With a last look to the corridor Aurelia had ventured down, Raf went to his bed. He would not provoke Roderick’s interest in her by seeking her out.
The family quarters of Blackens Gate were above the hall and in the south tower, where Lord Canis had his bed. Roderick’s chambers stood before his father’s, in order to defend the lord of the castle from harm. Raf’s were further away, but still an easy walk that no one might see or hear from the rest of the castle. He slipped into his chambers and checked under the bed and in cupboard before securing the door, as he’d done every night since he was old enough to do it himself. Before that, his nurse had done it, making a game of it at first, one that had become more and more grim as the years went by. The same bed, the same chamber.
Once, he’d been content to call this place home. To keep his head down and do as he was told by his father and brother, grateful that they suffered him to live among them in his maimed state. They could have exiled him, to court or to an abbey. They could have killed him. He’d spent three years believing blindly in the way of his pack in the wake of his injury, and becoming more bitter every day. He’d watched his brother turn from an honorable man to one drunk on power. And now, those embittered feelings turned to hate at the thought that this man who used to be his brother would have Aurelia.
Lying uneasy on his bed, Raf wondered how Aurelia fared. Was she warm? Was she safe? It pained him not to know when she was so close, but any clandestine visit was sure to be discovered, and Roderick would do something to hurt her to prove his claim.
If there were eternal tortures for sinners after death, perhaps he had died in that river. This was the worst torment he could imagine. He would give his other leg to know she would be safe.
In the course of three days, his life had changed irrevocably. But he remembered that moment in which he’d seen the fear on her face, the slightest of doubts when she’d sworn she had none. He wondered how much that faith had flagged since then.
He tossed all night long in his bed, far too cold without Aurelia at his side. Weary, he rose before dawn and dressed. He took up his sword, hefting it in his hand. He’d not fought since he’d last had two legs.
Slowly, with a mind made more critical out of necessity, he tried a few forms. When he’d first gotten his false leg, he had attempted to train. The stump had hurt too much, the freshly healed skin rubbed raw to bleeding despite the surgeon’s attempts to fit it tighter with packing. His balance had been a travesty, and he’d given up, seeing no need to continue with a sword, when he would never again be called upon to use it.
Now, his footing was surer, much closer to the way he’d been as a whole man. His sense of the ground was more even, now that he was used to the iron, and his hand was more steady. He was not at his best, but certainly not at his worst anymore. He felt a glimmer of hope, but quickly pushed it aside. Even at his best, he’d be unable to match his brother. His shoulders sagged and he dropped the blade.
He should abduct her. He should take her and flee, as he’d planned to all along. This time, though, he would go as quickly as possible. He would not worry about things like comfort and traveling covertly. He would simply outrun his father’s men, before they could find him.
And where would he go with her? The Free Wolves of York? Away from home, that had seemed a likely option. He’d been viewing it as their only escape, and a surety, but back behind the walls of Blackens Gate, he now saw the option in a different light. If their reception at his own home had been this cold, how would wolves with no pack allegiance treat him? And he would be openly defying the king, who had demanded Sir Edmund provide a daughter to become Lady Canis. She would not, if he were to take her away.
What could he provide her if he ran? It was no life, traveling from place to place, scrounging for meals. He could easily become a beggar, but even he had his pride. There was nothing for Aurelia with him if he threw away his title.
He went down to break his fast with the rest of the castle in the hall. In his place at his father’s table sat Aurelia.
“Good day, brother!” Roderick called cheerfully from Aurelia’s side. “There is room for you next to my betrothed, if you’ll eat with us.”
His desire to be near to Aurelia triumphed over his pride, and Raf went to the bench and sat beside her.
“You’re going to let him that close, when he’s already been under her skirts?” Sir Clement called with a great, loud laugh, and the other men joined in.
Aurelia looked to him with wide, pleading eyes. Her hair was still mussed, bits of straw stuck in her golden curls. Her pale face and the dark hollows beneath her eyes told him the rest of the story.
