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Haunted

Chapter 26

"Tell me you have found him," Corene muttered impatiently.

Below on the dance floor, noble dogs danced with noble bitches, twirling them with slow grace to the music that drifted over the happy chatter to the high domed ceiling.

A great auburn mastiff stood at the armrest of the throne Corene occupied, speaking with the princess in an undertone. His name was Captain Geoffrey Carnell, and he led the small platoon of mastiffs who had been assigned to guard Corene during her travels. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Corene had sent a message with Liza earlier that evening, ordering the captain to send mastiffs into the forest in search of Etienne. Captain Carnell had only just returned to announce that the prince had been found. But - oddly enough - there were two of him.

"Two of him?" Corene sneered when the captain had finished his explanation. "You had better be drunk or mad to expect me to believe --"

"It's the truth, your highness," Captain Carnell insisted. "We brought them both with us. We are keeping them hidden just outside the estate. We await your orders."

"Very well," Corene said and waved an impatient paw. "Keep them in custody. I shall find some excuse to step outside. Have your soldiers wait for me at the stables. They shall take me to the prince and this . . . imposture."

"At once, your highness," Captain Carnell murmured and hurried away.

Corene watched as the captain passed from the ballroom, moving slowly and at his ease so as not to draw attention. It was always the plan that Corene should arrive at Howlester Manor alone. Originally, the mastiffs would have dropped her off just down the road, allowing her to arrive at the manor, sobbing and in tears, with some story of Donica having cut her and threatened her life.

But then the fiasco with Candy Cane happened. And Corene's mastiffs - the idiots - assumed she had decided to part company with them ahead of time. They allowed her to make her own way to the manor, arriving after the princess on purpose with the claim that Donica had sent them to retrieve her. And though Corene wanted to scream at the captain for his buffoonery, she decided not to. In the end, the plan had worked to their advantage. Not only did Duke Charles take pity on Corene, but they had also found Etienne. She would take Etienne back with her to Wychowl. With the Kingsley's ban from Wychowl lifted, the duke would visit, would take her side, would encourage Etienne that he should marry her. And Etienne would listen to Charles. Who could resist the duke's gentle charm?

"Nice work," Candy Cane said derisively. "I warned you off the prince, and you run head first into the storm anyway. You will be sorry."

"Please, please go away," Corene hissed and slouched down on the throne for fear that her remaining bodyguards would hear.

Candy Cane stood beside Corene's armrest, staring almost vacantly across the ballroom at the Marquis Mont du Frey. He was her father, and she had been going on about him all evening. The bloody gash on her throat twitched every time she spoke. It was making Corene ill.

"He would touch me dick when I was a girl," Candy Cane said tonelessly. "He pretended it wasn't a part of me, that I couldn't feel every pull of his lips, but I could."

"Please, stop. I'm _begging_you," Corene whispered. She clutched the armrests with tight knuckles, looking strained and horrified. The guests noticed immediately and it only fueled the gossip and stares. One of her bodyguards stepped forward and asked if she didn't want to retire. She shook her head and waved him back. But she suddenly wanted to retire. She had to ask herself why she had come in the first place.

"Why, you came for him," Candy Cane said, as if emerging from Corene's thoughts. "Didn't you, miss?"

Corene followed the entity's gaze and her eyes softened. Jonathan was on the dance floor, gliding in short circles with some golden simp in a pink gown. He and the young lady were actually laughing and seemed to be having a good time. It made Corene's fangs grind every time she noticed them. She thought several times of pulling some stunt that would part the two, but she had always used her handmaid for such tricks, and Estica had sent Liza to bed. Ugh. She missed Flavia desperately.

"Me father came here because he's tired of being nothing and no one," Candy Cane said. "He thought he'd use me to marry into some land, into a better house with better titles. But you can't marry off a girl with a dick. And when I refused the operation . . . well." Candy Cane fell silent and watched her father with flat eyes.

Marquis Mont du Frey was dancing with his wife, who Corene could only assume was Candy Cane's mother. She was also a terrier, black, with a snooty air and an awful habit of sniffing. With Estica away, the du Freys had made yet another attempt to introduce themselves to the princess. Mont brought his wife on his arm and introduced her as the Marchioness Agatha Estelle du Frey. Mont had barely gotten the name out of his mouth, however, when Corene screamed in sudden horror and her guards shooed the couple away. After that, no one was allowed to approach the princess, who had been announced as ill for the night.

Corene didn't know why she screamed in the du Freys' faces, but the crowds were entertained. So was Candy Cane, who laughed loudly to see her parents humiliated. The du Freys quickly backtracked from the throne, ears flat and tails low as the crowds chuckled. The guests pulled back in a ripple as Mont du Frey - chin lifted - marched from the ballroom with his haughty wife on his arm.

