“And old friend?” she repeated as he took her hand and began to lead her towards the enormous keep. “What castle is this?”
Keats didn’t say anything for a moment; he made sure he had a good grip on her. “Alnwick.”
Kellington’s expression twisted with confusion. “Alnwick? What on earth are we doing here?”
Keats suddenly came to a halt and faced her. He was holding on to her so tightly that he was hurting her, afraid that she would panic and flee when he told her the truth. But now there was no reason not to tell her. She was here, and here she would stay.
“I am here because Jax de Velt has seized Baron de Vesci’s holding of Pelinom,” he said steadily. “No matter what you feel for the man, he is still a thief and a murderer. I must report this to de Vesci and plan a course of action to retake Pelinom.”
Kellington stared at him. “But… I do not understand. I thought that you….”
Keats exploded at her. “You are a foolish, naive girl, Kelli. I always believed that you had more sense than you have apparently displayed as of late. Jax de Velt is not an honorable man. He is a monster, pure and simple, and I will die before I allow my only child to marry such a beast. I lied to get you here; aye, I lied to you. I did it and I do not regret it. You are not going to marry de Velt, he never asked me for your hand, and his knights and I have conspired to take you from Pelinom and away from de Velt. Do you understand me? You are never going back.”
By this time, her eyes were wide with shock and horror. She stared at her father, hardly believing what she was hearing. The man was usually calm and docile; his sharp words and raised voice were nothing like the father she had known for eighteen years. She could not believe the words from his mouth. It was like talking to a stranger.
“So all of what you said,” she breathed. “All of it was a lie to remove me from Pelinom? From Jax? I cannot believe my ears!”
“Believe it,” Keats snapped softly. “I do not know what spell he has cast over you to make you believe that he is a righteous and respectable man, but it must stop now. He has you bewitched. If anyone has lied to you, it is de Velt. He has made you believe that he is something he is not.”
Fury suddenly filled her and she yanked back, away from her father. His grip slackened but he did not let go completely. He grabbed her with two hands.
“Let me go,” Kellington hissed. “I am returning to Pelinom and you cannot stop me.”
“If you return to Pelinom, Jax’s knights will kill you,” Keats snarled. “Do you understand me? They do not want you anywhere near their liege. They believe you stand between Jax and their ambitions. I had to remove you or they would have killed you.”
“It’s a lie!”
“Nay, daughter, it is not,” he said firmly. “Had I not removed you when I had, they would have murdered you. Since I wanted to take you away from de Velt anyway, their hatred worked to my advantage. If you go back, they will kill you. Mark my words.”
She was struggling furiously. Lavaine stood several feet away, sobbing as she watched. When Kellington lashed out a foot to kick at her father, he released one of her hands and struck her across the face so hard that she fell to her knees. He picked up the dazed heap and carried her towards Alnwick’s great hall.
Kellington came to just as they entered the massive hall built into the inner ring of Alnwick’s fortress. There were several well-dressed servants to greet them, shocked when Kellington suddenly twisted in her father’s arms and fell to the ground. Kellington had but one thought; to escape. But too many hands were holding her. She could hear her father requesting that she be kept in a locked room for her own safety. The request only caused her to fight harder. Someone with enormous strength suddenly grabbed her from behind and she was carried, kicking and fighting, out of the hall and into another building adjacent to it.
It was cold and dark in the building. She could hear the panicked servants and her father’s steady voice. He sounded calmer now. Whoever had Kellington was inordinately strong and he thrust her into an unfamiliar chamber and slammed the door shut. She heard it lock from the outside. Banging on the door, Kellington screamed until she could scream no more.
And then she cried.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The riders approached the portcullis of Pelinom, shapeless black forms that shifted and danced under the moonlight. With a sliver moon, the landscape was virtually black. The sentries at the gate demanded the name of the riders three times before someone finally approached to confirm the reply. Only then did they open the recently repaired portcullis to allow the men entry.
The chargers were exhausted as they tramped into the mud and dirt of Pelinom’s ward. The men dismounted stiffly, looking about the keep, the courtyard. It was virtually empty and they knew that de Velt’s army had already left for their next conquest. Now it was important that they discover where the next conquest was.
The men wore cloaks with heavy hoods. The first hood was peeled back and then the second. Atreus le Velle and Tor de Barenton looked to the keep, four stories towering against the dark night sky. Atreus stared at the structure as he removed his gauntlets.
“The army is already gone,” he said. “Amadeo must have gone with him; Jax would not leave him behind. That leaves either Michael or Caelen in charge of Pelinom.”
“Whoever is in charge will know where he has gone,” Tor replied; he was a tall man, broad, with an inherently gentle nature buried beneath the fierce warrior exterior. “Whatever you do, do not let on why you are asking.”
Atreus shook his head. “I will not,” he said evenly, moving for the stairs. “But first, we should ask where the lady is. Would you not think that would be the wise thing to do?”
Tor nodded, eyeing his cousin as he followed him to the steps. “I hope you are wrong about all of this.”
“I hope I am to,” Atreus replied. “But knowing Amadeo as I do, I cannot help but be suspicious. You will recall what happened to Mira.”