“Did you sleep on the ground?” he asked, ignoring the voices around them.
She nodded, tears coming to her eyes. He ached to take her into his arms, to comfort her and wipe those tears away. But he could not, not without endangering her.
“A travesty!” Roderick interrupted, dropping one large hand on her thigh. “You’ll be much more comfortable tonight, I’ll see to that.”
“You didn’t see to it last night, when it would have been thoughtful, my lord,” she bit back, venom on her tongue. Raf had never heard such a tone from her, though she’d hinted at it last night when speaking to Margaret Lackey. He didn’t like it. Every moment she spent here soured her, and she did not deserve such a fate.
“What a fine tongue you have,” Roderick complimented her. “I can hardly wait to see what else it can do.”
Her face flamed red, and she stared down at his hand on her thigh.
Though every instinct in Raf roared for challenge, he could not risk it. He watched in silent fury as his brother cut meat and fed Aurelia from his own knife. He watched as Roderick made lewd compliments and suggestions, all under the guise of loving attention. He watched, and made sure his brother saw that he gave the spectacle his full attention. It would satisfy Roderick enough, Raf hoped, just to humiliate him in this way. Better this, than his threat of the night before.
Roderick gave his brother a pleased smile. “Perhaps I’ll see us married tonight. What do you think, my love? Would you be a happy bride for me?”
Before Raf could stop her arm from flying, Aurelia emptied her cup of wine in Roderick’s face.
At first, Roderick simply blinked at her in shock. The hall fell deadly silent in waves, those closest going quiet to wait for his reaction, the rest of the hall following suit as they realized something had happened that could become an entertainment.
They really were a pack of animals, Raf realized. He’d never hated his wolf before, but now, knowing that it linked him to these beasts, he wished for the first time that he were just a man.
Roderick gave a disbelieving laugh and wiped his face with his sleeve. His expression barely changed as he threw his arm out to strike her. The back of his hand caught her mouth, and her head whipped back, her body following the arch of her neck, sprawling her backward on the rushes.
Raf could not sit by quietly and ignore that. He leapt up and went to Aurelia’s side to help her to her feet. He put himself between her and Roderick, as Lord Canis rose from his chair.
“My own son ignores the rules dictating honorable conduct in my very hall!” Canis gestured to Aurelia, his eyes never leaving Roderick’s face. “As unlikely as your brother winning this challenge may be, you have been formally challenged. Only a coward damages the property he fears losing.”
“I’m sorry, father, I assumed she was my property, given to me by the king and Sir Edmund.” That was as much an apology as any could expect from Roderick. He wiped more wine from his face and stalked from the hall.
“As for yourself,” Canis warned Aurelia, “be aware that disobedience is not tolerated from lesser creatures. I would step carefully from now on.”
“Chin up, let me see,” Raf said softly, curling a finger beneath Aurelia’s chin to raise her face. Roderick’s blow had split her bottom lip, and blood trickled from the tear and the corners of her mouth
. She recoiled in pain as he passed his thumb over it, wiping the blood away.
“Henry!” Lord Canis thundered. “Henry Barley, where are you?”
Raf peered through the cold morning light that filtered into the hall, afraid to spy his friend for fear he would appear beaten or branded, but when Henry strode toward the lord’s table, he looked hale. He took a knee before the table, as though Lord Canis were King Edward himself.
“My lord?” Henry asked, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he looked up.
“Of all my knights, you’re the one most human.” From Lord Canis, this was an insult for Henry to bear, but the knight would take it in good humor, as he did most insults. “Finally, you’re to be of some use. Take this girl and see her mended. Put her in the East tower and keep watch there. The tribunal will convene in three days. I expect her to survive them.”
“By my own blood, I swear she will not come to harm.” Henry stood and approached them warily, and only then did Raf realize how fierce his expression must look.
