BlackWolfe

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Paris nodded. “Aye,” he said. “It is time for him to go. No one is very happy with him these days.”

  Cassiopeia’s joy dimmed somewhat at the thought of Daniel. “He was an unnecessary complication, Papa,” she said. “I would feel pity for him except he brought everything down on himself. He behaved abominably and there was just no reason for it.”

  “I know.”

  Her thoughts lingered on Daniel, on men in general. “I do not understand why men behave so poorly at times,” she said. “I saw it in London, too. Men being cruel and sneaky for no reason at all. I just do not understand that thinking.”

  They were on the stairs now, heading down into the foyer. “All men have a competitive streak in them,” Paris said. “It is a primordial instinct – to get the most food, the best woman, the most money. It is how wars are started and countries are lost. It will always be so. Daniel saw something he wanted very much – you – and he was going to do everything in his power to get it. There is no great mystery.”

  They hit the bottom of the steps, passing servants who were lighting tapers to brighten the chamber in the morning. “Well, he did not get me,” Cassiopeia said firmly. “Even if there was no Edward, I would not have agreed to Daniel. There is something about him that is simply unlikable.”

  Paris put his hand on her shoulder as they entered the corridor where William’s chamber was. “I am sure he does not mean to be, but some men simply are,” he said. “I thought having competition would make Edward feel more of a sense of urgency in courting you, but it seems I may have miscalculated.”

  Cassiopeia paused, casting him a long look. “You mean to say that you were wrong.”

  “That word is not in my vocabulary.”

  Cassiopeia laughed softly and resumed her walk. “It is okay to admit it, Papa,” she said. “I do not think any less of you.”

  Paris was about to respond when they began to hear strange sounds coming from William’s chamber. They were at his door now and it sounded to Paris as if there was something going on inside – he could hear thumping and grunting. Looking at his daughter curiously, who gazed back at him with equal curiosity, Paris opened the chamber door and was met with a nightmare.

  Cassiopeia screamed at the sight.

  William and Daniel were in a life and death struggle over near the bed. There was blood on the floor and smeared on one of the walls as Daniel sat on William’s chest, throwing punches. Paris rushed in to break up the fight but what he didn’t see was a dagger in Daniel’s left hand.

  As soon as Paris bent over to pull Daniel off of William, Daniel took the dagger and plunged it right into Paris’ forearm. It wasn’t serious, but just bad enough to startle him. As Paris stumbled back, Daniel threw himself off of William and straight into Paris, knocking him over and ramming the dagger into the side of his torso.

  Cassiopeia screamed again, this time at the top of her lungs, but before she could catch her breath, Daniel saw her. With Paris on the floor with a dagger in his gut and William struggling to his knees, Daniel fixed on Cassiopeia.

  “You,” he hissed. “This is all your fault. Why couldn’t you have liked me, just a little? Why did it have to come to this?”

  With that, he yanked the dagger out of Paris and turned to William again, but William had his balance and grabbed Daniel by the hair, throwing him onto the ground. Completely unconcerned with her own safety, Cassiopeia rushed into the room and towards the hearth, where there were an array of iron implements. She’d just put her hand on the fire poker when the chamber was suddenly full of men – she could see Deinwald and a knight she knew as Hayes, plus an old man she didn’t recognize. But the most important man she saw was Edward.

  He’d come back.

  Startled, Cassiopeia watched a shocking scene unfold – Deinwald grabbed Paris and dragged him across the floor, to the doorway, while Hayes went after William. He put himself between William and Daniel as Edward, enraged by the sight of his bloodied father on the ground, threw both arms around Daniel’s neck and literally tossed him off of his father. Hayes practically dragged William to his feet and out of the chamber, and that left Edward and Daniel battling it out as they’d done two days ago when Daniel had so handily defeated him.

  This time, Edward wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Again.

