Deceiving the Bandit Lord

by Elle Clouse

“I must get back to my room,” she whispered.

  Brogan’s grip tightened at her words.

  “I must away before Miss Cotton discovers my absence. She’ll know I never returned to our rooms.”

  “Would that be the end of the world?” His breath tickled the back of her neck.

  “Miss Cotton will march me back to Cearbhall faster than you can shuffle a deck of cards.” She rolled over and kissed him one. “It’s better if they think I wandered into the woods and got lost.”

  She stepped down from the bed, the nip in the air biting her skin. Puling her dress over her head, she stepped into her slippers, and ran her fingers through her disheveled hair.

  “There has to be another way.” Brogan propped himself up on an elbow, his gaze imploring. He stepped out of bed, into his slacks and closed the distance between them. “Stay, be my—“

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. All sound felt sucked out of the room followed by a deafening boom.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “If I asked you to stay here, would you?” The side of his lips curled up, he knew better. He grabbed his shirt and boots.

  “Save your breath.”

  Brogan threw open his bedroom door, glanced both ways down the hall, then motioned her out. He would have outpaced her if he hadn’t boots to slip on before the stairs. They reached the great hall fully clothed and turned toward the kitchen.

  “Gods Teeth, it’s Phelan!” Corinna’s voice echoed down the hall to the kitchen.

  Brogan took Aisling’s hand and ran into the kitchen. Corinna had thrown open the back door, frigid air pouring in from the back field. In a circle of burnt grass, the snow melted back from the heat stood Phelan and Ardhor, both holding up a battered blonde woman between them. Another couple immediately behind them, the man holding up his hands as if he held whatever force had surrounded them at bay.

  “That was a reckless thing to do!” Ardhor roared.

  “Relax, pointy, it’s perfectly safe.” The new man clapped his hands like he was clearing them of dust. He wore a dark uniform reminding her of a city guard detail. “I’ve done it hundreds of times.”

  “But Miss Molony is battered enough as it is and doesn’t need any of your backwoods sorcery twisting her insides.”

  “I got us out of danger, didn’t I?”

  All the men at arms had circled them, their weapons drawn.

  “Friends!” Brogan shouted over the bickering. All eyes except the barely conscious woman snapped to the Lord Armanta. He motioned for the men at arms to lower their weapons. “What is going on here?”

  Ardhor waved Brogan forward. “Let me see to Miss Molony first. She shouldn’t have been moved.”

  Glenn rushed forward and took Phelan’s place in guiding the poor woman into the manor. Every instance of exposed skin was black and blue.

  “Good Gods,” Aisling gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Blackling,” Phelan answered. “And his accomplice.” He strode to Corinna, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The cook squeaked then melted into the stable master’s embrace.

  Aisling smiled and averted her eyes, her suspicions confirmed.

  Brogan stepped forward. “Uilleam Reid, I never thought I’d see you again.”

  The new man shook Brogan’s hand, the brunette at his side smiling and bouncing. “I couldn’t let that man get to my Brigid. Shame about Erann but I think your pointy eared friend can fix her up.”

  “How are you here? It should have taken weeks to make the journey there and back.”

  “Oh Brogan, wasn’t that great?” the woman, Brigid, giggled. “Uilleam used his... What was it called again?”

  Uilleam straightened his tunic. “An ability, a trick of the trade. Comes with the job.”

  Aisling looked closer at the uniform, any of the usual indicators of rank or name were missing, and dark runes edged the hems. She’d never seen a uniform like it, common looking enough to be overlooked and nondescript she wouldn’t be able to describe it.

  “Drugai.” Brogan stepped before her, his arm out protectively. “What are you doing here?”

  “He’s an ally, Brogan,” Brigid stated leveling a glare at him.

  “Aye, I’ll not do you harm. We had to get out of the city fast. That lunatic was on our heels. No transport would’ve done it, he’d have followed.”

  “He’ll be here regardless. Erann lasted as long as she could but his man, that Fenton, he’s a monster.” Brigid’s voice wavered as she spoke, Uilleam taking her hand as she faltered. “Excuse me, Erann needs me.”

