Which would she hate more? The sneers from those who curried favor with the duke or the pitying glances from the rest? A few had the audacity to snicker when she nearly tripped over the long train of a noblewoman’s skirt, who stood her ground, forcing Lady Theda to walk around.
Kane couldn’t stand to watch. He cut through the crowd, not caring if several of the courtiers nearly fell in their hurry to get out of his way. He stopped ahead of Lady Theda to avoid startling her by his sudden appearance.
He knew the moment she spotted him and guessed his purpose. She shook her head just enough to warn him off, making it clear that she wouldn’t appreciate him making a scene. As much as he wanted to punish those who would deride her for merely doing what was commanded of her, he withdrew and let her continue on her way.
After she entered Keirthan’s office, he waited until she reappeared a few minutes later before leaving himself. His temper was unpredictable at the best of times and only more so since he had been separated from the other Damned. As tired as he was at the moment, it wouldn’t take much provocation to have him drawing his sword to teach this entire room of fools some manners.
It was a relief to step out into the sunshine. He nodded to the guards on duty, pleased to see that they were doing their job right. No slouching, no slipping off for a quick nap. He stopped to talk to the closest one.
“I will be in my quarters if anyone has need of me.”
“Yes, sir.”
On the way, he stopped at the stables to retrieve his shield, where Hob once again rested. As tired as Kane was, he could’ve sworn he was carrying Hob’s true weight on his arm. As soon as he put the shield away, he would set aside all of his burdens in exchange for a few hours of sleep.
But when he reached his office, Sergeant Markus had taken up residence there. Kane’s already foul mood worsened.
“Did we have an appointment that I’ve forgotten about, Sergeant?”
The chill in Kane’s voice had Markus belatedly scrambling to his feet to stand at attention. “No, sir. I saw you were headed this way and thought I’d check to see if there is anything you need me to do.”
Kane didn’t believe that for a minute. As far as he could tell, the sergeant did exactly what was required of him, nothing more. Rather than call him on it, though, Kane laid Hob’s shield on top of his desk, glad to be shed of its weight for a few minutes.
“At ease, Markus. Have a seat.”
When the sergeant didn’t immediately do so, Kane looked up to see what had captured Markus’s attention. The guard stood staring down at Kane’s shield in wonder. Finally, he glanced up.
“That’s amazing artwork, sir. I’ve never seen its like before.”
And never would again. Such gifts from the gods were rare. “It is special.”
“May I touch it?” Markus asked, although he was already reaching out to run his fingertips over the surface of the wood. “Whoever carved this was a real artist. I can feel each individual scale.”
Kane hid a smile. Little did he know.
Then Markus frowned as he studied Hob’s picture from one angle and then another. “Is it supposed to be some kind of lizard? No, it has wings, too.”
Kane took pity on the perplexed guard. “It’s a gargoyle. In the old myths, they were thought to be related to dragons. It is said they had the forked tongues of serpents and venom that would kill their enemies quickly.”
Markus finally leaned back in his chair. “Guess we should be glad they’re only a myth. Can you imagine the terror even one would cause if it were turned loose in a battle?”
Actually, Kane didn’t have to imagine it. “That would be something to behold.”
He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle along with two tankards. He poured each of them a fair-sized portion of mead and handed one across to Markus.
“I need something to wash the trail dust out of my throat.”
Markus’s eyes flickered with interest at Kane’s comment, but his voice held only mild curiosity when he spoke. “I heard that you’d ridden out of the city.”
Now, why would Markus be keeping track of Kane’s movements? He didn’t want to ask outright but waited to see if Markus offered the information on his own. “My stallion was growing restless. I took him for a long run to burn off some of his energy.”
“I suspected it was something like that. I’ve seen your horse. He’s a brute. Judging from the scars on his hide, he’s been in more than his share of fights in his life.”
“Rogue has saved my life in a battle or two, that’s true.” Kane sipped the mead, enjoying its sweet flavor, while Markus did the same.
When they both had finished their drinks, Kane put the bottle away. “I’m going to sleep until nightfall. Send someone to fetch me if the duke has need of me before then.”
Markus stood up and straightened his uniform jacket. “He was looking for you earlier. I asked if he needed you for something specific, but he said no, just to let him know when you returned to the city.”
“Have you told him?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get some rest.”
After Markus let himself out of the office, Kane sat staring at the door. So Keirthan had known Kane had ridden outside of the city walls. How? Right now he was too tired to spare much thought for it. He’d think about it later.
As he waited for sleep to overtake him, he thought about Lady Theda and how she had fared after delivering Keirthan’s tray. He would ask her when next their paths crossed. He couldn’t wait.
Chapter 11
Gideon had been sending out small patrols morning and night ever since Merewen’s late uncle’s attempt to regain control of the keep by force with the aid of Duke Keirthan’s men. So far, there’d been no sign that the duke had made any move to try again. It was too much to hope the man had given up, especially when there had been more instances of the local farmers disappearing from their homes, leaving all of their possessions behind.
