Dark Warrior (de Russe Legacy Book 9)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Dera, meanwhile, was standing where Cort had left her. Tears were still coming from her eyes, but she was shocked at what had happened with both Brend and Cort. Her hand was at her mouth as her gaze moved between her dazed brother and Cort’s furious face. She was looking at Cort in astonishment when Denys suddenly filled her line of sight.

  “My lady,” he said patiently. “I know you have ties to the rebels. It did not take a genius to figure that out, considering how badly your father wanted you out of Ireland. He wanted you away from the discord you were part of and, evidently, he was correct. I had not planned to interrogate you, but now I find that I must. Your friends hold my castle. They have killed your father and your brother, and there is no telling what they have done to your mother and remaining brothers. Now comes the test of truth for you; is your loyalty to those who resist English rule or is it with your family? I need your help to save them and regain my castle. Will you help me?”

  It was the moment Dera never thought she would face.

  In fact, a situation like this had never crossed her mind. She’d been involved in the rebellion for three years – three years of making connections, of providing information, of actively participating in ambushes and battles, but never once during that time did the rebels she was a part of indicate Mount Wrath was a target.

  In fact, it was understood that her home should not be targeted.

  But clearly, that had changed.

  Everything had changed.

  Dera’s knees gave way and she sank to the floor as Denys rushed to help her. Even though he’d ordered Cort to stand by the door, Cort was suddenly there, lifting Dera into his arms and carrying her to the nearest chair. Once she was gently deposited, he resumed his position by the door. He’d never said a word the entire time. Denys looked at him, greatly curious by his behavior, before returning his focus to Dera.

  “My lady?” he asked quietly. “Would you like some wine?”

  Dera shook her head. Her hand was still on her mouth as if incapable of moving it, struggling to accept what she’d been told. Struggling to accept that, somehow, her family wasn’t exempt from the rebel attacks.

  Her father and brother were dead.

  Who was she more loyal to? It seems that the rebels had made her decision for her.

  She was crushed.

  “Ardie,” she murmured. “Ardie was part of the rebel army. Finn is part of them, too, yet you say they have captured him. Is it really true?”

  Denys was watching her carefully. In her emotional state, her guard was down. “That is what the missive says.”

  “Who wrote the missive?”

  “Brian Dunbin, my garrison commander at my outpost of Belrobin,” he said. “You know the man, I am certain. The refugees from Mount Wrath went to Belrobin and he has requested reinforcements and an army to retake Mount Wrath. What I want to know is what they will be facing and only you can help me, my lady. The next dead brother may be Brend if you do not.”

  That was a powerful blow. Dera’s shoulders slumped. She sat there, staring at her lap, tears trickling down her cheeks and dropping onto her hands.

  “God,” she finally breathed. “This simply isn’t possible.”

  “Why not?”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. Something was hanging in the air, something that was heavy with expectation. Expectation that Dera would finally speak on something they’d been speculating about for days, if not weeks and months. Waiting for her to say the words that would incriminate her. She’d already admitted that her brothers, Finn and Ardmore, were part of the rebel movement. But she hadn’t spoken of herself.

  Not yet.

  Dera was holding back. She wasn’t ready to admit anything yet but it was obvious that she was on the verge. The deaths of her father and brother had pushed her to the edge. It would take very little for her to go all the way over. People she’d trusted, that she’d fought for, had betrayed her.

  Finally, she shook her head.

  “The English are the targets, not other Irish families,” she murmured. “I can only think that, somehow, they targeted my father because he sent me away to England. They did it to punish him for sending me away.”

  “Why would they punish him, my lady?” Denys asked. “Why do you matter to them?”

  “Because I am part of them, too.”

  There it was. What they had been waiting for. The confession was coming far more easily than Denys thought it would and he took advantage of it.

  “Your father knew of your activity with the rebels?”

  She nodded wearily. “He knew.”

