In the midst of the circle sat a couple playing chess, each of them enthroned as they leaned over the board from opposing sides. The man had a long dark beard, which he stroked with elegant fingers. His robes were crimson and embroidered with gold, the hem of his cloak edged in white ermine fur. He wore rings on every finger and his pale green wings arched high overhead, fluttering slightly as he considered his play. His crown was as gold as sunlight, gleaming so brightly that Isabella could scarce look upon it.
The woman’s hair was as dark as midnight, and it flowed over her shoulders, past her hips. Her eyes could have been deep pools and her lips were as red as blood. She was dressed in silver and black, like a goddess of the night, stars seemingly stitched onto her mantle and frost ornamenting its hems.
She wore a crown that could have been made of spider webs garnished with dewdrops. The water beads glittered like crystals, shimmering when she moved her head to speak to one of her attendants. Her wings rose dark and large behind her. They looked like black lace and they fluttered slightly. In pleasure? Anticipation? Isabella could not say.
And all over the skin of both of them was the same blue tracery that Isabella had seen on Murdoch’s wrist. Indeed, every denizen of the court was so marked, leaving no doubt what Isabella saw. She knew she should turn away, she knew she should close her eyes to the frantic swirl of the small Fae that could have been fireflies, but she could not imagine how she would ever pretend to be oblivious to this sight.
The dark queen held some item on her lap. She lifted it and turned it in the light, examining its contents. With horror, Isabella saw that it was a crystal orb, one that glowed faintly with an inner light.
And within it pulsed a wet red heart.
Even knowing that she should flee, Isabella urged the horse closer. She had to see that heart.
She had to know whose it was.
Half of the heart had turned dark and dead, looking more like the rotting leaves on the forest floor than a source of life and vitality. A winged courtier fluttered beside the orb, the tiny blue Fae circling the crystal as she examined its contents.
“Murdoch challenges you,” the king said, amusement in his tone. “I like him well, for it does not suit a man to be too biddable.”
Isabella knew then that Moira had been right. This dark queen had put the marks on Murdoch’s flesh. And that was why he refused to discuss them, why they terrified him, because he knew the Fae queen’s intent.
“He will be mine in the end, no matter how much you meddle.” The dark queen stroked the orb, kissed it and cradled it in her hands. Her smile was hungry and not very kind.
The king smiled and moved a piece on the board. The queen’s eyes flashed like thunder. She snatched up the orb and kicked over the board. “You will not cheat me of my prize!” she roared.
Isabella felt a strange wind rise then, one filled with shadows and rot. It emanated from the queen, swirling like a tempest. It spun around the regal pair as the king held his ground, carrying a spiral of dark leaves up to the sky along with it. She had the vague sense of the dark queen spreading her cloak wide to float over the entire forest, then that wind buffeted her so hard that she had to close her eyes against its onslaught. She guessed then that the wind that had tormented Kinfairlie had arrived with this queen, because she hunted Murdoch.
And misfortune followed her.
Isabella had no sooner realized as much than the king clapped his hands and the entire court disappeared. In the blink of an eye, it was gone, gone so surely it might not have been. The forest might have held its breath and the horse shuddered, sensing some peril close at hand.
When a woman screamed, Isabella jumped.
That the woman screamed a man’s name told her who it was.
Her sister, Madeline.
Isabella shouted to the horse and charged through the forest toward the road, fearing the worst.
* * *
Gavin heard the party enter Kinfairlie’s forest and slipped through the trees to see. He watched from the shadows, calculating the damage he might do in Lord Murdoch’s stead. That man had not yet returned, and Stewart had fallen asleep in their camp, still tired from the long day of riding the day before.
These looked to be guests arriving. Noble, but the cut of their garb and the quality of their horses. It was a small party and one poorly defended.
A lady alone with three attendants: a man-at-arms, a woman and a mere boy.
Gavin caught his breath. He gave the whistle that he and Hamish used to find each other in the forest, and heard the other squire whistle in reply. Gavin hunkered low to watch the party proceed.
