Winter of Solace (The Executioner Knights Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She was starting to sound reasonable and levelheaded again, and he was feeling the least bit guilty for scolding her. She was right – she’d lost her father and home today. Everything had changed today. He wasn’t entirely sure that if he’d known such an upheaval, he wouldn’t behave erratically, either. He had told her he’d never reached the point of no return in his life, ever.

  He hoped that was always the case.

  But he could see that she was surrendering, at least for the moment. That was all he wanted; a moment of calm with her, of peace, to help her understand that the situation wasn’t completely hopeless.

  At least, he didn’t think so.

  He hoped he was right.

  “It is understood and you are forgiven,” he said quietly. “But it would help us all tremendously if you were to keep your wits about you. It makes it much easier to help you.”

  She looked at him, then. “You?” she said. “Will you help me, too?”

  He nodded, without hesitation. “I will,” he said. In a moment of weakness, he sat down and faced her. “My lady, I have heard a great many things today and none of them pleasant. Almost all of it revolves around Covington de Wrenville, but I want to explain something to you and I hope you will understand. Will you hear me?”

  Emelisse nodded, but there was utter exhaustion in her movements. “I will listen,” she said. “And… and I promise I will not run for the window again if you untie me.”

  Caius hated to be suspicious of her because she’d calmed with unnatural speed. His hesitation was obvious because she nodded as if to acknowledge his thoughts.

  “I swear that I will be honorable,” she said. “It’s simply that the bindings are causing my hands to go numb.”

  “I hope that is true because I will not be fooled twice. My trust is given only once.”

  She nodded in resignation and, after a moment’s indecision, he stood up and unfastened his belt and the ties on her ankles, realizing how very tight he’d tied them. Her feet were nearly purple. Tossing the belt and ties onto the bed where his sword was, he sat back down again as Emelisse rubbed at her hands, trying to restore the blood flow.

  “Now,” he said. “What I speak of will not leave your lips. Do I have your vow?”

  “You do.”

  He leaned forward on the table. “I told you that de Wrenville married Lady Alice de Gras,” he said. “That makes him related to William Marshal, which is why I have come. Originally, my intent was to lend support in his quest against Hawkstone because he has told everyone, including the king, that your family is loyal to the French. That is my whole purpose here. But in speaking to you, and to a great many other people, I am coming to see that it is not the truth.”

  Emelisse closed her eyes and hung her head.

  “Nay, it is not the truth,” she said, her head coming up and her eyes bright with unshed tears. Reaching out, she impulsively grasped his big hand, the same one that she’d bitten earlier. “Thank you for believing me, my lord. I swear to you that we would never do such a thing.”

  Caius felt the heat from her hand like a brand. He almost pulled away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He liked the feel of her hand, holding his. He simply let her hold him without reacting when the truth was that he wanted to respond.

  “While I am not here to pass judgment on the motives of men, I am here to determine the truth,” he said. “It seems to me that the truth is that Covington, or his son, or the king, or all three of them, have concocted this story in order to justify the attack on Hawkstone. I am telling you this for a reason. My explicit instructions from William Marshal were that I cannot use his army against Winterhold. That means I cannot help you with the army.”

  She was gazing into his eyes, steadily. “I would not ask you to,” she said. “All I ask is that you call the man off. Have him recall his men from Hawkstone. Let us try to pick up the pieces of the shambles he has created and resume our lives as best we can.”

  Caius sighed heavily, averting his gaze. His focus fell on her small, battered hand as it clutched his and he felt something tug in his chest. He lifted his free hand to pat her fingers, but something stopped him. It wasn’t a natural gesture with him, but he very much wanted to do it. He wanted to give her comfort.

  God, what is happening to me?

  “I cannot call the man off,” he said. “I am not his liege, but Wolverhampton is. He is trying to force de Wrenville to recall his men. It may be that a stalemate will be declared, and the situation must go to the king for a resolution, but I assure you that Wolverhampton will be on your side. He knew your father and his death has distressed him greatly. My lady, I am telling you all of this so you know there are people willing to help you. Killing yourself… that is not the answer. We are willing to stand with you, so you must be willing to continue standing until the end.”

  Emelisse nodded, accepting the fact that she was not alone in this situation. It was surprising that people she did not even know were willing to fight for her. It did wonders for her manner, her expression, even the glimmer in her eyes. Caius could see that the woman truly thought she had been fighting this battle all on her own.

  But no longer.

  “Then you have my thanks,” she said after a moment. “I am very grateful to know you understand my plight and very grateful for the intervention of Wolverhampton. You cannot know how much better it makes me feel. But… but may I ask you a question?”

  “You may.”

  “Will you help me escape? I do not want to be a prisoner here, especially if Marius is coming. Will you please help me?”

  He cocked his head, looking at her seriously. “Where would you go?” he asked. “You cannot return to Hawkstone. Most of it is filled with Winterhold troops. They would capture you the moment you showed your face.”

  She nodded bravely. “I know,” she said. “I will still return home. I will simply return to the mountain, where they cannot find me. No one could. Hawk Mountain will protect me until this is all over with. Until Marius de Wrenville is no longer interested in marrying me.”

