Gavin’s heart didn’t stop pounding until he reached the hall leading to the audience chamber. He hadn’t meant to propose to Clara. The moment had just felt right. As soon as Emmerich was done with him, he would race back upstairs to hear her answer.
She’ll say yes, he reassured himself. Even though she's been spending time with Emmerich, she formed a bond with me first. Surely she feels it, too.
The captains were assembled in the chamber when he entered, clustered around Emmerich, who stood in front of the baroness’ chair with a map in his hands.
“Gavin,” he said, “I have a mission for you.”
He felt his heart drop a little as he came to stand before Emmerich. “Aye?”
“I need eyes inside of Candor.”
“What about our spy?”
“He fled. Apparently, everyone is getting out of there right now and he's found reason to do the same.” He rolled up the map. “I want you to leave as soon as possible.”
The thought of leaving Clara made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t fully trust Haggard and the memory of Emmerich striking her still made his blood run cold.
“Gavin?”
“I need to speak with you in private.”
Emmerich frowned but nodded. The captains left, glancing at them over their shoulders.
Once the door closed, Gavin said, “Let me take Clara with me.”
Astonishment filled Emmerich’s face. “You must be joking. You know I can’t do that.”
“Any visions she has, I’ll report to you.”
“She’s safer here.”
“I can protect her.”
“Gavin, this is madness.”
“I’ve asked her to marry me.”
His friend blinked. “What?”
“I’ve asked her to marry me.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond. “And she’s accepted you.”
“Not yet. Your message interrupted us.”
Emmerich rolled up the map and set it on a table. “Do you think she’ll say yes?”
“I do. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“So have she and I, but you don’t see me making marriage proposals.”
“I love her, Emmerich.”
“Does she love you?”
“What does it matter to you?”
Emmerich turned away, rubbing his jaw. “It’s a fair question. She may accept you just out of gratitude.”
“It’s no concern of yours.”
He looked back at him. “You’re my friend, Gavin. Of course it’s my concern.”
Gavin squared his shoulders. “I’m taking her with me.”
He stared at him a long moment. “If she accepts you, then many blessings, but I cannot let you take her.”
“And if she wants to go?” He braced himself, ready for a fight.
“Well, then, I can hardly stop her, but I would want to talk to her about it first.”
“So you can persuade her as you did when talking with her about coming with us at all?”
Emmerich ignored the jab. “Go. Learn her answer. If you wish to wed before you leave, we’ll make the arrangements. I’m sure there’s a presbyter or two wandering around here somewhere.”
“Emmerich—”
“Go, Gavin. You’re wasting the daylight.”
Marduk signed the document with a flourish and handed it to the courtier. “Anything else?” he asked, looking around. The other courtiers and statesmen nodded and muttered negatives.
“Then I think we'll call it a day,” he said. “You all may go.”
The men and women bowed and left until only a man robed in red, wearing the emerald belt of the Brethren, remained.
“You have a report, I hope?” Marduk asked, standing.
“Brellin is dead, your Majesty.”
He sighed. “What a pity.” He sat in silence for a moment, staring into nothing. “He was the only man who could beat me at chess, you know. Well, I'm sure others could, too, but he was the only one with the guts to do it. And what a sense of humor and honor. He'll be greatly missed. Have you informed his wife?”
“I have, your Majesty. She's arranging a memorial service. She wishes for you to attend.”
“Of course.” He poured himself a goblet of wine. “Care for a drink?”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
Marduk gestured for him to help himself and he turned to admire the cityscape. The wizard joined him presently, goblet in hand.
Marduk raised his cup. “To fallen comrades, Erin.”
“To fallen comrades.”
They drank in silence for a moment. Erin said, “Do you know if he completed the spell, your Majesty?”
“I have every confidence he did, but I will be testing it tonight.”
“And…if he didn’t?”
“Our spy has proved to be most helpful, so it won’t be the end of the world if it doesn’t.” Marduk took a deep breath. “We live in exhilarating times.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Chapter Seventeen
Clara dropped back into her chair, feeling numb.
Gavin loved her? He wanted to marry her? Her heartbeat gained speed and she balled the dress in both hands.
Did she love him? Did she want to spend the rest of her life with him?
She stared out over the railing of the balcony, imagining a life with Gavin, perhaps even having children, which she couldn’t scold or tease or soothe. She couldn’t cry out for help if Gavin hurt himself in the field or on horseback. She couldn’t look across the table and ask him about his day. She looked at the slate on the table beside her, wanting to smash the thing into a million pieces. A poor substitute it was for a voice.
“Clara?”
She jerked at the soft voice and turned, seeing Gavin standing in the doorway. Standing, she wondered for how long she had been daydreaming.
He came to stand in front of her. “Emmerich is sending me to Candor City. He's forbidden me to take you with me but I'm willing to tempt his wrath. Will you come? As my wife?”
