Lavinia shot him a look that made it clear she found his attempt at subterfuge disappointing. She clarified her question anyway. “How did you know to break the connection? That he could see us?”
“Because I saw you.”
He meandered closer to where she sat, pausing to admire a rose. He’d only seen such color before in the heart of a fire, yellow fading to orange and then to a deep red.
“When I was on the road coming here,” he continued as he sat down beside her. “The first time I sensed your scrutiny I was riding along lost in thought when my horse acted startled. Although I couldn’t see anything threatening, I had the uncanny feeling that someone was watching me. It passed, so we continued on.”
He couldn’t help glancing toward the blackened plants. “That night, I was sitting at my fire when the feeling came back, but stronger this time.”
Lavinia drew his attention back to her. “You jumped to your feet and pulled your sword.”
“That I did.” He offered her a small smile. “I probably looked a proper fool, but the feeling was so real.”
She smiled back. “Not at all. I thought you looked very manly, ready to do battle.”
“Jumping at shadows is not manly,” he countered, but her remark pleased him anyway.
“When I didn’t see anything near me, I happened to look up at the moon and saw your face reflected there. Well, I didn’t know it was your face, just that I saw a beautiful woman looking down at me. It was but a glimpse, one so fleeting that I wasn’t sure I’d actually seen it at all.”
He suspected the flush of color in her cheeks was due to his compliment rather than the wine. She nodded as if something he’d said had just solved a puzzle for her.
“That was why you recognized me at dinner the first night you were here.”
“Yes. It was quite a relief, actually. I thought perhaps my mind was addled. Perhaps it is, but at least I know the lady in the moon was real.”
It was time to ask harder questions. “Who was the man we just saw?”
“Duke Keirthan himself.” She shuddered. “It was clear from the power in those coins that he has grown in strength since we last crossed paths. That blood-eating knife is definitely something new. I’ve never heard of such a weapon. Have you?”
“No, and I’m guessing it’s not a good thing. Have you ever had such a connection with someone through scrying other than with me and Keirthan?”
“No, and I’ve never read anything that would even hint that such a thing was possible. I should go research the matter right now.”
Duncan caught her arm before she could stand. “No, you’ve done enough for one morning. Your hands are trembling, either from weakness or from fear. Either way, you need to rest for a while and then eat a hearty midday meal before you take on anything else.”
She tugged her arm free of his grasp. “Knight, scribe, and now nursemaid. Do you have any other talents I should know about?”
Good, the tartness in her comment meant that her spirit was on the mend. He wondered what her response would be if he mentioned a few other skills he’d like to demonstrate for her. Another kiss would be a good start, and his imagination provided some heated images of where it could lead to. He gave the only answer he could, his words truthful but full of regret.
“Nothing we should explore right now.”
She bit her lip again in the way she did when she was thinking hard about something. “That is too bad, but no doubt you’re right.”
This time when she tried to stand up, he didn’t interfere. “I think I will do as you suggest and lie down for a short time. After we eat, perhaps you would care to join me in the library. I can show you around and then you will tell me what exactly you hope to find.”
He nodded, acknowledging her demand. He would tell her everything he could and hope that it would be enough to convince her to help him.
“I will be honored to join you, my lady.”
He put a little more room between them. “I should return to my own quarters until then.”
She walked away. Unlike earlier, this time she looked back and smiled. “Thank you for saving me again, Duncan. It’s becoming a habit of yours.”
“It was my honor.”
He offered her a quick bow, falling back on the safety of formal manners. As much as he appreciated the invitation to join her in the library, he would’ve liked being invited into her personal quarters even more. He trusted that was an unworthy thought, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.
For now, he’d take advantage of her absence to tear out the dead plants. She didn’t need the reminder haunting her garden just as the memory haunted her eyes. He pulled them out by the roots just as the Damned would soon destroy the last trace of Duke Keirthan, or die trying. If it took the last breath in his body, the last drop of blood in his veins, he would make this world safe for Lavinia.
* * *
Murdoch woke up feeling . . . better? Not good, exactly, but definitely a vast improvement over the past few days. He moved slowly, just in case he was mistaken. No, his body did what he asked of it without complaint and without pain.
Excitement won out over caution as he stood up and took several strides back and forth across the confines of his room. The patter of his feet on the cool stone of the floor sounded strong to him, no longer the weak, old man shuffle he’d been limited to since the night of the battle.
What should he do next? Get dressed and then maybe he’d walk down to the great hall below. He was tired of his own company, and the man in the next room wasn’t the jolliest of companions.
First off, though, a bath was high on his list, provided his wound had finally closed completely. He pulled up the long shirt that had been his sole attire since he’d been wounded.
Facing the window to catch the morning light, he stared down at the jagged scar that stretched across his stomach. Next he poked and prodded at it. Tender but not painful. All good. Yes, a bath could be on the list.
“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.”
The mumbled words were followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Running footsteps, actually. A woman’s steps.
Damnation! Murdoch yanked his bed shirt back down to cover his nether regions. He prayed it had been one of the servants who’d walked in when he was checking out his injuries, leaving more than just his scar open to view.