  He watched her face as she spoke about her beloved mountain. He’d seen it before, earlier in the day when she’d first spoken of her ancestral property, and there was great love and awe present in her expression. He admired those who loved the land as much as she clearly did. Being a wandering man, he didn’t exactly understand it, but he admired it.

  “You have piqued my interest enough that I must see this Hawk Mountain someday,” he said. “This mountain that men will go to war over.”

  She smiled faintly. It was the first time he’d seen her smile and it was as if something suddenly came alive inside him. He could feel it growing in his chest, warming him, flowing through his limbs and making him feel just the least bit giddy.

  Oblivious to Caius’ reaction to her, Emelisse spoke.

  “There is a formation of rocks at the top of the mountain,” she said, her eyes taking on a distant look. “It is a pile of rocks, the color of bronze, and they face the east. When my brother and I were children, my father used to take us to those rocks before dawn, because to watch the sunrise from them is to see the world as it was always meant to be – rich, lush, radiant, and pure. It is a moment when you become one with the earth, and the earth with you. When I told you that Hawk Mountain had mystical qualities, that is what I meant. At the end of all things, I want to be on those rocks, watching the sunrise. I have always sworn that, if it was within my power, that is where I would breathe my last. It was where my father wished to breathe his last, also.”

  She suddenly lowered her head, swallowing hard, and Caius was certain the tears were about to come again but she was trying hard to fight them off. She was still holding his hand and he didn’t want to disrupt that grip, so he used his free hand to push a bowl of cabbage at her, stewed with vinegar and wine, in the hopes that it might be something to distract her from her sorrow. They’d made good progress and he didn’t want to see her slip back into the obli
vion of despair.

  The distraction worked.

  There was a spoon in the bowl and Emelisse eyed it for a moment before finally reaching out to pick up the spoon. In doing so, she released his hand. Though he was sorry she had, he was glad that she was at least showing interest in the food instead of focusing on the loss of everything she held dear. He poured her more wine, putting it in front of her as she took a spoonful of the cabbage. Finally, she began to eat and drink without spraying food all over the place.

  Finally, there was some peace between them.

  But it had been hard fought.

  When Hallam returned later that night, he carefully cracked the door open to find Caius sitting at the small table, watching something. Hallam thought it was the hearth but as he pushed the door open fully, Caius turned to look at him, put a finger over his lips for silence, and pointed to the bed.

  He’d been watching the lady sleep.

  Hallam was quiet when he entered the chamber, but he held up the blanket and hammer that Caius had requested for the shutters. The winds were still howling and the shutters were still flexing, so with the greatest stealth, Caius and Hallam proceeded to cover the shutters with the blanket and nail them right into the wood to keep them secure, all the while believing the very next hammer blow would awaken the exhausted lady.

  But Emelisse slept right through it all.

  She slept all night as her jailers made her more comfortable.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Her head was killing her.

  Emelisse awoke the next morning to a pounding inside her skull, knowing immediately that it was because she’d had too much to drink. She didn’t usually drink wine at all if she could help it, or if she did, she ingested very little of it because it made her head hurt. Her preferred drink was boiled apple juice or boiled water flavored with berries or even rose petals.

  Wine simply didn’t sit well with her.

  But the knight with the black eyes had forced it down her throat. She’d ingested a good deal, plus more besides when she ate her meal. Truth be told, yesterday had passed in a blur – a blur of horror, of pain, of upheaval. But one thing had remained constant.

  Sir Caius d’Avignon.

  She’d fought him, bellowed at him, told him she hated him, and tried to hurt him. She’d been all shades of terrible to him. But he’d been calm and rational, and even soothing at times. Through all of her panic and wild behavior, she realized that the man was trying to help her. After all of the terrible things she’d done, he was the last thing she saw before she drifted off to sleep.

  It was unimaginable comfort.

  But he was gone now and she was alone. Rolling over, she groaned as she sat up, looking around the chamber and seeing that someone had already been there to stoke the fire and bring her a meal. The little room was surprisingly warm and she noticed the woolen blankets hammered over the shutters of the windows. She stared at them, trying to remember when those were put up. She honestly couldn’t recall.

  Through the cobwebs of sleep, the blur of events the day before began to fall into place. Her first thought was of her father and tears sprang to her eyes at the last memory she had of him. She fought the tears, however, and the sadness. There would be time to grieve her father, but now was not the time. She was in a bind of her own and she knew her father would want her to think of herself, to take care of herself. She hadn’t done a very good job of it yesterday, unfortunately.

  But she wasn’t alone.

  Thoughts of Caius swung back on her, stronger than before. He wasn’t the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but he had a certain quality that made all women sit up and take notice. Something that made him so unconventionally alluring. His coloring was striking; black hair and eyes, but a pale English complexion underneath the stubble of a black beard. And he was big; enormously big and taller than any man she’d ever seen. The man was a giant. He’d spoken to her calmly, he’d been honest and forthright with her, and she’d acted like a madwoman. When he’d told her about Marius, she’d tried to kill herself.