"Serves them right, what you did," Candy Cane muttered. "Now they'll be the laughingstock of the kingdom. No one will want anything to do with them after her majesty screamed like a banshee at them mid-sentence."

"Shut up . . ." Corene whispered. "Go away. Please." A tear trickled from her eye. "You're driving me mad!" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her guards watching her, bewildered.

"No," Candy Cane returned. "You're driving yourself mad, miss. I'm here because you feel guilty. I could leave if you forgave yourself."

Corene's lip curled. "You are haunting me because you want to. Because you like tormenting me! Just like that night! I don't feel guilty about killing you. You deserved it." She clutched the armrests and shook her head, shouting so loudly that the veins stood out on her neck, "Do you HEAR ME? YOU DESERVED IT!"

The band abruptly stopped, and the whole of the ballroom turned to stare at Corene.

Corene sank on her throne and covered her eyes with a shaking paw. She could hear feet approaching, and when she looked up, Estica was hurrying to her, a wineglass in one paw and a plate of food in the other.

"Your majesty," Estica said under her breath. "Perhaps it's time you retired --"

"No!" Corene said at once. She didn't want to go up to her room. She didn't want to be alone with Candy Cane. She took the wineglass from Estica and downed it in one gulp. Her paws were still shaking. She took the plate next and almost dropped it, spilling grapes in her lap. Estica watched anxiously as the princess crammed the food in her face.

"Slow down, miss," laughed Candy Cane. "If only you'd taken me dick like that. I didn't know you could open your mouth so wide."

Corene darted the spirit a glare.

"It's alright. Her majesty is fine!" Estica called and waved for the band to carry on.

The band started playing and the guests started dancing, but there was hesitance heavy on the air. It was as if the entire ball were walking on eggshells, waiting for the princess to have her next outburst. Estica had brought Corene a fork but took it from her, for fear of what she might do with a sharp object.

Corene looked at Estica in amazement, crumbs clinging to her cheeks. "Do I look like a child to you?"

Estica hesitated and Corene scowled when the guard looked on the verge of confirming her accusation.

"Why don't you take a break, Estica? I'll call you if I need more criticism and suspicion."

Candy Cane laughed. "Can you blame her?"

Estica cleared her throat guiltily, her paw on her sword hilt. "Duke Charles assigned . . ."

"To hell with Duke Charles!" Corene said over her. "I am princess of Varimore. I am your princess, and I command --!"

"Of course, your highness," Estica said quickly, soothingly. Her eyes darted, and Corene knew she was frightened of the many heads that were turning: Estica did not want to cause a scene. "I shall be in the foyer if her majesty needs me." She bowed, and with hesitation, she turned away.

Corene watched as Estica made her way from the ballroom, wishing she had asked the female to bring her shrimp. She really wanted some shrimp.

"Uh oh. Don't look now," Candy Cane muttered. "Big dick on campus is making his way --"

"Shut up!" Corene hissed.

Jonathan was coming toward the thrones, looking anxious as he reached the step. He was dressed in a robin blue coat with tails, trimmed in gold, with tan knickers and white hose. Corene thought he looked very handsome and dignified. She yanked a kerchief from her breasts and hastily dabbed the crumbs from her face as he set foot on the step.

"My princess," he said, bowing deeply. He looked at her with concern. "Is everything all right?"

"I - that is . . ." Corene stammered herself silent and glanced at Candy Cane. She wished she could tell him. She wanted to tell someone. Desperately.

"Would my princess like to dance? You will feel better." Jonathan smiled.

Corene raised her brows. "Are you quite certain, your grace? Such a thing would not incite jealousy on the behalf of certain parties?" She could see the girl in the pink dress pouting at a banquet table.

Jonathan laughed. "Who? Emily? Bother Emily. I am asking her highness to dance." He bowed and offered his paw. "If she would have me."

Corene stared at him and felt the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"What are you waiting for?" said Candy Cane, who was watching in amusement. "The love of your life has just asked you to dance."

Corene glared. "Go away!"

Jonathan looked at her in surprise. Disappointment crossed his face and he straightened up. "As my princess commands," he said.

Candy Cane laughed as Jonathan turned away.

"Wait!" Corene cried breathlessly.

Jonathan looked at her, bewildered.

The princess fumbled up from her throne, her small paws clutching at her ballooning skirts as she fought them down. Jonathan smiled and helped her up.

"Don't go anywhere," she whispered, looking down at him with heaving breasts, with her mane tumbling in one eye.

They smiled at each other, and he led her down the step by the paw, unable to take his eyes from her.

The crowds murmured and stared as the marquis and the princess began to dance. Corene was pleasantly surprised by just how good a dancer Jonathan was. His paw on her waist, the intensity of his stare took her back to that passionate morning spent in her bedroom. And looking in his eyes, she knew he was thinking of it too.

Palm to palm, they turned slowly.

"You are . . . an exquisite dancer, your highness."

"Practice makes perfect," the princess replied playfully. "Doesn't it?"

Jonathan laughed.

The music came to a slow stop and so did they, staring at each other.

He kissed her paw. "I would gladly practice with you later, your highness."

Corene's heart fluttered. His eyes were warm with desire, and she practically melted as they bore into her. She was trying to get past her mush mouth to form a response when the ballroom doors opened. Heads turned as Duke Charles and Duke Richard appeared arm-in-arm at the top of the stairs.

Duke Charles was dressed in a high-cut robin blue coat with tails not unlike Jonathan's. His white mane was pulled back in a ponytail, and he stood with quiet dignity on his lover's arm.

Duke Richard was clad in a green coat with tails, simple and elegant. His red mane was loose around his shoulders and fell in curls down his back. Even from a distance, Corene could see the bored expression on his face.

Both dukes glittered with rings, their calves bulging in white hose. Arm-in-arm, they descended the stair with dignity and solemnity. The many guests bowed in a ripple. Jonathan also bowed, and Corene clutched her skirts and sank in a reverent curtsy.

"I present your hosts for the evening," called the herald. "Duke Charles Verneus Nolan Kingsley, son of the late Duke Verneus Kingsley. And Duke Richard Kingsley, son of the late Duchess Giselle de Lion, formerly the Duchess Giselle Evelyn --"

"Evelyn?" Charles sputtered.

Corene's throat tightened: Duke Charles was staring right at her. The duke touched an uncertain paw to his lips, then hurried to her. Duke Richard called to him, but Charles ignored him as he came to a stop before Corene. The duke's eyes danced over the blue dress hugging tight to Corene's great breasts, over her mussed white mane, over the diamonds winking around her throat and in her ears. She was shocked when his eyes filled with sudden tears.

"Evelyn?" Charles whispered. He stared at Corene with haunted eyes.

The entire ballroom was staring. The silence was unbearable. Corene didn't know what to do. "Duke Charles . . ."she muttered, and her breasts heaved as she avoided his eye.

Jonathan glanced at Corene and looked at the duke uncertainly. He frowned. "Uncle Charlie? What's the matter?"

Charles hadn't taken his eyes from Corene. He shook his head. "Evelyn, it's me. Look at me!" He grabbed Corene by the shoulders, but she squirmed free.

"Charlie!" Duke Richard came jogging up, his face creased with concern. But when he saw Corene, he stiffened. His face twisted with sudden anger and he grabbed her hard by the arm. "Where did you get that dress, girl?"

Corene didn't answer and screamed softly when Duke Richard roughly shook her.

"Answer me, you little --!" Duke Richard snarled.

Corene's fangs clicked and her jewelry slapped her as the duke's hard fingers jerked her around. She bit back a sob and shrank away. The duke was peeling in two. And suddenly, she felt dizzy and hot. Her tongue slapped out and a line of drool stretched from it. The crowds began to whisper and murmur behind fans. She could see Jonathan out of the corner of her eye, scowling at his father.

Jonathan took a halting step. "Dad, stop - Something's the matter with her --"

"Stay out of this, boy!" Duke Richard shouted over him. He looked at Corene, his fiery eyes bright with indignation. "Answer me, bitch!" He shook her again.

Corene's throat tightened. She snatched herself free and staggered back with bouncing breasts. Her tapping heels were loud in the silence.

Something in Duke Charles clicked, snapping him back to reality. "My sister's dress . . ." he whispered, the sudden fury burning in his eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He lunged forward, and another gasp rose from the crown when he raised his paw with fangs bare and slapped Corene. Her scream cut in her mouth as everyone in the room stiffened.

When Corene lifted her face again, a line of blood had cut down her lip.

Charles stood with chest heaving, glaring at her.

"Uncle!" Jonathan cried.

"Go upstairs," Duke Richard hissed. His eyes were fixed intently on Corene. "And change. Now."

"The nerve!" someone whispered.

Corene's breasts heaved, and with a shuddering breath, she reached behind and started unlacing. The front of the gown slipped loose around her cleavage.

"What on earth is she doing?" someone cried.

"Corene!" Jonathan whispered in amazement.

The gown fell in a heap around Corene's slippers. She stepped out of the pile and stood defiant before all the ballroom in nothing but a white, translucent chemise. Her pink nipples pressed through, standing hard against the cool air, and her shapely silhouette was readily apparent.

"Creator, preserve us!" shrieked a female.

Corene looked at Charles and saw strawberry tarts . . . swirling across the floor. "Are you pleased, my lords?" she taunted and clicked from the ballroom with riding breasts and swaying tail - in nothing but her underwear.