  “That is why he wanted you to come to Narborough.”

  Dera looked up at him, pale-faced, her eyes watery with tears. “He did not want me to be part of it,” she said. “He did not want any of us to be part of it. But we felt strongly… strongly that Ireland should be free. I still feel that way.”

  She wasn’t being defiant, but rather stating a fact. Dera believed that her country should belong to its people and she’d never hidden that opinion. As she sat there, staring at her lap, Brend lurched to his feet.

  “Did playing the charming dimwit work for you, Dera?” he said accusingly, rubbing at his jaw where Cort had hit him. “Were you able to glean information from Cort like you said you would? Why don’t you tell him why you have been so nice to him, why you have been so charming and available? Tell him it was because you hoped to bleed information from him about Henry’s plans for Ireland. Tell him!”

  He boomed at her and Dera jumped, turning to look at Cort and feeling utter and complete horror as she heard her own words coming from her brother’s mouth. It was true that she had said that; it was true that she had planned it. But somewhere in the midst of her trying to charm the man, her plans had taken an unexpected turn.

  She felt something for him.

  The kiss today in the privacy of the knights’ quarters had confirmed those feelings as far as she was concerned. She hadn’t even been aware she’d wanted him to kiss her until he had, and then she could think of nothing else.

  Even as she looked at him now, it was all she could think of. His warm mouth on her lips, his big arms around her body. But there was no warmth in his eyes as he looked at her, no humorous glimmer that told her everything was well between them.

  Only cold silence.

  She felt as bad as she possibly could.

  “It’s true,” she said to Cort. “It is true I wanted you to tell me what Henry had planned for Ireland so I could send the information back to my friends. I had hoped to charm you into telling me what you knew but, unfortunately, I did nothing but make a fool of myself. Nothing I did was charming; not eating garbage nor killing your opponent nor taking you to the lake to argue with you. Absolutely nothing. Clearly, I am incapable of being charming. But you, on the other hand, are everything that a maiden dreams of, Cort. Everything.”

  Cort didn’t change expression. “Fortunately, I know more about espionage than you do,” he said evenly. “You learned nothing from me, but I learned a great deal from you. Did you not stop to think that my attention towards you was for the very same reason? We suspected you were with the rebellion. It was up to me to discover the truth. And I did.”

  It was an insult at the deepest level. As Dera looked at him, it occurred to her that all of his smiles and kisses and flattery was an act, too. He’s been playing her for a fool just like she’d tried to play him.

  Feeling grossly embarrassed and deeply hurt, Dera turned away, looking at her lap again. As they watched, her shoulders began to heave gently as the tears came again.

  But Brend was without sympathy.

  “I told you not to do it,” he growled. “I told you not to play your political games here, but you would not listen. Your political games have gotten our father and brother killed, so I hope you’re satisfied. I hope you live with the guilt for the rest of your life, you little fool.”

  Denys held up a hand to quiet him. “Enough, Brend,”
he said. “We are not making any progress in this conversation by continuing to beat your sister into the ground. Dera, what I want to know is the strength of the opposition. I want to know about these rebels you were allied with. Where are they based and how many are there? Tell me now and I will take that into consideration when I decide your punishment.”

  At this point, Dera didn’t even care about punishment. It would be nothing compared to the pain in her heart. She’d lost her brother, her father, and Cort. Perhaps that was the greatest sting of all, losing a man she had quickly fallen for. He’d made her see that there was more to life than the fight for freedom and the cold cheers of victory.

  There was love.

  Everything was her fault. She’d taken the risk and she had failed.

  Nothing mattered any longer.

  “They operate in small groups,” she said, wishing the heavens would open up and lightning would strike her dead. “There is no great central army, at least not north of Drogheda. There are small groups in Lisnadara, Kilkerly, Lennonstown and Knockbridge. They are small on their own. But together, they are sizable. There are even more out in the country, away from the coast. Those men are fighting animals; they do what they are told by those of us close to The Pale, but they fight furiously.”