Tor did indeed remember de Velt’s wife; the story was that she had run away four years ago. But a few of Jax’s inner circle suspected otherwise. There had been too many oddities, too many facts that did not make sense, and all of them with Amadeo in the middle of it. The man pretended to advocate Jax but Atreus, and some others, did not trust him. He was possessive, ambitious and controlling.
The introduction of Lady Kellington a few days ago and Jax’s adoration of the woman had brought about the familiar suspicion of Amadeo again. It had been enough to motivate Atreus and Tor into returning to Pelinom. Unlike Amadeo, their loyalty for Jax was not rooted in greed or ambition. They had known Jax a very long time and knew of his dark upbringing, the cruelty of his father. The man had never been truly happy but they saw a chance for him with Lady Kellington. And if they saw it, Amadeo saw it, too. That’s where the problem lay.
“What are you going to tell Caelen or Michael?”
“I do not know yet. But whatever it is, go along with me.”
They made their way into the keep. It was dark inside, smelling of smoke and ale. Not a sound could be heard except for faint snoring in the distance. Curious, Atreus and Tor walked into the great hall, dark and yawning and foreboding. The snoring was growing louder. They spied the source in Caelen, asleep with his head resting on the massive hall table. He was drooling all over the wood.
Atreus and Tor made their way over to Caelen. Tor poked the man in the back, to which he started violently. He grabbed his dagger and raised it as Atreus snapped at him.
“Stand down, man,” he commanded. “Look who you are trying to kill first.”
Caelen blinked his eyes, rubbing at them as if hardly believing the sight. “Atreus?” he said, catching sight of the second knight. “Tor? What are you doing here? You were destined for the Marches.”
Atreus snatched the dagger in Caelen’s hand and tossed it, embedding the blade in the table top several feet away. He plopped his armored body on the end of the table as Tor went to stand on C
aelen’s other side.
“Are you in charge?” Atreus asked.
Caelen nodded, rubbing the other eye. “Michael and Amadeo went with Jax.”
“Where did he go?”
“White Crag Castle. ’Tis twelve miles to the south.”
“When did they leave?”
“Three days ago,” Caelen looked at the two men. “Why are you here? Is something amiss?”
Tor looked at Atreus, who was fixed on Caelen. “I must speak with de Velt personally,” he said. “White Crag, did you say?”
“Aye.”
Atreus nodded slowly, thoughtfully, looking around the hall as he did. “Where is Lady Kellington?” he asked casually.
Caelen hesitated, causing Atreus to look curiously at him. “Caelen,” he said again, more deliberately. “Where is the lady?”
Caelen scratched his cheek. “She is not here. Her father took her away.”
Atreus frowned. “Her father took her away? Where did he take her?”
Caelen sat back on the bench, eying the two knights. “Why should that be any concern of yours?”
“It is not. I was simply asking a question. Does Jax know her father took her away?”
Caelen scratched his cheek again and stood up. “Nay,” he replied. “She left under Amadeo’s order.”
“Since when does Amadeo give orders?” Tor said from Caelen’s other side. “Jax is to marry this woman. Why is Amadeo having her father take her away?”
Caelen was starting to become defensive. “All I know is that Amadeo told me to kill the woman if she did not leave with her father. Beyond that, I do not know anything else. Why do you ask?”
Tor eyed the knight; he was big and stupid and did not think for himself. He was one that could be easily influenced by someone as manipulative as Amadeo.
“No reason,” Tor asked. “But where did the father take her?”
“To Alnwick.”
“Northumberland?”
“Aye. He said he had to go and beg de Vesci’s forgiveness for the fall of Pelinom.”
Tor drew in a long, pensive breath, casting an intense glance at Atreus. The man was already well ahead of him, his thoughts rolling. He abruptly turned from the table and began pulling his gauntlets back on. Tor lumbered after him, as did Caelen.
“Where are you going?” Caelen demanded.
“I told you that I had business with de Velt,” Atreus said. “Thank you for the information and your hospitality.”
Caelen looked confused, trying to follow them down into the bailey but halted by Tor, who thumped him in the chest so hard that he actually flinched. The knight stood in the second floor entry to the keep, rubbing his sternum and watching Atreus and Tor mount their weary chargers and flee the bailey of Pelinom into the dead of night. As swiftly as they had arrived, they left.
It had been curious visit, Caelen thought as he turned away from darkened bailey. He wondered what sort of business Atreus had with de Velt that had him riding so far from his castle garrison in the Marches. Whatever it was, it certainly must be important.
Caelen went back to the great hall and drank himself into a stupor.
*
Kellington felt as if she was in prison all over again, only she could not count on Jax to appear and release her. All of this was a nightmare, she kept telling herself. Her father had not lied to her and Lavaine had not gone along with it. They hadn’t really removed her from Pelinom and Jax’s knights had not really threatened to kill her… had they? She sat against a dark wall, knees up against her chest and her face buried between them. Had it really been that easy for her father to remove her from Pelinom? Had she really been so gullible that she had believed him?
