HER SWEETEST DOWNFALL (Paranormal Romance / Fantasy Novella) (Forever Girl Series - a Journal) by rebecca hamilton Page A
Authors: rebecca hamilton
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spilling forward to hide her view of the rest of the room.
Robert pushed at her chest, holding her at a distance. “She has come to infiltrate the Maltorim.”
“Liar!” Panic rushed into Ophelia’s lungs, but the anger over Robert’s betrayal was stronger. And also no surprise at all. “Robert is the one who intends harm.”
The room stilled. Queen Callista rose from her chair, her fingertips pressing down against the tabletop. She arched one thin eyebrow and stared down at Ophelia. “Can you prove the truth of what you say?”
Ophelia managed a nod but could not bring herself to words. There was only one option left—one thing Ethan had told her to do if things went sour, and one thing that Ophelia most did not want to do.
“There are others,” she said finally. “Robert brought me to distract ye while they close in. Otherwise why waste this time on me, when ‘e could ‘ave ensured my death the moment I arrived?”
In one swift movement, Callista removed a sword from over the door and sliced through Robert’s neck. His head rolled across the room. Ophelia stood and stepped away, the back of her wrist to her mouth as her stomach surged.
The Queen tilted her head, grinning.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to have any traitors in our midst, would we?” The grin broadened. “I never much liked him anyway.”
Ophelia was too stunned to move. She couldn’t avert her gaze from Robert’s decapitated body, from the blood spilling onto the marble floor. This had been what she wanted, hadn’t it? He’d played a role in the murders of her parents. He’d tried to betray her, to have her killed. But with Callista standing there, the sword hanging lazily from her hand, Ophelia felt more terrified now that he was dead.
Callista returned the sword to its mantle then turned back to the room. Behind her, the tip of the blade dripped blood to the floor. She was still smiling. “We’ll track the others. I’m sure Ophelia won’t mind pointing us in the right direction. After all, she’s so concerned for our well-being. Isn’t that right, Ophelia?”
There was nowhere to go from here but forward. “Of course, my Queen.”
Ophelia, however, had no intentions of guiding the Queen to her friends.
***
Callista did not travel lightly. She brought with her four men. They walked two ahead of the Queen and two behind, and the Queen kept Ophelia close to her side, holding her hand as though they were long friends. Ophelia couldn’t remember the way she’d come, but she did her best to guide them in false directions. There would be a dead animal around here somewhere . . . left behind by Lenore to throw the Maltorim off their tracks.
There it was. Just ahead.
The men in front halted and turned so abruptly that the words died on Ophelia’s tongue. The taller of the two men dipped his head to the Queen. “We’ve picked up on her scent. Two or three hours prior. Perhaps we should follow.”
Ophelia shook her head. “I’m certain they’re right up ahead.”
Callista closed her eyes and swayed her head. “Don’t concern yourself with remembering the way, my dear. My men are the very best, I promise you. We will find these traitors yet.”
And together they set off in the right direction, Ophelia struggling to shuffle forward as though her shoes were filled with hardened clay.
There were only so many promises Ophelia could make to herself then. Promises that Lenore and Ethan would be long gone by now, that she had distracted the search party long enough. Promises that they would have covered their tracks. But none of that meant anything to the Maltorim. With each new path traversed, Ophelia could feel the distance between herself and Lenore growing shorter. Soon she could smell Ethan on the air, and certainly she would not be the only one.
The closer they drew, the more Ophelia panicked. Her mind spun too quickly to formulate a plan—too quickly for any idea to form. Her chest tightened, and
Robert pushed at her chest, holding her at a distance. “She has come to infiltrate the Maltorim.”
“Liar!” Panic rushed into Ophelia’s lungs, but the anger over Robert’s betrayal was stronger. And also no surprise at all. “Robert is the one who intends harm.”
The room stilled. Queen Callista rose from her chair, her fingertips pressing down against the tabletop. She arched one thin eyebrow and stared down at Ophelia. “Can you prove the truth of what you say?”
Ophelia managed a nod but could not bring herself to words. There was only one option left—one thing Ethan had told her to do if things went sour, and one thing that Ophelia most did not want to do.
“There are others,” she said finally. “Robert brought me to distract ye while they close in. Otherwise why waste this time on me, when ‘e could ‘ave ensured my death the moment I arrived?”
In one swift movement, Callista removed a sword from over the door and sliced through Robert’s neck. His head rolled across the room. Ophelia stood and stepped away, the back of her wrist to her mouth as her stomach surged.
The Queen tilted her head, grinning.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to have any traitors in our midst, would we?” The grin broadened. “I never much liked him anyway.”
Ophelia was too stunned to move. She couldn’t avert her gaze from Robert’s decapitated body, from the blood spilling onto the marble floor. This had been what she wanted, hadn’t it? He’d played a role in the murders of her parents. He’d tried to betray her, to have her killed. But with Callista standing there, the sword hanging lazily from her hand, Ophelia felt more terrified now that he was dead.
Callista returned the sword to its mantle then turned back to the room. Behind her, the tip of the blade dripped blood to the floor. She was still smiling. “We’ll track the others. I’m sure Ophelia won’t mind pointing us in the right direction. After all, she’s so concerned for our well-being. Isn’t that right, Ophelia?”
There was nowhere to go from here but forward. “Of course, my Queen.”
Ophelia, however, had no intentions of guiding the Queen to her friends.
***
Callista did not travel lightly. She brought with her four men. They walked two ahead of the Queen and two behind, and the Queen kept Ophelia close to her side, holding her hand as though they were long friends. Ophelia couldn’t remember the way she’d come, but she did her best to guide them in false directions. There would be a dead animal around here somewhere . . . left behind by Lenore to throw the Maltorim off their tracks.
There it was. Just ahead.
The men in front halted and turned so abruptly that the words died on Ophelia’s tongue. The taller of the two men dipped his head to the Queen. “We’ve picked up on her scent. Two or three hours prior. Perhaps we should follow.”
Ophelia shook her head. “I’m certain they’re right up ahead.”
Callista closed her eyes and swayed her head. “Don’t concern yourself with remembering the way, my dear. My men are the very best, I promise you. We will find these traitors yet.”
And together they set off in the right direction, Ophelia struggling to shuffle forward as though her shoes were filled with hardened clay.
There were only so many promises Ophelia could make to herself then. Promises that Lenore and Ethan would be long gone by now, that she had distracted the search party long enough. Promises that they would have covered their tracks. But none of that meant anything to the Maltorim. With each new path traversed, Ophelia could feel the distance between herself and Lenore growing shorter. Soon she could smell Ethan on the air, and certainly she would not be the only one.
The closer they drew, the more Ophelia panicked. Her mind spun too quickly to formulate a plan—too quickly for any idea to form. Her chest tightened, and
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