  Brigid wiped tears from her face and strode past them.

  “I’ll just see if Glenn needs anything.” Corinna pulled free of the stable master, her cheeks burning red, and returned to the house.

  “Phelan?”

  “Uilleam speaks the truth, there was no way to escape those two. I’ve never seen such malice in a man, and he had magics I’ve never seen the likes of.”

  Brogan glanced back at her. Declan had hunted down his friends and harmed that young woman. Any qualms she had about refusing the count her hand in marriage were nullified.

  “Not magic, he had reliquaries.” Uilleam crossed his arms, an all-knowing smirk on his face. He fiddled with a ring on his middle finger. “Low grade stuff if you ask me, nothing like what I’m used to.”

  “Like that amulet,” Brogan said to Phelan. The man’s eyes went wide and he nodded. Caitlin had said Declan lost something of great importance, could it have been the amulet? It was important enough to torture someone.

  Aisling folded her arms, the morning chill pushing aside the rush of the troupes’ sudden appearance. Brogan wrapped an arm around her. Magic rings? Amulets?

  “Let’s finish this conversation inside and get out of the cold.”

  Chapter 18

  When they returned to the kitchen, Corinna had a tray of mugs filled with hot coffee. Brogan passed a mug to Aisling who stood by the fire shivering. She gave him a weak smile and plucked a sugar cube from the counter to drop into her brew.

  “Was a reliquary how you arrived here, Uilleam?” Brogan offered his new guest the next mug.

  Uilleam smiled, opening his mouth to speak but Ardhor strode in.

  “Yes and it was strained beyond capacity to move all of us.” Ardhor sighed. “Those devices are meant for no more than two. If I hadn’t been along for the ride, who knows where you’d have ended up or in how many pieces.”

  “I had it under control.”

  “Hardly, you’re given just enough to get your job done. There hasn’t been a real magical threat since Evander the Wicked was jailed. And the emperor killed so many casters that he’ll take any riffraff and equip them. You aren’t even a trained magician. Nothing more than a boy with a ring.”

  Uilleam scowled. Brogan stepped between the new comer and the elf, he had no time for a fight between them.

  “More importantly, will you be followed? Your spell or reliquary caused quite a boom on this end.” Brogan looked between Uilleam and Ardhor. Although Declan knew where they were, his fellow drugai might try to hunt him down and use the magic to track him down.

  “I don’t think so.” Ardhor scratched his chin. “Reliquaries are dangerous because they can’t be sensed like a spell. They don’t have the same magical signature.”

  “But Blackling knows where we are, what’s to keep him from popping up here too?” Aisling sipped her coffee, her gaze snapping between Ardhor and Uilleam.

  “Reliquaries do one thing,” Ardhor replied. “And they have a limit to how long or often they can do something. It depends on who made them.”

  Uilleam held up his hand, pointing to a silver band on his index finger. “Right, like air blast, shield, teleport, and energize.” As he listed off powers, he indicated a different ring.

  “And a reliquary can be anything,” Ardhor added. “Like a necklace or a staff. I’ve heard of enchanted pants. But reliquaries are rare now, horded by
the emperor for his inner circle.”

  Uilleam nodded. “But if he doesn’t have a charm that allows him to teleport, he’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Plus, even with the right reliquary, anywhere he wants to go, he must have been there before.”

  “What’s why you had me think of this place?” Phelan asked.

  Ardhor cut off Uilleam before he could answer. “He channeled the magic through you, I stabilized it but it was extremely stupid. The least the emperor could do is train his guard in the basics. Even if you can’t use magic.”

  “Enough.” Brogan pinched the bridge of his nose. He had enough worry about without them fighting. “Erann is safe now and we have a few weeks before Declan arrives.”

  “Right, and I’ve got to return to Talesin or I’ll be missed. Deserters are hunted down like dogs. I just want to say goodbye to Brigid first.”

  “I’ll take you to her.” Corinna led the man down the hall.

