“You've got to go back to bed, Milady!” Hildy pleaded with her. She threw Kaelan a frightened look. “She's been having pains all evening."
Kaelan barely heard the servant woman. He started toward his wife, his hands out to her. “Marie, you're ill. Let me take you back to bed."
“Aye,” Marie whispered, her hand at her chest once more. “Take me to bed, my husband.” Her face filled with light. “Take me to bed and make me feel the terrible things you make me feel, Kaelan Hesar."
Sinclair shoved his two guards away. “Marie! That is a disgusting thing to say!” He would have pushed Kaelan aside, but the prince stopped him, turning on the older man with a fury that shocked the Duke into silence.
“Haven't you and that prissy mother of yours done enough damage to this girl?” Kaelan yelled.
“I love him,” Marie said, drawing both men's eyes to her. “How can that be, Kaelan? You are an evil man. How could I come to love an evil man such as you?"
“He has bewitched you, Milady!” Hildy cried out. “The Demon Duke has bewitched my lady!"
Marie held out her hand again, keeping the servant at bay. “'Tis true, he has,” she whispered. “But I can no longer fight him, Hildy."
“You are in pain, Marie,” Kaelan said, coming closer, but stopping when she held her hands out toward him.
“As you were in pain, my husband,” Marie said. “I sat with you, night after night, hearing you moan. Watching the blood seep from your wounds. Caring for you.” She cocked her head to one side. “I felt pity for you. I hurt when you hurt; I cried when you cried. I wanted nothing more than to ease your suffering. Why was that, Kaelan?"
“The man has bewitched her, Your Grace!” Hildy turned to beseech her mistress’ father. “He is a warlock. Did I not tell you so?"
“Come, Kaelan,” Marie said, turning her hand so that her palm was up to him. “Come and take me to your bed, husband."
Kaelan went to her, took her hand, and was surprised when she threw her arms around him and held him to her. He stumbled under the force of her clutch and felt the balcony railing touch his hip. He tried to move them away from the precarious position, but she was like a steel column, immobile in her fevered grip of him.
“I am dying, Kaelan,” he heard her saying as her lips touched the growing whiskers beneath his chin.
“You are ill, true,” he said, barely able to breathe because her arms were so tightly wrapped around him, “but you are not dying."
“Aye, I am,” she said and her tongue made little spirals on his throat. “But I will not spend my eternity alone."
Even as she twisted, even as he knew what she meant to do, he didn't try to stop her. He heard the railing crack—loud as a slice of lightning being hurled down from the heavens. He caught a final glimpse of the skylight above him as he began to tilt out over the balcony rail. He felt her hands release him, knew he was going over the railing, knew she was murdering him.
“MARIE!” Sinclair's shriek of horror was a death knell as the railing gave way from Kaelan's weight and allowed the prince to plummet to the hard marble floor below.
Kaelan hit the floor on his belly, the breath knocked from him. For one brief instant he was amazed that he hadn't died in the fall. He tried to push himself up, heard Sinclair's scream, turned his head to see Marie falling toward him, a look of supreme surprise on her face. She landed face down on his back and he heard the snap of his leg as the weight of her body broke it, felt the intense pain that shattered his thigh, then the awful squishing sound of her head hitting the marble; flinched as her blood sprayed his face. He knew she was dead.
The last thing Kaelan heard before plunging into unconsciousness was Hildy's strident scream of rage: “MURDERERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"
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Chapter Twenty-Five: Holy Dale: The Present
“When I woke, I was alone.” Gillian felt his hand tighten on hers. “I was lying on the floor, her blood all around me. Everyone was gone. I don't know how long I was out, but the fire had either died in the grate or they had put it out hoping I'd freeze to death if I didn't eventually die from the fall."
“Oh, Kaelan,” Gillian whispered. Her eyes were glistening with tears.
“When I tried to get up, I screamed from the pain of it,” he said. His palm rubbed along his thigh. “The bone was through my flesh, splintered."
“What did you do?” Nick asked in a breathless voice.
