, tempted to run a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my fault they looked rather… thirsty.”

“That’s about an apt a description any of us can come up with. But I’d like to let you know a little something. My Good Doctor’s status as a mage was more well-known than assumed. The Lancelots have heard of it. And then the Espoirs are a prominent family of doctors themselves. Have you investigated them?”

“Still investigating,” Roland uttered in a harsh whisper. “And here is not a good place to speak of such things.”

Arden looked around. They were in a crowd, and close to the space left open intentionally for the dancers. “Then I suggest we go to the dance floor. Less people to listen to us.”

Roland was about to agree when he realized what that entailed. “Oh, no. I can’t. I can’t dance for the life of me.”

“Then just follow my lead, Captain.” Arden took Roland’s hand and pulled him along to the dance floor, where the band was now playing a tune more suited to a waltz. Couples gathered to the dance floor, but most of the attention was on them as Arden set Roland’s hand to his waist, making a few girls titter and gasp. “Looks like we have our scandal now.”

“Maker’s Breath…”

“Humor me, love.” Arden smirked, and with the mask, Roland swore it looked devilish. “Even back then, I never had a chance to dance with… well, Raynes.”

“What did you two do then?” Roland asked, not sure he wanted to know. “I know he was close to you.”

“We fucked after a swim in the lake,” Arden snorted. “I’m all for romance, so I would have liked some dancing. Not to say he wasn’t romantic, but there was barely any time.”

“Then I’ll humor you,” Roland chuckled. When the music played, he tried to take the lead, but every few times he would step on Arden’s feet by accident. From there, Arden just led them, being as seemingly passive as possible.

“But back to the matter at hand. Mistress Flavell seems trustworthy, and she had some good insight. The Espoirs have a good motive; they could have wanted to take out competition. At the same time, the Lancelots have been known to be avid Templars. I don’t have a good read on the other families, but this could mean something.”

“Would you suspect Mistress Flavell?”

“Partly. She seems to be a god person, but she saw right through me. She knew it was me behind this mask.”

Roland almost stumbled out of synch from Arden’s steps. “What?”

“She was a client of mine; you knew this. She doesn’t have a motive, but just because she said so does not mean it’s true.”

“Where would that leave us?”

“Just a list of names. We’ll have to rely on our prisoner for anything concrete.”

The song ended, and they stepped back from each other to give the cursory bows. Their audiences gave loud applause, and Roland led Arden to somewhere a little more private: a second-floor balcony.

The view was just over the edge of a steep cliff, where they could overlook the rest of the city. As dreary as the city-state was, under the moonlight, it was most serene. “Cersei was very intimate with you,” Roland remarked as they leaned over the railing. “I couldn’t help but look back at you. She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”

“Not in the most pleasant ways, I assure you,” Arden muttered wryly. “She was intrigued, I bet. For such a nameless person to get a foothold in this city as a nobleman’s assistant, they must have thought I had connections. Or bribed them.”

“Doubt it. Maker knows you don’t have the coin for that.”

“Bitch,” Arden laughed, startled. Roland gave a cheeky grin and jostled his elbow with his own. “Oh shoot, what about her gifts?”

“The guards handled that, didn’t they?”

“But I left the pastries behind.”

Roland offered an amused smile. “Bake her a new batch next time, or perhaps tomorrow. When we get back home, we can give the ones you made to the servants. A midnight treat, perhaps.”

Arden nodded his ascent. “Perhaps.”

“Good.” They enjoyed the companionable silence as they gazed over the horizon. “Maybe when your safety is ensured, I can take you out somewhere. Maybe a lake. We could go swimming, spend a whole day to ourselves.”

“Are you proposing, Captain?” Arden meant it in stride, but he saw the burning passion in Roland’s stare. “Roland?”

“I’d like to treat you to a day without worries. To treat myself, as well.”

“Then who says we have to wait? I’m sure we could take a day off from all…” Arden gestured a flailing hand to the wind, just pointing to everything and anything. “…this.”

Roland’s laugh was short, brief, and sweet. “Maybe. We’d have to plan ahead, though. Maker knows all this come-uppances are driving me mad.”

“You and I both.”

“I figured to find you two here,” Rustan muttered as he joined them. “You two caused quite the stir downstairs. Cersei looked more amused than anything. And then you two just so happen to escape the crowd. I’d be scandalized!”

“You will after the party,” Arden shot back, leaning back against the railings with a smirk sent Rustan’s way. “I needed to talk with Roland. It seemed important.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Maybe. Who do you suspect in Arden Grey’s attempted kidnapping?”

Rustan blinked. “I’m not certain.”

“Too many possible suspects, right? We could pinpoint it by motive, but we don’t know the full story with anyone. We only have likely suspects, namely the Lancelots and the Espoirs. I’d throw in the Flavells as well, but I haven’t seen any reason to doubt them yet.”

“We’re at the home of the Lancelots,” Rustan reminded him. “I suggest we save all this speculation for when we get back home. We can’t be seen as suspicious.”