  He was in the fight for his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Edward didn’t even say a word when he flipped Daniel off of his father. With a roar of fury, he heaved Daniel right over his shoulder. It was superhuman strength, and that talent Kieran and his father had spoken of, that ease for fighting and sword play that was precise and effortless, came out with a vengeance. The trained warrior in Edward was unleashed.

  He was going to kill Daniel and he was going to do it with his bare hands.

  But Daniel wasn’t going to go easily. He was winded from his struggle with two old knights, but he wasn’t exhausted. Edward’s toss had him flipping over the bed and landing on his shoulder on the other side, but he was on his feet in an instant, getting a good look at Edward, who was standing in the smears of his father’s blood on the floor.

  “So,” Daniel said, breathing heavily. “You have returned. I thought for certain the coward in you would have prevented that. Back for more, are you? That is good. Because I am going to beat you into the ground, de Wolfe. No mercy.”

  Edward was so angry that he was literally seeing white spots before his eyes. It was an anger bred from hatred so pure, so clear, that it fed every cell in his body. It wasn’t Daniel’s words that made him angry, but the mere fact that Daniel had harmed his father. William was bleeding, but Edward didn’t know how badly.

  It didn’t matter.

  Daniel was as good as dead.

  “Before you call someone a coward, you should, mayhap, look back at your own life and actions,” Edward said, his eyes on Daniel as he made his way across the floor, his target being his father’s broadsword as it lay next to the bed. “Look who I have brought with me – Thaddeus has come. And he has told me everything, de Motte. Or should I say de Troiu.”

  Daniel looked over to see Thaddeus standing near the door to the chamber, his broadsword in his left hand. The sight made Daniel grin.

  “You told him,” he said, seemingly amused. “I should have expected that you would, you worthless old fool. Now what? Do you intend to try and kill me, too?”

  He was gesturing to Thaddeus’ sword. The old man looked down at it, slowly, before returning his gaze to Daniel.

  “Nay,” Thaddeus said in a voice that sounded old and defeated. “I think you have already been dead to me for some time. I tried, Daniel. I wanted to love you, to nurture you. I tried to treat you like a son, to teach you right from wrong, but your mother ruined everything. That whore had no right to raise a son. She has destroyed you.”

  Daniel’s smile faded. “You will not speak of my mother so.”

  “Why not?” Thaddeus shot back. “It is true. She came to me pregnant – with you. Then she bedded me also, trying to tell me that her child was mine. Only a whore would have done that. She’s a whore who bred a bastard, which is exactly what you are. You are another man’s child. You are dead to me, boy.”

  Daniel was back to being amused. “When I am finished with Edward, then I will deal with you,” he said, his focus returning to Edward. “Well? I triumphed over you once. I shall do it again. Let us see how long you last today before I subdue you. But know that today, I shall not make the same mistake twice by leaving you alive.”

  Edward wasn’t going to argue with the man. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t apt to talk about the situation or try to reason it out. If Daniel truly thought he was going to walk out of Northwood after trying to kill William and Paris, and now Edward, then the man was mad. Literally mad.

  And there was no talking to a madman.

  Therefore, Edward did something that Daniel didn’t anticipate – without a word, he launched himself ac
ross the bed at Daniel, his father’s broadsword in his hand. Daniel saw him coming, but he moved too late. The edge of William’s broadsword caught Daniel at the base of his neck, right where he had no mail protection, and it was a bad cut. But Daniel managed to roll away from it, grabbing a chair from the nearby table. It was all he had, but it would have to do, because Edward was bent on murder.

  That talent Kieran spoke of was on full display as Edward went after Daniel with a vengeance. Daniel used the chair like a shield. In truth, that moment back at The Lyceum flashed before them, when Edward became angry over Daniel’s comment and swung his short sword so viciously at him. Now, it was the same thing again, and Daniel found himself on the defensive, with a chair the only thing between him and the razor-edge of William de Wolfe’s sword. But the chair wasn’t going to last very long, as Edward was hacking away pieces of it. Soon, it would be gone completely.

  Daniel had to come up with another plan.

