by Darcy Burke
“I suppose that’s a place to start,” Papa said with resignation. “Davis, assign everyone to a captor. Except Daphne. She’ll come with me.” He bent to pick up the bag with the heart and cloak.
Davis looked profoundly disappointed but went about assigning at least one guard to everyone in their party. There were fourteen of them, plus her father, so they had enough to assign two to each of the men.
Norris went to help Penn stand while Gideon turned to Daphne and brushed a kiss against her temple. “I won’t be far behind,” he said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She nodded and went haltingly to stand with her father. Deciding to try to go along with his madness, she asked, “Do you really think I’m still under a spell?”
“Of course you are, dear. Why else would you be helping that man instead of me?”
Because you’re insane?
Her father scowled at the guard who was trying—and failing—to carry the sword. He kept having to put it down. “Bloody well give it to Gideon, then.” Papa whirled on Gideon. “Try to take it from the scabbard, and we’ll shoot Penn. Or his wife. Or both.”
With an expression of relief, the guard handed the sword to Gideon, who easily took it up and reattached it to his belt. He put his hand on the hilt and gave a dark look that dared anyone to tell him not to.
A few moments later, they started along the path, and her father explained that it rounded the island. It didn’t take them long to walk to the opposite end of Flat Holm. It was rather flat with long grasses and large shrubs, and short, stubby trees. Likely the wind didn’t allow anything to grow very tall.
“Stop.”
The single word from Gideon drew Daphne and her father to turn to where he stood just behind them, flanked by two of her father’s guards.
“What is it?” Papa asked, his voice full of anticipation.
“I think we’re close.” Gideon looked around. “But there’s nothing here.”
Papa stared at him with deep intensity. “Why do you think we’re close?”
“The sword is vibrating.” He fixed her father with a steely stare. “It…communicates with me.”
Papa’s brows dipped low as he eyed Gideon with suspicion. “You think it’s trying to tell you the tomb is close? How would it know?”
“How the hell does it flame when I wield it? How does the cloak render me invisible? If I knew how any of it worked, I could make more treasures.”
Her father’s eyes lit. “You could?”
Daphne could practically see his mind turning with ideas, and she was afraid of where they might lead. “Papa, he doesn’t know how.”
“That doesn’t mean he can’t learn.” Papa smiled. “Something for us to explore! And a reason to keep you alive, although until you plant your seed in my daughter and ensure the continuation of Gareth’s line, you are incredibly valuable to me.”
Horrified, Daphne gaped at her father. “That was your intent?”
Papa took her hand. “You will be mother to a future king! Just think of it. We’ll have the treasures and a child worthy of the throne. Camelot will be reborn!”
He was beyond mad. Daphne feared he was irretrievably gone in the head. Her chest ached, and her throat burned.
“We have to find the treasures first,” Gideon said. “The tomb is close. The sword’s vibration has grown increasingly stronger as we moved in this direction.” He kept walking, moving off the path and through the grass to look out over the water. This side of the island had tall rock faces that extended into the sea so that there was a literal edge one could fall from.
Gideon turned, the horizon at his back. “It’s here. The sword is fairly humming. It knows it’s almost where it belongs.”
“Well, it’s not staying here,” Papa said sharply, joining Gideon at the edge of the cliff, but leaving several feet between them. Still, it would be easy for Gideon to simply push him over… Was she really thinking of killing her father?
Daphne shook her head and blinked away tears. How had it all come to this?
Papa turned and looked at Davis. “There were caves in the rocks, weren’t there, when we took the boat around the island?”
Davis nodded. “A few.” He strode to the cliff’s edge and looked over. “Down there.”
“That may be it,” Papa said. “Gideon, Daphne, and I will go look.”
Gideon shook his head. “Not Daphne. She stays up here. I’ll go with you. And Penn. He should come in case we need his…expertise.” Gideon looked to his brother, who nodded with an air of malicious anticipation.
Papa chuckled. “Penn’s not going anywhere near that cave. Come, let’s find a path. Or make one.”
