The Maiden and the Mercenary

by Nicole Locke

  ‘The parchment my brother seeks,’ Ian said. ‘Do you think I’d have it in my possession at the same residence I invite my parents to?’

  This was the Ian who could strike at any time, the one who played games. The one who liked to reveal truths and then hide them again. Warstone had already hinted that he knew the reason Louve was here and that was to obtain that parchment leading to the treasure from the Jewell of Kings. There was no point to deny it.

  ‘Why wouldn’t you have the parchment in the same residence as your parents?’ Louve said. ‘They adore you. What parent wouldn’t admire their firstborn who owns it while the other brothers covet it?’

  Ian sneered, ‘It’s so they keep me alive.’

  ‘It’s merely one among your other notable attributes to keep you alive,’ Louve said.

  ‘Those are many.’ Ian chuckled. ‘Oh, but as long as my brothers live, my family could change their minds. It would be amusing if they, for example, try to kill me instead of them.’

  Twice. That was twice that Ian alluded to his parents trying to kill him. Could it be true?

  Ian waved his cup around. ‘Hence why the parchment is far away. Don’t think my dear mother and father wouldn’t change on any of us if they gained the parchment regarding the Jewell of Kings. It’s beautiful, you know. Not those torn slips of paper that Reynold has in his possession, but one complete page. Of course, absolutely useless unless one is also in possession of the Jewell and the dagger, but beautiful none the less.’

  The crackling of the flames in the torches was the only other sound besides this eerie conversation, but Louve strained his ears to hear if anyone was outside the closed door, listening to this conversation.

  Ian was a Warstone, and this information would come at a price, but he’d take it while he could. ‘What do you mean useless?’

  ‘I believe it explains the treasure.’ Ian smirked. ‘Ah, yes, I know of the treasure. My parents believe, and perhaps Reynold knows, that what I possess is a code which must be deciphered.

  ‘Of course, my parents can never possess it—I’ll keep it until I’m dead. Or they are dead. Or if everyone dies, I’ll gather all the words, find all the meanings and have the power and treasure to myself.’

  And thus power begets power and madness. A place where Louve could find peace seemed further away than the parchment. ‘I would not wish for your childhood.’

  ‘If we could change, I wouldn’t wish for yours.’ Ian arched one brow. ‘Surprised? See it from my point of view—how dull yours has been. Secure in a home and estate where you’re respected and cared for. Happy, but not interesting. Worse, it appears Reynold is building such an existence for his own children! How far he’s fallen.’

  Louve was tired of defending his childhood. It was happy, but that didn’t mean it fit. Only one of the reasons he’d left it behind...and was now sitting next to a murderer, wishing he could have at least one restful night. The irony was not lost on him.

  ‘So here I am and the parchment isn’t,’ Louve said.

  ‘You believe me so easily?’

  ‘It’s not as if I have permission to inspect your rooms. What is the alternative?’

  Ian stared at Louve for more than a few heartbeats, more than a few breaths. He felt the flickering torches tap out the time as Ian thought out the ramifications to Louve’s impulsive request.

  The easy answer should have been a refusal. That’s what he believed Ian would say. Instead, he said, ‘Do you think a sister’s love is stronger than a brother’s?’

  Louve’s heart stopped. ‘I haven’t any siblings, so I couldn’t compare.’

  ‘Ah, perhaps that is why you form such loyal friendships.’ Ian shifted. ‘Tomorrow I am gone. It is as simple as that. So I’ll let my guards know you have my permission to enter my quarters. I’ll even let you take anything from there.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘If it wants to go, yes,’ Ian said.

  ‘Parchments rarely speak about desires,’ Louve said carefully.

  Ian gave a low chuckle. ‘But women rarely speak of anything else. Mine talks when I watch her. The...entertainment is almost enough for me to forget.’