“I pushed it back in—fainted from the doing of it, too—then splinted it as best I could with a piece of the balcony rail. It took me until morning to drag myself to the kitchen where a feeble fire was still going. It's a wonder I really didn't freeze to death without a shirt and socks.” He closed his eyes. “For two days I lay in front of the fire, throwing in what was left of the wood, eating apples and raw potatoes from the bins. I tried to get up but the pain was too bad."
“It didn't mend right,” Nick commented, looking at the prince's leg. “Did it?"
Kaelan shrugged. “I didn't know what I was doing. It needed to be set, but who was there to set it?"
“How could they have just left you like that?” Gillian demanded, hating the people who had caused this man so much grief.
“They didn't care, Gilly,” Nick snorted as though she should have known the answer to that stupid question.
“Four days after Marie died, Sinclair showed up with six wagons.” Kaelan used his free hand to cover Gillian's. “He came in and, without a word to me, started stripping the house of everything that wasn't bolted down. He even took up the carpets.” He smiled ruefully. “Though he left me a few pieces of furniture he didn't seem to want."
“He didn't say anything at all to you?"
“What was there to say? By law, Holy Dale belonged to the House of Hesar, but the furnishings he considered to be Marie's. He had buried his daughter the day before and had come to take back all that he thought of as hers.” A grim smile touched Kaelan's lips. “Hildy was with him and she even made sure the clothes Marie had bought for me went into the boxes. Since all my old clothes had been thrown out right after the Joining, they left me with only the stained breeches I was wearing and an old shirt I'd salvaged from the rag bin in the kitchen."
“Bastards,” Gillian hissed.
“They took everything that wasn't nailed down. I begged him to take Revenge because I knew I couldn't care for my horse. I thought for a moment he would refuse, but then he just nodded once and turned away, then they all left. You can't imagine how silent this place was."
“Or how lonely you must have been,” Gillian said quietly.
“It took me over a month before I could even half-way walk,” he explained. “I lived off what was left in the kitchen, which wasn't much; I learned to ration the food."
“No one from the village came to see if you were alive or not?” Nick mumbled.
“They believed I had murdered my wife,” Kaelan told him.
“But she tried to kill you!” Gillian protested.
“Aye, but they still blame me for her death. They always will."
“What happened when the food ran out?” Nick wanted to know. “Could you hunt or fish at all?"
“It was dead of winter, Nick,” Kaelan smiled. “Not much fishing: but, aye, I had my crossbow and I bagged a few rabbit. A pheasant or two. By then, I fairly reeked. Those clothes were getting ripe. So I decided to make it down to the village. As soon as they saw me coming, people went inside their huts and shut the doors, closed and bolted the shutters. I had a little money I'd managed to bring with me from the Keep and I had hoped to buy a few shirts and breeches.” He shook his head. “But no one would even answer me when I called.” The wry smile returned. “So, I just stole some clothes off someone's clothesline.” He plucked at his shirt. “They were baggy, but they were warm."
“It's a wonder they didn't come after you and whip you for being a thief,” Nick grumbled.
“Oh, they came after me, all right,” Kaelan said. “But not until spr
ing.” He gazed past Gillian. “I doubt they thought I'd survive the winter up here without adequate food. I'd catch them spying on me now and again, laughing at me as I hobbled around, bringing in wood."
“That must have been pleasant,” Nick snapped.
“I couldn't have cared less,” Kaelan lied. The hurt was in his voice whether he realized it or not. “It wasn't until they started to really create mischief that I began to get angry."
“They salted the well,” Nick said.
Kaelan nodded. “They set traps in the forests so no game could get close to the manor house.” He twisted his head and looked at Nick. “You see they knew I couldn't walk far on this leg of mine and I suppose they might even have thought I'd stumble across one of those vicious traps and get caught myself."
“I take it they broke the windows, too,” Nick said.
“Aye and tried to burn down the stable and storage sheds.” Kaelan drew in a long breath. “That was the final straw: trying to burn the place down around my ears.” He shook his head. “I'm afraid I did something then that was utterly insane and it's a wonder I'm still alive."