Hamish fell into the undergrowth beside him. Gavin whispered of his plan to aid their lord, and Hamish’s eyes widened. He shook his head, and Gavin let him see his disgust. He seized his dagger and pulled it from the scabbard. He gave Hamish one last look, daring him to remain hidden when there was a task to be done. Hamish grimaced and drew his own blade.
Gavin grinned. His heart pounded. He eased closer to the road, watching the lady and her maid pass. Hamish seized his arm and held up four fingers, shaking his head. Gavin brushed off these concerns. Lord Murdoch had escaped an entire village! He pointed to Hamish and then the squire, then indicated himself and the man-at-arms. He held up two fingers, excited beyond belief at what they would do, then counted down to one. When he thrust his fist into the air, the boys erupted on to the road together.
“Halt!” Gavin cried and the party did exactly thus. “Halt and surrender your valuables.” He leapt at the man-at-arms, then everything happened very fast.
* * *
When Murdoch arrived at their camp, he could not decide whether to awaken Stewart, for that man slept deeply. He winced at the tightness in his chest, telling himself not to be surprised by the Elphine Queen’s inevitable appearance. He was tired to his very bones, and indeed, the forest seemed dim around him.
Where were the boys? Perhaps they checked the traps for meat. Murdoch brushed down Zephyr, finding the task more exhausting than it should have been. He could feel his heart struggling to beat, as if the Elphine Queen clenched it in her fist and squeezed. He brought water to the horse, stumbling as he carried it from the river. He wondered again at their location, even as Stewart snored more loudly. Doubtless they made some mischief or other.
“Rhys!” a lady screamed and Murdoch nearly dropped the bucket.
Stewart awakened abruptly, his gaze locking with Murdoch’s as the sounds of swordplay carried from the direction of the road.
Murdoch suddenly had a very good idea what mischief the boys had found.
He seized his sword and ran through the undergrowth, Stewart fast behind him. The pair of them burst on to the road to find a robbery in progress, Gavin and Hamish battling with a small party of nobles. There were four in the party altogether: a noblewoman, a maid, a squire and a man-at-arms.
Before their own eyes, the man-at-arms leapt from his saddle to place himself between Gavin and the noblewoman. He dashed Gavin’s knife from his hand and sent it flying across the road. “I shall teach you to rob a lady,” that fighting man said and Gavin stood as if struck to stone.
Hamish meanwhile wrestled with a squire, the other boy halfway out of the saddle but hanging on as the horse panicked. The boy kicked Hamish and his grip faltered. He rallied, though, and pulled the boy from the saddle, the two of them struggling on the road.
“God in heaven,” Stewart muttered behind Murdoch. “Here is a matter gone awry.”
“No! Halt this madness!” Murdoch roared and the two leapt into the fray.
The man-at-arms dove at Gavin with a bellow, but Stewart bounded forward to fight with him. Their swords clashed overhead as Gavin ducked, the pair of men fighting heavily, back and forth across the road. The noblewoman shouted at the maid, commanding the girl to come to her side.
She seemed to be in charge of her party and Murdoch guessed that she alone could command her man to halt. Her steed pranced in agitat
ion but Murdoch seized the reins, holding fast. “Who is Rhys?” he demanded of her and the lady smiled.
“My lord husband. He shall slaughter the lot of you and rightly so.” She glanced down the road, her expression triumphant.
Murdoch spun to look down the road and saw a horse charging out of the shadows toward him, a man bent forward in the saddle. He rode with fury and Murdoch realized that the lady was not undefended.
“Tell your man to halt his fight,” Murdoch said and the lady tugged at the horse’s reins. His fingers were so icy that he could not hold fast and the reins slid from his grip
“I will surrender naught to bandits,” she retorted, then touched her heels to her horse’s side. The beast began to canter toward Kinfairlie, but the lady looked back at her maid. “Come along, Bronwen!”