  More than once, Ian had mentioned watching his mistress. Now...only now, Louve understood why Ian kept her. Not because he feared he’d spoken in his sleep as Balthus surmised, but because Ian didn’t lie with Margery, someone else did. For Bied’s sake, for her sister’s, he needed to feign more interest in the parchment.

  ‘It doesn’t sound as though you need anything from your room, but one travels easier than another, and that one I find more enticing. I accept that proposal.’

  Ian flashed a smile that did not reach his pale eyes. ‘There will be consequences.’

  Louve knew there would be. Ian might be going on a hunt, but not all of his guards would be gone. Everyone he cared for was at risk. All he wanted to do was rescue Bied and Margery and be done with it all.

  But he wasn’t here for them. He was here because he gave his oath to his friends and, while Ian sat before him, while it was still the dead of night and there were no interruptions, the game had to continue.

  ‘Room or no room, permission or not, since you report the parchment is elsewhere,’ Louve said, ‘will you, to keep my dull life interesting, fill my mind with useless information and reveal where it is?’

  Ian pointed at Louve with the hand holding the wine cup. ‘Safe with my wife and children whom I haven’t seen for years.’

  Louve felt his world spin and, despite wishing otherwise, he believed the eldest brother. The parchment wasn’t here and everything they’d done for the last few weeks was for naught.

  All that could be obtained was more information if Ian was in a divulging mood.

  ‘With your wife? What is to stop me from—’

  ‘You won’t find them,’ Ian said. ‘I secured them in a home and they aren’t there any longer. I did well marrying that woman. She’s good, you know. Innocent. I thought her biddable and for a time she was. Then she learnt and learnt too well.

  ‘When I knew my mind was malleable, I tucked her away far in the north. Not so far that I couldn’t kill her and the children in the middle of the night, but it would take some time. I’d have to think of it and all the while it would be inconvenient.’

  There was only one way Ian knew she wasn’t in the home any more. ‘You decided to do it, though.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Not so long in the recent past. I was quite perturbed that they weren’t there, came home and immediately tried to kill Balthus. Merely to...move matters along a bit. But even that was ruined. Mistakes!’

  ‘What happened when you went up there?’

  ‘Cobwebs, dust, spiders, creatures living in every corner. I left her there and I don’t think she unpacked because it was empty. Probably left the day after I did. Which meant years have passed. Even if I could find her now...no. My time is over. They have the parchment, but nothing else.’

  Ian leaned his head back; his expression was well worn. ‘You are a good friend to the Warstones.’

  ‘I am not your friend.’

  ‘You warn me away, like someone who still has his soul intact, though it’s clear you like the games. Still, I’ve enjoyed this conversation. Did I give you what you wanted?’

  ‘You came to my room. Did you get yours?’

  ‘The wine is decent,’ Ian said. ‘I can enjoy it though I am but a reed to a disloyal breeze. I like that I could talk to you in all my many forms. I liked that you played along.’

  ‘What is it you want, Ian? I think we’re both tired and need to rest.’ Whatever this was, the game would continue, but the night would end. He didn’t have enough wine to prolong this amicably and he never wanted to reach for the dagger. It would be preferable if they both lived one more day.

  ‘I cannot face my wife or children and apologis
e to them. They’re...good, other than the Warstone blood, they’re good. My wife thinks I’m good...or she did once a long time ago.’ Ian sighed. ‘I’d like to face my brother and apologise for what I did, too.’

  ‘He is here, as are you, you don’t need my help to tell him of your remorse.’

  ‘With my parents here and my Steward gone, it will be up to me, won’t it? That will prove to be enlightening, tomorrow.’ Ian closed his eyes, his expression dark and yet untroubled. ‘How is your sword arm?’

  Louve was fast losing the threads of this conversation. ‘Do you wish to train together tomorrow in the lists?’

  Ian blinked and his pale eyes sought out Louve again. ‘You’re my friend, aren’t you? I’ve never had one before and you’ve been one to so many. You’re good at being a friend to a Warstone. Do you know how rare that is?’

  ‘Friendship requires trust and trust takes years to earn.’

  ‘Years might not be a possibility. I don’t want to throw daggers any more, but I can’t keep up with my actions any more. And even if I stay my hand, it doesn’t mean others won’t throw theirs.’ Ian stood and set his cup on the table. ‘Make me a promise.’

  ‘No.’

  Ian laughed, but it sounded weary. ‘Don’t you want to hear it first?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You would make a good Warstone,’ Ian said. ‘I’ll tell you anyway. When it comes to the end of me, because it’s soon, take care of my wife and sons.’

  If his wife and sons were in hiding, then they were already safe. ‘You don’t intend to kill me?’ Louve asked.

  ‘In the whole world, you are as inconsequential as your happy childhood home. For me, I am extremely tired. So incredibly...’ Ian opened and closed the door as quietly as he came in.

  Louve wasn’t certain he had the strength to rise and return to his bed. There would only be a few more hours before the dawn. Before a hunt occurred where ‘years might not be a possibility.’

  For whom? Balthus? Ian? The Warstones? Any number of the servants? Himself?

  Bied.

  Louve had a thousand words he wanted to say to her, but there was too much and not enough time. If they got through this, he vowed that whatever trust she’d lost, he would earn it. That one shared moment on a kitchen floor wouldn’t be all they had together. They’d talk, he’d compromise, anything, until only the Warstone intrigues separated them, and when the game was done, that would be gone as well.

  In the meantime, the Warstones were on the hunt and for more than just deer. No parchment; Balthus at risk. If Ian didn’t order the guards to slaughter him, there was nothing stopping his parents from ordering their guards to do so.

  On the hunt, would they even bother to make it look like an accident? No. Reynold would know the truth and come for his brother and forfeit his own life.

  At least Bied would have her sister and they could escape before the day played out. He wondered, if he told her everything, if she’d give him a chance? Or would he yet again not be accepted and left to fate?

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Why aren’t you in the kitchens?’

  Bied jumped at the loud whisper behind her.

  Louve’s presence in the Hall was as surprising as waking this morning and realising everything Tess had reported was true. The family were off on a hunt. She’d watched guards, even that big brute, leave with Lord Warstone and his family. They’d be gone for hours and Margery was upstairs...waiting for her, or so Bied liked to believe.

  She hurried her steps towards the stairwell leading to the private chambers. Louve hurried his until he was alongside her. ‘What are you doing?’

  She was doing what she needed to do. What he said he’d help her with and yet hadn’t. She wasn’t being fair, but surely he knew of the hunt and the opportunity? She was doing what must be done.

  Lifting the tray she held, she said, ‘I’m delivering food for the mistress upstairs, sir.’

  He pivoted to stand in front of her. The tray she carried wasn’t large enough to keep a distance that would make seeing him again any less potent.

  This man... She might have been inebriated when she first saw him, when her impression was that he couldn’t be real. No man had his colouring, his build. His smile was enough to make her forget her next thought. He wasn’t perfect. What he was, was temptation.

  What they’d done last night in the kitchens where anyone could walk in, she couldn’t forget. Everything he said and did, the warmth they shared, was unexpected. The pieces of their past bewildering to her heart.

  That man, however, was gone. This man who barred the way to her sister was the man who had commanded the kitchen upon his arrival. Who had followed her to the ale cellars and demanded what she did there. This man, this mercenary, expected to be obeyed. But she wasn’t a woman who would.

  She stepped to the side to get around him, but Louve moved with her. ‘Please sir, the bread will dry out if it’s exposed too long.’

  ‘Don’t.’ Louve peered over her shoulder.

  Facing Louve, she couldn’t see anyone else. The fortress was large, but no room was ever empty for long. When all he did was wait, she did, too, but only because a confrontation where she slammed the tray in his face and ran up the stairs would cause more attention than she needed.

