The Red Lily (Vampire Blood #2)
Author: Juliette Cross
Chapter One
Sienna glanced over her shoulder for the second time since she'd entered the market of Hiddleston, the sense of being watched sending a tingle up her spine. Patrons bargained with farmers for their fall harvest-pomegranates, squash, and sweet potatoes. She'd passed the stalls of produce and cheese, her basket of pears, persimmons, and a fresh loaf of bread under her arm, and wandered along the lane of fineries. Pausing at a table of linens and fine quilts, she admired the patterns of interlacing rings and stars.
"Good day, miss."
"Hello, Alice." Sienna nodded a greeting to the quilt-maker she'd traded with on many occasions. Today, she needed no linens or fabrics. She strolled on, a sparkle catching her eye at the next stall. The jeweler was here today. He only ventured into the open market twice a year as he was the only jeweler from here to Dale's Peak. She couldn't help but meander toward his stall where a table was beset with all manner of intricate silverwork-combs, brushes, brooches, pendants.
"Hello, fair lady. Would you care for a new set of combs or pins for your lovely red hair?"
His speech was not as coarse as the local farmers, probably because his customers were of a more genteel breeding. He had kind, wide eyes, made wider by the round spectacles perched on his nose.
"These are quite beautiful." She lifted a brush, the silver handle and back molded into an exquisite design of the Glass Tower. The last thing she wanted was a reminder of where the vampire monarchy ruled on high and where her dear friend Arabelle nearly lost her life. As leader of the Black Lily resistance, Arabelle had fallen into one of the queen's traps. Fortunately, Prince Marius had saved her, and then they fled across the Cimmaron Sea to Cutters Cove, where they'd been building and training their army ever since. Sienna longed to see her friend again, but for now, she was happy knowing she was safely away from the wicked Queen Morgrid of the Glass Tower.
She set the brush down. "But I'm in no need of a new set."
The hairs on the back of her neck raised on end. She glanced over her shoulder. No one was even looking in her direction, the townsfolk bartering their wares like any other market day. Peculiar.
"Oh, I have something that would suit you superbly." The jeweler pulled her attention back to the table as he ducked beneath the skirt, riffled around, then popped back up with a square, red velvet box. "Now this," he said, opening it. "This is something to match your beauty."
Sienna sucked in a breath and touched two fingertips to the necklace pendant on a thin silver chain. "Oh."
Inlaid in the finest silver she'd ever seen was a running wolf, the body made entirely of tiny diamonds except for a ruby eye. The craftsmanship was beyond compare.
"So unique." She angled it toward the setting sun, the jewels winking like fairy lights. "So beautiful."
"Thank you, my lady. Much like you."
She smiled, having grown accustomed to such flattery over the years. But his compliment seemed genuine. She knew she could neither afford such a jewel nor did she need an adornment like this. She was no longer the fine lady of Dale's Peak, milling amongst the aristocracy and courting the gentlemen to find a good match. Still, she wondered at the cost.
"How much is this necklace?"
"For you, I could let it go for fifty sovereigns."
She nearly choked. That was higher than she could have imagined, and he was giving her a bargain. "Thank you. But not today." Not ever, actually. "You are a fine craftsman, sir."
He bowed. "It pleases me to hear you say so."
The sun slipped lower. The sudden need to be safe in her cottage urged her on. "Good day, sir."
"Good day, my lady."
Pulling up the hood of her cloak, she made her way back down the road toward Silvane Forest. Once more, she had the distinct feeling she was being watched. And, once more, she saw no one who seemed suspicious when she glanced over her shoulder. It was a brisk walk to the woods. Once there, her guardians would be waiting for her, and she would be safe.
Rounding the bend, she turned off the lane abruptly and quickened her pace. While she couldn't spot anyone behind her, a shiver raised gooseflesh on her skin, a foreboding she could not shake. The line of trees was just ahead, whispering of safety. Unable to control her growing panic, she tucked her basket closely and ran. The old, gnarled oak stood just ahead, the marker that she was only feet away from stepping into the shade of the forest. A shower of red-orange and gold leaves drifted down, creating a harvest gown around roots protruding across the grassy lane.