  He saw it in the form of Cassiopeia, still standing over by the hearth. She was standing there, her mouth open in fear and astonishment at the battle she was witnessing, and he suddenly made a break for her. He wanted to grab her and hold her hostage against Edward’s attack and even against his freedom, but Cassiopeia saw him coming and she shrieked as she ran towards the door where Thaddeus was still standing. Daniel grabbed at her, catching the hem of her skirt as he lunged for her, but Cassiopeia was still armed. Lifting the poker, she crashed it right over Daniel’s head.

  He went down, heavily, but he didn’t let go of her skirt. In a panic, she smashed him over the head again and again as he tried to defend himself. This allowed Edward to stop his onslaught and yank the chair from Daniel’s hand, leaving him exposed. Edward lifted a hand to Cassiopeia, silently commanding her to stop, but William was suddenly behind her, bloodied and all, pulling her away from the battle and out of the chamber. Edward could hear her shrieking angrily, demanding to be released.

  But Edward wasn’t paying attention to that. He was focused on Daniel, who was now lying dazed and bleeding on the ground. He stood over the man, his sword tip at Daniel’s neck. For once, Daniel wasn’t fighting back. He simply lay there, his hands up to show he was no threat. It was a gesture of surrender. It implied that he wanted mercy.

  But Edward had no mercy to give.

  “And now, we find ourselves in reversed roles,” Edward said through clenched teeth. “You just told me that you would show me no mercy today. I wonder how you feel about the quality of mercy now.”

  Daniel kept his hands up, blinking rapidly because blood from a scalp gash was running in his eye. “I spared you two days ago,” he said, the confidence usually in his voice replaced by anger. “You owe me that, Edward.”

  Edward was at a precipice – he could, indeed, show mercy, which is what a greater man would have done. In his years as a diplomat, he had advocated such things. But at the moment, he wasn’t feeling like a greater man. He’d just come into this chamber only to see his father bloodied and his Uncle Paris stabbed by the man currently on the floor.

  Worse still, the attack wasn’t an act of impulse. It was a premediated act that went back to the moment in Daniel’s life when he believed that William de Wolfe had stripped him of everything – his father, his legacy – everything. This was no isolated incident and if Edward left Daniel alive, they would always be looking over their shoulders for de Troiu’s bastard to seek vengeance in the name of his father.

  And, quite possibly, Cassiopeia would never be safe, either.

  That was a huge factor on his mind. Daniel wanted Cassiopeia, so badly that he tried to kill Edward for the privilege. They could throw Daniel in the vault, but that wouldn’t end the hate or the scheming. If Daniel was ever released, or escaped, Cassiopeia would be in danger. They would all be in danger.

  Edward simply couldn’t live with that.

  “Edward, please,” Daniel said, cutting into his thoughts. “Remember that I showed you mercy. Do I not deserve the same?”

  Edward frowned. “You deserve nothing,” he said. “You have spent your life planning my father’s death and now you expect me to show mercy? You are daft if you think so. I want you to listen to me and listen well. This sword I hold is my father’s. He has had this sword since he was first knighted. I would be willing to believe that it is the same sword that killed your father. Now, it will kill you. You are a vile creature, de Motte. To leave you alive puts all of us at risk, because evil like yours cannot be stopped. It can only be killed. I may not be the greatest warrior of my family, or even the greatest de Wolfe, but right now, I am going to save my father’s life the only way I know how. By becoming the killer you have accused my father of being.”

  Daniel’s features tensed. In fact, a single tear trickled out of his left eye, running down his temple. It was a pathetic, repulsive sight. “Edward, please,” he said. “Don’t do it. Lock me away forever, but don’t kill me. At least give me a fair chance to fight you.”

  He was pleading now, the arrogant and brave knight reduced to a groveling fool. That showed Edward what Daniel de Motte was really made of; cowardice. Madness. Revenge. All qualities that did not make up a good moral character. Edward was beyond pity or human emotion of any kind at that point.

  He was beyond talk.

