The implied threat melted into broken, vindictive laughter. Longsight let Citrine slide from his arms and onto the floor. The girl struggled to her feet and ran—weaving a bit—to the shelter of the old woman's arms.
The eyes that turned on Waln now were fearful indeed, but less so at him than at what he had brought upon them. Anger glinted here and there. More than one hand drifted near a sheathed dagger.
Waln sensed he was losing control of the situation. At that very moment he was saved by a thunderous pounding on the lighthouse door.
Since she couldn't avoid meeting Baron Archer, not without stirring up rumors that they were at odds, Elise decided that her first duty on the day following that upon which Sapphire had arrived with her troops was to hunt out her father. To be completely honest, she wasn't certain that they weren't at odds.
Elise had written to say that she was safe and to tell her parents not to be angry with Earl Kestrel for letting her go, emphasizing that she'd given her host little choice. However, the peculiar combination of circumstances that had led up to her departure from the Norwood Grant for New Kelvin didn't permit detailed explanations. Even a sealed letter could be read and too much was at stake for her to risk a diplomatic incident.
Before departing the camp, Sapphire had suggested that Elise wait until the next morning to seek out Baron Archer as, at Sapphire and Shad's request, he was in charge of posting sentries around the fringes of the swamp. After all, the current policy of letting the pirates leave the area did not include not keeping track of the situation, and those disaffected enough to steal away might be willing to sell information.
Elise had slept restlessly the night before, unable to relax when images of Firekeeper prowling through the dark right up to the pirates' doorsill kept intruding. An hour or so after Firekeeper had departed, she had given up the pretense and joined the others around the campfire.
Firekeeper had arrived some interminable time later, absolutely covered in blood and with two gutted goat carcasses slung over her shoulders the way a more ordinary maiden would wear a garland of flowers. She had seemed honestly astonished that they had been worried, had even insisted on going back into the swamp to fetch out two large bags—one filled with dead poultry, the other with equally dead rabbits.
Only after Edlin had agreed to take on the grisly task of gutting and skinning the lot had Firekeeper permitted Wendee to haul her off so that the lady's maid could reassure herself that all the blood was indeed—as Firekeeper swore—someone else's.
A small smile quirked Elise's mouth as she recalled Firekeeper's protests, but she thought that the wolf-woman didn't particularly enjoy being blood-covered and filthy—she just wasn't repulsed by it as Elise herself would be.
Indeed, Elise had noticed that Blind Seer—contrary to the popular image of the savage wolf—was quite fastidious. Immediately after hunting he would be completely begored—as if he had waded chest-deep into his kill. Soon after he fed, however, the wolf would seek out the closest running water and wade in as deeply as possible so that the current might scrub him clean.
Such thoughts distracted Elise as she went about her morning grooming. She wondered what Ninette would think when she saw how independent her mistress had become, and smiled.
Finding Baron Archer was amazingly simple. The Archer coat of arms, a gold field emblazoned with a man shooting scarlet arrows from his bow, fluttered on a pennant over her father's field pavilion. What she had not counted on was finding Jet Shield first.
Afterward, Elise would chide herself for being so foolish as not to realize that Sapphire—and Citrine's—ambitious and glory-hungry brother would have insisted on being part of the rescue mission. His disgrace during King Allister's War would only make Jet more determined to enhance his damaged character.
However, Elise had so effectively dismissed her onetime true love from her thoughts and memories that his voice speaking her name was her first reminder of his existence.
"Elise," Jet said in his deep, sensual voice—a voice that could, if he wished, make every word seem as intimate as a caress. "Or should I say, Lady Archer? No, let it be Elise."
As she had been avoiding use of the formal title that she must assume on her coming birthday, Elise could hardly protest. Turning so quickly that her skirt and cloak swirled about her, she found Jet emerging from what must be his own tent.
He wore black, as always, a dull black in this case, befitting a man whose sister was endangered. Even in this, he looked strikingly handsome. His thick dark hair resisted being pulled back into a queue. His dark eyes hinted at suppressed passion.
Not so long ago, Elise would have nearly swooned at the smile that curved his lips, a smile that hinted of past intimacies while promising eternal discretion. Now she was simply annoyed to find Jet slowing her progress.
With a smoothness that amazed her—for she had thought her hands tucked securely in her muff—Jet took her hand and lightly kissed the fingers.
"I am so pleased to see you again, cousin."
He paused slightly before using the familial address, as if hinting that he might have said "darling" or "love" but for the possibility of listening ears.
Elise drew her hand back and tucked it securely into her muff, intertwining the fingers lest he draw it forth again. She was so astonished by Jet's behavior—he acted as if they were still courting!—that she said what she was thinking.
"What are you doing here? Sapphire didn't mention you were among her troops."
Momentarily, Jet's dark eyes flashed at what Elise realized with guilty hindsight he must take as an insult. Jet could hardly have expected Elise to know he was among the company, but he had certainly expected Sapphire to mention his presence—and his rivalry with his sister was so long-standing that he would balk automatically at being named one of "her" troops.