But he was her father. He had never lied to her before. He had always been a warm, wonderful man that she had loved dearly. So who was this man who had lied to her? Where had he come from? Worst of all, was it possible he was telling the truth and Jax’s knights had really threatened to kill her because they believed she stood between them and their ambitions with Jax? It was a sickening thought. But the more she thought on it, the more foreboding she felt.
At some point, she fell asleep for when she heard the door latch move, she was laying on her side on the cold floor. Startled, she sat up, her eyes riveted to the door as it swung open.
The first face she saw was her father’s; he was holding a lit taper and his expression was wary. There were people behind him but Kellington was only focused on her father.
“Are you calm enough that we might speak?” her father asked gently.
Kellington cast him a baleful look before turning away. “I have nothing to say to a man who lies to me.”
Keats sighed and opened the door wider, allowing the people behind him to enter the room. From the corner of her eye, Kellington could see three distinct figures. Beyond that, she didn’t care.
“Lady Kellington,” a man with a voice she did not recognize spoke. “I am Gilbert de Vesci. I apologize that your welcome to Alnwick was so brutal. I hope you were not injured.”
Kellington didn’t reply. Her father cleared his throat. “Have you been robbed of your manners as well?” he demanded quietly.
Kellington paused deliberately before turning to look at the group; de Vesci was a short, meek-looking middle aged man dressed in fine silks. He seemed timid to be in the same room with her. Behind him, lingering in the shadows, stood a big knight. Kellington couldn’t quite make him out.
“So you bring your bodyguard in with you?” she gestured at the warrior in the shadows. “Or is he to beat me if I do not give you the answers you seek?”
“Kelli,” he father snapped softly. “Enough. You will apologize for your insolence.”
She fixed her father in the eye. “I will apologize for my behavior if you will apologize for yours. Even then, I will not forgive you. I will never forgive you for what you have done.”
De Vesci had been apprised of the situation with Pelinom and with Coleby’s daughter. He may have appeared meek, but he had a calculating mind that moved swiftly. He took a seat near Kellington.
“My lady,” he began quietly. “Your father has told me what happened at Pelinom. It must have been a traumatic experience for you.”
Kellington eyed Keats. “Is that what my father told you?”
“He told me it was a vicious siege.”
She thought on that a moment, feeling her guard come down somewhat. Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm her at the moment. “Aye, it was,” she said wearily. “It was bloody and traumatic and horrifying. It was hell.”
De Vesci nodded knowingly. “That is because de Velt is bloody and traumatic and horrifying. I am sorry that you were exposed to such terror. Certainly not fitting for a proper young lady.”
Kellington sensed they were up to something though she wasn’t sure what it was. “I survived,” she said. “And there is more to de Velt than what is said about him. Much more.”
“So I understand,” de Vesci said. “Your father tells me that de Velt wishes to marry you.”
She nodded vigorously. “I know that his reputation brands him as a merciless killer. But I have seen far more to the man than that. He is kind, he is humorous, and he tries very hard to understand things that do not come easily to him.”
“Like what?”
“Like compassion and mercy,” she was becoming passionate about the conversation. “His father raised him to be the way he is. The man showed him no love, no kindness, only death and destruction. But that is not all Jax is; it is simply all that he knows. He wants to learn about the things in life that bring more fulfillment than murder and devastation. He wants to learn about love and happiness.”
“And he wants you to teach him?”
“Of course he does. And he is learning quite well. He is a good student.”
De Vesci cast a long look at Keats; the man’s face was taut with emotion. To hear his daughter speak so about de Velt was making him ill. De Vesci returned his attention
to Kellington.
“My lady,” he said quietly. “I have been living under the threat of de Velt for four years. In fact, I gave him Foulburn Castle far to the north so that he would stay away from my holdings. That worked, for a time. But he went after Pelinom and, according to your father, rode from there three days ago en route to conquer yet another castle. Probably one of my holdings. And it will not stop there; it will never stop with de Velt. He will not be satisfied until he has all of the borders in a vise.”
Kellington could not dispute that. “He is an ambitious man,” she said simply. “I have told him that ambition and death do not have to go hand in hand. And he is not the only knight in England that goes about wreaking havoc.”
“But he is the worst,” de Vesci countered. “The king himself fears him.”
“But I am telling you that he is not as the beast that everyone paints him out to be,” she was trying to stress a point without becoming emotional. “The Jax de Velt I have come to know is, frankly, a delightful man. I adore him and he adores me. And I will marry him, mark my words.”
Keats looked away; he couldn’t take any more. De Vesci’s small brown eyes were fixed on the lady; she certainly didn’t look mad. But her words were pure insanity.
“Did de Velt tell you where he was going when he left Pelinom?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said honestly. “He would not tell me.”
“Did he say when he would be back?”
She eyed her father, knowing she had already divulged that information. “He told me ten days.”
De Vesci spoke over his shoulder to the knight still standing in the shadows. “Then he cannot have gone far,” he said. “Denedor, which castles are within a two or three day ride of Pelinom?”
Sir Crosby Denedor stepped out of the shadows and into the light; he was a big man, older, with very blond hair and pale blue eyes. When he spoke, it was with a deep and steady voice. “I can think of four, my lord,” he said. “Norham, White Crag, Caerleon and Covent Garden.”
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