His luck had obviously run out. More footsteps were coming his way, this set much heavier. Murdoch turned to face his latest guest.
Gideon stepped through the door, a puzzled look on his face. “What happened to send Lady Alina bolting back to her quarters? Did Sigil do something to upset her?”
Murdoch wasn’t about to explain. “Maybe she forgot something.”
Gideon shrugged and ventured farther into the room. “You’re looking less like death and more like someone who needs to get back to work.”
His grin widened. “You know how I feel about my men getting regular weapons practice. I figure you owe me almost a week’s worth of opportunities to bruise you up for worrying us so much.”
Murdoch appreciated the rough sentiment. “Order me up a hot bath and some clean clothes. Once I’m presentable, I’ll follow you down to the bailey and watch you bang blades with Averel or, better yet, Kane. Maybe I’ll even give you some pointers, so that when I’m in the mood to pick up my sword again, you’ll be ready for me.”
For the first time in days he was actually looking forward to the hot sweaty work of weapons practice.
Gideon gave Murdoch a long look. “Truly, how do you feel today?”
Murdoch allowed a small smile to peek through. “Right now even guard duty sounds like fun. Anything is better than being stuck here in bed all day.”
The other man looked both relieved and happy. “That’s good news, my friend. Very good news. I’ll go let the servants know to bring you a bath.”
Then Gideon dropped his voice. “How about Sigil? Any progress there?”
Murdoch thought back to the chess game the two had played the night before. “Physically he is well on his way to full strength. His memory has yet to return. It’s odd the things he does remember: how to play chess, how to read—those sorts of things. I’m guessing if you put a sword in his hand, he would know how to fight. It is only the bits and pieces of who he really is and how he came to serve Keirthan that he cannot recall.”
“How convenient. Mayhap he simply doesn’t want to remember those things.”
That was what Murdoch thought, too, but then who could blame the poor bastard? If he did remember and revealed his true loyalties, then chances were he’d be executed for his crimes. If he didn’t remember, he still had to live with the knowledge that he’d served a master who dealt in death and blood magic.
Sigil was no doubt as sick of the same four walls as Murdoch was. “I’ll bring him down with me. It will do the both of us good to breathe some fresh air.”
“Fine, but keep him close. Not everyone will be happy that we’ve let him live.”
Murdoch made shooing motions toward his friend. “I will. Now run along like a good servant and order a bath and clean clothes for me and our guest next door.”
“Servant, is it?” Gideon flashed him a dark look. “You might want to remember that we will cross swords again.”
He headed for the door, still grumbling. “This is the last day I will play your servant, Murdoch. I have better things to do with my time, and a long list of people to worry about.”
Then he stopped in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re off that list.”
Murdoch nodded. “Me, too.”
He waited until Gideon was gone before checking on their prisoner. Sigil was out of bed, staring out the small window. It was doubtful he could see much through the thick glass, but Murdoch understood his need to see something—anything—beyond the confines of the room. The walls were closing in on them both.
Without looking away from the window, Sigil spoke. “Are you sure you really want to stand close to me if we venture outside? I wouldn’t want you to be hit by a blow aimed for me.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
Sigil finally turned to face him. “And why would you do something so foolish? You’re just now recovering from the kind of wound that would’ve killed most men outright.”
“True, but then I am not most men.”
Sigil considered Murdoch’s words and then nodded. “And I would guess that neither are your three companions—Captain Gideon, Averel, and Kane.”
“Actually, all told there are five of us. You were unconscious when Duncan left the keep.”
Sigil wanted to ask more questions, his curiosity plain in his dark eyes; yet he remained silent. That was all right. Murdoch wasn’t any more eager to share his truth than Sigil was to regain his own memories.
Before their conversation could continue, the first servants arrived, carrying a pair of tubs and buckets of water.
“Sigil, once we’re presentable, I’ll escort you outside. The sunshine will do us both good.”
“Mayhap something out there will bring back more of my memory.”
“Mayhap,” Murdoch agreed, although he wasn’t convinced that would be a good thing. But such things were better left to the gods to decide.
Rather than worry about it, he headed back into his own room. He had his own problems, such as how to apologize to Alina.
Chapter 13
Lavinia stood back and watched the flow of expressions across Duncan’s handsome face: wonder, excitement, and something akin to awe. He wandered from one shelf in the library to the next, his fingers trailing over the old leather and parchment with total reverence.
She knew exactly what he was feeling. She’d experienced the same overwhelming excitement the first time she’d walked into the abbey’s library. She’d been but a child, but the love of learning knew no age limits. A dozen lifetimes wouldn’t be long enough to absorb all the knowledge contained within its walls, but she’d love the freedom to try.
They both had work to do, but nothing would be accomplished until Duncan finished his explorations. She knew better than to get between a scholar and his books. Far better to let him wander at will until that first burst of excitement had time to run its course.