"If Hawk Haven is to go to the rescue of my littlest sister," he said, recovering after the briefest of pauses, "then certainly I must be among her soldiers."
"Of course," Elise said. "Duty to our families is of paramount importance. In fact, I was about to call on my father. If you will excuse me…"
After his own melodramatic speech, Jet could hardly delay her. With a flourishing bow and elegantly voiced hopes that he would have the privilege of her company sometime soon, he let her pass.
Elise arrived at her father's pavilion without further interruptions. She found Perr, her father's body servant, without, packing away the pans in which he had doubtless cooked the baron's morning meal.
"Good morning, Lady Elise," he said, giving her his usual bow.
She tried to read her father's mood from his servant's greeting, but Perr had never been a great intimate of hers and his manner was, as always, correct and without undue familiarity.
"Good morning, Perr," she replied. "Is my father in?"
"The baron is, my lady. One moment while I see if he is receiving."
As Ivon Archer might have been dressing or otherwise indisposed, Elise tried not to read too much into the delay. Perr emerged quickly enough.
"The baron says he will be happy to see you, Lady Elise. Please go inside. I will follow with tea. Have you breakfasted?"
"I have Perr," Elise said, feeling a touch more hopeful. "Thank you."
Ducking under the cloth door panel, Elise found herself in the very pavilion in which she had lived during King Allister's War. Perr occupied the side chamber that she had shared with Ninette, but otherwise it was much as it had been.
Baron Archer had apparently been dressing, for he was tying his neck cloth as he came from his bedchamber.
"Elise," he said, holding out his hands to her.
She put her own in his, while shaking down the hood of her outdoor cloak. Baron Archer paused in the process of giving her a parental embrace and gaped at her.
"What have you done to your hair?" he asked, the question more exclamation than mere inquiry.
"I cut it, Father," Elise replied meekly. "In New Kelvin. It was ne
cessary if we were to get into Thendulla Lypella without raising undue suspicion."
"You cut it," he repeated, something odd in his tone. "To get into Thendulla Lypella."
"Yes, sir."
Belatedly, Elise realized what the new note in her father's voice was. It was pride. Ivon Archer was fairly bursting with pride in his daughter!
Perr entered the pavilion at that moment, bearing a tea tray. The baron dismissed him, asking him to make certain no one drew close enough to overhear their discussion. This done, Baron Archer set Elise on a camp chair and poured her tea with his own hands.
"I know something of the situation," he said. "Princess Sapphire has been good enough to take me into her confidence. Now I wish to hear everything from you."
Floating on the unexpected euphoria of her father's approval, Elise recounted everything that had happened since her departure from the Norwood Grant. She glossed over her early discomfort, and tried to make light of the encounter with the bandits. Something of her terror during the last must have crept into her voice despite her efforts, however, for she saw Baron Archer's eyes narrow and saw his fists clench in unvoiced anger.
Elise didn't forget—she couldn't have even if she wanted to do so—to highlight the other's roles: Firekeeper's courage and reluctant patience, Derian's steady competence, Wendee's wonderful combination of practical management and artistic flourish, Edlin's unexpected depths. She tried not to praise Doc above the others, but here as elsewhere she knew that her voice betrayed her. Her admiration for the man was so complete—he was strong yet giving, brave without being brash—that she knew it flowed into her voice.
Baron Archer neither chided nor questioned her about her feelings. He respected her heart's privacy and reserved his questions—and he had many—for the tactical matters. He was also very curious about Grateful Peace.
Elise was telling him about how Peace had been taken to Sir Jared's relatives when Perr called from without:
"Baron Archer, there is a messenger here. The crown prince and princess request your attendance at the command tent. They also wish to know if you know where Lady Archer might be found."
Baron Archer rose, saying, "Tell the messenger that I will attend upon Their Majesties immediately and that Lady Elise is with me."
"In that case," the messenger replied, turning to them as the baron held the tent flap for Elise. "The prince and princess request your attendance as well, Lady Archer."
They went, walking side by side. Elise gloried in her father's approval. She wasn't naive enough to believe that it would be unfaltering, but it felt good to know she had earned it. Maybe she did have what it would take to be a Baroness Archer who wouldn't shame her ancestors' spirits.
For just a moment Elise felt she had the answer to her dilemma regarding Sir Jared. Then the guard outside Sapphire and Shad's pavilion hailed them and her momentary insight slipped elusively away.
The crown prince and princess were waiting inside along with a small group that included most of those who had been involved in yesterday's tactical meeting but did not include—Elise noted with a certain amount of glee—Jet. She nodded to her camp mates, but no one violated the formality of the royal presence with small talk.
After a few other latecomers had arrived and all had been welcomed, Sapphire turned to business.
"I am pleased to inform you that the first stage of our plan to dishearten the smugglers seems to have gone without a hitch."
Elise glanced at Firekeeper, who looked rather smug. Sapphire continued:
"Knowing that they would likely notice the disruption as soon as dawn broke, we sent a messenger bearing a letter containing our terms for surrender soon after first light."
Shad lifted a document from the table.
"In the absence of secretaries and all the rest," he said with a disarming smile, "let me read you the text."
