The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She was a woman on a mission.

  She was fairly certain that she hadn’t slept all night, afraid she was going to miss the dawn and miss seeing Cole off. She had told the man that she would bring him food and she intended to do just that, although she knew deep down that it was really just an excuse to see him before he left. Certainly, they’d had visitors before. There had been many visitors over the years and she had never personally met any of them in the stable with a bag of food for the coming journey.

  But Cole was different.

  He wasn’t just any visitor.

  Truth be told, she had lain awake all night thinking about the enormous knight with uniquely colored eyes. When she had first met him, she had thought he had a rather sinister appearance. He had a square jaw and sharply angled features. There was nothing soft about his face at all, and the way his eyebrows arched over those eyes was something almost reptilian. At least, that’s what she’d first thought. But the more she looked at him and the more she came to know him, the more she realized that all of those elements came together for a fantastically handsome man.

  His size was truly something impressive. He was quite tall, but the sheer breadth of his shoulders and the circumference of his arms were things to be admired. She’d seen him use that strength against the Scotsman in her father’s solar, lifting the man as if he’d weighed no more than a child, and she found that strangely alluring when it should have been wholly intimidating.

  Maybe that made her strange, but she didn’t really care.

  She was coming to like what she saw of the frightening Cole de Velt.

  They’d had two significant conversations yesterday and both of them had shown a gentle side to the knight who looked as if he did not even know the meaning of the word. He had been kind and compassionate with her, something so unexpected but something she had found endearing.

  Something that, down deep, had healed something in her, something that had shattered in Auden’s wake.

  In truth, when Auden had left her, she had put thoughts of men out of her mind. That incident had made her hate men in general for quite some time and she was only now just starting to overcome that. Men had no honor, in her opinion, and she was only now starting to look at men without the usual apathy until Cole had shown her a kindness that she had forgotten existed outside of her own family. Her brothers had always shown her an inordinate amount of kindness, and she loved them very much, but that was the only kindness she had trusted up until yesterday.

  Cole was quickly causing her to change her mind.

  Therefore, she was determined to see him again before he left. Maybe there was a part of her that didn’t believe he really would return to her as he said he would, so perhaps this would be her last glimpse of him. But then again, it was wrong of her to distrust the man before he’d given her a reason to.

  She just didn’t know what to think.

  All she knew was the way he made her feel.

  The kitchens of Castle Keld were already working at full capacity at this time in the morning. The cook baked bread every morning, bread that would be eaten throughout the day, so the kitchens smelled like yeast with delicious aromas. Corisande collected a few smaller bread loaves along with cheese, small apples, and leftover meat pies from the night before.

  All of it ended up in a canvas sack that was used to haul grain up from the vault. They had enormous stores down in the sublevels beneath the keep, and the servants used the sacks to bring the grain up to the kitchens. She walked around the kitchens twice, looking for anything else she could stuff in the sack before finally locating a stash of little round dough balls that had been basted in honey. Those had been on the menu the night before and there were just a few left, so she threw those into the sack.

  The sack was nearly overflowing at this point, so she scurried out of the kitchens and headed towards the stables. The eastern sky was just starting to show hints of pink and orange as the sun begin to rise over a land that was crunchy with icy dew. Corisande knew that Cole was going to be leaving at dawn and she hoped she wouldn’t be too late. Rushing into the stables, she saw that it was still mostly dark, so the activity for the day hadn’t yet started. However, the horses heard her and thought they were about to be fed, so they began to stir and make noise.

  Quietly, she made her way over to Cole’s fat, black stallion.

  Round, black eyes were looking back at her.

  Corisande had been around warhorses enough to know that they weren’t the most docile of creatures. In fact, her brothers owned horses that she swore breathed fire. Therefore, she had a healthy respect for the beasts that were trained to kill men, but the eyes gazing back at her didn’t look like a killer.

  He had an enormous, beautiful face.

  “I know you’re hungry,” she whispered. “I am sorry, but I did not come to feed you.”

  The horse lifted his head, curled its lips, and showed her big horse teeth. It wasn’t a vicious move, but a rather humorous one. Such humor should be rewarded, so she pulled out a dough ball and carefully held it up to the horse on her flat palm. She was prepared to yank her hand back at any moment, but one sniff from those big horse nostrils and the horse gladly sucked up the sweet treat.

  With a grin, Corisande went to sit next to the trough with the healing moss to wait for Cole to make an appearance.

  It wasn’t long in coming.

  Cole entered the stable, followed by a pair of servants who quickly went to light lamps so they could move about feeding the animals. She heard Cole ask one of the men if the horses had been fed yet, but they hadn’t, so Cole shook his head with disappointment and went to his horse. He petted the beast as he assured him that he would soon have a full belly. The servants were already bringing grain for the animal as Cole stepped aside so the beast could be fed.

  “What’s his name?” Corisande asked.

  Cole turned sharply to see her sitting in the shadows near the trough and a smile creased his lips.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “The horse.”

