His Enchantment

by Diana Cosby

  Bloody damn.

  The Scottish knight regained his balance. Wild eyed, he raised his sword, charged.

  Trálin deflected his blade, blocked the middle of his sword with his own. Hand trembling with effort, he pushed.

  Sir Rogier lost his balance, stumbled back.

  Before the knight regained his balance, Trálin dove atop him.

  Arms guided by evil magic clasped around his neck, rolled him over.

  In the fragments of moonlight, he caught the blur of Catarine jumping on the Scottish knight’s back.

  Trálin struggled to throw the knight off, failed.

  The knight’s body twisted as he released his neck with one hand and reached toward Catarine.

  Nay! Trálin fought to break free of the man’s inhuman hold as he struggled to breathe.

  The knight’s hand around Trálin’s neck tightened.

  Sir Rogier’s face dimmed before him.

  Catarine’s blade flashed in the moonlight.

  The glowing stone tied to the leather strap around Sir Rogier’s neck slipped to the ground. In the waver of eerie light, confusion filled the Scottish knight’s eyes, then he collapsed.

  Catarine grabbed the strap of the gemstone, flung it over the wall.

  Coughing, gasping for breath, Trálin sat up. He rubbed his neck. “You shouldna have jumped atop of him.”

  “A fine thank-you indeed.”

  Humbled, Trálin accepted Catarine’s hand and stood. “My thanks. Still, you shouldna have risked your life.”

  “And let him kill you?” She released his hand, stepped back. “Admit it,” she demanded, her voice a blend of anger and fear. “You are only upset because you didna protect me.”

  The Scottish knight groaned.

  “He is coming to.” Catarine knelt by his side.

  Sir Rogier rubbed the back of his neck and stared up confused. “What happened?”

  “You attacked Lord Grey,” she stated.

  Disbelief widened the knight’s eyes as he sat. “Please, tell me ’tis a lie?”

  “’Tis truth,” Trálin’s said, indeed irritated that he’d nae protected Catarine.

  “My lord, my deepest apologies,” he rasped. “I dinna know why I would do such a traitorous act.”

  “You took a pendant from one of the English knights, did you nae?” she asked.

  The knight hesitated, then looked down. “Aye.”

  Trálin strode to the man. “Why?”

  “I d-didna intend to.” His face filled with regret, Sir Rogier glanced at each of them, then shook his head. “My fingers bumped against the strap holding the gemstone. I canna explain except to say that at that moment, I had to have it.” He paused. “I know it sounds as if a lie crafted, but I swear to you both, ’tis truth.”

  Catarine hissed, met Trálin’s hard gaze. A spell, she mouthed.

  Lord Grey gave a curt nod.

  “My lady,” the knight pleaded, “please forgive me. Never have I done such before or can believe I have. ’Tis shame on my family I bring.”

  Yells and the clash of blades echoed below.

  Trálin glanced toward the gatehouse. “’Tis done. We must join the others before the English break inside.”

  “Indeed.” The Scot shoved to his feet, wavered a bit, then hurried down the steps.

  “’Twas a spell,” Catarine explained to Trálin. “Once Sir Rogier’s fingers brushed against the stone, ’twas the connection my aunt needed to link with his mind.”

  “Why would she want me dead?” Trálin shook his head. “I have more questions, but first we must help the others.” He bolted for the turret and prayed they would indeed overcome the attackers this night.

  Purple streaks haunted the morning sky as Catarine completed one last check of her mount’s saddle, the shambles of the castle sprawled in her wake. Without the reinforcements of the Scottish knights, too easily it could have been them lying dead. Overwhelmed by the emotions from the last few hours of battle, of how her aunt’s treachery had left many more men dead, she laid her head on her steed’s withers.

  “Are you ready to depart?” Trálin asked as he walked up to his mount secured nearby.

  At the exhaustion in his voice, guilt swept her, and she glanced toward him. “I am.”

