All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

Elizabeth caught her in a tight hug and spun her around joyously. Her greeting was more to Vivienne’s liking. “We were all so fearful for you. Are you hale?”

  “Hale enough.” Vivienne heard Erik’s influence in her short reply but she did not have the heart to say more.

  “Perhaps she has greater need of a sister’s companionship than a meal at the board,” Alexander suggested to Tynan, who smiled with affection at the pair. As always, Elizabeth had a talent for persuading Alexander to soften his stance, sometimes not even by trying to do so. For once, though, Vivienne did not find this vexing.

  Elizabeth pulled back and studied Vivienne. “You do not seem that hale.”

  “I am tired, no more than that.” Vivienne forced a smile. “Where are Annelise and Isabella? Did they not accompany you here?”

  Elizabeth grimaced, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “They were forbidden to accompany us. I was only allowed to come this far because of Darg.”

  “Darg?”

  “That fairy aided our quest for you,” Alexander said. He ruffled Elizabeth’s hair, though she ducked from beneath the weight of his hand, then rolled her eyes.

  “You will tangle my hair!”

  “While you would prefer to tempt a suitor?” Alexander teased.

  Elizabeth flushed and folded her arms across her chest, failing completely in her attempt to disguise the fullness of her breasts. She had been embarrassed about her new curves since their sudden and recent appearance, though was more uncertain of the attention men now granted to her. She cast a wary glance over her shoulder at the mostly male company, then turned to Vivienne alone.

  “Darg said you would be found this night. Indeed, she granted me a verse specifically for Alexander. Ride west, ride west with main and might; a maid will be saved this very night. Between the river and the sea, a dozen strides from the chestnut tree; near the vale of Elphinstone, there you will find the one wanted home.”

  “And you were there in truth!” Alexander said, hoisting his chalice high.

  As the company cheered, Elizabeth dropped her voice so that Vivienne alone could hear her. “I did not tell them the rest, for Alexander would have been furious. Do not trust Malcolm with any morsel you wish to keep secret,” she advised, casting a disparaging glance at their brother. “He is as Tynan’s left hand since coming here.”

  It could have been argued that there was no small advantage in Malcolm’s choice, for he stood to inherit Ravensmuir if he served Tynan well and allowed himself to be so groomed. Two years Vivienne’s junior, Malcolm had the wits to know that he had been graced with a rare opportunity. She did not doubt that he would never jeopardize it and would have readily told Elizabeth as much.

  But it was impossible for the sisters to speak further. The company erupted into noise at the sight of the prisoner. The company bellowed, stamped and spat as Erik was carried into the hall. Vivienne turned away, so unable was she to look upon him so beaten and bruised. He was as yet unaware of his circumstance and Vivienne blamed herself for the many injuries he had sustained.

  “That is Nicholas Sinclair?” Elizabeth whispered in shock. “And he was once so handsome a man. Look at the scar upon his face!” She cast a sharp glance at Vivienne. “Has his charm diminished as well as his looks?” She wrinkled her nose. “I never liked him, though it might solely have been because he stole your attention away from our games. I always thought he had too much charm, that he was too certain of his own merit.”

  Erik was taken to the dungeon and the men settled contentedly to their meal. They were excited after their successful capture of the supposed villain and anxious to share their tales. A song began even as Erik was carried away and Tynan repeated his call for ale.

  Vivienne did not want to spend time in their company.

  “Can we not eat alone in the solar, as we used to?” she asked, granting their brother a glance. “I should love to have a chance to talk with you, Elizabeth, without Alexander listening to our every word.”

  “I do not listen to every word!” Alexander protested.

  “You try to do as much,” Elizabeth retorted. “And you are much less amusing about the matter since you have become laird,” she informed him with the honesty of youth. “Once you jested with us and were an amiable companion, now you demand this and that more sternly than ever Papa did. No wonder Vivienne did not miss your company.”

  Vivienne saw how the casually uttered words stung Alexander, for he looked suddenly stricken, but Elizabeth seemed oblivious. She turned a smile upon Tynan, obviously certain that she could win her way from him. “Uncle Tynan, you cannot make Vivienne remain here with all of you men after what she had endured. I shall ensure her welfare, you can be certain of that.”