  A heavy silence hung in the kitchen. “I’m sorry Brogan, I didn’t see another way to escape. They attacked us in a crowded street, he had no regard for people.”

  “I believe you.” And now they knew more about who they were about to deal with.

  Phelan frowned and walked down the hall after Corinna.

  Brogan glanced at Aisling.

  “This is a lot to comprehend right now,” she admitted, setting her empty mug on the counter. She crossed her arms as if to hug herself. “I’d no idea.”

  “I’ve got herbs to collect.” Ardhor strode out of the room, leaving them alone.

  “With Declan headed here, I agree with your plan to join the M’Tyr. I’d have talked you out of leaving but you’ll be safer there.”

  “Why is he after you? He’s no idea I’m here.”

  Brogan looked into her eyes and he knew it was time to tell her. “I stole something from him, something he couldn’t report missing lest reveal he dealt in illegal imports. The amulet I mentioned to Phelan. It was a reliquary.”

  She worried her lower lip. “I know. Well, not the details, but I was at that party with Caitlin.”

  “Caitlin?” He’d met so many people at the soiree Declan used as a cover for the exchange, he couldn’t remember.

  “The woman you were caught with,” she said. “She was my cousin.”

  She was the distraction. Keep Declan busy worry over his defiled half-sister while the shipment was swapped. “Aisling, nothing happened. I didn’t—“

  “I know. Caitlin told me she suspected an alternate purpose for the party. It was supposed to be her debut. When she found out her brother was attending to business, she thought to... embarrass him.”

  “With me?” Brogan almost laughed, he’d been used just like he’d been using Caitlin. “Well it worked better than she imagined. Without the promised reliquary, I can only imagine that Declan’s partners turned on him. He worked with the worst of the worst.”

  A booming at the front door echoed through the kitchen. Aisling jumped, placing a hand over her heart. Glenn appeared from the servant hall and dashed to the front. “Valko,” he said.

  “Oh, the promised supplies.” Brogan had forgotten, the events of the evening and morning distracting him. Glenn returned with Valko following, bags in both hands, which they set up the counter top.

  “Good morn.” Brogan shook Valko’s hand, forcing a smile onto his face.

  “Did something happen? The tension in this kitchen is thick as pea soup.”

  “Aye, you could say something’s happened.” He met Aisling’s eyes. She said he wanted to return to her mother’s people, and Valko was her step brother. It would ease his conscience if she left with Valko than try to find the clan by herself. “Aisling, if you wanted to go, you should go now and let Valko lead you to your mother.”

  “Eh?” Valko’s brows rose. “You’d be leaving this place?”

  She pursed her lips, probably not what she had in mind but she nodded.

  “It’s going to get very dangerous around here.” Brogan wasn’t sure how much to divulge. “Miss Aisling will be safer with her mother.”

  “What about my brothers? And Miss Cotton?”

  “They aren’t directly in harm’s way.” They weren’t engaged to the madman bearing down on Armanta.

  “And my father wouldn’t accept outsiders,” Valko offered. “Only Neasa’s kin.”

  Aisling nodded but didn’t look convinced.

  Brogan motioned her aside, to give them privacy to speak. “Wasn’t this your plan? You won’t be safe here, Declan’s liable to level the manor. If you return to Cearbhall, you’ll be beholden to your father for a marriage. It’ll be Declan if he survives and someone else if he doesn’t.”

  The idea of Aisling marrying anyone but himself made Brogan feel ill. But it wasn’t his choice to make.

  “I’ll be waiting out front while you wrap things up.” Valko gave a weak solute and exited the kitchen.

  “This is the only way you’ll be truly free,” he finished. Brogan couldn’t live with himself if his past prevented Aisling from having a future. “I’ll explain everything to Miss Cotton and your brothers.”

  “This is all happening so quickly,” she leaned against his chest, and his throat tightened. He’d not be able to let her leave if she lingered like this.

  “We don’t want to keep Valko waiting.”

  Her shoulders slumped but she stepped away and nodded. With no time to pack, he grabbed her winter garb from the mud room, and they made their way to the main hall. She paused before the front door, settling the cloak on her shoulders.