  Trálin checked his steed’s cinch, then glanced over. “’Tis a boon the English knights rode in to attack us. With their horses, ’twill cut down the time of our travel.”

  “Indeed.”

  Shrewd eyes studied her. “What is wrong?”

  She took a steadying breath, rubbed her mount’s withers. “So many lives have been lost because of my aunt’s greed.”

  “Her choice,” Trálin stated, anger brisk in his voice.

  “’Tis, but I canna understand how she could make such a decision. Even the loss of one life outweighs whatever her goals of wealth or power could offer.”

  He grunted. “Sadly, for many, greed smothers any care for the atrocities committed against others.”

  A horse whinnied from the far end of the dilapidated stable.

  For a moment she took in fey warriors working along with the Scottish knights as they finished preparing their mounts for the ride ahead.

  “Catarine?” Trálin asked.

  She met his gaze, his weariness a trait they all shared. “Aye?” “A question haunts me. If your aunt controls the person wearing the gemstone, why would she direct the Scottish knight to ensure that I am dead?”

  With all of the mayhem of the past few hours, she’d nae pondered his earlier question. Except now, with the English knights dead and a token of calm rumbling around them, his reminder sent shivers of dread through her.

  “You are right. Beneath my aunt’s influence, the Scottish knight should have tried to kill me. It makes nay sense that your life would be at risk. ’Tis nae as if my aunt knows you, or that you and I . . .” Fear crawled through her like acid, destroying her every shard of calm with painful intent.

  And she knew.

  Understood with shuddering clarity.

  Green eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  Her body trembled as she held Trálin’s gaze, wanting to be wrong, but ’twas the only answer. “My aunt is aware of my feelings for you.” Her whisper clattered against the silence as if crystals shattering upon rock.

  “How would she?” he asked. “We are nae from the same world.”

  “’Tis because of the stone,” she explained. “’Twould seem, when the gemstone is worn around a person’s neck, she can see what the wearer sees and somehow sense what others around the person are feeling.”

  Skepticism darkened his gaze. “It sounds incredible.”

  “Aye,” she agreed, shaken by this unforeseen threat. “I have heard of this before, but only in those who have immense power. ’Tis so rare, I thought the ability a myth of fables. But, ’twould seem ’tis true.”

  “And you never suspected?” Trálin asked.

  “Nay.” She stroked her mount’s neck, her fingers shaking. “All my life I thought my aunt was a bit different, her travels without proper chaperone earning many a censure from my grandparents. Except, I doubt even they, or any in my family, knew that she had immersed herself in the art of black magic.”

  He gave a rough sigh. “I understand nae wanting to see a darker side to those we love. Though, it sounds as if your aunt kept her studies secret.”

  She nodded. “A wise choice, as she would have been cast out of the Otherworld if my family had learned the truth.”

  “As if the news will nae earn her the same now?”

  “It will”—Catarine’s hand stilled—“if my family lives.”

  Snorts of horses broke the tense silence.

  Trálin cleared his throat, then glanced around the dilapidated stable. “The men are almost ready to go.”

  ’Twas only moments until they departed. She must tell him. “Trálin,” she said, her mind weighted with guilt, “when I first asked you to aid us, never did I mean to en
danger your life.”

  Tenderness touched his face as he laid his hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “More than once you have risked your life for me as well, a fact I deeply regret.”

  She withdrew her hand, fisted it at her side. “But I lived. With Princess Elspeth aware of your importance to me, the more I weigh the circumstance, the more I fear ’tis a fact she will use.”

  Shrewd eyes studied her. “How so?”

  She hesitated, the enormity of her thoughts terrifying. “Before this day, I believed her intent was to destroy the remainder of the royal family within our realm, to ensure she has no opposition when she claims the crown. But her attempt to kill you proves if that was indeed her original intent, she now wants more.”

  “More?”

  Catarine drew a deep breath. “If my aunt exposes my feelings for you to Prince Zacheus, it might infuriate him to the point where the war our marriage is supposed to avoid becomes real. And, in her twisted way, in a show of supposed concern, she can offer herself in my stead to bring peace between our kingdoms.”