Let them see. Let all of his father’s wolves see that he was not a broken thing to be cast aside. If they did not fear his anger, they had no sense in them at all. He felt as though he could cut down the entire hall in his rage, and Roderick, and his own father. He would, for Aurelia.
It would not be necessary, now. Not with Henry pledged to watch over her. He was the only loyal friend Raf had ever known.
“She will be safe with me, pack mate,” Henry swore.
“Safe and sequestered,” Lord Canis reminded him. “Until the tribunal.”
“Go,” Raf told Aurelia, managing a smile for her.
Aurelia nodded, wiping a bit of blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned to Lord Canis and bent her head. “My lord.”
She did not look back at Raf as Henry led her from the hall.
“Your brother’s wife,” Lord Canis said with a shake of his head. The rest of the hall had lost interest, seeing that the confrontation had been solved. But the lord of Blackens Gate did love to have the final say. “I’ve always known you to be a fool, Raf. But not this foolish. For years, I’ve wondered if you were actually my blood at all.”
Raf had barely any appetite at all when he’d first come to hall. The intervening events had killed it entirely. He picked up his knife from the table and slid it into his belt. “But I am your blood, father. Whatever weakness I have, I inherited from you.”
He left the hall, knowing his father would find an opportunity to strike back at him later.
Chapter Nine
“There. Not as bad as all that.”
Aurelia nodded at the knight who knelt before her, a blood-smeared rag in his hand. She did not try to smile at him, for that would only bring fresh blood to her swollen lips. “I thank you, sir.”
“Speak carefully,” he said, suddenly very serious. “Word that I am kind to you might ruin my fearful reputation.”
He was teasing her, she realized, and his gentle humor brought tears to her eyes. He clucked like an old nurse at that, and sat beside her on the cot she rested upon. “Don’t cry. He will drive himself mad imagining you up here, crying. Don’t give his premonitions weight.”
Aurelia looked about the tower room where she would be confined for the next three days. The timbers of the roof had rotted, and daylight streamed in with the cold. Water slicked the walls, blackened from mold and smoke. The rushes were sparse and stale, the filth below sending up the musky scent of decay. There was a bed, though no mattress rested upon it, but Henry had ordered one found for her. He would sleep on the cot she now occupied. Or so he swore. She would not sleep easily with a wolf in her prison with her.
She rose from the cot and went to the single window, barely more than an arrow slit. From it, she could see a sliver of the castle yard, and the men training there. Did Raf train in anticipation of his coming battle? She prayed silently that he did, and that he would kill Roderick. For if he did not…
Her anger roiled through her, and her hands clenched to fists. She did speak carefully, as Henry had advised, to keep her numbed lips from cracking anew and burning. “If Raf does not best his brother, do you know what will happen?”
“You will belong to his brother,” Henry said warily. “My lady, perhaps you shouldn’t think of that now. You’ve had a trying few days. Rest is in order, and more food. I’ll go down to the kitchens—”
“If he does not win, I will tell you what will happen.” Her voice turned to steel in her throat. She would not have been surprised to find that they had sliced her open from inside out. “I will marry Roderick, and he will take me to his bed. And I will kill him there, and myself. I will not live amongst your kind.”
“Would that I could so easily remove myself from my own kind, as well,” Henry said easily.
She’d expected some reproach, some warning to mind her tongue. She faced him, wary of a trick. “Do not agree with me in the hopes of carrying some dark words back to Lord Canis. I assure you, I would say all of this and more to him, myself.”
“I would not consider it, my lady.” Henry rose and came to stand beside her at the window, peering down at the men training in the yard. “See there? The bald man with the hare lip? That man is my father. He knows it, and I know it, but we don’t acknowledge it. My mother was a servant here in the castle. She bore me, presented me to Lord Canis, and he had her slain when I was but nine days old.”
Aurelia’s heart jumped to her throat, though the knight betrayed no emotion as he spoke.