"Greetings—
"We of Hawk Haven have decided to tolerate no longer your illegal residence upon our lands and within a structure built at the desire of the Crown, said structure being the lighthouse popularly known as Smuggler's Light.
"You are hereby notified that you must vacate said property and its environs by next sunrise. If you do not do so, we will take forcible measures to make certain that you vacate the lighthouse—up to and including making certain that you vacate your lives.
"Although your behavior has incurred our displeasure, we are willing to permit you to depart with your personal property and without fear that you will be detained for the crimes you have committed against this kingdom if you surrender alive to us the following two persons: Baron Endbrook of the Isles and Citrine Shield of Hawk Haven.
"If said persons are not surrendered to us promptly and alive, then the residents of the lighthouse may expect that all efforts will be made to detain them and to incarcerate them for their crimes. If said persons are surrendered, all residents of the lighthouse may have their freedom as long as they depart our borders and those of Bright Bay within a reasonable period of time.
"Note that we are aware that said Baron Endbrook and Citrine Shield were alive and residing within said lighthouse as of the writing of this letter. Do not attempt to convince us otherwise. Equally, murder of said persons as an expedient manner of delivering them into our custody will be most brutally punished.
"By this time you will have noticed the damage worked upon your gardens and livestock. Consider this a token of our seriousness.
"A messenger bearing a white flag of truce may safely enter our camp west of the swamp at any time before next dawn and expect to be treated fairly. After that time, we will recognize neither flag nor messenger but treat with you as the criminals that you are."
Shad looked up from his reading.
"We've signed it," he said with a slight grin, "with every flourish and title we could come up with between us, including such that indicate that we are acting under King Tedric's aegis."
Wheeler, commander of the scouts, was the first to speak.
"It's firm," he said, his tone adding, "Perhaps a bit too firm," though Wheeler was either too polite, or too politic, to say so.
"It is firm," Shad agreed. "We felt that it must be. From what I know of pirates, these people are likely to break into factions under stress. If we permit them overmuch time to decide and too many loopholes, we are creating reasons for factions to form."
Wheeler nodded, but Elise could tell he would have preferred a more subtle approach. Fleetingly, she recalled Sapphire and Shad playing .that strategy game—navy and pirates?—while they convalesced. She hoped they had not mistaken reality for a game.
A few more questions were raised, mostly having to do with what precautions had been taken to keep the lighthouse under observation, what should be done about those seen sneaking away now that an ultimatum had been issued, and the like. However, as the letter had already been sent, there was not much that could be debated.
Elise glanced at her father, but Baron Archer looked quite satisfied. She wondered if he had known of the contents of the letter in advance, and, considering what Sapphire had said earlier about how he had conferred with them on the ride from Eagle's Nest, thought he might have known at least the gist, if not the precise contents.
After the meeting was dismissed, Baron Archer excused himself from his daughter.
"I am going to ride the rounds of those archers I have posted around the swamp's western and southern perimeters," he explained. "They'll be getting restless by now and needing to be rotated."
He bowed over her hand and departed. Elise fancied that she heard him whistling as he walked away, though the sound was cut short, as if Baron Archer realized that such action was beneath his dignity.
She turned toward her own camp. If there was to be fighting, she would not be in the thick of it, but she and Doc would be needed to assist the field-hospital staff. In that case, she must be as rested and clearheaded as any of those who would fight.
Briskly, Elise stepped up her
pace, hoping that Sapphire and Shad's bold feint would work and that no more blood would be shed.
Chapter XXXVIII
The next dawn came—the deadline for surrender—but no one emerged from the lighthouse.
No one at all, and that was odd. Smuggler's Light had several doors. One at the side of each of the buildings around the base led out into the gardens or live-stock pens; there was also the lighthouse's original door, a broad, weathered panel now reinforced with iron.
Early the morning before, soon after Firekeeper's sabotage had been discovered by the inhabitants, there had been much activity outside the lighthouse. It seemed that pretty much everyone who lived in the lighthouse had wanted to see the destruction for themselves.
Later, under the direction of a rangy, knobby-jointed fellow, work crews had emerged, some to scavenge edible food, some to dig pits to bury that which was ruined beyond use.
Based on these comings and goings, Captain Wheeler's scouts had been able to make a fair assessment of how many resided within Smuggler's Light. The number of inhabitants had been higher than any had imagined—a fact that no one greeted with particular delight.
Now, however the doors remained closed; the shutters stayed folded over the windows. Deserters had been expected—even prepared for—but not one person had left.
From Firekeeper, who had the news from her wingéd friends, Derian Carter knew that at least some of the smugglers remained inside. The wolf-woman also assured him that no one had escaped via some other route—a tunnel under the moat, for example. All night, she and Blind Seer had restlessly patrolled the swamp, augmenting the watch kept by the more usual scouts. Like them, she had seen no one depart.
Dawn turned into a clear, bright winter morning. When not one shred of pink remained in the skies and the sun had finished mounting from the east, the crown prince and princess called a tactical meeting in their pavilion.
Derian, perhaps in deference to his place as one of King Tedric's counselors, was included. So was Firekeeper.
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