  Infuriated understanding smothered the confusion in his eyes. “And in the end,” Trálin said, his voice cold, “she would lay claim to not just one kingdom, but two.”

  Shaken, Catarine nodded. “I must inform my father.” A meeting she dreaded. He would be far from pleased to learn she’d fallen in love with Trálin, but to save her realm a truth she would admit. Nor would it change her father’s expectations that she wed Prince Zacheus.

  Her destiny remained sealed.

  “Now what do we do?” Trálin asked.

  “Thankfully, with her men about, ’twould seem she has nae left for the Otherworld. We must stop her before she does.” Responsibility weighed atop her guilt. “I pray my warriors have reached my father by now. Still, I need to send another of my warriors to update him of this latest threat.”

  Trálin slowly crossed his arms. “Do you nae think it should be you who explains?”

  “I do, but the luxury of time for me to reach him does nae exist.”

  “You could go,” Trálin pressed. “I will continue on with your warriors in search of Princess Elspeth.”

  Anger flared as she understood. “You want me safe, protected, but I am nae leaving.”

  “You are being stubborn.”

  “Nay,” she replied, “if indeed she is still here, ’tis possible that she will speak with only me.”

  His mouth settled into a grim line. “And if you are wrong and she has already returned to the Otherworld?”

  Fear cut through her. “Then God help us all.”

  “Then I will pray we find her here.”

  As would she. “I do have a concern.”

  “What is that?”

  “Though we have a map, it ends in England without indicating a specific location of anything of significance. With my aunt’s immense power, I fear if she doesna wish to be seen, we willna see her.”

  Expression hard, he unfurled his arms, dropped them to his sides. “Blast it, she has to have a weakness.”

  “If so,” Catarine replied, “’tis none that I am aware of.”

  With a frustrated sigh, Lord Grey withdrew the map and tapped the location where the line ended. “For the most, the land holds naught of importance. But, we shall search here. For the sake of your family and realm, let us pray that she still remains in England.”

  “I must talk with Sionn. He is the best choice to send to explain everything to my father.”

  Trálin nodded.

  Angst swirling inside her, Catarine headed across the stable.

  At her approach, Sionn shot her a questioning look. “Is there a problem?”

  “I must speak with you all in private.”

  His hard gaze glanced toward Trálin, then back to her. “This involves Lord Grey?”

  “Aye.” Rocks crunched beneath their feet as she headed toward a break in the castle walls, the rush of wind through the opening perfect to conceal their discussion from the others. Near the heap of scattered stones, she faced her friend. “I need you to return to the Otherworld and find my father.”

  Lines of confusion wedged in his brow. “You have already sent warriors to inform the king of your aunt’s treachery.”

  “I have, but now there is another issue of great importance.” In brief she explained her concerns about her aunt learning of her feelings for Trálin, her possible intent to use them to marry the prince and gain more power.

  Sionn’s mouth tightened. “The king will be furious.”

  “My father will be,” she agreed. “’Twould be best if I spoke with him, but if we find Princess Elspeth, ’tis I who needs to confront her as I doubt she will speak to anyone but royalty.”

  “’Twill leave you with but Drax and Kuircc,” Sionn said, his voice grim.

  Apprehension slid through her. “I know.”

  “Blast it.” Her friend rubbed the back of his neck, shot her a cool look. “I will do as you bid, but I do nae like it.”

  “My thanks.”

  “Do nae thank me,” Sionn said. “When you eventually meet with your father, ’twill be far from pleasant.”

  An understatement. Her father would be outraged.

  Large flakes of snow whipped past as Trálin followed the rider they’d come across earlier in the day after they’d crossed into England. After catching several glints of the rider’s gemstone around his neck, he was sure the man he now trailed was under the control of Catarine’s aunt.

  As he topped the ridge and rode deeper on English soil, his concern grew. At least she and the others were safe, hidden in the shield of trees a distance behind. She’d nae liked his following the horseman, but could nae argue that ’twas easier for one person to follow the man to avoid being seen.

