She went from fiddling with her hair to pressing the folds from her skirt.
He took those busy hands in his and brought them to his lips, staring at her over her knuckles. “I meant what I said last night, Alexia.”
Her eyes lit and she breathed out a sigh. “As did I, Sir…Ronar.”
Drawing her close, he kissed her forehead. “Then let us be on our way. I would not endanger you by remaining here another moment. Do you wish to wash or do whatever ladies do in the morning?”
“’Twill take me but a moment.” She pushed away, turned and gave him a coy glance over her shoulder. “I will meet you at the stables anon.”
True to her word, she reappeared in the courtyard not long after, wearing a fresh lavender tunic, laced up the front with gold thread and open at the sleeves. A beaded belt hung at her curvy hips and a matching headband circled her red hair that was braided and fell to her waist.
Ronar had never seen a vision so lovely.
She must have sensed his pleasure, for her face lit with a coquettish smile.
Even the stable boy stopped strapping on the horses’ bridals to stare at her. Ronar spun to face him and cleared his throat, and the poor lad jerked his attention back to his task, face reddening.
“I would have worn your breeches, Ronar,” Alexia said. “But alas, they were—”
The sound of a horse drew all their gazes to the front gate, and Ronar gestured for the stable boy to see who was coming. A moment later, the lad opened the gate and peered out. “My lord, a lone rider approaches,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Fast. He bears no arms.”
Ronar frowned, gripped the hilt of his sword, and took a stance before Alexia. “Allow him entrance.”
A black charger soon galloped through the gates and reared up before them.
Pushing past Ronar, Alexia dashed toward the newcomer. “What is it, Hugh, where is your knight?”
“I have come alone, my lady, with an urgent message.” He slid off the horse and dug through a saddle pouch. “They do not know I am gone.”
Ronar ground his teeth together as foreboding trampled the joy of the morning.
Retrieving a piece of fabric, the lad held it out to Alexia.
Alarm fired in her eyes. She fingered the stained and worn fabric as if it were made of fine silk. “’Tis Seraphina’s swaddling cloth. She would never part with this. What has happened to her? Tell me now.”
“Nothing, my lady. She is well. But she bids you come right away. Your sister is dying.”
Alexia gripped her stomach, her breath coming hard. “Dying? How can this be?”
“I know not, my lady. I am only instructed to bid you come post haste.”
“Of course. Thank you, Hugh. Return before you are missed, and tell her I am on my way.”
He nodded, his gaze skittering nervously to Ronar ere he spun around, leapt on the horse, and galloped off.
Alexia stood for a moment, caressing the cloth, her face ashen. Then turning, she started for her horse. “Come, we must return to my sister immediately.”
Ronar took her by the elbow, hating himself ere he uttered the words he knew would destroy her love for him. “Nay, my lady, we will not go back to Luxley.”
Chapter 29
Alexia jerked from Ronar’s grip. “Aye, we will return to Luxley. Did you not hear the man?” She could hardly believe the look of defiance on the knight’s face.
Especially after all they’d shared this past week!
“I heard,” he said plainly, his jaw growing stiffer by the moment.
“Then you are aware of the urgency.”
“All we know is what this squire has said. Why are you so quick to trust him?”
“Why are you so quick not to?” She shoved the cloth toward him. “Seraphina would never part with this unless she wished to prove to me ’twas her sending the message.”
Ronar turned, grabbed the reins from the stable boy and dismissed him. “They could have stolen it.”
“Nay. Only Seraphina, myself, and my sister know of its existence. Let alone its importance and location.” She tried to settle her anger, but the terror raging through her only set it further ablaze.
He hoisted his packs over the horse’s back and went to retrieve something in the stable.
She marched after him. “I cannot allow my sister to die. Especially not alone.”