Daphne went to join them and looked over the edge of the island. The rock face was almost entirely vertical. There were a few places to perhaps walk, but it looked treacherous, particularly with the wind. “Papa, that looks awfully dangerous.”
He gave her an encouraging nod. “It will be fine, my dear.”
“No.” Gideon stepped toward her father. “She’s not going.”
Papa inclined his head toward Davis, and everything happened very quickly.
Vincent gripped Amelia tightly. Davis hit Penn in the head with the butt of his pistol, sending Penn to his knees. Another of the men dragged Cate to the cliff and held her at the very edge by the arm, his intent to let her go quite clear.
Norris howled and lunged toward her, heedless of the men at his sides. A pistol fired, and Norris reeled, clutching his hip.
Cate cried out, and Gideon pulled Dyrnwyn loose. The blade shimmered with pale blue flame, and he held it toward her father. Gideon was close enough that he could easily kill her father, and Daphne wasn’t sure she could stop him. Or if she would.
“Tell them to stop,” Gideon growled. “Or you die.”
“They’ll just kill you all,” Papa responded, his voice deep with certainty. “Besides, you won’t kill me. Not with Daphne watching. She would never forgive you.”
“I thought you said she was under my spell. If that’s the case, I could do anything, and she’d still be in my thrall.”
Daphne felt as if her entire body were pulled taut, just waiting to shatter at the slightest movement.
The man holding Cate pushed her over the edge so that if he let go, she’d tumble to the rocks below.
“Gideon!” The plea came from Norris, whose hip was turning red with blood.
Anguish lined Gideon’s face. He sheathed Dyrnwyn and bared his teeth at her father. “We’re going to the cave now. If anything happens to anyone up here, I will kill you without a second thought, and I don’t give a damn who sees it.” He didn’t spare a glance for Daphne. She could sense the fury radiating from his body.
“You first,” her father said, gesturing to a place where the rock face was more sloped than straight.
Gideon looked to Penn and Norris and then to Cate, who was now safely away from the edge of the cliff. Then he took Daphne’s hand, and they walked to the top of the path. But it wasn’t really a path. Just the only way that might take them to the cave. If they were careful.
The slope was steep and the way narrow. The rocks were also slick. “Hold anything you can, including me,” Gideon said, letting go of her hand as he made his way down.
“I’ll go next,” Papa said, earning another scowl from Gideon. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall, my girl.” Papa gave her a loving smile that made her want to vomit.
Daphne followed them down, and it was several long, arduous minutes before they saw an opening. It required a long step over a wide void to get there, however. Daphne held her breath as she watched Gideon grip the rock and swing his leg onto the lip of the opening. His foot slipped, and Daphne shrieked.
But he didn’t fall. He clutched at the rock, and his foot found purchase. Then he disappeared into the opening. Her father followed but went more slowly.
A moment later, Gideon stuck his head out of the cave and reached for Daphne. “Give
me your hand and put your other hand on the rock. I won’t let you fall.”
Her legs were nowhere near as long as Gideon’s. Fear paralyzed her for a moment.
“You can do it, Daphne,” Gideon urged softly.
She took a deep breath. And a huge leap of faith.
Gideon clasped her hand and held her tightly. She never would have made it on her own—he all but dragged her into the cave. As soon as she put both feet on the rock floor, she threw her arms around him.
The cock of her father’s pistol sounded, echoing behind him. “Now you may drop Dyrnwyn,” he said to Gideon, aiming the pistol at his heart. “As I said, I don’t wish to kill you, but I will if it becomes necessary. I’ll find another descendant.”
“We may need the sword for light,” Gideon said, and Daphne was impressed with his ingenuity. He was also right—the cave was bound to be as black as a moonless night.
Papa narrowed his eyes. “You raise a valid point. But if you come after me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you. Now, let’s see what we can find, shall we?” Papa said with glee, motioning for them to precede him to the back of the cave.
Daphne took Gideon’s hand, and they stepped into the darkness.
Chapter 21
Gideon pulled Dyrnwyn from the scabbard, and the light seemed bluer and brighter than it ever had before, even at Ashridge Court a few days before. Was that because it was so close to the other treasures?