  The same sword that had killed Daniel de Troiu in that ambush those years ago sliced through his son’s neck with similar ease. Edward rammed it so hard that he drove it into the wooden floor beneath Daniel, nailing it down, so much so that when he let it go to watch Daniel bleed to death, the sword stood straight up, pinning Daniel to the cold, wooden floor and essentially decapitating him.

  And with that, Daniel de Motte met his end.

  Not with glory, or victory, but begging for his life on a dusty wooden floor.

  It was done.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Edward stood over Daniel for a very long time.

  In truth, he had no idea how long. He simply stood there, watching copious amounts of blood pool under Daniel’s neck and head, his sightless eyes starting up to the ceiling. It began to occur to him that he couldn’t believe what he’d done. He was a diplomat. He didn’t kill. But in this case, he’d had no choice.

  He hadn’t killed.

  He had saved.

  Someone was calling his name. In fact, he heard his name several times before he finally looked up, seeing Cassiopeia standing there, looking at him with tears in her eyes. When their gazes met, she put a hand over her mouth and the tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Are you well, Eddie?” she whispered tightly. “Please say something.”

  Edward looked behind her. His father was standing there as Hayes helped him with a big wad of boiled linen over his shoulder wound while Paris, who was also on his feet, stood just inside the door with a decidedly unhappy look on his face as Deinwald and a male servant fussed with more boiled linen, stopping the bleeding from two wounds. Paris was pale, but he was standing. That told Edward that the wounds weren’t too serious, simply bloody.

  He could live with bloody. What he couldn’t live with was death.

  Death against the old knights, the men he loved best, had been thwarted, even if what he’d done had been rather cold-blooded.

  He didn’t even care.

  His gaze returned to Cassiopeia. “I will be fine,” he said quietly, moving over to her and cupping her sweet face between his two bloodied hands. “I… I am sorry you had to see this. But mayhap, in some way, I have redeemed myself in your eyes. I never meant to humiliate you, Cassie. I am sorry I ran away rather than tell you that.”

  She wiped at the tears. “Edward, you never humiliated me,” she said fervently. “Nothing you could ever do would humiliate me. Don’t you realize how much I adore you?”

  Edward could feel his eyes grow misty. All of the fears he’d had, the fear that she was ashamed of him, were summarily dashed in that one, sweet sentence. “And I adore you,” he whispered. “I am looking forward to the
day when you and I settle in to Isleworth House to raise our thirty sons.”

  Cassiopeia burst into soft laughter among the tears. “Can we not discuss the number of sons we are to have?”

  “Nay.”

  He said it so seriously but, a moment later, his lips began to twitch with a smile. Impulsively, he slanted his lips over hers, kissing her so deeply that Paris, over by the door and being tended to, pointed at him.

  “William,” he said, grunting in pain when the servant pressed too hard against his wound. “Look at what he is doing to her. In front of me, no less. Can the man not wait until the betrothal contract is final?”

  William watched his son kiss the woman he would soon marry. Even though they were surrounded by blood and death, that moment stood out as such a bright beacon that it overwhelmed the darkness around it. It was joy emerging from what could have been a horrible situation. Had it not been for Edward, it would have been. Edward had found that inner de Wolfe knight and he had put him to good use.

  William had never been prouder.

  Smiling faintly, he shook his head.

  “Nay, he cannot wait,” he said, turning away and realizing that Thaddeus de Motte was still standing there. William’s smile faded as he beheld the man he’d not seen in many years. “Thaddeus, I do not know what to say about all of this. To say that I am sorry sounds… offensive. I have no words to convey my sorrows to you.”

  Thaddeus had been looking at Daniel, lying in a pool of his own blood. When he heard William speak his name, he looked to the man with regret on his face. “He did this to himself, my lord,” he said hoarsely. “I must confess that I have known of his hatred for you for many years, but I did not tell you because I felt I was being disloyal to my family if I did. But I see now that I have no family… mayhap I never did have one. Your son killed for you. I know mine never would have.”