“Then we must make haste to London.” Horses peeked at them from their stalls as the smell of hay, horseflesh, and manure enveloped her. “Once there,” he continued, his tone softening, “we can acquire the help we need. If we go back to Luxley now, we will both be captured. You burned and I hanged. Then what good are we to your sister?” He grabbed a pouch and her bow and quiver and returned to the horses.
She snatched her bow from his hand, fuming. “What happened to the brave knight, the elite King’s Guard? I cannot credit a man who trembles before a band of inept knights and a power-hungry steward.” She attempted to grab her quiver, but he held fast.
His jaw flexed. His eyes grew cold. And for a moment, she thought she’d overstepped the limits of this knight’s temper. But finally he released a sigh and attempted to take her hand in his. “There is a difference between bravery and foolishness, Alexia. Think. Think about what you are doing.”
She moved away from him. “I cannot think. Not when my sister’s life is in danger.”
“Precisely. LeGode will not let her die. Not until she marries his son.” He strapped her quiver to the pack on his horse.
“Alas, what if she already has?”
“Jarin would not have permitted it.”
“You ask me to trust men I have no knowledge of.”
“I ask you to trust me.” He gave her a pointed look that bespoke of the intimacies they’d shared.
“You may be an earl, Sir Knight, but I am not your liegeman.”
Grabbing the reins of her horse, he tied it to his saddle.
Not believing her eyes, she flung her bow over her shoulder and planted fists at her waist. “Then am I to be your prisoner again? After … after our declarations of love?”
“Because of my love for you, I will not see you harmed.” He tied the knot tight.
Alexia tried one last appeal. “If you truly loved me, you’d allow me to see my sister.”
“We will see her.” He reached out to touch her face. “You have my troth. But only when we have victory on our side.”
Retreating, she turned her back to him. Potz! She was no match for this knight. Not in this gown, with a sore ankle, and especially not without her arrows. Nor did she truly want to be. A pain like none she’d felt skewered her heart at his betrayal.
Alack, deep down, she knew he was right. Whether or not this was a trap, rushing into a castle filled with enemies who thought she was a witch might not be the wisest choice. Even if she could sneak into her sister’s chamber through the tunnels, what could she do to save her if the poison had already done its damage?
She could be with her. Comfort her.
Which was more than she could do in London. What if Bishop Montruse had sent word she was a witch? What if the king didn’t believe Ronar?
Terror gripped Alexia’s throat so tight, she gasped for air and closed her eyes, seeking the Spirit within. Yet He was quiet today. Instead, she saw the friar’s ever-calm face. “You worry overmuch, dear one. Remember the Scripture tells us to be anxious for naught, but in everything with prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God will guard your heart.” He had taken her hand and placed it upon the Holy Scrolls. “’Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.’ Your anxiety and lack of trust will only cause you harm, dear one.”
Alexia breathed out a sigh. She wanted to trust God. She just had no idea how.
The Spear! She had the Spear. She’d seen it defeat a dozen demon-wolves. Surely it could defeat whatever LeGode tossed her way. Mayhap if Ronar knew of i
t, he’d allow her to go. But she couldn’t tell him that. After all he’d suffered, discovering she had the Spear all along, that she had lied repeatedly to him, might encase his heart in stone forever.
Her own heart felt as heavy as an anvil at the moment, for eventually she would have to betray his trust yet again.
She heard him approach from behind, felt his hands at her waist as he attempted to lift her onto her horse. But she jerked from his touch, slid her foot in the stirrup, and mounted the palfrey with ease. “I see I have no choice, my lord, but you will allow me my anger for now.”
Ronar leapt on his charger and took the reins. “Three days there, three days back with an army of knights and an edict from the king to arrest LeGode for treason and bring him to trial. That’s all I ask. Will you grant me that?”
Alexia nodded, hating herself for the lie.
♥♥♥
Alexia took the bread and cheese Ronar handed her and stared at them, unsure whether her stomach would accept much of anything at the moment. The fire crackled and spit sparks into a night sky splattered with twinkling stars.