  That was a great deal of information and Denys listened carefully. “How many men would you say there are near Mount Wrath?”

  She sighed faintly. “Altogether, two thousand or more,” she said. “But there are more to the north and to the south. Mayhap there are only two thousand near Dundalk, but there are thousands more all over the country. We are simply a very small part of a larger movement.”

  Denys digested that, glancing up at Dillon and Brend. Dillon shook his head in disbelief and disgust while Brend wouldn’t look at him at all. He was pale and drawn, with a massive red mark on the left side of his jaw.

  And then there was Cort.

  The way the man had struck Brend suggested there was emotion behind it. The way Dera had spoken to him, apologizing to him, suggested she felt something more for Cort than simply polite regard. It occurred to Denys that with all of the mutual attempts to charm one another going on, something unexpected had happened. While he felt a good deal of pity for Dera and Brend at the loss of their family members, there was far more going on here than met the eye.

  But he couldn’t deal with that now. He had more important things to focus on, not the least of which was regaining his property of Mount Wrath. He looked at Cort.

  “Cort,” he said quietly. “Write a missive to your father immediately and ask for as many men as he can spare. Tell him why. Send the missive today. I will send word to Norwich Castle, Thetford, and other de Winter properties for support. I will even send word to Thunderbey Castle, to the Earls of East Anglia.”

  Cort nodded, very businesslike. “My lord, if I may suggest sending word to Wellesbourne Castle also,” he said. “They can send men to meet up with your armies in Blackpool. My brother at Shrewsbury will also send men.”

  Denys was nodding as he pondered all of the troops he could summon. “I only have three vessels docked in Blackpool, but my allies, the de Cleveleys, have another four ships. They have lands in Ireland, too. With seven ships, we can send at least five thousand men.”

  “Then I will send word to Deverill, Wellesbourne, and Shrewsbury,” Cort said. “The missives will be ready within the hour.”

  “Good,” Denys said. “Be on your way. But take Lady Dera to the vault first and lock her up until I decide what’s to be done with her.”

  Cort didn’t even flinch. He marched up to Dera, took her by the arm, and pulled her out of the chair. Without another word, he quit the solar, prisoner in-hand.

  Dera wished she could die. Cort’s grip on her was strong to the point of being biting, but she didn’t complain. She didn’t complain about anything. She’d already said enough and now he knew that everything she’d done had been deceitful.

  But her heart was breaking into a million pieces.

  The vault of Narborough was in the eastern tower, a massive tower near the stables that had a big stone staircase leading to the sublevel where there were three iron-barred cells. Guarded by a big, iron gate with a heavy lock, it was the only source of air and light to the sublevel. Since there weren’t any prisoners in the vault at the moment, there weren’t any guards, and Cort yanked open the gate and took her down the stairs, taking the keys from a hook on the wall to unlock the door to the smallest cell.

  Pulling it open, he led her inside.

  Still, Dera didn’t say a word. She couldn’t even look at him. What she got wasn’t what she deserved and she knew it. Traitors often suffered a painful death. Perhaps she still would. But not before she said her farewells to Cort.

  Even if he didn’t want to hear it.

  As the cell door clanged shut and he locked it, she spoke.

  “At first, it was true that I wanted to seduce you so that I could get information on Henry’s intentions in Ireland,” she said quietly. “What I never expected was to forget why I was trying to charm you in the first place. What I mean to say is that just being with you, laughing with you, hearing you challenge me to eat garbage, took precedence over what I was trying to accomplish. I know you will not believe me when I say that just being with you meant something to me and I do not blame you, but I wanted you to know. My intentions may have started out dishonorable, but in the end, they were anything but. Thank you… thank you for making me feel as I have never felt in my life. I shall cherish it always. And you.”

  Cort didn’t say a word. He went to the hook, hung the keys up, and headed up the stone steps.