  A horse snorted in the distance.

  Reining his steed to a halt, Trálin dismounted and tethered him in a copse of trees. With care he worked his way through the thick swath of pines. Near a break, he lay on his stomach, inched forward, and peered through the brush.

  A distance below, the lone rider cantered along a heavily used path toward two large buildings. At his approach, another man walked into view. The rider dismounted, handed his steed over to the man, then strode toward the larger building of the two.

  An inn? Was the rider en route to meet with others before they departed for the Otherworld? There was only one way to find out.

  Scrambling to his mount, Trálin rode to where Catarine and the others rested.

  A short while later, he approached, and Catarine hurried to meet him.

  “Where did the rider go?” she asked.

  “To what looks to be an inn,” Trálin replied.

  Concern darkened her gaze. “Did you see other English knights there?”

  “Nay, but I believe he is meeting someone there, which is why I returned.” He laid the reins in his palm. “Remain here with our men at camp. Once night has fallen, I will enter disguised as a traveler and see what information I can learn.”

  Anger reddened her cheeks. “I am going with you.”

  Blast it. “I will nae risk you going in. ’Tis too—”

  “Dangerous?” she interrupted.

  His arguments fell away. She’d overcome a blizzard, fought the English knights at the broken-down castle, and had held her own in both. “I do nae like the thought of your putting your life at risk.”

  Her face grew tender. “I know.”

  Hours later blackness coated the earth as Trálin rode toward the two buildings, keeping his steed’s gait easy. Catarine’s soft breath on his neck as she sat behind him far from put him at ease. Aye, she had a right to be here, but how could he nae worry for her safety?

  A break in the clouds sent moonbeams spilling to the earth, illuminating the clearing between him and the buildings.

  She leaned close to his ear. “’Tis the inn.”

  “There is still time for you to dismount, and for me to go in alone.”

  “Trálin,
well I know the dangers we face, but I appreciate your concern.”

  Concern? What the lass made him feel far exceeded the paltry word. Never had he met a woman who challenged him on every level, nor made him feel the depth of emotions she did. The thought of her leaving after this was over seemed impossible. As if he had a blasted choice?

  From the shadows, a tall man, sword raised, stepped from the stable. “Halt, who goes there?”

  “Here we go,” Trálin whispered back to Catarine, and drew his mount to a halt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dropping his shoulders and allowing his body to slump, Trálin nodded to the tall man standing before the stable who held his sword raised. “We have traveled far and are weary. We seek naught but a room to rest this night.”

  Cast in torchlight, the lines on the Englishman’s face narrowed in suspicion. “You are Scottish.”

  “Aye.”

  Catherine prayed he convince the man they were no threat or their entire plan to eavesdrop on the English knights working for her aunt would fail.

  “We traveled south from the border,” Trálin explained. “My wife has been ill, and we are on our way to procure herbs to help her.”

  His wife!

  The man’s eyes narrowed on Catarine, and he stepped back. “Is she contagious?”

  “With child.” Trálin replied without glancing toward her.

  To her chagrin, after a long look at Catarine, the Englishman lowered his sword.

  “There are several rooms available,” the mans said, “but ’twill cost you.”

  After the man quoted a figure, Trálin dismounted and handed over the requested coin.

  The Englishman lifted the fare to the light. With a satisfied grunt, he shoved the money within a hidden pocket. “Tell Godefray you have a room on the second floor for the night,” the man said. “And a hot meal.”

  Relief swept Trálin. “My thanks.”

  “If you are ready to go in,” the man said, “I will be stabling your horse.”

  “We are.” Lord Grey turned and lifted Catarine to the ground. An arched brow in her direction assured her he knew that she was far from pleased with the story he’d concocted. “Are you well enough to walk?”

  “Indeed,” she said, her voice crisp.

  Trálin handed the reins to the Englishman, took her elbow, and escorted her to the inn.