“She was a human, and Lord Canis had no patience for one of his men siring a bastard. He turned me over to the care of a wolf-woman in the castle, and she raised me. When I was fourteen years old, I learned the truth of it.” Henry shook his head as he watched the man in the courtyard heft a huge ax and cleave a straw man entirely in half in one blow. It seemed strange to Aurelia that a man of such power should fight against a straw dummy, until he held the ax out to an unseen hand. A skinny lad appeared in her view, brandishing the heavy weapon uncertainly. It seemed almost as though the ax should lift him, and might, if he did not keep his balance.
Henry’s jaw set tight. “I’m not worthy to be the son of a knight. I’m barely worthy to be a wolf. All I know, I learned on my own, else I would be one of the slave wolves in King Edward’s dungeon.”
Aurelia had no words of comfort to give him. Instead, his words sharpened her own pain. “He did nothing. Roderick struck me, and he did nothing.”
A tear dropped to her hand, and, soft rag still in his hand, Henry wiped it away for her. “If he had, it would have gone worse for you. Roderick cares for no one. I doubt he feels anything even for himself. He would destroy you simply to see the anguish on his brother’s face. He would destroy himself if he thought it would cause another enough pain.”
“But he did nothing. And he let Margaret Lackey take me away from him—”
Henry stopped her words with a soft, kind tone. “Would you rather it had been Roderick? He would have taken you to his bed last night, and been within his rights within the pack. He could have beaten you, raped you, he could have cut your throat and never thought of you again. He would have done it to make a weapon of Raf’s love for you.”
“He has never said as much,” she realized, a cold stone falling to her stomach. “He has never told me that he loves me.”
“Yet he speaks it with every action.” Henry smiled sadly. “He knows nothing but life as a wolf, and now, life as a cripple among warriors. He will likely die fighting his brother, and he goes willingly. Not from pride, for I have seen him act without pride every day since they took his leg. But he goes to defend you, in hope that the impossible may happen. He may kill Roderick, and he may yet save you.”
All the doubts she’d carefully archived in the night, as she’d lain shivering on the cold floor, turned to guilt. It easily weighed as much as the very foundations of the terrible castle itself.
Henry continued, “I hate it here as much as Raf
does. But we know no other way of life. What would he have done if he’d really taken you North? The Free Wolves there are likely as barbaric as here. My mother’s fate would have become yours if their leader is as ruthless and cruel as Lord Canis.”
In the yard, the boy with the ax managed a mighty swing, cleaving what little of the straw man was left standing in twain. The bald man chuffed the boy on the back of the head, his face beaming with pride. Henry looked away. “I tell you all of this, because I know he never would. I see his desire to save you from harm in every glance. He would keep you ignorant, believing it a protection. But it is not, not now, when you dangle by so tenuous a thread. You must see clearly what is before you, even if the outcome is not what he desires.”
She closed her eyes, wishing desperately that some grand solution might come to her, but she’d never been taught to use her mind for such a purpose. She was taught to be quiet and mannerly and how to select her words with care if she should be expected to reply. It seemed so hopeless.
“I told you what I would do,” she repeated, a tear burning down her battered face.
Henry pulled a knife from his belt. The sound shocked her, bringing her eyes open. He took her hand and, turning her palm up, laid the hilt across it.
“Arrogant men sleep soundly,” he advised, folding her fingers over the dagger. “Wait until then. To the front of the throat, a single thrust, straight back. Don’t try to cut his throat, men have healed that wound before.”
Beholding the weapon he had given her, she felt a new, but terrible power. She would not use it for any other purpose, she swore, but to kill Roderick, if it came to it. If it did not, she would return the horrible blade. He unfastened the sheath and took the knife from her, encasing it safely before handing it over again.
“I can trust you to answer me honestly?” she asked, not daring to meet his eyes.
“I think I have proven a desire to help you.”
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