“Ye best eat, Alexia. You’ll need your strength for the rest of the journey. We made good time today, and with God’s grace, we’ll make London by nightfall on the morrow.”
They’d traveled all day across rolling hills, through farmland and villages and thick forests that made Alexia long to leap from her horse into the trees. They’d only stopped twice for water and to stretch their legs—legs which now ached, along with her backside. After a day of such torture, she decided ’twas far better to fly through the treetops than ride horseback. Faster and less painful.
Her palfrey neighed from his spot beside Penance at the edge of the clearing as if agreeing with her.
Still, Ronar had never allowed Alexia out of his sight. Not once. Even when she relieved herself in the shrubbery, he was always too close for any reasonable escape. Which only increased her agony, for every minute she traveled farther away from her sister was another minute she could not rescue her.
She braved a bite of bread, if only to appease the knight who sat beside her, gauging her response—eyeing her as if she were, indeed, his prisoner. Wise man.
Ronar tossed a chunk of cheese into his mouth and stared at the fire. Around them, the buzz of crickets, warble of birds, hoot of owls, and especially the howl of wolves kept him on edge with his knife in hand. Sounds that had grown familiar to her during her years raised in the forest, she had no trouble hearing the slightest deviation—a human footstep, a breath, the stillness of night birds when danger lurked. The presence of evil. She felt none of those things this night, just the terror raking through her veins for her sister.
And the desperate need to be at her side.
That need battled against her desire to not betray the man beside her, not betray the love they had vowed. A love and intimacy she already felt slipping away with each passing moment.
The bread soured in her stomach.
“I cannot stop thinking of my sister,” she uttered, fingering the slab of cheese.
Ronar handed her a pouch. “You must.” And for a moment she spotted a shimmer of the same affection she’d seen in his eyes last night. “Pray for her safety and trust God,” he added ere he turned away.
Smiling, she sipped the wine. “This from a man who believes God only listens to men of the cloth.”
He tossed a stick in the fire and sighed. “I have seen many things, many strange things of late, that give me cause to think differently.”
“That pleases me, Ronar.”
He gave a sad smile and reached for her hand. “I wish I could please you even more, Alexia. I wish you weren’t so angry with me.”
Against her better judgment, she slipped her hand in his, then hated herself for the way his warmth and strength made her feel. “Then grant me my freedom, and allow me to return to Luxley. You can proceed to London without me.” For if there was a trap awaiting them at Luxley, she couldn’t bear to see him hurt.
He threaded his fingers through hers, gazing sadly at their intertwined hands. She felt his grief, his hesitancy, spill over her, and hope took root that he would grant her request.
Instead, he plucked a leather tie from a pocket of his doublet and wrapped it around their bound hands.
“What are you doing?” She yanked and pulled, but he tied it tight using his teeth and one hand before she could get free.
“How dare you! I thought you trusted me!” She attempted to rise, but he pulled her back down.
“Nay, I said I loved you. Trust?” He shook his head and gave her that devilish smile of his that if she weren’t so mad would excite her. “I know you, Lady Falcon, and I believe you’d take the first opportunity to rush back to your sister and your own death.”
She narrowed her eyes. He was right, of course. But she was still angry.
“Let us get our rest, for tomorrow will come soon enough.” Then setting his pouch as a pillow, he tugged her to lay beside him and drew a quilt over them both. “I am a light sleeper, Alexia, so I advise you to accept your fate.”
Fuming, she lay as still as she could until she heard the knight’s breathing deepen. Infuriating man. No matter how wonderful it felt to cuddle so close beside him, she would be no man’s prisoner. She picked ever-so-lightly at the leather strap around their wrists for what seemed like an hour. But the knot was far too tight to be undone without disturbing Ronar. A knife would work. If she had one. If she could reach the one Ronar had stuffed in his belt. Hard to do when it was behind her.
She shifted slightly. Ronar moaned and gripped her arm with his other hand. “Be still,” he muttered.