Clara’s heart broke as she stared into his hopeful, grey-green eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.
He gripped her shoulders. “You don’t have to stay for him. We can send your messages by way of Portent, my falcon. You don’t have to stay.”
She shook her head and pulled out of his hold.
Making no move to follow, he let his hands drop to his sides. “Don’t you love me?”
Clara clenched her eyes shut, shook her head, feeling the hot tears sting her cheeks.
“Is it him?” Gavin’s voice was husky and low. “Is it!”
Opening her eyes, she furrowed her brows and reached for her slate.
Gavin snatched the slate away, and, grabbing her, pushed her until he had her pinned against the balcony railing. “Is it Emmerich? Is he the one you love?”
Terrified, her mouth opened and closed uselessly. Why did she have to love someone else? Couldn’t it just be that she didn’t love him?
After a long moment, he let her go. Gavin turned away from her, returning the slate to its place on the table, and reached into his belt pouch. With a slow flick of his wrist he dropped a folded handkerchief onto the slate before leaving her shaking on the balcony.
She waited until the door to her chambers closed behind him before she went to the table. Unfolding the handkerchief revealed the medal she had given him before the battle. Tears slid down her face as she dropped into her chair.
Emmerich stared out the window of the audience chamber and didn’t move when he heard the door open behind him.
“Well?” he said. “Did she accept?”
“My lord?”
Turning, he was surprised to find a servant standing the doorway. “Oh. Nothing. What is it?”
“Lord Gavin has left.”
“What?”
“He ordered for his horse to be saddled and rations to be brought before leaving along the south road.”
“Did he have a
nyone with him?”
“No, my lord.”
“Ah, thank you.”
“Does my lord require anything?”
“No.”
The servant bowed before stepping out, leaving Emmerich alone with his thoughts.
That evening, Clara did not come down for the evening meal, though Emmerich had sent a servant to call her down. He spoke little during the meal and his men knew his mood well enough to not address him.
After the meal, he went to his chambers, where he sat by the fire and brooded.
She told him no, he thought. Because she didn’t love him? Because she felt it important to stay here? Or had she said yes and they were going to wait for his return? And why hadn’t she come down?
Why did he even care? Hell's bells, he should be concentrating on the war, not a woman.
Throwing himself out of the chair, he paced the room for a time. Finally, unable to help himself, he turned and left. He would talk to her about it. Surely there wouldn’t be anything untoward about that.
Clara did not touch the plate of food given her but left it on the table. Tired, she undressed and went to bed, sleep coming upon her quickly.
She dreamed of a meadow edged in a thick fog, the grasses and flowers at her feet wet from heavy dew. Birds sang in the hidden forest.
Clara…
She turned, trying to find the source of the voice.
Clara…
It was a man. His voice was soothing and calm. A desperate desire to find him gripped her.
Clara.
With an easy stride, she walked into the fog in search of the source of the voice.
Emmerich entered the sitting room without knocking, so deep was he in his thoughts. He stopped the moment he realized it was dark in the room with only the banked fire throwing a feeble light. He was just about to turn around when he heard the bedchamber door unlatching.
“Clara?” he called. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just…” The words died in his throat as he watched Clara, dressed only in a white shift, walk out of the bedroom toward him. As she drew closer, he saw her eyes were rolled into the back of her head.
“Clara?” Was this a new sort of vision? He shivered as he stared at the whites of her eyes. “Clara, can you hear me?”
He reached out to touch her shoulder as she started to pass him but she slapped him away.
“Wait.” This time he grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the door.
Clara hissed at him, driving a fist into his gut. Grunting, Emmerich wrapped both arms around her and wrestled her to the floor. She kicked and clawed at him, making small grunting noises. He gritted his teeth as he tried to hold her down.
“Guards!” he cried.
The two guards burst into the room, swords drawn, their faces going blank with surprise at seeing Emmerich trying to hold Clara down.
“Get some rope,” he gasped. “One of you, grab her legs.”
Just as one guard knelt down by her feet while the other ran out of the room, she went limp.
“Clara,” called Emmerich, reaching out to touch her neck, letting out a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse beating beneath his hand.
Her eyes opened and she frowned when she saw him. Looking around, her face crumbled in confusion.
“It’s all right. You were sleepwalking.”
She sat up and he helped her stand. Clara looked down and, seeing she wore only a shift, wrapped her arms around herself.
“You can go, Norne,” Emmerich said. “I think the lady will be all right now.”
Norne saluted and left, closing the door firmly behind him.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, though she didn’t look very certain.
“Come. Sit down.”
He gently took her by the arm and guided her to the couch. Emmerich was glad it was so dark in the room. The sight of her, vacant and fighting him, rattled him almost as badly as the first time. And there was something different about this second time, other than her eyes. Last time, she seemed lost. This time, she seemed intent on going somewhere.
“Where’s your slate?” he asked once he got her seated.