The maid could not pursue her mistress, though, because Gavin had seized her stirrup. He was trying to pull himself into the saddle behind her. She fought against him but the boy was determined.
“Ride, Madeline!” the approaching knight bellowed with rage. “Ride!”
The lady spared a glance to Murdoch, then gave her horse her heels in truth. Murdoch leapt and snatched at the stirrup, but the horse bolted at her command. It was clear the horses knew each other well, for the two with empty saddles galloped immediately after the lady’s own steed.
The maid was obviously inspired by her lady’s bravery. She kicked Gavin and when he fell back with a grunt, she gave her horse her heels, as well.
The arriving warrior leapt from his saddle as he drew close to Murdoch. He landed like a rock upon Murdoch, bearing him to the ground. The knight was armored and solidly muscled, as well, the force of impact stealing Murdoch’s breath away. The warrior’s destrier continued to race onward, following the lady and the other horses.
Indeed, Murdoch heard the lady call to the beast. He battled the knight, managing to get to his feet, only to be punched hard in the stomach. Murdoch doubled over in pain, wishing that he, too, wore his armor for this fight. He glanced up at the anger in the knight’s eyes and knew the man would kill him without hesitation.
“How dare you accost my wife?” the knight muttered through his teeth, his accent so thick that it took Murdoch a moment to understand him.
“I did not accost her. It was an error...”
“Indeed it was.”
Murdoch swung at the knight and managed to punch him in the nose. The knight roared as blood spurted, then kicked Murdoch square in the crotch.
Murdoch fell to his knees, dizzy at the pain. He heard the Elphine Queen laugh in the distance. Did she care whether she claimed him dead or alive?
The knight clutched a fistful of his hair and tipped his head up so that their gazes met. Murdoch had time to see the furious glint of the knight’s eyes before he too was punched in the nose. The knight flung him backward and Murdoch felt the warm trickle of blood on his face even as he landed on his back in the undergrowth.
The knight turned away and Murdoch heard Hamish squeak in terror.
But a moment later the boy’s footsteps could be heard as he raced through the forest. If Murdoch’s ears did not deceive him, Gavin was directly behind him. Stewart gave a roar and the man-at-arms shouted in pain. Murdoch rose to his feet to see the man-at-arms on his knees, his face white and his shoulder bleeding.
He passed out and fell bonelessly to the ground.
The knight abandoned Murdoch and shouted with anger. He lunged toward Stewart and their blades clashed.
“Vermin,” the knight spat as he fought, his anger undiminished. “Thieves and brigands are as vermin and should be slaughtered as such.”
Murdoch moved quietly behind the knight, inching toward his fallen sword. He managed to retrieve it without either man apparently noticing his movement. His hands shook, but he laid claim to the blade and held it before himself with both hands. Murdoch crept up behind the knight, knowing that Stewart was watching his approach. The knight and Stewart fought back and forth, their blades ringing through the forest.
Murdoch lifted his own blade and made to strike.
But he was shocked by the knight’s sudden move. That knight spun to face Murdoch, his heavy blade swinging in an arc intended to slice Murdoch across the gut. Clearly, he too, had been listening to Murdoch’s approach. Murdoch had a heartbeat to realize he could not move quickly enough to save himself and to see the knight’s grin of satisfaction.
Then a woman shouted from behind him. “Rhys! No!”
The knight froze, his blade only a finger-span from Murdoch. “Isabella?” he said, his confusion complete.
In truth, the two men had that confusion in common.
* * *
Murdoch spun to find Isabella galloping toward him, her hair flowing behind her and her eyes snapping with anger. “What madness is this, that you would assault my own kin?” she demanded of Murdoch. She pointed after the departed party. “My own sister! She has only just had a child, and you attack her on the road to her family home!”
“You know this brigand?” the knight demanded. The tip of his blade touched the ground in his astonishment.
Murdoch and Isabella both ignored him.
