The Palace (Chateau Book 4)

  The Palace

  Chateau #4

  Penelope Sky

  Hartwick Publishing

  Contents

  1. Forgiveness

  2. Bottom of the Bottle

  3. With Knives and Fire

  4. Disloyal to Loyalty

  5. A Promise Kept

  6. A Beautiful Lie

  7. Cold Shoulder

  8. Winter to Spring

  9. The Most Beautiful Woman

  10. Winner

  11. The Lies We Keep

  12. Mon amour

  13. Under Lock and Key

  14. Never Let Go

  15. Magnus

  16. Death of Innocence

  17. Gilbert

  18. Machete

  19. With All My Heart

  20. Make a Woman Cry

  21. The Louvre

  22. Freedom

  23. The Father’s Sins

  24. It’s Just Business

  25. Exile

  26. Napoleon

  27. Ten-Inch Blade

  28. Retirement

  29. Forgiveness

  30. The Chateau

  Epilogue

  Also by Penelope Sky

  One

  Forgiveness

  Melanie

  We fell back into our old lives.

  Laundry. Dishes. Cooking. Getting coffee at the café down the street.

  But we barely talked to each other.

  It seemed like neither one of us was ready to share the details of our separation. She had been a slave at the camp, witnessing unspeakable things, and I had been in a palace, living a life of luxury with expensive clothes and a butler.

  My old clothes didn’t quite fit me the way they used to because Gilbert was right. I’d gained some weight. My old clothes were also cheap, so they didn’t fit me the way the custom designer clothing did. The guest bedroom was uncomfortable because the sheets were low quality—and there wasn’t a man next to me.

  A few days later, we had breakfast together. I sat on the stool at the kitchen island while she stood across from me. Now that Raven was no longer at the camp, she ate whatever she wanted. Right now, she whipped up fluffy pancakes and fries.

  I ate across from her and sipped my coffee, which had tones of pumpkin, nutmeg, and cinnamon. It was February now, but it still felt like December, the month when we were taken. My thoughts drifted to Fender often, wondering if he was sitting at his desk in his office, shouting at someone in French or just sitting there staring at the fire.

  Or was he thinking about me?

  Raven cut into her pancakes but didn’t take a bite. “You can talk to me…if you want to talk about it.”

  I kept my eyes on my coffee, the dollop of cream sitting on top. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Those dark eyes were in my dreams. Sometimes, I felt big hands grip me around the waist, but it was just my imagination. There were times I smelled him, but I wondered if a bit of scent was still on me, even though I’d showered a couple times.

  Raven dropped it.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I knew she wasn’t, but I let that go. “Are you going to see Magnus again?” He hadn’t returned to the apartment. They seemed to say farewell, and that was it.

  “No.” She continued to eat.

  “He helped you so many times…and that’s just it?”

  “What else should happen?”

  “It just seemed like there was something there…between you.”

  She dipped her pancake into her pool of syrup and brought it to her mouth.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  She sighed at the question but answered anyway. “Yeah, a couple times.”

  “And you seem sad that he’s gone…”

  She lowered her fork to the plate. “I’m forever grateful that he saved us both. He’s a good man in a bad situation. But what kind of future could I have with someone like that? How could I ever want to be with someone who participates in something that’s so morally wrong…?” She shook her head and bowed toward her food. “Never going to happen.”

  I dropped my gaze and looked at my own plate, feeling a flood of guilt for the complicated feelings I had for the boss—the man responsible for it all. As much as it hurt to leave him, I knew I made the right decision. I would miss him for a long time. Maybe I would always miss him. But Raven already hated so much about me, if I ever confided those feelings to her, she would hate me even more.

  “Are you going to go back home?”

  My eyes lifted to hers, the question striking a chord within me. This apartment didn’t feel like home, and my old apartment in America definitely didn’t feel like home. Home was in a palace outside Paris, with a man who marched around the house in nothing but sweatpants. “I’m not leaving you.” I shook my head. “I’m not leaving Paris. This is my home now.” I understood Raven had come here just to get away from me, but now I would never let her go, not after I’d lost her so many times.

  Raven stared at me, her eyes studying my face.

  The emotion bubbled up inside me, all the regret and remorse. I’d spent my time reflecting on the person I was, and once I realized how terrible I had been, I never wanted to be the same again. I wanted to be better. I wanted to be like my sister. Before I could beg for forgiveness, she provided it.

  “I forgive you.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, the weight floating away like birds off a branch, a closure to this horrible chapter in our lives. “I know I’ve been so terrible to you since Mom died. I’m so sorry, Raven.” Tears started to drip like a leaky faucet. “But I’m a different person now. I’ll get a job, get my own apartment, be independent—”

  “Melanie, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay. All I’ve been doing since we were captured is thinking about how I treated you. You know the reason I came here in the first place?” The knob of the faucet turned, and more tears fell. “Because I knew you moved here to get away from me, and I resented you for it. I was so angry that you moved all the way across the world to get away from me…because I’m so horrible. But I am a horrible person—was a horrible person—and that’s not me anymore. I’ll be more like you.”