  “Then, go,” Tynan said with amusement. He laid a hand upon Alexander’s shoulder. “And may God judge us more kindly than bold maidens do, especially when we have ceased to be amusing.”

  Alexander smiled at his uncle’s comment, but Vivienne saw that no merriment reached his eyes. She felt torn then, for she guessed that her brother had a more difficult time with the burden of Kinfairlie than she had understood.

  She and Alexander had always had a certain camaraderie, and it stung that he had not confided the truth in her even as she felt a desire to ask him for it now.

  On the other hand, he was disinclined to even listen to her side of matters and that was disappointing indeed. It was clear that whatever bond they had shared was now severed, though Vivienne wondered if she alone was saddened by that.

  It mattered little, for she meant to fulfill her pledge to Erik. Thus, she followed Elizabeth from the hall, only half heeding her sister’s merry chatter.

  How would she escape this doughty fortress without detection? That Madeline had managed as much should have been more encouraging than it was, but Vivienne knew she could not match her elder sister’s merit.

  All the same, she would have to try.

  Nine

  Elizabeth tugged at Vivienne’s hand and led her toward the stairs. “I can do better than this noisy hall, to be sure. The castellan’s wife likes me, because Darg has taken a fancy to her and she likes to hear Darg’s verses. I could be Lady of Ravensmuir with such influence!”

  “I thought that position was yet held for Aunt Rosamunde.”

  Elizabeth shook her head vehemently at that, then glanced back at their uncle in dismay. “Do not so much as utter her name,” she counseled in a whisper. “Uncle Tynan becomes most angry at the very mention of her.”

  “Why? He was the one who sent her away,” Vivienne was disinclined to grant understanding to her brother and uncle in this moment. “I heard the cruel things he said to her and I do not blame her for leaving.”

  Elizabeth winced. “I think he loves her yet. And Darg says that their ribbons are entwined, for the moment at least.”

  Vivienne remembered now this curious matter of ribbons. When their elder sister Madeline had been courted by Rhys, Darg had shown Elizabeth the ribbons that unfurled from each person in the hall. The ribbons of those souls destined to live and love together, according to Elizabeth, were entwined together.

  The spriggan Darg could make a great deal of mischief, again according to Elizabeth, by knotting ribbons or shredding them, a feat which created obstacles for the lovers in question. Elizabeth claimed that Darg had attacked the ribbons of Tynan and Rosamunde with a vengeance, a result of her dislike of Rosamunde, and certainly that mortal pair had argued beyond expectation.

  “That sounds ominous,” Vivienne said.

  Elizabeth nodded. “I do not like how Darg says it. She still holds malice against, Rosamunde, of that I am certain.”

  Vivienne could not keep herself from being skeptical. “Darg could be lying.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “I suspect not in this matter. She wants dearly to avenge herself upon Aunt Rosamunde and awaits her return so keenly that I cannot bear to hear more of it. She is most excited to be at Ravensmuir, I can assure you, and her wild ant
ics have kept me from sleeping at all.” Elizabeth yawned widely. “Though, of course, it was fear for your welfare that kept me awake in truth.”

  “I was hale enough.”

  Elizabeth granted Vivienne a long glance but said nothing more on the matter. “Darg is utterly convinced that Rosamunde will arrive at Ravensmuir at any moment, despite the fact that I have told her that Rosamunde herself swore never to return. We have argued about the matter so much that my head hurts, but still Darg insists.”

  Vivienne let her sister lead her up the stairs to the chambers above the hall, only half-listening to her chatter.

  “Do you know what Darg wished to do last night, in the very dead of the night?” Elizabeth demanded.

  Vivienne shook her head, not truly interested.

  Elizabeth flung out her hands. “She wanted to descend to the caverns beneath Ravensmuir! Can you imagine greater folly? Alexander would have my head…”

  Vivienne halted mid-step as inspiration struck. “Darg knows the caverns,” she said, realizing the import of that. She had forgotten about the labyrinth that wound beneath Ravensmuir. Could one get from the dungeons to the caverns and thence elsewhere?