“This was not for you to witness!” Murdoch informed the lady, finding himself furious that she should discover him in this act. It was bad enough that he was compelled to act against his own conscience. To be called to task for it by Isabella – no, to be interrupted in the midst of it by Isabella, to be saved by Isabella – was too much.
“Yet you would do it all the same!” Isabella’s eyes flashed and her horse pranced around Murdoch. “You promised me that you would cease thieving this very morning. Is your pledge worth so little that you cannot hold it for a single day?”
“I did not attack them...”
“I beg to differ with your view of the situation,” Rhys interjected.
“The boys acted of their own volition,” Murdoch explained. “I had to intervene to ensure that no one was injured.”
To his astonishment, this argument was not contested. Instead, Isabella leaned down from the saddle, her lips parting in horror. “God in heaven, what has she done to you?”
Murdoch took a step back. “Who do you mean?”
“That dark queen in the forest,” Isabella said and Murdoch was horrified in his turn. Isabella had seen the Elphine Queen? Had the Elphine Queen seen Isabella? What price would be demanded for that?
Was Isabella imperiled because of him?
“This is what she has done to you.” The lady surveyed him while he struggled to find a response and he feared she missed no detail. “It is more than the marks upon your flesh. Your eyes become dark as well.” Her lips parted in horror. “She means to make you one of them!”
Murdoch felt as if his wits were addled, and his thoughts moved more slowly than was customary. Even his speech was slowed as that pervasive chill claimed his body. “How could you see her?” he whispered.
“I drank tea of wild thyme,” Isabella explained, her manner dismissive. “Every detail hinted at the presence of the Fae and that potion gives one the power to see them. I can see them now. I saw her, and I can see what she has done to you in truth.” Her expression was filled with a dismay that tore at his innards. “Murdoch! Why did you not tell me!”
Murdoch could not think of what to say.
“Isabella! How well do you know this rogue?” the knight demanded from behind him. Murdoch glanced back, realizing too late how much had been overheard.
“Of greater import, how well do you know my wife’s sister?” The knight glared at Murdoch, then shook a finger. “If you have laid a hand upon the lady, even if you have not stolen her innocence, I shall be glad to see you gutted and left to die.” He raised his blade and swung it anew.
Murdoch lifted his own sword, knowing he moved too late. The chill impeded him, made his grip faulty and slowed his reactions. He watched the blade swing toward him once again and knew he would taste its bite.
Isabella cried a protest. “Rhys, no!”
But before the knight could land his blow, Stewart stepped up behind him and struck the back of his head hard with the hilt of his sword.
The knight staggered in place for a moment, then his eyes rolled up and he crumpled on the ground.
“Murdoch!” Isabella declared with horror, her horse stamping. “This is unacceptable! Your man has assaulted my sister’s husband!”
“What was I to do?” Stewart demanded. “Let him cut down my lord?”
“You could have left them pass safely through the forest,” the lady fumed, her eyes flashing.
“I told you, it was the boys...”
“They are your boys all the same, and they have learned this feat from you.”
“She speaks the truth in that,” Stewart muttered, then smiled at Isabella. “Look upon the bright side. He is not truly injured. Slightly bruised, and his pride perhaps more damaged than that.”
“You should not have witnessed this,” Murdoch said to Isabella.
“And you would have twice been cut down,” she retorted, a fact he could not dispute.
“You should not have ridden out alone so late in the day,” Murdoch said instead.
“But I had no choice.” She smiled. “I know where the relic is, Murdoch. My brother does not have it, but I know where it is. You can claim it and return it to your brother.”
Murdoch was amazed and found new strength in this news. His quest could be close to completion – thanks to the curiosity of his Isabella. “You have found it?” He snatched for the reins of the horse, but Isabella made the beast retreat. “Tell me where it is!”
“I will do no such thing.” Isabella retorted. “For if I do, you will set out to retrieve it and you are in no condition for such a quest. I have eyes in my head and I can see the truth of it.”
The Renegade's Heart Page 18