He did an abrupt turn to stare down at her. “We are right about that, aren’t we? You know for certain that Keirthan is responsible.”
There was no use in lying now, especially to a possible ally. She jerked her head in a quick nod. “He is.”
“Do you understand the nature of the evil he is unleashing?”
“Not completely.”
How much should she tell him? Nothing? Everything? She had no desire to oppose Keirthan alone, especially if he was now strong enough to corrupt even her ability to scry. At this rate, his magic would soon grow beyond her ability to counter it at all.
Duncan splayed his hands on the table and leaned across its expanse to glare down at her. “I have no time for guessing games, Lavinia. With every minute we delay, more people suffer and die at the hands of that bastard.”
Her own temper rose up to meet Duncan’s, her hands slapping down on the smooth surface of the table in counterpoint to his. “Then sit down and listen. I am no servant wench to be bullied by the likes of you.”
The brief flare of anger burned itself out. “Please, Duncan.”
He straightened up, his own expression softening. “My apologies, my lady. You are not the proper target for my frustrations.”
Then his mouth softened into a small smile. “Indeed, I cannot ever remember kissing an enemy or even wanting to.”
The air around them crackled with a new energy, a vibration that had nothing to do with the protective wards. After living so long with worry and fear, it was tempting to circle around to the other side of the table and lose herself in Duncan’s strong arms.
But then the moment passed. He winked at her and dropped back down in his chair. She should be relieved. Her life was complicated enough without indulging herself in a bit of lust, which was all it could be. Instead, she was disappointed, almost bereft.
“Back to the matter at hand, then. You and your captain are right. The newest Duke of Agathia is behind the darkness you sense and the attacks on the people of that area.”
Duncan looked confused. “The newest? Has he not held that throne for long?”
“No, Ifre Keirthan assumed the title after Armel, his elder brother, died.”
Duncan sat slouched in his chair, but not for an instant did she think he was taking anything she said lightly. “Was the previous duke anything like this one?”
“Not at all. Like his father before him, Armel Keirthan was a strong ruler, one capable of protecting his land and people from attack. He was known to be both wise and fair. His only weakness was trusting those close to him, and so he did not recognize the viper within his own court.”
She truly did not want to continue. It hurt too much, but she would see it through to the finish.
“Armel was magically gifted far beyond his brother, Ifre. In truth, he had more inborn talent than anyone in his family for several generations running. But Armel was cautious with its use, saying that the stronger the magic, the harder it was to control. Far too often it would turn on the mage and control him.”
“What happened?”
“His younger brother had no such caution when it came to magic, especially because his was the weaker gift. Ifre grew jealous of Armel. Power was his goddess, and he could not understand why his brother did not worship her as he did.
“In the end, Armel died in what was reported to be an accident. His son caused the death, and it is said that it destroyed his mind. Ifre assumed the throne that same day. He went through the motions of a state funeral for Armel, but there was no real grief in him. Outsiders might have been fooled, but those who knew him well were convinced otherwise.”
“You knew him well, then, this Ifre. I would guess that means you lived at court.”
She’d revealed more than she’d meant to, but she couldn’t find it in herself to regret telling him the truth. Besides, if they were to work together efficiently, it would be best if she didn’t have to guard every word she spoke.
“At one time, I knew both Armel and Ifre well, although I left life in the court when I was still quite young. When I was summoned to return for the state funeral, I knew something was amiss. Ifre was entirely too smug when he thought no one was looking, and he was careful to ensure that no one was allowed to speak with Armel’s son or even see him.”
“Did you know the son well?”
“We played together as children, but I have not seen him since I was first sent away to be educated and trained.”
Duncan refilled her tea and then his. “Did you miss your brothers while you were gone?”
She should’ve known Duncan was smart enough to fill in the gaps in her story. “They were my half brothers. But, yes, I did. I still do.”
The past whirled through her mind, reminding her of the good times that were now but dim memories. Lavinia nodded at Duncan’s questioning look, and continued on, although this part of the story was hard for her. “Their mother was the duchess and married to my father, Cambrell. My mother held his heart but not his name. My half brothers were more than a decade my seniors.”