But then he turned abruptly and headed in the wrong direction. She moved to intercept him, but he stopped on his own. After a quick glance back at her, he frowned and held his hand out at arm’s length. He moved his palm in a horizontal line as if tracing a solid wall rather than a powerful, but invisible ward against intruders.
He backed away but still stared at what he shouldn’t have been able to see. “Is this the same thing you created with the circles in the workroom? What would happen if I charged right into it?”
How much to tell him? Some secrets were meant to be kept even from people close to her. But then she thought about how he’d quietly removed the blackened plants so that she wouldn’t have to see them again. His thoughtfulness had touched her deeply. Perhaps it was time she trusted someone, because she couldn’t do this all on her own anymore.
Not after Keirthan had managed to attack her within the abbey walls. Once he traced the destruction of his blood magic coins, he’d try it again. If he couldn’t control her, he’d kill her. It was that simple.
Lavinia joined Duncan. “No, they’re not the same, although the spells are similar in construct and intent. The ones I invoked this morning are meant to keep the magic confined inside them.”
She infused a little more power into the spell so that it flared brightly. “This one is an avoidance ward. The way it’s supposed to work is by making anyone who approaches simply turn back. Most people never realize it’s even there. They just lose interest in whatever they wanted to look at in that part of the library.”
“But I can see it.”
It was difficult to tell from his inflection whether he was stating a fact or asking a question. She did the same thing in reply.
“Only someone with a strong affinity for magic would be able to do that.”
Duncan turned his back on the ward, the pale silver of his eyes glittering with anger. “I have no affinity for magic.”
Could he really not know? “I meant no offense. Perhaps you are an exception, but I know of no other reason that you would’ve sensed the spell.”
He let out his breath in a frustrated puff. “No offense taken. Over my lifetime I have learned to mistrust magic in any form. I obey the Lord and Lady of the River, and they have no tolerance for their followers practicing the dark arts.”
She wanted to argue more, to point out the steady hum of magic she felt whenever she was close to him and that not all magic was dark in nature. For now, however, she needed his cooperation more than she needed his temper.
“Again, I apologize, Duncan. I’m not sure why you are sensitive to the wards.”
It was time to take charge. “Let’s be seated over there.”
She pointed toward a large table a safe distance from where they now stood. Until she better understood Duncan’s true purpose in coming to the abbey, she didn’t want him anywhere near the books and grimoires protected by the barrier.
He paused to study the ward and the books on the far side before following her over to the table. His expression said he knew exactly what he was looking at and that she was deliberately keeping him from exploring them. She sat down in the chair with her back to the wall and motioned him toward the chair on the opposite side.
She’d ordered a pot of tea and some of Sister Margaret’s pastries to be delivered to the library for the two of them to share. Hopefully, a civilized discussion over tea and sweets would garner her more information than an inquisition.
Duncan accepted the offer of tea and stirred in a large dollop of honey. He wrapped his hands around the mug and breathed deeply of the steam. She was about to ask her first question when he started talking.
Rather than meet her gaze, he continued to stare down into h
is tea. “I was sent here by Captain Gideon, my liege, because we need answers, and the abbey is reputed to have a collection of . . .”
His voice trailed off as his attention once again strayed in the direction of the warded section of the library. “Shall we say, rare resources?”
She sipped her tea. “Not that I am admitting that any such books exist, but I find I am most curious. Why would two warriors need to study such books, especially when you say the gods you serve forbid the use of magic?”
Now she had his full attention. Whether that was a good thing or not, she’d yet to decide.
“Let us not play games, Lady Lavinia. We share a common enemy, one who grows more powerful every day. I may not like magic, but I cannot fight against something I don’t understand. The Lady of the River has decreed that Captain Gideon and the men who fight at his side must protect Lady Merewen and her people in Agathia from attack at all costs. We have already accomplished part of that goal by wresting control of her family lands from her uncle, Lord Fagan.”
Lavinia fought down a wave of revulsion. “I met Lord Fagan once and pity anyone who was at his mercy. The man attempts to hide his cruelty beneath a thin coat of charm, but his true nature shows in his eyes and his smile.”
At the moment, Duncan’s own smile was anything but charming. “Be assured the man will no longer be a threat to anyone, especially his niece.”
So Fagan was dead. Keirthan would not be pleased. “I’m surprised that the duke did not come to Fagan’s assistance.”
Another one of those smiles, his eyes focused inward. Whatever images Duncan’s mind held were not pleasant ones. “He did, in fact. Their efforts to regain control of the keep and its lands were not successful.”
All right, then. She’d been right all along about Duncan’s prowess with a sword. His friends must be equally fearsome in battle. “So if Lady Merewen is safe from her uncle now, I repeat my question. Why would you and your liege have need of the forbidden resources you refer to?”
Duncan began pacing in the confined space surrounding the table. “Because from the first day that we were charged to protect Lady Merewen, we’ve known that Lord Fagan was but a symptom of the disease infecting this land. We suspect that Duke Keirthan himself is the source of the contagion. We also believe that his twisted magic is behind the unexplained disappearances of people, not to mention recent attacks on animals.”
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