  In hindsight, it had been foolish.

  Oh, she’d meant it at the time. She was fully prepared to throw herself from the window, out into the snowy night, and hoped she broke her neck in the fall. The day had taken its toll on her in that sense.

  But now… now, with her senses returned, she was glad Caius had stopped her. He’d used that enormous strength and he’d prevented her from harming herself. And how did she thank him? She bit him. Emelisse was embarrassed by that, and by her behavior in general.

  Nay… yesterday hadn’t been a good day at all, but the only good thing about it had been Caius d’Avignon.

  He had remained the constant.

  A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. Before she could stand up and answer it, the door opened and Lady de Wrenville entered with one of her maids. The woman was clad in yet another glorious creation of silk and damask, with an elaborate escoffion on her head – a two horned wimple with pearls sewn into it and gossamer veils made of a see-through fabric called albatross. Noble women of fine breeding wore them and Lady de Wrenville’s was exquisite.

  “Ah,” she said with a smile on her face. “I see that you have awakened, my lady. How do you feel this morning?”

  Emelisse rubbed her temples. “My head aches a bit.”

  That did nothing to dampen Lady de Wrenville’s smile. “Not to worry,” she said. “Come and eat. I shall have my maid fetch a potion of willow bark, which will ease your aching head. Come along, now.”

  Both she and the maid reached down to pull Emelisse off the bed. They led her over to a chair and revealed the morning feast; fresh bread, cheese, fruit compote, and cold beef. There was also a small pitcher of warmed wine, now barely warm, and Emelisse immediately pushed it aside.

  “My lady, would it be too much trouble to ask for boiled fruit juice?” she asked. “Wine is why my head aches so. I have never gotten on well with it.”

  Lady de Wrenville quickly waved the pitcher away and the maid ran off with it. As Emelisse forced a grateful smile and turned to the food spread out before her, Lady de Wrenville took a seat on the opposite side of the little table. Emelisse picked up the bread and smeared it with butter and the fruit, gingerly taking a bite. It was difficult to be enthusiastic about eating when her head was hurting so much.

  “I am having warm water and clean clothing brought to you,” Lady de Wrenville said. “Is there anything else you require to make your stay more comfortable?”

  Emelisse chewed her bread slowly. “You have been more than kind, my lady,” she said. She eyed the woman hesitantly. “Given that I have behaved like a wild animal, I would like to thank you for your treatment. You have been good to me and, as it was pointed out to me last night, I have responded abominably. Please forgive me.”

  Lady de Wrenville frowned. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said. “And who pointed this out to you?”

  “Sir Caius,” Emelisse said, taking another bite of bread. “He was right. I… I think I lost my head yesterday. It will not happen again. But I do have a question.”

  “What is that?”

  “Did you speak to your husband about his intention of marrying me to his son?”

  Lady de Wrenville shook her head slowly. “I had every good intention of speaking to him, my lady,” she said with regret. “But I was convinced that my husband would not take it well from me. He would view it as interfering in his business.”

  Emelisse sighed faintly. She understood and appreciated the lady’s perspective, but she was still disappointed to hear it.

  “Sir Caius told me that Wolverhampton is trying to convince your husband to release me,” she said. “He told me that there are those who will support me, people I do not even know. Yesterday, I felt so alone and in despair, but Sir Caius has given me great comfort.”

  Lady de Wrenville smiled faintly. “I can see that you hold great regard for him,” she said. “You should. I have heard men
speaking of him this morning as I was going about my tasks. He was a great knight on Richard’s Crusade, so great that the enemy called him The Britannia Viper. Did you know that?”

  Emelisse shook her head. There was some surprise in her expression. “I did not,” she said. “But I would not doubt it, not for a moment. I have never seen a larger man. He is strong, too. And fast. Fast enough to grab me before I threw myself from the window.”

  Lady de Wrenville was watching her face as she spoke. “And he is handsome, too,” she said. “I do not suppose that escaped your notice. If you are to be confined for now, then you may as well have something pleasant to look at.”

  Emelisse looked at her sharply only to see that she was giggling like a blushing maiden. She was teasing her and Emelisse broke down into a grin.

  “I could have done worse, I suppose,” she said. “And… and I did not notice if he is handsome or not. I was too busy worrying about myself.”

  Lady de Wrenville rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Lass, you’d have to be blind not to see that he is a fine form of a man,” she said. “And he was quite attentive to you, too. I believe he thinks you are lovely, and you are.”

  Emelisse was starting to feel embarrassed and uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. She simply didn’t like speaking of herself when it came to the subject of beauty. Her hair was too unruly and her teeth too big, or so she thought. At least, that’s what Caspian had told her when he was feeling particularly mean and nasty as children. Somehow, it always stayed with her. That dastardly brother that she was now willing to die for. She began pulling the beef apart, trying to think of a way to change the subject.

  “He was here until I fell asleep,” she said, putting a piece of beef into her mouth. “When I awoke, I noticed that the windows were covered. I do not remember them being covered up when I went to sleep last night.”