It was all Gideon could do to keep from plunging the blade directly into Foliot’s cold, black heart. But when he thought of killing Daphne’s father in front of her, his gut churned and he just couldn’t do it.
Still, they had to find a way to keep him from obtaining the treasures.
The cave went back quite far, curving to the left. Then suddenly they were in a large chamber. In the center was a raised platform on which sat a stone sarcophagus.
“It’s him,” Foliot breathed.
Gideon’s anger dissipated for a moment as he felt a surge of connection to whatever was in the tomb—he knew Gareth was here.
Foliot moved past the sarcophagus. “The treasures! Bring the light!”
Gideon followed him, glancing at Daphne as they walked. At the back of the cave stood a chariot. It looked like drawings he’d seen of Roman vehicles—two wheels with a shaft and a yoke. The wood gleamed with a luster that belied its age.
Foliot touched the carriage. “This would take you anywhere you needed to go faster than is currently possible. We could likely get to London from here in a day. Can you imagine?”
Daphne went to a table on which sat several treasures. The basket of plenty that would replenish food at will and a horn that granted the drinker whatever beverage they desired.
“Then there’s this,” Foliot said, gesturing to the halter hanging over the side of the carriage of the chariot. “This halter would summon any horse to your side.”
Gideon joined Daphne at the table. He touched the knife that would cut anything, whether at a feast or in battle, along with the whetstone on which blades sharpened by a brave man would kill their victims. However, blades sharpened by a coward would do nothing. Gideon slid a glance at Foliot, thinking the whetstone would do nothing for him. Just as the cauldron would also likely do nothing. Only meat put in by a brave man would cook.
The final items on the table were the crock and dish, which worked much like the horn, providing whatever food a person would want.
Gideon looked about. “Where is the chessboard?”
The thirteenth treasure was an enchanted chessboard that would act as opponent to whoever played it. Alone as he’d been, Gideon had once thought it might be a good thing to have. Now, he only wanted to play chess—hopefully the naked variety—with Daphne.
“Here,” Foliot said from behind them. Another small table sat in the corner of the cave, the chessboard atop it. He turned and looked at Gideon. “Aren’t you tempted to use one of the treasures?”
“Not particularly.” He was, however, tempted to study them, especially with Penn and Cate. But that wasn’t his quest—he would leave the treasures with Gareth, as they were meant to be.
Foliot directed his attention to the chessboard. “You’re a fool.”
Daphne pulled Gideon close to her and picked up the horn. “You can summon any drink,” she whispered. “You could wish for ale with the sleeping tonic.”
He kissed her cheek. “You really are the most brilliant woman.” Gideon looked over at Foliot. How would they take him from the cave if he was asleep?
“How will we get these out?” Foliot’s query filled the cave as he regarded the chariot. “This one in particular will be a problem. I wonder if the cave continues on and comes out somewhere.” He walked to the smaller opening in the rock behind the chariot.
“Foliot, we can’t get the chariot out,” Gideon said. “You’ll need to leave it behind.”
Foliot joined them at the table. “We aren’t leaving any of it behind.” His gaze gleamed as he studied the treasures before him.
“I changed my mind,” Gideon said, picking up the horn. He wished for ale laced with enough sleeping tonic to make the drinker sleep for a day. “Would you care for some ale?” He offered Foliot the horn.
Foliot took it and looked inside, his eyes lighting. “Wonderful!” He lifted it to his lips, then frowned. “What is it?”
“Just ale,” Gideon said.
Frowning, Foliot set it down and backed away. “Then why didn’t you drink it?”
“I was being polite by offering it to you first. I’ll drink it.” Gideon picked up the horn and ignored the alarm lighting Daphne’s eyes. Before the liquid reached his lips, he wished for it to be replaced with regular ale. As he drank, he prayed the horn was working as he directed. When he finished, he wished for the sleeping tonic to be added once more, then handed the horn to Foliot with a smile. “Delicious.”