  “Melanie.” Her voice stayed soft despite what I’d just confessed—as if she already knew. “I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be like you. Some growth is fine. It’s appreciated. But don’t be somebody else. Be the best version of yourself.”

  Tears still streaked down my face as I gave a nod. “Thank you…for forgiving me.” I needed it like air, and all this time, I’d been holding my breath, waiting for that gulp of air that would release the tension on my lungs. “Thank you…”

  I spent the day looking for a job, searching for something in a touristy spot where they’d want to hire someone who barely spoke French. I knew a bit from Gilbert and my time with Fender, but being able to say I had a perfect cunt wouldn’t land me a job anywhere.

  The manager at a café a few blocks away agreed to give me a job, even though I’d never made a cup of coffee in my life, and I was grateful that someone took a chance on a dumb American girl.

  When I came home, Raven was there. “I got a job.”

  She was on the couch in front of the TV, and she immediately turned to give me a puzzled look. “What? Where?”

  “Café Rome. It’s a block over.” I sat on the other couch.

  “But you don’t speak French.”

  “I know a little bit, and it’s a tourist spot, so most people speak English anyway.”

  “Or the guy just thought you were pretty.” She turned back to the TV.

  The manager couldn’t stop staring at me, but it wasn’t the way Fender looke
d at me. It was more sleazy than romantic. It was more pathetic than strong. Another man would never look at me that way as long as I lived. “I start next week, so I’ll be able to pay half the rent.”

  Raven turned back to me, wearing a serious expression, like my new job was the last thing on her mind. “I’m going to go to the police.”

  I gave her a blank stare. “Why?”

  “You know why. Are we just supposed to live our lives like we don’t know what’s going on out there?”

  I didn’t want to talk about Fender, so I didn’t tell her that he had everyone in his pocket, that he dined with the president, that he owned this city and everyone in it. “Magnus really stuck out his neck for you.”

  She sighed. “It’s not about him.”

  “I just don’t think that’s going to do anything.”

  “I think the police would be very interested to know that there’s a labor camp out in the wilderness, Melanie.”

  I couldn’t say his name. “Look, the boss is really powerful—”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to sit here and sip my coffee like it’s over. Bethany is still there. Innocent people are still there.”

  I knew there was no way to convince Raven otherwise, so I just let it go. “Alright.”

  When Raven came home, she told me exactly what I’d expected to hear. “They acted like I was the crazy one.” She threw her purse down. “Like I was making it up to get attention. But they totally know about it. It’s so obvious.” She immediately grabbed a bottle of wine and filled a glass.

  Told you so.

  “I just can’t believe how fucking corrupt the police are. The fucking police.” She tilted her head back and took a deep drink.

  I left the couch and stood on the other side of the kitchen island. “I’m sorry.”

  She grabbed another glass and filled it for me.

  I was used to the finest wine money could buy, so it made everything else taste like piss. It was hard to drink it, but I forced it down so I wouldn’t seem snooty.

  She stood with her hands on the edge of the counter, looking past me at the window behind me. She was like that for a long time, her eyes glazed over, deep in thought.

  A part of me expected Fender to show up at the door and drag me back to his palace, but he never did. Magnus had asked him to let me go, and he did. He’d probably only agreed because he believed I would stay, that there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.

  Then I chose my sister over him.

  I felt guilty when I shouldn’t.

  She took a deep breath. “I have to go back…”

  “Go back where?” I brought the glass to my lips and forced a sip.

  Her only answer was a stare.

  I pictured the cabins and the snow, the fire in the fireplace, the coke down the line, the faceless guards, the blood stained on the snow under the noose. I heard the howling wind against the windows, felt the ache in my legs as I walked through several feet of snow every single day to the clearing.

  “And I’m not going alone.”

  Two

  Bottom of the Bottle

  Fender

  The fire died down in my office. The flames were absent, and only a red smolder remained. The bottle on my desk was empty, and so was my glass. It was late into the night, and work no longer required my attention because I’d been spending all my time working—and nothing else.

  Gilbert entered the study, hands behind his back, his posture upright even though it was well in the evening and he should retire to bed so he could wake up early and repeat this shit all over again. “Shall I add another log, sir?”

  I gave a slight nod.

  He added more firewood, got the fire going again, and then approached my desk.

  I pushed the empty bottle toward him, silently asking him to bring another.

  He didn’t lift it off the desk. “We’re out, sir. First thing tomorrow, I’ll fetch more.”