  Dera sat on the moldering ground and wept.

  “The missive to my father is ready, my lord,” Cort said. “I have already sent it with a messenger, along with the missives to Wellesbourne Castle and Shrewsbury Castle.”

  It was barely an hour since the revelations in Denys’ solar. Cort had gone off to write his missives while Dillon and Brend remained with Denys, planning their return to Ireland. As Cort entered the solar, he could see the maps spread out over Denys’ table.

  The war council had begun.

  “Excellent, Cort,” Denys said. “I should expect to hear from them very shortly, at least within the month. Will you sit with us now? We could use your expertise.”

  “No, thank you, my lord,” he said. “I have a few things to attend to.”

  Cort was as tightly wound as anyone had ever seen him. He was stiff and professional, not at all like the congenial charmer he usually was. In fact, he stood far away from Brend, who was sitting at the table and refused to look at him. Brend, a man he loved dearly and had lashed out at without thought.

  All because he thought Dera was in peril.

  That had been foremost on Cort’s mind as he’d written the missives to his father, brother, and Matthew Wellesbourne, lord of Wellesbourne Castle and his father’s best friend. Cort knew he had lost control with Brend, which wasn’t like him. But the moment Dera was threatened, he had acted on instinct.

  That was before he found out that her attention towards him had been an act.

  He was hurt. Aye, he could admit it to himself. He was a man who never let personal emotions get the better of him, but Dera had. He wasn’t sure why he should be hurt considering he had done the same thing to her, but he was. They’d both been so busy trying to seduce one another that they’d fallen for each other. At least, he had fallen for her, and if he was to believe what she said when he left her in the vault, the same could be said for her.

  But how could he believe her?

  He just didn’t know.

  So, he’d returned to the knights’ quarters to write out the missives to his father and brother and Uncle Matthew, but all the while, he was thinking of Dera down in that cold vault with nothing for comfort. She had no blankets, no food, no bed… nothing. That’s why he didn’t want to sit in on the war council.

  He wanted to bring
Dera a few things to get her by until Denys decided what to do with her.

  And that brought up another problem.

  Cort didn’t want her punished.

  “Cort?” Denys said. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Cort hadn’t. He’d been daydreaming. He shook his head. “Forgive me,” he said. “My mind is ten steps ahead, already in Ireland. What did you say?”

  It was a smooth lie, but Denys was none the wiser. “I asked you what you had to attend to,” Denys repeated patiently. “We can wait for you if it is something you will accomplish quickly.”

  Cort wasn’t sure if he could accomplish what he needed to do quickly. He sighed heavily, looking at Denys and Dillon and finally Brend.

  “I suppose I can do it quickly,” he said. “But before I go, let me ask you something, if I may. How soon do you plan to depart for Ireland?”

  Denys lifted an eyebrow. “Within the month, at least. What did you tell your father?”

  “The same.”

  “It will take us at least three weeks to reach Blackpool where the ships are moored,” Denys said. “After that, seven or eight days across the Irish Sea to Dundalk, providing the weather is good. If it is not, it will take longer. This will not be a swift trip by any means. Although you have sent for your father’s troops, will you be leading them? You divide your time between Henry and your father, so what do you plan to do?”

  Cort thought on that. “I assumed I would go,” he said. “I am sure that is what Henry wishes for me to do. He will want a first-hand account of the turmoil from me.”

  “Isn’t what my sister gave you enough?” Brend spoke up, his tone dull with emotion. “Isn’t what I gave you enough, Cort? You came here to report on her. You have your information.”

  Since Brend was speaking to him, Cort looked him in the face. “You are a knight sworn to de Winter,” he said steadily. “If de Winter asked you to discover information that could very well save thousands of lives, you would do it without question. I am not sure why you have suddenly developed this anger towards me for doing my duty, Brend. We have known each other long enough, and well enough, that you should understand and be supportive.”