Alia would be the centre of attention, damn it. Which she now realised had been Perri’s goal all along. No slinking at the back of the room for Alia. No sticking to the shadows. She would be stared at. Mocked. Laughed at from behind fluttering fans. Rumours would fly, based upon nothing but the fervid imagination of the person doing the gossiping.
Which to be fair, pretty much summed up Alia’s life as the Beast.
Exiting the Palace, Alia followed her nose down a cobblestone path, headed towards the stables. The walk gave her time to come to grips with Perri’s plan. She was the Beast. A woman who carved a daily path through a man’s world. Used to being stared at. Judged. Laughed at behind her back. Rumours following in Alia’s wake like hounds followed their master at dinner time.
The only difference here was the audience. The Palace servants, the Royal family and the aristos… and their opinion mattered not a jot to Alia. She wasn’t here seeking their approval or for that matter the hand of the Prince. Alia was here for Perri. To ensure Levi was safe and to bring him home to Gloomenthrall.
And hopefully to send that crud bucket, Regal Soutner, into the care of the devil and all his minions. Where he could spend eternity suffering for all his foul deeds and murderous ways.
By the time Alia entered the enormous stables she was feeling pretty much like her usual self. Which was a good thing, as horses sensed falseness and unease, and her Dominio was particularly sensitive to Alia’s moods. Expecting to find him kicking up a fuss, instead, Alia found the stables to be unusually quiet. Rows of horses watching her pass by from their stalls as she moved further into the vast building. Where was everyone? And where was her horse?
There, down the very end, a cluster of stable hands gathered around the entrance to one stall. The group of about nine lads too intent upon the spectacle before them to note Alia’s arrival. Giving her a chance to eavesdrop.
“Who do you think could control a creature like that?”
“He looks a good fit for the Devil himself. His master probably rides around at midnight scything off the heads of sinners and collecting souls left and right.”
“I heard tell it’s a woman.”
“It’s a stallion, you ninny.”
“Not the horse. The rider. A woman I heard.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, I heard it from Sebalon, the kitchen girl, who got it from Ellion, the footman, who-”
“Enough, no woman could handle a monster of that size. Just look at those hooves. And those teeth. Bet he’s a feisty one.”
Alia had heard enough. Clearing her throat… and then forced to clear it again even louder to garner attention. Everyone’s wide-eyed gaze suddenly shifting in her direction, all forced to look up… and up. “Gentlemen. If you would create a path so I might check on my horse?”
“Clear off, the lot of you.” The voice that came from within the stall sounded startling familiar, perhaps explaining why Dominio wasn’t trying to kick down the walls.
“Molbee?” Alia surged forward as the stable hands retreated, staring at her with awe and perhaps a little fear, as if she was the Devil’s bride. “Is that you?” She flipped up the heavy latch, stepping into the stall. A smile already on her features as her gaze came to rest on the small gnarled man currently currying Dominio’s flanks. “Molbee!”
“I knew if I hung around this wee monster long enough, you’d be by to check on him.”
“Molbee. What are you doing here? You said you were going to live with your son and his family at Sea Crest. Retire. Drink. Sit around and tell tall tales.”
“I got bored. Went travelling. Visited some old friends, one of whom offered me a job here. Master of the Golden Palace stables, would you believe it?”
“Yes, I would.” And they’d be darn lucky to have Molbee. He might be well into his seventies, perhaps older. Barely topping five feet in height. With little hair left, fewer teeth and missing a right leg. But he was a savant when it came to horses. They loved him. Not always right away, but it never took the small man long to earn their trust and devotion. Proving her point, Domino turned his head in Molbee’s direction and nickered chidingly.
“Sorry. Sorry.” Continuing to groom the pitch black velvet coat. ‘It’s just so good to see you… your Ladyship.”
“Hah, none of that. How is your son and his family?”
Molbee’s grin broadened, displaying all the gaps where his teeth should have been. “Splendid. And the grandkids are… grand. But busy with school and getting on with their lives, you know? It took a while to prove I wasn’t going to fall into the nearest bottle. But I left on good terms… with an invitation to visit again. So, all good.”
Molbee had limped into the Lair some twenty years ago. Problems with anger and alcohol had ruined his marriage and destroyed any goodwill his son felt for him. He was angry at the world. Having retired out of the calvary - barely incurring a scratch - only a week later to have his leg crushed by an out of control coal wagon. It had taken time… and the discovery that he was exceedingly good with horses that helped him slowly rebuild his life. Embarking on a new career, and eventually setting off to make peace with his adult son.
“I’m glad.” Alia pulled out the apple she’d pilfered from her breakfast tray, feeding it to Dominio. “I don’t suppose you know where Deacon has gotten to?”
“I sent him off to grab something to eat. He signed that he was going to get the lay of the land and would catch up with you later in the day.”
Alia had complete faith in Deacon. She’d taken him into her confidence prior to their trip. The lad might have been mute but he had an uncanny ability to get into and out of places he would never be invited. And better still, to overhear things he should not be privileged to.
“The Lordlings here for the festivities are all a twitter over Dominio. Been pestering me all morning, requesting a ride. I told them they’d have to track down the owner as my life wouldn’t be worth nothing if I let them on Domino’s back without permission.”