“’Scandalous’ seems to work,” Roland remarked. “I don’t think our friend here has noticed, but he’s quite the firecracker when he wants to be.”

Arden shrugged. “I try my best.”

Rustan sent him a pointed glare. “Behave, Arden. And as I was saying, we should return downstairs. Respect Lady Cersei’s party, at the very least.”

Arden looked unrepentant. “I’ll be the epitome of courtesy. Though I can’t say I won’t be snooping for more clues. And maybe you or Roland could ‘interrogate’ a fine dame?”

Rustan grimaced and punched Arden’s elbow half-heartedly. “Enough. Let’s get going.”

Roland was grinning as he straightened up. “You’re insufferable, love.”

“And you’re delectable. Sadly, duty calls.”

Arden spent more of the evening rendezvousing with Damal as they spoke with nobles and tried to get their insights. Damal had piss poor luck on that; he just wasn’t much for the games of high-society. Arden displayed remarkable skill joining a conversation, blending in with a crowd, and shifting attention in his favor. Arden picked up more suspicions all around, but most pointed back to the Espoirs and the Lancelots. It seemed typical, but without solid evidence, they couldn’t stake a claim. It was really up to the prisoner to give them clues on whose trail to follow.

It wasn’t long before Arden bumped into Cersei again. “Ah, little fledgling. I see you’ve been fluttering about like a social butterfly.”

“I won’t get another chance to know the other nobles anytime soon,” Arden explained. He noticed the glass of wine in her hand and noticed something he hadn’t picked up on earlier. It was a golden ring. “Pardon me, but you’ve been promised to someone?”

“Perceptive,” she complimented, impressed with how he noticed her rather subtle ring. “Only a handful have seen it. Yes, I was promised to be married to someone.”

“Who’s the lucky man, then?”

“I’ll be keeping quiet about it for now.”

“Now you’ve made me more curious. I wouldn’t like to be tempted to snoop around your home just to find anything trivial.”

“Are you suggesting something?” she asked, eyes dancing with a sort of mischief Arden often saw with Damal’s kind. “You know, I never figured you to be the type. That seems more to be in Damal’s alley.”

“Have you two spoken, then?”

“Oh yes, he’s quite squirrely with the rest of us. He’s practically planted himself by the buffet.” She pointed with a nod of her head to the buffet table, and there indeed Damal was, nursing a glass of wine in his hands. “He seems rather depressed. Go take care of him, won’t you?”

A crowd of girls cheered and called Cersei over. “Looks like you have people to take care of, too,” Arden retorted, offering a soft smile. “I hope you enjoy your party, Lady Cersei.”

Arden joined Damal, who looked relieved to see him. “I really don’t belong here.”

“Just talk like you’re high and mighty and you’ll do just fine,” Arden jested. “How goes your end?”

“I get these condescending looks if not glares. It’s pissing me off.”

“Pity. At least you look dashing.”

“Thanks.” Damal downed his wine in one go and set the glass aside. “When can we leave?”

“I think we’ve exhausted our resources here. I can go find the others and we can head on our way.”

“That’d be great.” Damal looked past Arden’s shoulder. “Do all nobles really need to bring their damn bodyguards? They’re almost worse than their masters.”

Arden looked over his shoulder and saw two towering men he’d vaguely noticed when he entered the party. Their masks were made from silver, made to look like half a devil’s face, and had an air of intimidation about them. Some dumb enough or shameless enough tried to chat them up, but they blatantly ignored them. They kept glancing their way, and that made Arden suspicious. “Do you think they’re watching us?”

“Almost certain of it.”

“Wish you said so earlier.” Arden watched as another look was aimed their way, the gaze lingering longer. “We should move.”

Arden led the way to the gardens with Damal in tow. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the large bodyguards following them, even with so many people present. A couple were by the edge of the large fountain, kissing. A few more were mingling about, just past the hedges. As plentiful as these people were, they weren’t paying attention.

Arden was about to push further when the ground shook, and an enormous stone wall blocked their path. He heard gasps of shock around them as the two men neared, hands glowing with a fervent magic. “I think the time for games is over.”

Damal pulled out the daggers he kept hidden on his person, and Arden, swearing to himself how dumb it was to not bring a weapon, put his left foot forward and stood his ground. It looked like the gloves were coming off tonight.

“Oh, come on. No need to make this messy,” one of the men parleyed.

“You’re going to be that mess if you don’t back off.”

The imposing man gave a carefree shrug. “Have it your way.”

Arden felt something wash over them, but he couldn’t quite place it until he saw Damal tense and aim his knife at him.

“Damal?”

Damal was swallowing hard, beads of sweat running down his forehead as he seemed to struggle to speak. The faintest motion of lips were enough to read, however. It was a plea, a plea from a friend.

Run.

Damal’s hands shook as he drew back, and for a moment Arden was at a loss for what to do.

But a moment was all he needed. And so Damal lunged, aiming for the heart.