  Vivienne did not know, but she thought that she might soon find out.

  “Of course, Darg does! She has lived there for centuries,” Elizabeth said with easy confidence. “She might even know them better than Uncle Tynan, or than our brothers, who played there so much when we were children.” Elizabeth shivered. “I do not like them, not in the least, and I refused to accompany her there. I fear, though, that she may go without me, for she is very intent upon the matter.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Sitting upon your left shoulder, nodding with her usual glee and recounting the rest of her verse.”

  Vivienne had momentarily forgotten that there was more of it. “What was the rest?”

  “Ride west, ride west with main and might; a maid will be saved this very night. Between the river and the sea, a dozen strides from the chestnut tree; near the vale of Elphinstone, there you will find the one wanted home.”

  “That was the part you told Alexander.”

  “Indeed.” Elizabeth smiled. “And this is the part I kept from him: A mirror of herself she will be, though few will have the skill to see. Though loosed from a suitor most unlikely, changed forever will this maiden be.”

  Vivienne felt her lips part at the truth of this. “What does Darg say about ribbons?”

  “It matters little what she says, for I can see yours with my own eyes.” Elizabeth stared over Vivienne’s shoulder. “It is a shimmering silver, as if wrought with the dust of opals.”

  “And is there another?”

  “A ragged one, as dark a blue as a midnight sky,” Elizabeth grimaced. “It is stained and most disreputable of appearance, though the blue is a wondrously vivid hue. It has been a lovely ribbon, though now less alluring than once it was.” She smiled at Vivienne, who wagered that the blue ribbon might also be stronger now than it had been. “It is Nicholas’ ribbon, is it not?”

  Vivienne declined to answer, for her family’s misunderstanding of Erik’s true identity might prove useful again. “Are they entwined?”

  “They were, though the blue one is torn. A mere thread of it continues and I cannot see whether there is more or not.” Elizabeth frowned. “How curious. I wonder what that means.”

  Vivienne guessed that it meant that Erik was in peril, either from Alexander’s justice or simply from his injuries. She would have to aid him this very night.

  How she wished she could see Darg for herself! The fairy’s aid would be invaluable in this. She spared a glance to her shoulder, but saw nothing uncommon.

  “She is over there now,” Elizabeth said, pointing to the rafters. “She likes to oust any birds fool enough to settle there.”

  Vivienne studied each rafter in the general direction Elizabeth pointed but could see no spriggan.

  Elizabeth cast herself onto the cushions piled in one corner of the chamber at the top of the stairs, then turned her sparkling gaze upon Vivienne. “So, now that we are alone, you must tell me all. Did you lie with Nicholas in truth? Was it wondrous? Did it hurt as much as Vera insists it does? I think that she only tells us as much to ensure that we are not overly curious. Perhaps Alexander has even commanded her to do so, for if ever a man lost his ability to savor amusement, it is Alexander this past year.”

  “I am yet a maiden,” Vivienne lied again. “My courses began on Friday, so I have been unclean these days and nights.”

  Elizabeth winced, then sighed. “How regrettable. I knew that you would tell me what it is like if you knew, for you have always been unafraid to tell the truth.” Vivienne tried not to flinch at her sister’s certainty of that. Then Elizabeth frowned. “But did you not bleed just a few weeks past?”

  Vivienne shook her head. “You must have me confused with Annelise.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I distinctly recall you complaining, and Annelise never complains. It is most unnatural, do you not think, and makes the rest of us look discontented?”

  Vivienne smiled and sat down. “Perhaps you are discontented.”

  “Without a shadow of doubt,” Elizabeth agreed cheerfully. “You must have some detail to confess, though. Can Nicholas recount a tale? He must have some merit. You could never love a man who did not share your affection for tales.”

  “He says little,” Vivienne admitted. Erik did not tell tales, she realized, but his quest would make a good one.

  Especially if he succeeded, with her aid. She saw him in her mind’s eye, naming his daughters and measuring their heights, and her gaze misted with tears.