  “His name is Drago.”

  “He is very nice.”

  He gave her an odd look. “He is not nice,” he said. “He is a vicious war animal, so guard your fingers when you are around him. What are you doing sitting in the dark like that, anyway? If one didn’t know better, one might assume you were an assassin lying in wait.”

  Corisande laughed softly. “If I was an assassin, you would already be dead,” she said. Then, she lifted the sack. “I have brought you the food I told you I was going to bring. You may as well eat some while you are waiting for your horse to be fed.”

  Cole came over to her and eyed her with some amusement, before taking the sack from her hand. He peered into it, made difficult because the stable was still dark. But he inhaled deeply.

  “I can smell the bread,” he said. “What else did you bring me?”

  “Cheese and apples,” she said. “There are also little meat pies in there along with sweet dough balls. Your horse had one and he heartily approves.”

  Cole turned to frown at the horse. “Glutton,” he muttered. But he returned his attention to the sack as he walked over to the very last stall next to Corisande. It was empty and he sat down on the dirt floor, leaning back against the wall. “You have gone through the trouble of bringing this to me. Will you join me?”

  Fighting off a smile, one of pure delight, Corisande went into the stall and sat across from him, a proper distance, but a good position from which to watch him. She realized that she liked to watch the man. He told a thousand tales with those eyes, that face, and that big body conveyed the life of a man of experience.

  Everything about him spoke to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It is kind to share your meal with me.”

  He snorted. “You brought it,” he said, pulling out a still-warm loaf of bread and tearing it in half, handing her a chunk. “I do not usually eat in the morning but, more importantly, I do not usually break my
fast with a beautiful young lady when I do. I am honored.”

  His flattery brought that giddy feeling she was coming to associate with him, as if her cheeks were about to burst into flames. She took the warm, fresh bread and tore off a piece of it, popping it in her mouth.

  “I remember back in the time when I fostered, the knights would yell at the squires and pages and tell them they were old women if they ate anything until the day was nearly over,” she said, hoping he couldn’t see the flush on her face. “That was difficult on some of the younger boys. The women were allowed to eat, but the boys were forced to work instead. There was one little boy – he was quite young – who was so hungry and would weep because he would not be fed. We used to take him food when the knights were not looking.”

  Cole was watching her in the darkness. “Do you know why they refused him food?”

  “Because they were cruel?”

  He chuckled. “Nay,” he said. “They did it for a very good reason. When one is on a battle march, or in battle itself, there is no telling when food will be available or even feasible. When a man is traveling for his lord, it is his dedication to duty that will carry him through, not the lure of comfort and food. They do not feed the young men to toughen them, to make them focus on things they can control and not the things they cannot. It is a discipline tactic.”

  She eyed him dubiously. “Withholding food from a child is a discipline tactic?” she asked. “It seems to me that there are better ways to accomplish such a thing.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “Like reason,” she said. “Most children are bright and willing to learn. Reason with the child, explain the way things are, help them to understand.”

  Cole took a big bite of his bread. “All true,” he said. “But nothing leaves a mark more than physical distress or pain. That is why children are beaten when they are naughty. Remembering the pain will teach them not to be naughty again.”

  “And you advocate beating a child?”

  “Nay,” he said. “Unless the child is incorrigible, I do not see the need. I agree that reasoning can sometimes do more good than beating or starvation, but these have been discipline tactics for hundreds of years. They were used on me and I did not turn out too bad.”

  Corisande laughed softly. “I suppose not,” she said. “Where did you foster?”

  “Kenilworth and Norwich,” he said. “And you?”

  “Prudhoe.”

  “That is not far from here,” he said. “Have you remained in the north your entire life?”

  “Mostly,” she said. “I have been to London twice with my family but, mostly, we remain in the north, where our family has lived here for many generations. Our ancestors were the Kings of Northumbria, so I am sure we will remain here for many generations to come. This land is in our blood. And you? Have you ever lived anywhere else?”

  “I did when I was fostering,” he said. “But my father is the first generation of our family to live in the north. Our family is from Colchester, as an ancestor of mine was the dapifer for Eudo FitzHerbert.”

  Corisande cocked her head curiously. “What is a dapifer?”

  “A steward,” Cole said. “In this case, he was more of a military governor for FitzHerbert, but my family settled in what is known as the Roman River Valley, just south of Colchester. There are many people, even now, who display the de Velt eyes. I think that my ancestor had several wives, to be truthful.”

  “De Velt eyes?” Corisande cocked her head curiously. “You mean the colors?”

  He nodded. “Surely it cannot have escaped you that my eyes are different,” he said. “Our entire family line has eyes that are variations of two colors – my father has it most pronouncedly.”

  “What do his eyes look like?”

  “One is brown and the other is brown with a big splash of green,” he said. “My eyes were brown when I was an infant, but they developed the green in them as I grew older. My brothers have similar traits, as does my youngest sister.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “Interesting and beautiful, I think. You say that half of Colchester has these two-colored eyes?”

  He laughed softly. “Practically,” he said. “I have an uncle who lives at our ancestral home of Abberton Castle, but it’s known as Purgatory to the locals.”

  “Why do they call it that?”

  Cole swallowed the bite in his mouth and went for the meat pies. “Because my ancestor, in order to enforce military rule in Colchester, did some unsavory things,” he said. “My family has a history of that. Undoubtedly, you know of my father’s reputation.”

  Corisande nodded. “A little,” she said. “I know that your father waged war on the borders many years ago.”

  Cole looked at her. “Be under no illusions,” he said. “He did not wage war. He waged conquest and he did it the way our ancestors did it. It is the de Velt way.”

  “How did your ancestors do it?”

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment. “Blood and gore, my lady,” he said, unwilling to tell her the truth of it if she did not already know. “That seems sufficient. The de Velts are more brutal than most.”

  Corisande watched him dig a meat pie out of the sack and take a big bite. “You do not seem brutal to me.”

  “That is because we are not fighting one another.”

  “True,” she said. “And I am thankful.”

  She grinned as she said it, causing him to smile. He handed her part of the meat pie and she took it gratefully. When their fingers brushed, her heart leapt, just a little. She bit into the pie, noticing that he was watching her as she did so. His smile broadened when their eyes met.

  “Let us speak no more of war and brutality,” he said. “I have enough of it in my life. I want to talk about you.”

  “Me?” she said, surprised. “Why me? I am uninteresting.”

  He frowned. “That is a lie,” he said flatly. “You are very interesting.”

  “Then what do you want to know?”

  He thought on the question. “Other than heal the sick and tend to your chatelaine duties, what else do you do? Surely you have something to do with your leisure time. Painting, mayhap?”

  Corisande wiped some pie goo off her cheek. “I have a garden,” she said. “To be truthful, it was my mother’s garden and I grow a variety of herbs and flowers, many of them used in healing. I love to dig around in the garden and watch things grow.”

  “That is commendable.”

  “And you? What do you do when you are not fighting?”

  He paused as he thought on his own leisure pursuits, something that seemed very foreign to him. “I like to hunt,” he said. “It has been a long time since I last went on a hunt with my father and brothers, but the hunts always go the same way – four dominate knights fighting for the right to claim the prize. I am the eldest, so it is my right, but Julian and Cassian do not think so. The last time, we were hunting boar, I had it in my sight, but Julian scared the boar away while Cassian caught me off guard and tried to tie me to a tree.”

  Corisande giggled. “And your father?”

  “He chased off my brothers’ horses so they could not ride,” he said, snorting at the memory. “My father and I chased down the boar and killed it while my brothers had to walk all the way home. My mother was livid when they told her how my father and I had beat them, preventing them from capturing the game. Those liars.”

  Corisande laughed into her hand. “That sounds like my brothers,” she said. “They would kill or die for one another, but Ares and Atlas mostly side against Anteaus, who is a genuinely kind man. He’s quiet and the other two are not, but he is smarter than both Ares and Atlas combined. They taunt each other, wrestle each other, trick each other… but I love to watch it. It is truly hilarious sometimes.”

  “And your younger sister?” he said, finishing the last of the meat pie. “Do you get on with her?”

  Corisande shrugged. “Mostly,” she said. “I will tell you a secret – Gaia h
as just come home from fostering and she is a changed girl.”

  “How?”

  “Let us say that she likes… men. Pinching your knight last evening was only the beginning.”

  Cole bit his lip to keep from grinning at the cheeky young woman. “Why do you say that?”

  She lifted her shoulders in exasperation. “Because she will pursue him relentlessly,” she said. “Pinching, winking, demanding kisses. Aye, she demands kisses. She denies it, but Gratiana has heard her.”

  “Who is Gratiana?”

  “A ward,” she said. “Gratiana is a fine, mannerly young woman and Gaia views that as a curse. But my sister has changed. My father does not know what he is going to do with her because she flirts with men who try to warm to her, but my brothers end up chasing them away. I fear for Gaia, truthfully. One day, my brothers will not be around to save her from the wrong man.”

  Cole brushed off his hands, finished with his meal. “How old is she?”

  “She has seen ten years and eight.”

  “Then she is old enough to know better,” he said. “Mayhap she will outgrow this behavior when she realizes that decent men do not like women who are too forward. She’ll only attract the dregs with her behavior.”

  Corisande nodded in resignation. “I hope she realizes it soon because trying to manage her behavior is exhausting.”

  His eyes glittered at her across the dim stall. “You seem to be doing a good job of it,” he said. “Your show of concern is touching. It seems that you have great compassion and caring for everyone.”

  There was that flattery again, making her feel bashful and giddy. “She is my sister,” she said simply. “I do not wish to see her come to harm.”

  “Of course you don’t. Not many people are so considering, even of family members.”