  My eyes narrowed on his face. “Don’t lie to me.”

  He stilled at my accusation.

  My eyes shifted back to the fire. “I have enough people lying to me as it is.”

  Gilbert lingered, as if he expected different orders. “Sir, I think it’s in your best interest to take a break. You’ve been hitting that bottle pretty hard the last few days…”

  My eyes shifted to him. “You’re disobeying my order.”

  He didn’t flinch at the heat in my expression. “Yes. To save your life.”

  It was an outlandish claim. Nothing could kill me—especially not a bottle of booze. But I let it go, too drunk to argue.

  Gilbert glanced at one of the armchairs that faced my desk. “Mind if I take a seat for a moment?”

  He’d never asked anything like that before. My eyes studied his face, unsure if I actually heard that or imagined it in my stupor. When I realized he was serious, I gave a nod.

  He lowered himself to the chair and rested his hands on his thighs, joining me as an equal for the first time. “I want you to know I’m here…even if it’s just to listen.” He regarded me with a concerned expression, a subtle eagerness, an innate affection that was almost familial.

  I straightened at my desk and rested my arms on the surface. My forearm slid the empty bottle and glass to the side, a subtle rim of amber around the ridges at the bottom of the scotch bottle. “My brother betrayed me. My woman betrayed me. Are you next?”

  He held my gaze without blinking. “Never.”

  “You say that now…” I shifted my gaze to the fire and watched it brighten the room once more. “But anything can change…once your interests change.”

  “My only interest is to serve you, sir. That will never change.”

  I kept my eyes on the fire and ignored him. “Goodnight, Gilbert.” It was harder to sleep now than before, even with the booze in my system.

  He dropped his chin for a moment but didn’t rise from the chair. After a moment, he regarded me once more. “Broken bones heal. Scar tissue repairs itself. Physical pain can be masked with pills. But a broken heart…doesn’t heal, doesn’t repair itself, and can’t be masked with pills. Sometimes, time is all that works. But even then, not always.”

  I turned my gaze back to him.

  “I’m sorry that you have to go through this, sir. Truly.”

  Three

  With Knives and Fire

  Melanie

  Our horse was tied to a branch.

  It was dark with the exception of our light, and we made our way down the snow-covered path, seeing the torches gleaming in the darkness of the camp.

  My heart had never pounded this hard.

  I’d never been so terrified.

  It was unlikely that we would save the girls and escape with no repercussions. Raven could be killed, and I wasn’t certain that Fender would give me any protection, not after the way I’d left.

  But it was the right thing to do.

  We inched our way into the camp, and I took a torch from one of the holders on a cabin. The fire was hot against my face, making me extend it farther outward to protect my skin from the burn.

  We stood together in the snow, our torches held above us, looking at the clearing and the blood that stained the snow underneath the rope. Raven stared at it for a long time, the fire illuminating her face, showing a cacophony of emotions she could never express with words.

  She switched the torch to her other hand when her arm grew tired before she looked at me. “This is for freedom—for all.” She turned away and headed in the direction she’d claimed.

  I watched her go, knowing I had to go alone on my own path and do my part. I had to be brave for once in my life. I had to do the right thing. I gripped the wooden torch and turned into the darkness, making my way past the cabins and lighting them on fire, moving quickly, torching everything I could get access to, doing as much damage as possible before the guards realized what was going on.

  It didn’t take long.

  The girls broke through
the windows and fell onto the snow, pulling others out to safety, screaming into the night. Pandemonium took over, the fire rising from all the buildings, bringing a brightness to the camp. It didn’t feel like winter anymore—but blazing summer.

  When my work was done, I threw the torch into the snow.

  It went out with an audible sizzle. Wisps of smoke started to rise. The snow that had surrounded it immediately melted away from the heat, and now it sank deeper into the powder.

  The girls screamed as they ran from the cabins.

  “This way!” I ran to the first group and guided them away from the burning cabins and to the main road, which was lit by torches to guide the way. “Follow it to the road!” I continued to run back into the camp, collect more girls, and organize the exodus.

  Sometimes, I passed Raven doing the same, directing the women to safety.

  When most of the girls were gone, I searched for Raven, knowing we had to run before we got caught.

  But she was nowhere in sight. “Raven!” I shouted into the night, over the clamor and screams of the guards, over the loud crackle of the fire because it made a cabin collapse into burning rubble. The smoke was starting to get too thick, making it harder to breathe. “Raven!” We had to get out of there before we were caught or suffocated.

  Then I found her.

  The executioner had her by the throat, ready to choke her to death right there in the snow. “Raven!” I sprinted to her and noticed another girl coming from a different direction. She jumped onto his back and slammed her fist into the back of his head.