“You went back to the village?” Gillian gasped.
“I was furious,” he answered. “I don't know if the solitude was getting to me or if I just woke up that morning mean as hell. Either way, I went down to the village and I cursed them."
“Cursed them in what way?” Gillian asked, warily.
“Oh, the usual,” he said, blithely “A pox on their houses; a plague on them; disease on their cattle; destruction of the crops."
“Oh, that was a wise thing to do,” Nick chuckled, “considering they already thought you were a warlock, man!"
“Wasn't it, though?” Kaelan grinned. “Can you imagine my surprise when later that night hell opened up and let out its demons?"
Gillian stared at him. “The curse worked?"
“Well,” he drawled, “kind of.” He sighed. “There was a freak storm in the early morning hours. Lightning was zapping around here like crazy."
“In the winter?” Nick gaped.
“Aye, in the winter. The wind started howling like a Chalean banshee and flash floods came down from Mount Serenia. The villagers barely had time to get out of their huts before this wall of water poured over them and swept their houses away."
“'A pox on their houses',” Gillian breathed.
“Then after the flood,” Kaelan said, “the drinking water was contaminated so most of them got very ill."
“'A plague on them',” Nick chimed in.
Kaelan had the grace to look shamefaced. “Some of the cattle began dying. It was hoof and mouth disease, I'm sure, but that got blamed on me, as well."
“You're lucky they didn't come up here and drag you out to their bonfire, Hesar, muttered.
“Well, I had laid one other curse on them and, unfortunately that one came to pass, as well,” he answered. At her look, he shrugged. “I told them that the next person who dared show his face at Holy Dale, I'd turn him into a frog."
“You turned a man into a frog,” she stated with disbelief.
“Some poor foreigner came to the door one afternoon,” Kaelan smiled. “He spoke very little Viragoinan High Speech, but knew enough to tell me he had lost his way. He was a most unfortunate looking fellow with warts all over his hands and face.” The prince shuddered. “I felt sorry for him. He asked directions to the Serenian border and I told him. I wanted him to stay longer, to talk, but he was in a hurry to reach Ciona before week's end.” He chuckled quietly.
“Apparently he misunderstood my directions and wound up in Wixenstead. In trying to explain how he'd arrived South of where he should be, he told the villagers I'd turned him inside out, no doubt meaning he got turned around by my directions. They thought I'd changed him into the pitiful wretch he was.” A wicked light came from Kaelan's eyes. “Later that night, a rock sailed through one of the windows and attached to it was a note that assured me the villagers would not be seeking me out again and for me not to go around changing innocent folk on their account."
“And they've left you alone ever since,” Nick chuckled.
“Except for my protector,” Kaelan answered. When brother and sister cocked their brows in unison, he smiled. “Someone comes once a week and leaves a basket of food on the back steps. Freshly-baked bread, fruits and vegetables, milk every now and then."
“Kymmie.” Gillian smiled.
“Aye, I think so, though I've never seen anyone out there.” Kaelan drew in a long breath. “At least there was one person in the village who cared whether I lived or died."
“What's going to happen to me when I go into the village tomorrow?” Nick asked.
Kaelan started. “Why on earth would you want to?"
“Well, milord, There's not enough food to feed us and, from the looks of you, you're going to be sicker tomorrow than you are tonight.” Nick grinned. “I've got a pocketful of coins so there's no reason I shouldn't go down and buy us some necessities."
“As long as they don't know you're from Holy Dale,” Kaelan said speculatively, “they might not give you a hard time of it.” He glanced at Gillian. “Don't be telling them you've a woman with you, though."
“You really don't think Duncan will send men here to search for me, do you?” Gillian asked, reading his mind.
“Aye, he would,” Nick answered for Kaelan, “if he thought you might have reason to come looking for Kaelan."
“Serenia is less than eight miles from Holy Dale” Kaelan said. “I can usually hear riders coming long before they pass the pond. If he should think to look for you here, there will be time for you to leave. There's a hidden pathway through the foothills that leads almost right up to the Carbonham Gate."