Alexia complied. But only until she was sure he’d fallen asleep again. It took another hour of gentle maneuvering, inch by inch, to turn herself and pluck the blade from his belt. Her movements brought forth occasional groans and complaints, but nothing to wake the knight completely. Then she waited, listening to the rustle of leaves and simmer of coals in the fire. Waited until Ronar was deep in sleep yet again, and his hand fell from its grip on her arm. She passed the next hour slicing through the tie. Just as she broke free, she caught his hand and laid it gently in the dirt then rolled ever so quietly away from him.
Rubbing her wrist, she stood and stared at him sleeping so soundly, so handsome, so honorable. And she hated herself for defying him. But she had no choice. Separating from him was the best way to ensure his safety.
Those who took company with a witch would die a witch’s death.
“I love you, Ronar. Please forgive me,” she whispered. Then retrieving her bow and quiver, she quietly mounted her palfrey and headed into the darkness, angrily swiping away her traitorous tears.
By night the following day, after driving her horse harder than she should, Alexia reached the edge of the Emerald forest overlooking Castle Luxley. All was dark, save for torches lit by the front palisades. Exhaustion weakened her bones and weighed upon her eyelids, but she could not stop now. Though she desperately longed to find the friar and ensure his safety—though she needed to hear his words of encouragement and pray with him—there was no time, for her sister’s life lay in the balance.
Sliding from the horse, she retrieved her bow and quiver and slung them over her shoulder, ensuring Ronar’s knife was tucked securely in her belt. She thought to remove the palfrey’s saddle and grant him his freedom, but she might have need of him to escape should things not go as planned. Instead, she gave him loose rein to forage for food.
Planned. Hmm. What was her plan? In truth, she had none. Ronar would call her a fool for reacting so brashly. The friar would agree and caution her to seek the Spirit’s wisdom and not give reign to her feelings. Yet, she had tried to do just that during her journey. She had prayed, both in the Spirit and in the natural, she’d sung praises, and she’d even demanded demons to flee. But all to no avail. Terror still drove her onward, come what may.
She caressed the horse’s face and leaned against hi
m. “Stay close, precious one. I shall return anon.” Then drawing back her shoulders, she took a deep breath, and ventured into the fields. Within minutes, she had climbed over the village wall and, keeping to the shadows, had slipped easily through the sleeping town. Once at the back castle gate, she halted, ready to fire an arrow at something nearby to distract the guard, but she found him deep in his cups singing with another knight.
Easily—too easily—she inched behind him and slipped into the courtyard, dark save for torches lit by the stables. Her gaze latched upon the women’s quarters in the distance. She had only to make it there, creep past sleeping maids, and then disappear into the tunnels that led to her sister’s chamber.
Heart thundering, she proceeded across the yard. A chicken clucked from its nest. A dog howled in the distance. She halted, listening. Slowly, she retrieved an arrow from her quiver and inched forward. The hiss and spit of torch flames sizzled. A frog croaked.
Five more steps.
Shuffling sounds met her ears, the creak of chain mail and metal followed.
Two more.
“You there, halt at once!” Sir DeGay’s voice boomed through the courtyard.
Instantly, twenty knights appeared out of the shadows like demons from a nightmare. Alexia’s breath seized. She nocked her bow and spun around to face the tips of a dozen swords.
A man pushed through the knights. The light from his torch etched a maniacal grin on his face. LeGode.
“My dear. How nice to see you. We thought you might grace us with a visit.”
She shifted her aim to his heart. “I could kill you where you stand, you misbegotten sack of refuse.”
He smiled. “True. You may injure me with one of your arrows. But rest assured, your death would come swift and hard.”
Alexia slowly lowered her bow and glanced over the men-at-arms. “Knights of Luxley, I and my sister are the rightful heirs to this estate. This traitor tried to murder me in my youth and has been poisoning my sister. I command you to arrest him at once!”
No one moved. No one spoke. Terror threatened to choke her.
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