  There had to be a way out of Ravensmuir’s dungeons!

  “I did not recall that Nicholas was silent,” Elizabeth mused. “His sole affection seemed to be for stolen kisses and listing his own merits to any soul fool enough to listen.”

  Vivienne said nothing.

  “Oh, but you must be hungry!” Elizabeth rose suddenly to her feet and made haste toward the door. She moved with the same purpose as their late mother and the unexpected resemblance between Elizabeth and Catherine brought a lump to Vivienne’s throat. She saw suddenly from whence Elizabeth had inherited her ripe curves, for she stood the same height and the same shape, her hair was the same hue as Catherine’s had been. The other sisters were wrought more slender, perhaps more like the women on her father’s side of the family.

  It was never far, this grief for the loss of her parents, though now it assailed Vivienne at the strangest of times. She thought then of Erik and wondered whether he felt the same way about his father’s demise.

  She would have wagered as much, so certain was she that they must be in agreement about such fundamental matters, though she knew that her conviction was wrought of little beyond instinct.

  “I promised Uncle Tynan to see you fed, after all,” Elizabeth continued. “I will return in but a moment—do not fear, the castellan’s wife will ensure that we have a wondrous meal here!”

  With that, Elizabeth was gone and the chamber fell quiet.

  Vivienne sank unto a pile of cushions, her fingers worrying the rich fabric as she thought. The challenge before her seemed insurmountable indeed. Without Darg’s aid, even if Vivienne managed to free Erik and lead him into the labyrinth, they would probably not find their way out before Uncle Tynan found them.

  Which meant that Elizabeth would have to aid in Erik’s escape. Vivienne nibbled on her lip, knowing that Elizabeth would earn Alexander’s ire thus. She did not want to cause trouble between her siblings and would have preferred to leave her sister in innocence and ignorance.

  Where did one find a fairy?

  Vivienne raised her chin, carefully studying the beams of the ceiling and every nook in the walls. “Darg?” she asked, then repeated the query more loudly. “Darg? Are you yet here? Can you choose which mortals can see you? If so, I beg of you to choose me!”

  The
re was no discernible reply. Vivienne waited and watched, hoping for some glimmer of the fairy’s presence, but she saw nothing uncommon. As far as she could tell, she was alone.

  She called again, she prowled the perimeter of the room, but all to no avail. All she could hear was the merrymaking of the men in the hall below, their raucous laughter and their drinking songs.

  Either Darg was not here, or Vivienne could not see her.

  Vivienne sat down to await her sister’s return and decided that she would simply tell Elizabeth the truth, all of the truth, then hope her sister chose to be of assistance.

  There was little else she could do.

  While she waited, she pulled the dagger out of her belt that Ruari had brought to Erik from his father’s deathbed. It was not a long blade, though the scabbard was richly ornamented. The hilt was an elaborate piece of metalwork. The grip was twisted like plies of a rope wound together and the pommel held a blue stone of remarkable size. Four prongs, shaped like claws, held the stone captive, though it caught the light in a most uncommon way.

  Vivienne moved closer to the lamp and saw that there was both a word and an image cut into the gem, which was a rectangle as long as the first two joints of her index finger.

  “ABRAXAS” was the word inscribed in the gem, as well as Vivienne could tell. It was not a word she knew and she wondered if she read it incorrectly. Perhaps it was initials or a word in another tongue.

  Above the letters was a tiny figure that looked to be of a man—until Vivienne looked closer and saw that his head was that of a bird, and his legs were an odd spiraling shape. Were these errors of the engraver, or of some import?

  Vivienne could not say. She pulled the blade from its scabbard out of curiosity and was pleased that the steel gleamed even in the low light of this chamber. It had been honed many times and was graced with a few nicks, but the edge was wickedly sharp. This blade had been treasured, to be certain, and she wondered how old it might be, or what powers it was reputed to hold.

  Then she wondered how she would persuade Elizabeth to aid her, frowned and put the blade away. There were more important puzzles before her than any legends linked to the Sinclair hereditary blade.