  His eyes flicked back to hers. ‘What did you think you would do upstairs? Walk past the guards?’

  Carrying a tray of bread and cheese, that was exactly what she expected. Jeanne, Margery’s servant, had even helped her prepare the food so it would look exactly like hers did every day. There was no reason the guards would starve her sister and one servant or another delivering it shouldn’t matter.

  She didn’t want to listen to anything Louve said, but he was Usher and there were too many eyes. If the guards suspected her, if there was any suspicion she was related to Margery, she didn’t know what the consequences would be. She couldn’t risk her sister, who flinched from a man with a cold pale gaze, and Louve was delaying her!

  ‘You know what I’m doing,’ she breathed.

  He took a step closer, whispered, ‘I told you—’

  She didn’t have to explain her actions to any man. She’d done that all her life until she got wise to them taking advantage of a woman raising children alone. ‘You changed your mind. Can you move, please?’

  ‘I changed my mind?’

  A scrape of a bench behind them made her flinch. Louve just caught the roll that slid off and put it back on the tray.

  Gaze imperious, he said, ‘Follow me.’

  The Usher giving an order. Since he turned to face the staircase leading to her sister, she obeyed.

  Up the staircase she followed the man whom she’d kissed, touched, whom she’d told her failings to. He played at being an usher, but there wasn’t anything about his demeanour that said he was servant. He played games with Ian of Warstone, but last night felt nothing like a game between them.

  How could they have been so close...and not want the same things? He said he wanted a home and a wife, but everything he did was the opposite of that. No matter, now wasn’t the time to contemplate any future with him. Soon she’d escape with her sister.

  At the top and along the hallway, guards were on rotations. Many were talking low and heatedly. Preparing for something she knew nothing about, but Louve did not change his pace and she kept to the same. When they approached a door with one guard, Louve stopped. ‘You know why I am here.’

  ‘But not why she is here.’

  ‘She is a servant,’ Louve said. ‘You don’t expect me to carry a tray of food.’

  The guard didn’t move. Sounds behind them indicated several guards had followed them up the staircase and she could see two more farther down the hall.

  ‘Is her presence such a threat you think to hesitate?’ Louve taunted.

  The g
uard’s eyes narrowed. ‘Lord Warstone does not hire idiots. It’s not the threat, but the deviation from the agreement that I question.’

  A cry, tiny, almost unrecognisable. Her sister was on the other side. Oh, to shove everyone away and fling it open! The guard’s gaze pivoted to her and she knew she made that sound. If they denied her now, she’d never forgive herself for showing emotion, so she actively didn’t look his way.

  ‘What do you think will happen with Lord Warstone,’ Louve said, ‘if I am denied access?’

  The guard’s blank gaze stayed with her, but she kept her eyes straight towards the door. She knew it was dangerous, Margery had written a message and Louve had warned her, but while in the kitchens and under the Steward’s care, then Louve’s, she didn’t feel it. But that dead stare from the guard wound caution tight through her veins.

  Without a sign of capitulation, without a turn of his stare, the guard simply opened the door and stepped aside. Louve entered first; a sound inside of surprise. Bied followed next though the guard’s position forced her to take in his size, his stench.

  She hurried past him and dared a look over her shoulder as the door slammed shut. She hadn’t even turned around when her sister’s arms clasped the side of her. ‘Biedeluue! How did you get here?’

  They were in an antechamber, several narrow windows providing light. Sumptuous chairs and little tables along the walls, ready for...whatever happened in rooms like these. A couple of weeks here in this fortress and the luxury continued to surprise her.

  Aware that Louve went to one of the windows and looked down below, Bied dropped into her sister’s hug. ‘I brought a tray of food up. Jeanne’s slicing vegetables in the kitchens today.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Margery indicated with her chin.

  Her heart swelling with relief, Bied pulled away to simply look at her sister. It was Margery. Safe. Alive. Not looking nearly as uneasy as she had in the Hall. There was still some light in her eyes.