  “I’ll come back. When it’s safe.”

  Brogan smiled, it was endearing that she had faith in him but there was no telling what Declan would do. This was probably the last time he’d see her.

  She leaned in, standing on her toes, lips puckered.

  Brogan closed his eyes, his breath help in anticipation. But he heard footfalls in the hall. Someone approached and he turned his head.

  Her kiss landed on his cheek.

  Bowen moseyed down the stair, scratching the side of his head. He looked like he slept through Phelan’s unorthodox return. He halted when he spied them at the door. “What’s going on?”

  Aisling dropped her hands to her side, her brows knit. “Do you remember what happened to mother?”

  “Yes...”

  “Do you remember why?” Aisling stared straight ahead. She couldn’t see the slack jawed expression on her brother’s face. “You let Miss Cotton know, I’ve saved father from having to do the same to me.”

  Before Brogan could draw breath to reply, Aisling opened the door and stepped outside. The door slamming behind her echoed through the manor.

  Chapter 19

  Two horses and Valko waited her outside, a wolf sitting beside him. He hastily shoved some clothes into a saddle bag. The other wolf had been his riding companion.

  “Are we ready to go?” She shoved her hands into her mittens, a twinge of regret at what she said to her brother. But it was the best way to ensure no one questioned her disappearance, at least until someone told Connor. Then she’d have some explaining to do.

  “Aye, we can go.” Valko handed her the reins of a dapple mare. If she hadn’t grown up with four brothers, she’d never been able to mount by herself in her skirts but she had no help from Valko.

  Without more chat, they broke into a gallop, the wolf keeping pace. They made good time on the road but slowed to take a game path into the forest. The wolf ran ahead, perhaps to inform the pack she was coming?

  Aisling glanced back, no one followed. Did she expect to see anything other than a lone path through the snow? Brogan had made his feelings known when she had kissed his cheeks and not his lips. Her cheeks burned red, she’d been such a fool to think he’d had feelings for her.

  “I know it’s not my place,” Valko said, slowing the pace of his horse so he could trot beside her. “But you don’t seem to be wanting to leave.”

  Her step brother
was right, she didn’t want to go. But Brogan hadn’t stopped her from leaving.

  “How much farther is it? I don’t remember it taking so long the last time.”

  “The camp’s always moving but we’re close.” Valko rode on ahead.

  They rode on for a while, the silence growing uncomfortable. Could she afford to be cold to her new kin?

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  He looked back with a smirk. “You’ll find the M’Tyr aren’t hung up on manners like most folks. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. It’s none of my business anyway.”

  Aisling nodded, relief washing over her that she hadn’t offended her guide. Her curiosity ran wild with how the M’Tyr might live if they shunned living like Corinna. What if they lived in their wolf form most of the year and only walked as men when the situation made it necessary?

  They trotted through a ravine, much farther from Armanta Hill than she anticipated, but approached a cluster of tents strung between large trees that stretched to the sky.

  Her mother stood at the edge of camp, her face lit up with a smile when she saw them. As soon as Aisling dismounted, she was pulled into a hug.

  “Oh, it’s good to see you again, and so soon.” Her mother stepped back, arms on her shoulders, and observed her a moment. “I was surprises when Sam arrivd and said you’d be joining us, I thought something might be wrong. Is something amiss?”

  Aisling glanced around, she didn’t want to confess her thoughts out in the open. Valko stood beside them, holding the horses from wandering off.

  “Come, let’s get you settled then you can tell me. Valko, will you bring her bags to my tent?”

  “There’s no bags,” Aisling confessed.

  With a knowing nod, her mother lead her to the central tent, the same that had been in the clearing the first time they’d met. Pushing aside the door flap revealed a cozy space with rugs covering the ground, small chairs on the left, chests to the right and a large bed covered in furs across the room.

  “I’ll have a cot brought in so you have a place to sleep. Most of my clothes should fit you but we can have more made once we get back to Watervale.”