Foliot took the vessel but didn’t lift it to his mouth. His gaze was dark and suspicious, and Gideon feared the man was coming to the conclusion that it was necessary to kill Gideon after all.
“You’re persuading me as to the benefit of these treasures,” Gideon said, hoping to break through the man’s lunacy.
“How can I know you actually drank any of this?” Foliot asked. His paranoia was evident in the thin tenor of his question and the wild light in his eyes. “You’ve demonstrated over and over that you can’t be trusted. Even though you’re a descendant, your usefulness has come to an end. I must eliminate those who fail to support my objectives.” He flicked a sad look toward Daphne. “Your mother did that—she learned I wasn’t a descendant and threatened to tell the Order. As if they would have listened to her. Still, I couldn’t risk her spreading lies.”
Daphne’s jaw dropped open, and her eyes were wide with shock and a myriad of other dark emotions. Gideon’s heart ached for her and the pain her father had mercilessly thrust upon her.
“You killed my mother?” She sounded so small and scared and wounded. In that moment, Gideon truly wanted to kill Foliot.
“I’m sorry, Daphne.” Foliot lifted his pistol, and Gideon’s pulse sped. He raised Dyrnwyn in response. But before he could strike, Daphne lunged forward with the knife and drove it straight into her father’s heart.
Gideon gasped.
Foliot’s eyes widened. “My girl?”
Tears streamed down Daphne’s face. “I’m sorry, Papa. You’re mad. You’re…evil. I can’t let you hurt anyone else. And not Gideon—I love him.”
Foliot fell to the floor, his hand coming up to the knife protruding from his chest. “When you awaken from the spell, you’ll be devastated.” He looked to Gideon. “What have you done to us?”
Blood gurgled from Foliot’s mouth as he collapsed backward. He twitched once and then stilled, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the roof of the cave.
Gideon turned to Daphne and wasn’t sure what to do. Shock etched her features, and despair curled her body forward as she clapped her hand o
ver her mouth.
“Daphne.” He couldn’t find any words that would ease this moment.
Her shoulders shook, and she turned to look at him, lowering her hand. “I had to do that.” The words held no emotion. “He killed my mother. He was going to kill you.”
“Yes, he was.” Gideon had felt the truth of it in the sword. Whenever he was threatened, it vibrated strongly, but even more so when the risk was imminent and powerful. “I’m so sorry, Daphne.”
She fell forward, and he caught her sobbing form. He dropped the sword to the floor and gathered her close, stroking her back and hair and murmuring words of love and comfort.
Abruptly, she pulled back. “We need to hurry. Norris is hurt.”
“Yes, and we need to get back for the boat. If it’s not too late.”
“Papa came on a boat. We can use that one if we must.”
Gideon nodded. “But first, the treasures.” And then they’d have to deal with Foliot’s men. Gideon turned to Foliot and exhaled. “Daphne, look away.”
He didn’t turn his head to make sure she did as he asked—it was her choice. Gideon bent and pulled the knife from Foliot’s chest. Blood pooled over his coat, and Gideon wiped the blade over the man’s midsection to clean it. He set the weapon on the table, then went back to Foliot, opening the bag and removing the Heart of Llanllwch and the cloak.
Standing, he considered putting them on the table, but they seemed more important than what was there. Instead, he went to the sarcophagus and stood on the platform beneath it so he could see the top of the lid. A large cross was carved into the stone on the upper portion. Gideon placed the heart in the center of it, then he draped the cloak over the lower half of the sarcophagus.
He turned and removed the scabbard from his belt. Then he went and picked up Dyrnwyn and sheathed it. He clasped Daphne’s hand and led her back to the sarcophagus. Letting her go, he set the sword on top in the center.
“You really mean to just leave them all here?” she asked, her voice small and soft.
“I have to,” Gideon said. “They are remarkable, but it’s my duty to keep them hidden. I felt it from the moment I first wielded Dyrnwyn, and meeting Gwyneth convinced me completely. Speaking of Gwyneth, there is one more thing I must do.” He took Gwyneth’s parchment from his coat pocket and read the Old Welsh enchantment she’d given him before they’d left Brue Cottage:
