Deceiving the Bandit Lord

by Elle Clouse

  “You didn’t have to see us off.” He smiled when she approached.

  “Someone’s got to.” If only to see him one last time, she thought to herself.

  “They’ve come, my lord.” Glenn stepped to the door and swung it open for Valko, layered in furs and leather. Cold rushed past them and a shiver ran down her spine. She hugged herself for warmth. Behind him on the road was a group of riders and horses, with a few extras lead behind.

  “We are ready, Valko son of Conri.” Brogan turned to her and slyly brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Of course you will,” Valko interrupted. “She has to come too.”

  “What?” A collective objection from the men echoed through the hall.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Aric blurted.

  Brogan stepped between Valko and Aisling, his arm wrapping around her protectively.

  “Either she comes or this meeting is off and we can resume our former trade agreement.” Valko leveled a glare at Brogan. “No harm will come to her, you’ve got my word.”

  Aisling had wanted to know Brogan was safe during his meeting but never dreamed she’d be going with him. All eyes rested on him to make the choice. He turned to her, his eyes silently asking permission. Giving her the choice.

  “I’ll need my cloak,” she said.

  Glenn hustled into the back and returned with all her winter dressing. While he helped her bundle up, Valko watched Ardhor. If Ardhor didn’t appreciate the scrutiny, he didn’t show a sign.

  Once she pulled on her gloves, Valko nodded and turned. The snow crunched beneath their boots as they approached the horses. On the outskirts, more wolves waited, confirming a suspicion from their first meeting. Corinne had said that her own kind had turned on her family when they decided to live as humans. Were these the same?

  “We’ve only enough horsed for four of you, the rest will need to stay behind.”

  “Aric and Ardhor, stay with us. Glenn, keep the manor until we return.”

  The young steward hid his relief well but his shoulders relaxed just a bit. “Yes my lord.”

  Brogan helped her mount a chocolate colored mare and took to the saddle of the horse beside her. Valko wasted no time and kicked off at a trot, the rest of the party rushing to follow and keep up. The wolves remained at the edge of the tree line, never getting close enough to see their coat pattern.

  They veered off the road down a game trail and they all had to duck to avoid low lying tree branches. The path was not meant for riders on horseback but they made due. It looked like some of the larger branches had been cut back within the last few days.

  The cold had soaked into her hands by the time they approached a clearing. A rustic tent dominated the far corner of the clearing with a large bonfire before it with a cook spit stretched over the blaze. A smaller tent stood to the left and the right of the main tent. Of course they wouldn’t be taken to the packs camp. They’d want to guard the location of their home above all else. Even in the wylderness where they might be safer than in the civilized lands.

  A portly man attended the cook fire, stirring a pot over the flames. An iron skillet sat on a large rock close to the blaze, sizzling and popping. Bacon? He looked up, wiped his hand on his apron, and hustled into the main tent. Aisling brought her horse to a stop and waited, her heart beating in her throat. Had they made the right choice? Was a new alliance worth the risk of betrayal? Who would bring a cook to an ambush?

  Brogan reached over and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. She looked up to his smile. How could he be so sure at a moment like this?

  Valko and his men dismounted and tied their horses to a fallen tree. Bags of feed set on the ground before the mounts. The wolves approached then and sat just outside the circle of camp.

  “Come, Fletcher, I’d like you to meet my father. We have much to discuss.”

  Brogan waited for her to dismount and took her hand before following Valko to the main tent. The flap flipped open and an older man stepped out dressed similarly to his men. Fur lined leather jerkin, leather pants and boots. Looking between Valko and the older man, Aisling knew he was Conri. The two were identical except Conri had streaks of white in his dark hair.

  “Lord Armanta,” Conri smiled, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “Thank you for agreeing to meet. I’m Conri LAST NAME, chief of the M’Tyr.” Conri held out a hand.

  “Please call me Brogan.” They gripped hands, tension slipping from the men on both sides.

  Conri smiled. “So be it Brogan. Please sit, break your fast with us.”

  Valko’s men pulled wooden stools from inside one of the side tents and placed one behind each of them. The cook who had fled earlier returned with a tray full of bowls and spoons, and without prompting filled each with porridge and passed them out with a strip of bacon over the top.

  Aisling hesitated, only so as not to be the first to dig in, but her stomach rumbled. Conri took the first bite and the rest of the men followed suit. It had been a long time since she’d had bacon. It was crispy and succulent.

  “I will admit that I was surprised to hear Valko’s report that a lord had let the manor at last. It’s been abandoned for some thirty odd years.”

  “Not abandoned; a steward remained with a few tenants.”

  A thirty-year span of no management explained the state of the manor, Aisling hadn’t realized it had been so long.

  “Still, quite a boon for a fellow with little family. A barony and a title, eh? How’d you manage that?”

  Aisling’s hands relaxed and her porridge bowl drifted down and rested in her lap, what a brazen question.

  “Ha, if you know anything about Northam it’s not about how much family you have but who it is.” Brogan smiled but Aisling didn’t see the mirth in his eyes. “But the title was earned on its own merit, I aided the Cearbhall king ascend to the throne. Aught else was sugar on the cake.”

  “Ah yes, the coronation. The fire could be seen for miles. Shame about the castle, but I suppose these things can be rebuilt. It was a letter from Cearbhall that put to rest fears it might be a total loss.”

  Aisling couldn’t hold her tongue. “Who in Cearbhall knows you’re here and why would they have reason to send you a writ?”

  Valko met her eyes, but no malice shone through. Was that a glint in his eye, did he find something funny? “To answer your first question, Flann has reason to write to us on order of Roudri himself. Even after the man passed he left instructions to keep my clan abreast of the current events in Cearbhall.”

  “Why?”

  Movement behind Valko drew her attention and a woman stepped from the main tent. “I’m the reason why, Aisling.”

  Ten years had been kind to her mother as only a hint of silver framed her face. She wore a similar jerkin to the rest of the men, with leather and fur for warmth in the winter. Her hair, still golden and curly, was tied into a low pony tail over her shoulder.

  Aisling stood, her porridge toppling off her lap and landing on the ground.

  Silence fell over the camp. Aisling blinked her eyes as if to clear her sight but the image held. She stepped forward and touched the woman’s forearm, it was real. “How is this possible?”

  Her mother opened her arms and embraced her, just like the imagined a million times before when she fantasized that her mother had never been cast out. Relief and confusion washed over her, her throat threatening to close and tears threatening to streak her cheeks.

  “Let’s let the men strike their deal, take a walk with me.” Her mother mirrored her tear stained cheeks but smiled.

  Aisling glanced back at Brogan who smiled, and followed her mother away from the camp. The snow crunched beneath their shoes and her mother didn’t stop until they were far from hearing distance.

  “You’ve been here the whole time? So close?” Aisling stared her mother down, anger taking precedence once her mind accepted she wasn’t dead. “How could you let us all thin
k you were dead?”

  “I know you’re angry but it’s what your uncle thought was best. If I returned to Cearbhall, even with control of my wolf, I’d have to live in the cellars. Your father’s witch hunt for more wolfkin doomed me to a life of incarceration or banishment.” She inhaled and let out a long breath. “Not even the king’s sister was safe from persecution. So Roudri struck a bargain with the M’Tyr, to keep me safe. To keep you safe.”

  “I don’t understand, how were you keeping us safe?”

  “Wolfkin are vastly misunderstood and your father thought I’d bite one of you and convert you, like some infection. If he knew I had contact with any of you, he’d imprison or abandoned you or your brothers. Or worse, summon the emperor’s guard. It took a sizable sum to buy FATHER’s NAME’s silence.”

  Aisling thought back to the weeks after her father abandoned her mother. Her father had been summoned to Cearbhall, had he not? She was outraged that the king hadn’t made FATHER pay for his betrayal. Instead he had been paid to be quiet?

  “How can the emperor’s guard be a threat out here?”

  “The emperor’s reach is far and I hope you never have to encounter his special guard. Even though the M’Tyr split their time between Northam and the Wylderlands, it wasn’t a certainty I’d be safe. But I wanted to remain close, to watch you grow. To catch one of you should you find a wolf within. Aisling, has anyone else inherited this affliction?”

  “You know?”

  “We can scent our own.”

  Aisling had heard that before. “Only Connor so far, none of the boys have shown signs. Yet.”

  “And your father is unaware?”

  “He knows nothing but keeps us all at a distance.” Aisling thought of her arranged marriage, probably an attempt to rid him of a potential problem. She scowled. “Connor uses his hunts as an excuse to change. I’ve only just embraced it, while at the sanctuary of Armanta Hill.”

  Her mother rested her hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You are both wise to keep it hidden. Unless you plan to join me here with the M’Tyr, you will always have to hide what you are.”

  “Join you? Here?” Aisling glanced back at the camp, the men around the campfire laughing and eating. Her gaze rested on Brogan, who looked like an old friend to Conri already.

  “M’Tyr has a permanent settlement beyond the first mountain line. It’s no Oakenhurst manor but it’s warm and dry and you won’t have to hide who you are.”

  Had that been what she’d been doing all along? Hiding? Playing the part of a dutiful daughter while denying what she was? She watched Brogan as he spoke in turn with the men, laughed at a joke, made a jibe. She never felt like she had to act around him. Would he accept her as a wolfkin?

  “Or would you rather stay with Lord Armanta?”

  Her cheeks burned, she’d been staring. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve an arranged marriage.”

  Her mother turned and watched Brogan as well. “Does he know?”

  “No one knows, except Connor. And now you.” Aisling bit her lip. “I’ve a plan to get out of it but—“

  “Do it.” Her mother met her eyes. “Whatever it takes, do it. It’s worth it for love.”

  Aisling scoffed. “I can’t say its love. It’s more of... a real chance at love.” Something she wouldn’t get with Declan as he slowly smothered her, like he did his sister. Aisling couldn’t abide being reduced to a doormat.

  “Take your chance at love, Aisling.” Her mother smiled. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have married Conri.”

  “Conri?” Aisling snapped her attention to the clan leader. It was daft to think her mother wouldn’t marry again, but it was all so soon. “And Valko? My step brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just what I need, more brothers.”

  Aislin laughed. “You have a half-sister back at Watervale, the town I told you about. Neasa has been looking forward to see you for a while.”

  Her mother was alive, she had anew step-brother and half-sister, and a new place to go if her plans with Lord Armanta went sour. Aisling shook her head, the sudden shift threatening to overwhelm her.

  “I know you’ve a lot to cope with right now. I can return you to your friends.”

  “No.” Aisling nearly shouted. She glanced about and spied a felled tree clear of snow, perfect for sitting. “I want to know what’s happened since you left. Everything.”

  Chapter 12

  The sun had almost set when they returned to the road, weary and minds racing with the new partnership. Every window shone from the light within as they approached, Glenn’s visage appearing now and then. When the band grew close enough to see, Glenn through open the door with Miss Cotton, Bowen, and Corinna spilling into the roundabout drive.

  “My Lady, where have you been?” Miss Cotton huddled in her shawl but didn’t wait until they were close enough to speak. The old woman’s voice carried over the snow.

  Aisling’s lips quirked up but she didn’t reply until she had dismounted. “Sorry to cause alarm, I was with Lord Armanta, Lord Laelithaar, and Captain Aric.”

  “Miss Murphy was vital for negotiating a new agreement with the M’Tyr.” Brogan smiled at Aisling.

  Glenn huffed. “Regale us once we are inside from this cold.”

  The heat from the roaring hearth wrapped them as they stepped into the foyer. Only once the door was closed and the layers of furs were removed did Brogan continue. Corinna pressed mugs of spiced wine into their hands. Ardhor sighed as the warmth ebbed into his fingers.

  “M’Tyr have agreed to cease their raids on Armanta Hill.” Brogan stood tall, his pride evident. “I can’t divulge the particulars but we can count on them as an ally and trade partner. Conri said we can expect some provisions within a week.”

  “Just like that?” Corinna said. “After years of harassing us?” The young woman pursed her lips as if hesitant to say more. Aisling placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled.

  “As Brogan said, we can’t divulge the details but you’ve peace at last.”

  Corinna nodded.

  “We must to bed with you, my lady before you fall ill.” Miss Cotton yanked the mug of wine from Aisling’s hand and pulled her toward the stairs. “You’ll catch your death traipsing around those woods. In the middle of the night no less!”

  Ardhor was thankful to be ignored but the old woman. He heard her berating Aisling up the stair and behind their closed bedroom door. Corinna excused herself with naught but a wave if her hand. Aric had gulped down his wine and retreated to the kitchen and beyond.

  “Brogan.”

  “Hmm?” He stared after Aisling.

  “You did catch that Conri’s wife is Aisling’s mother.”

  “Of course.” Brogan turned to him. “Or Conri wouldn’t have agreed to all of our terms. Unexpected for sure, but I wonder how Aisling is handling it. And the secrecy.”

  Ardhor nodded. Conri had made them all swear to keep Aislynn’s existence unknown. The late king’s sister was presumed dead. Ardhor could guess it was for her protection.

  “I’ll have to inform Lachlan, if he doesn’t know already. Flann might have informed him if the late king left instructions to keep Aislynn informed of castle affairs.” Brogan rubbed the stubble on his chin.

  “And if Aislynn shares in the wolf curse, which of her children inherited it?” Ardhor thought back to his discussions with Connor and Aisling but nothing had given him pause.

  Brogan looked up the stair again. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Does that change how you feel?”

  Stoic for a moment, Brogan shook his head. “Not one bit.”

  “I’M STILL NOT SURE what we are looking for.” Brogan pulled the last book off the shelf in the secret magician’s study. He’d read through every tome on magic that Taliesin had owned all the while Ardhor read through the experiment journals.

  “This is a wealth of knowledge you will not find in Northam.” Ardhor replied without looking up from the jo
urnal in his hands.

  “Kiera may appreciate this but this isn’t my focus.” Brogan paced before the armchair he’d been occupying most of the morning, hesitant to sit down again. “I’m certain there are more important tasks for the lord of the manor to do.”

  “You’ve kept the guardsmen busy with task after task, nothing needs attending. And Phelan has taken to his role as the new stable master with a fervor.”

  That he had. All carts had been repaired, all animals had proper housing, and the Murphys’ carriage was detailed and stored as well as if it were at the castle.

  “Perhaps I should check on our guests, make sure they aren’t left wanting.” He flipped through the pages of the book. “This book is blank.”

  Ardhor looked up. Brogan read the cover again, indeed a spell book, then turned the empty pages toward his elfin friend.

  “Is this one of those spell books like Kiera inherited from her mother?” No one could read the contents except the person who wrote the words. That meant that all of Kiera’s mother’s spells were lost. And that the book Brogan held was equally useless.

  “May I see that?”

  Ardhor held the book close, squinting at the blank pages. “This is not a spell book like Kiera’s. There is no magic present to conceal the words. I’d be able to sense it.” Ardhor ran his hands over the paper. “Something was written here though, I can still feel the indentation from the pen.”

  “So, the ink disappeared?” Brogan half joked.

  “Perhaps,” Ardhor commented. “Where is that pendant?”

  Brogan pulled the necklace over his head and held it out. Ardhor didn’t take it but instead held the book up to the pendant. Nothing happened.

  “I was hoping it would be as self-explanatory as the door,” Ardhor said with a sigh. “Without knowing what was done to the ink, I dare not try to make it reappear. Not without some research on the subject. I’d have to return to Cearbhall.”

  Since returning from their meeting with the M’Tyr, snow had fallen for days with snow drifts as tall as a small horse. It was treacherous for anyone to trek, even a skilled forester like Ardhor.