It could mean only one thing: The duke was using them to fuel the fires of his power. That thought haunted Gideon’s dreams and left him too restless to stand the confines of the keep. He’d saddled Kestrel and ridden out before breakfast. He’d intended to visit some of the crofters near the foothills to the west, but the stallion had fought him every inch of the way. Finally, Gideon had given in and let the canny beast choose their direction.
They’d been riding hard to the east when Kestrel charged up the side of a low hill. At the top, he reared up, nearly unseating Gideon in the process. He managed to hold on as the stallion pawed the air before charging down the steep slope on the other side in a ground-eating gallop. A few seconds later, Gideon spotted the reason for the horse’s strange behavior as an enormous ball of light flashed across the sky from the north to plummet down to the ground. Another quickly followed in its path. The resulting explosions rolled like thunder across the valley. Already smoke and flickers of fire were curling up from the field and spreading quickly.
Even with Kestrel’s speed, by the time Gideon crossed the valley, the field was fully engulfed in flames. The farmers were doing their best to contain it by cutting down swaths of the immature crop and soaking the adjoining field with buckets of water. They wore wet rags tied across their faces, but still they coughed and choked from breathing in the thick smoke. Gideon cursed the duke’s name and did the only thing he could to fight back. With his enhanced strength, he could make better time clearing the ground than the farmers. He dismounted and tossed the closest boy onto Kestrel’s broad back.
“Ride hard for the keep and tell them what happened. Ask for Murdoch and tell him that Captain Gideon said to send men to help. Do you understand?”
When the boy nodded, Gideon slapped Kestrel on the backside and sent the stallion charging back in the direction of the keep. Then he demanded the use of a scythe and fell to work, swinging the curved blade hard and fast, all the time wishing it were his sword
and his target the duke instead of a field of half-grown barley. Keirthan had a lot to answer for, and Gideon couldn’t wait for the day they brought the bastard to bay.
* * *
Hours later, Gideon went in search of Duncan. He should’ve known he’d find him in the library. Since he’d seen Merewen taking Lady Lavinia into her workshop only a few moments ago, he figured Duncan would be alone.
“Have you counted our remaining days today?”
Duncan looked up from the manuscript he’d been studying. “No, I haven’t, but what’s the use? Counting them daily won’t slow the passage of time.”
Gideon prowled the room as if he were trapped in a cage. “True, but if we lose track, we could run out of days before we’ve accomplished our goal. We need to march upon Keirthan soon and therefore need to press our allies harder to send their men. I fear another fortnight is too long to wait. What if they change their minds?”
The other warrior didn’t look worried. “Either they will send their warriors or they won’t, Gideon. It wouldn’t be the first time we five faced the enemy alone.”
Slamming his fist down on the table hard enough to make Duncan’s book bounce felt damned good. “Right now there are but three of us, unless you’ve forgotten. Averel and Kane are behind enemy lines.”
Duncan placed a marker in his book and closed it. “I feel their absence as much as you do, Gideon, and I worry about them as well. If you’d like me to, I will ask Lavinia to scry to see what can be learned about their progress.”
Even though Gideon found Lavinia’s magic unsettling, it was tempting to ask her to make the effort. Gideon grew tired of fighting blind, of facing off against an invisible enemy who could strike at will across long distances. It had taken hours of hard work to limit the damage from Keirthan’s latest attack to the loss of one field of barley. There had been no deaths, but destroying crops could lead to starvation over the winter.
“I appreciate the offer but not yet.” Gideon searched for words that wouldn’t offend his friend. “Are you truly sure the goddess herself does not object to the magic Lady Lavinia practices?”
No sooner did he speak the words than a cool breeze rippled through the papers on the table even though there was no open window or door to account for it. The air around them now tasted damp and carried the musky scent of river rocks. Gideon and Duncan immediately dropped to their knees, their heads bowed.
The sensation lasted but a few seconds as a soft voice whispered, “Tools aren’t evil, my warriors. They are simply tools. It is the hand that wields the tool that determines whether its purpose is fair or foul.”
Then the room warmed up and once again smelled of old leather and parchment. Gideon remained kneeling long enough to be sure the goddess had no more messages to deliver. He rose to his feet as Duncan returned to his chair. Both of them looked around the room, making sure they were alone. Or were they? Either way, they’d gotten their answer.
Duncan actually chuckled. Gideon was glad one of them found the situation amusing. “I’ll leave you to your studies, Duncan. I’ll be with Merewen.”
* * *
Out in the hallway, Gideon ran in to Sigil. He had been avoiding the man ever since Sigil had admitted that bits and pieces of his life were coming back to him. Neither of them wanted that to happen, not with the stay of execution still hanging about Sigil’s neck.
Yet the problem couldn’t be ignored forever. Not with the days passing by so quickly. Rather than dance around the issue, Gideon made his decision and hoped neither of them would live to regret it.
“Have you had any more memories return?”
“No, not since we were discussing Kane’s mage mark.” Sigil offered Gideon a brief smile. “I am sorry that my presence only adds to your burden, Captain. Perhaps it would have been better all around if I had died from my wounds.”
Gideon stopped to stare down at the great hall below. “There was a time I might have agreed with that assessment.”