“I'm not leaving without you!” Gillian said firmly.
The prince reached out to cup her cheek. “And just how far do you think you'd get with a cripple slowing you down, Sweeting?"
Up until that moment, neither Gillian nor Nick had considered the implications of Kaelan's story. That he was crippled, hit them like a bolt from the blue. Nick looked away, unable to face the guileless amber eyes that shifted to his. Gillian turned her lips into his palm.
“Kaelan...” she began, but he shushed her with his fingers.
“I am damaged goods, Gillian,” Kaelan said gently.
“Not to me!” she said indignantly.
“One thing's for certain,” Nick said, wanting to get the conversation away from the source of Kaelan's embarrassment. “If we stay here, we'll damned sure have to get the two of you, as well."
“There's not a priest within fifty miles of Holy Dale who would burden a woman with me, Cree,” Kaelan said bluntly.
“I've a dagger that says one will, Hesar,” Nick retorted. He touched the jeweled weapon at his thigh.
“You force a priest to Join me with your sister and Duncan would certainly have grounds to annul the marriage,” Kaelan reminded him.
“Not if, when we get to Serenia, you have a priest there redo the Joining ceremony,” Nick stated. He squinted at Kaelan. “You haven't alienated the entire McGregor clan, too, have you?"
“Not that I know of,” Kaelan muttered. “But even the McGregors will have heard of Marie's death."
“I doubt Drayton McGregor gives a shit about what goes on in Virago,” Nick scoffed. “He's reinstated the title of King of Serenia and as Headsman, took it for himself, did you know that?"
“How could I?” Kaelan snapped. He narrowed his eyes. “Is Duncan going to do the same thing and declare himself King of Virago."
“I'd wager he eventually will.” Nick snorted. “For the moment, he has declared us a Principality with himself as Prince Regent. The title of Jarl wasn't prestigious enough, I guess."
“He made Rolf de Viennes his Chancellor,” Gillian added. “Next to Duncan, he is the highest-ranking man in Virago."
“Elga thought him a most fitting husband for her youngest stepchild,” Nick spat.
The
mentioning of de Viennes’ name turned Kaelan's mouth bitter and gave his eyes a decidedly wicked gleam of jealousy. Seeing the reaction, Nick rubbed his hands together. “Then, it's all settled."
“What is?” Kaelan grumbled. Just knowing how close Gillian had come to being shackled to Rolf de Viennes set his teeth on edge.
“I bring you two back a priest tomorrow!” Nick beamed.
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Part Two
Chapter One
Nick buttoned the top of his coat, adjusted the fur hat Gunter had given him for his last birthday, and opened the kitchen door.
He frowned.
Ahead of him lay a waist-high drift that blocked his exit. Sighing regretfully, he looked back at Gillian, his face like that of a sad little puppy's. “He was right."
Gillian nodded as she dropped the last of the shriveled apples into the pan. “Be sure and get cinnamon and cloves if you can find then, Nicky."
Her brother sighed again. “I'll have to dig out."
“He told you you would,” Gillian confirmed. When her brother continued to stand in the doorway, the icy cold wind whipping into the kitchen, she glanced over at him. “Either go or shut the door, Nicholas."
Nick took in a long, tired breath, then exhaled slowly. “Where did he say the shovel was?"
“Oh for the love of Alel!” Gillian complained. She put down the pan of apples and snatched up a big tin basin. “The shovel is to the right of the door, Nick. Here, take this.” She handed him the basin and picked up another for herself.
“Why do you suppose he left the shovel outside?” Nick inquired as he began to scoop snow away from the doorway so he could find the shovel.
“Where else would he have left it, dimwit?” Gillian snapped as she, too, dug into the drift and threw the snow out beyond the steps.
“He brought the ax inside,” Nick retorted.
“Axes rust,” she countered. Angrily, she packed snow into the basin. “Shovels do not. Besides, Papa always said it was bad luck to bring shovels and rakes into the house."
Nick stopped scooping. “Well, he doesn't need any more bad luck."
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