She pointed to her room. On his way to the door, he pulled the bell pull for a servant. Clara’s bedroom looked much tidier than his and her own special scent of lavender and soap filled his nose. He took a deep breath, appreciating it despite himself. The slate lay on the bedside table and, on his way out, he scooped up a robe left lying over the back of a chair.
A grateful smile lit up Clara’s face when he handed her the robe and she was just belting it when the servant came in.
“Two goblets of mulled wine,” he directed.
The servant bowed and left. Emmerich took the tinderbox and flint from the mantle and began lighting lamps around the room. Once that was done, and he couldn’t honestly think of anything else, he sat in an armchair beside Clara’s spot on the couch.
“We’ll just wait on the wine,” he said.
She nodded and they lapsed into silence. Emmerich looked at her from the corner of his eye. Clara sat straight and tall, the slate on her lap and her hands folded over it. Her eyes were downcast and her hair, usually carefully braided, fell in silky waves down her shoulders. She looked tired, drawn, and absolutely beautiful.
He made himself look away, suddenly thinking of another dark-haired beauty.
Monica. When would she stop haunting him?
They sat in silence until the servant reappeared with a tray bearing the two goblets. He set them on the table and asked, “Is there anything else, my lord?”
“No.”
The servant bowed and left. Emmerich handed Clara a goblet. “Drink some of that and then tell me what happened, if you can.”
She took a slow sip and some of the color went back into her face. Her eyes flicked up to him and he suddenly noticed redness around them, as if she had been crying before going to bed. He looked away to pick up his own goblet. They drank in silence for a time.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore and said, “Gavin told me about his proposal. I take it you didn’t accept him?” He looked at her.
Clara shook her head.
“Don’t be hard on yourself. He’ll get over it.” He cleared his throat. “You may even change your mind.”
She lowered her eyes and didn’t answer.
“Clara, can you tell me what happened?”
Setting the goblet back onto the tray, she took up her slate and wrote on it for a few moments before handing it to him. It simply read, “I was dreaming that I was looking for someone.”
“Anything more?”
She shook her head.
“Clara, please think—”
She abruptly stood and went to the closed balcony door, looking out its small, barred window.
Something within Emmerich broke. He strode up to her and turned her around. She looked up at him with solemn, sad eyes.
“I only want to protect you,” he said. “I only want to help you. Dammit, if there is something happening to you, you will tell me, won't you?”
She nodded, looking down.
“I want to post more guards, in case you sleepwalk again.”
She nodded again.
“Look at me. Please.”
She raised her eyes.
“Clara.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “Do you trust me?”
The question seemed to surprise her and she nodded adamantly.
“Good.” He dropped his hand away, though the feel of her skin still pressed against it like a memory. “I’ll let you rest.” He forced a cocky grin. “Be dressed and ready for practice tomorrow morning.”
And he left before he gave into the urge to kiss her.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Gavin saddled his horse, letting his hands do the work for him.
She had said no.
Why? He had done so much for her.
Was it for him? Was she in love with Emmerich?
>
Emmerich, the bastard who let whole villages die. Emmerich, the man who murdered the Princess. Emmerich, who sent Gavin on assassination missions to other lords when they were first building their army.
An image of Clara in Emmerich's arms flashed through his mind and he had to stop what he was doing, taking deep breaths against the tide of anger welling within him. He had to focus on the mission.
But, for all Gavin knew, the mission was just a ruse for Emmerich to get closer to Clara.
He shook his head. No, now he was being ridiculous. Emmerich may have tried to move in on Clara, but Gavin knew him well enough to know he wouldn't go through with anything. Though he killed her in the end, he had loved Monica. That wasn't going to make moving onto another girl easy. Gavin remembered Emmerich inviting Clara to his tent for dinner. Besides, it was obvious his good friend wouldn't wait for him to be out of sight.
No, he had to finish the mission. The sooner they took Candor, the sooner he could return to Clara.
And set about changing her mind.
Three days after their strange conversation, Clara was awakened by a young woman with dark red hair and pale blue eyes.
“Good morning, my lady,” she said as Clara sat up. “My name is Cassie. I'm your new lady's maid.”
Lady's maid? Clara blinked, suddenly remembering Emmerich making mention of that the previous night.
“I can read, my lady, so I should be able to help you in whatever you need.”
Clara nodded and gestured toward the clothes laying on a nearby chair.
“Oh, I'll leave you to get ready for your practice session.” Cassie curtsied and walked out.
Once the door closed, Clara scuttled out of the bed and, in a flurry of cloth, dressed. When she entered the sitting area, Cassie was laying out breakfast things. She stepped back and gestured at the table with a smile.
Clara nodded and sat. While she ate, Cassie moved about the room with ease, straightening a pile of books Clara had started reading through, rearranging pillows on the couch, and other little things Clara hadn't even noticed were out of order.
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