He rested his forearms on the low wall of the balcony. “But now I am convinced that the gods themselves have a greater purpose for you. Already you have helped save lives that could have been lost if you hadn’t been there. Lives that are precious to me.”
Sigil stood beside Gideon, staring at something only he could see, his expression solemn. “You honor me with your words, Gideon. I thank you.”
“No gratitude is necessary. You have earned our respect. The five of us have been friends pretty much to the exclusion of all others for centuries. It is rare that any of us allow someone outside of our circle to get close. You have not only slipped past Murdoch’s guard, a feat in itself, but I would trust you at my back anytime.”
Before Sigil could respond, Gideon considered the goddess’s words in the library. He’d assumed she’d been talking about Lavinia’s ability to scry, but a man could be a tool in the hands of a god. Gideon and the Damned all knew something about redemption. Sigil had proven to be an honorable ally when given a mission worthy of a warrior.
“A man shouldn’t have to live his days with the burden of an execution hanging over his head, Sigil. Some of Merewen’s people might not like what I’m about to say, but they can come to me with their complaints. Whether your memories return or not, you are free of our judgment.” He held out his hand. “Don’t make me regret my decision.”
Sigil grasped Gideon’s hand with both of his. “I will endeavor to prove worthy of your trust and your friendship. Thank you for restoring my honor.”
“You did that yourself, Sigil. Now go tell Murdoch to put you on the duty roster. You’ll be standing guard along with the rest of the men.”
“And if Lady Merewen’s men object?”
As they well might. They’d lost friends and family to the forces that Sigil had led against the keep. “Tell him to partner you with one of us.”
“I’ll seek him out now.”
Gideon remained at the top of the stairs and watched Sigil make his way across the hall below. The man moved with a new sense of purpose, clearly relieved to have the threat of execution gone. Murdoch would be pleased as well, as the two men had become close friends. Gideon turned back toward the library to inform Duncan of what he’d just done, hoping he’d approve as well.
At least now if their allies didn’t send the troops that had been promised, the Damned would have one more sword they could count on. They would need it.
* * *
Theda stood at the window, admiring the fiery blaze of the sun sinking in the west. Night was coming and would soon blanket the world in deep shadows and the moon’s cool light.
The contrast of the darkness with the light reminded her of the man who’d promised to be waiting for her in the gardens after the moon rose in the sky. With his jet-black hair and pale eyes, Kane seemed more at home in the shadows than in the light of day.
She could only imagine how her ladies would react to her choice of companions. Would they see the loyal heart that beat beneath his unusual appearance? She doubted it. Far too often people made the mistake of thinking a handsome exterior was a reflection of the man inside.
Her brother-in-law was a perfect example of how wrong that could be. Ifre was handsome and even charming when it suited his purpose. But he was also selfish, vicious, and totally bereft of even the smallest hint of decency. She hated him.
Kane stood in sharp contrast to Ifre. His looks were striking but harsh, especially with that odd mark on his cheek and his unusually prominent front teeth. She had no doubt that he was capable of great violence and that powerful body had been honed in the crucible of war.
But Kane could be charming when he chose to be, and his courtly behavior seemed to be second nature to him. He’d shown such careful restraint each time he’d kissed her, treating her as if she were . . . not fragile, but precious.
What would it take to make him lose control in her arms? She wanted to find out.
“My lady, are you sure you don’t want any of us to keep you company? Pe
rhaps I should stay the night in your room in case you need someone to fetch a draught for pain.”
Theda had told her friends earlier that she planned to retire early because of a headache. She hated lying to them, but she couldn’t very well tell them the truth. They’d never understand.
“Thank you for your concern, Margaret, but I will be fine on my own. My maid is drawing me a bath, which will help soothe my head.”
Her young friend looked as if she wanted to argue, but Theda walked toward the door of the solar. “Please go now, so you can return to your room with Lydia. I don’t have to remind you about the risks in walking these halls alone.”
Margaret’s fair skin paled at the memory. “No, you don’t.”
She hurried after her friend while Theda turned in the direction of her own quarters. She trusted her young friends would all use common sense and remain tucked safely inside their rooms until morning.
She had other plans, ones that were far more adventurous. This would be the fourth time she’d met Kane for a late-night stroll. Rubbing her hands in anticipation, she entered her room and began her preparations.
* * *
An hour later, Theda slipped down the back staircase, the one that came out near the storerooms at the back of the keep. If Tom was surprised to see her again so soon, he gave no sign of it.
“Be careful out there, my lady. The gardens might be deserted at night, but that doesn’t mean they are safe for a lady such as you, especially alone.”
She wouldn’t be alone, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Don’t worry, Tom. I won’t go far.”
He rivaled Lady Margaret when it came to wanting to protect Theda. “All right, then, but if you run afoul of anyone, scream and I’ll come running with this.” He flashed his cudgel with a gap-toothed grin. “Never met a man yet who wouldn’t listen to reason after I get their attention with it. Your late husband knew that for a fact.”
Tom and Armel had been the same age. More than once Tom had regaled her with stories about the scrapes the two had gotten into when they were little. Despite the vast difference in their birthrights, Armel had considered Tom a friend up until the day he died. She’d liked that about him.
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