Duncan didn’t press for more answers, but she offered them anyway. “As long as my father was the duke, no one could force him to send my mother away. Theirs was a love match, and his wife tolerated his mistress’s presence only because he would have it no other way.”
For a moment, she was caught up in the past, remembering the precious moments that her father set aside from his duties as duke to spend with her and her mother. Those had been far better days than what came afterward.
“Shortly after my father died, Armel gave in to his mother’s demands that both my mother and I be sent away. I think he would’ve allowed me to stay, but my mother was nothing but an embarrassment to the royal family.”
“Where is your mother now?”
“She died within months of my father. His death broke her heart, and she wasn’t strong enough to stand up to those who shunned us. That was when I was sent here to study. The sisters have been good to me.”
“You’ve spent much of your life here, then?”
“No, I’ve only recently returned to this abbey. I have spent time in several others to continue my education.”
She braced herself. Duncan had made his low opinion of magic and its practitioners all too clear. He already knew that she had some ability with it. How could he not? He’d witnessed firsthand her ability to scry and to work with wards. Both those were considered lesser gifts. She’d often wished that was as far as her abilities had developed.
Duncan set his mug aside and leaned forward, elbows on the table and his expression painfully blank. “The gift for magic bred true in all of your father’s children.”
“Yes, it did. Armel and Ifre inherited their magic from him. My mother had her own abilities, so my gifts are a mix of the two. Ultimately, I was banished from Armel’s court when I used my powers to strike at anyone who had hurt my mother.”
Evidently Duncan had finally run out of questions, because there was nothing but silence between them now.
* * *
Duncan studied the woman sitting across from him. Right now, she looked braced for a blow, obviously expecting him to strike out at her for her earlier lie. “How old were you?”
She blinked twice before answering. “How old?”
“When you attacked the people who hurt your mother?”
“Twelve.”
He looked disgusted. “What did they expect? One minute you were the beloved child of the duke. The next, your father was dead, and, through no fault of your own, you and your mother were ostracized. Of course you fought back. Any child would.”
Lavinia sat up straighter. “You sound as if you’ve had your own experience with something similar.”
If she was going to show him the scars of her past, the least he could do was share his. “My mother was a well-bred gentlewoman entangled in a political match. Instead of wedding her to someone who would appreciate her love of art and music and literature, she was hand
ed over to my father, a brute of a man. Weapons, drinking, and wenching were all that he valued.”
He didn’t mean to say more, but one last bit slipped out. “I took after my mother. He hated me for that.”
If there was sympathy or, worse yet, pity in Lavinia’s expression, he didn’t want to see it. Instead, he dragged her attention back to the restricted area of the library.
“We must learn how to counter the magic Duke Keirthan is practicing. Lady Merewen’s late father accumulated an extensive library, but nothing that held the answers to our questions. In his journal, he described this library, saying that the abbess would let him peruse only a portion of the collection.”
Lavinia accepted the change of subjects without comment. “I’m not surprised. Many of the manuscripts housed here are unique. Most are written in languages no longer spoken or understood.”
He finished for her. “And some cover subjects far too dangerous to be trusted in the hands of just anyone.”
Once again, he leaned forward, letting her see his determination. “I’m not just anyone, Lavinia. Now, we’ve wasted enough time, time I don’t have. Do we work together on this or not?”
“You will still train the guards for us when they arrive?”
“I will.”
Her expression grew harder. “You promise on your honor that you will not attempt to remove any of the books from the abbey?”
He wanted to refuse outright. What if he needed the actual grimoires with him in order to counter the duke’s magic? There might be multiple spells that they would need to access.
Perhaps she would accept a compromise. “I promise not to do so without your knowledge.” He didn’t make her permission part of the requirement.
She was already shaking her head. “No, Duncan, I will have your word on this. The sisters have labored long and hard to gather and preserve this library. Many of the volumes are quite rare.”
Duncan didn’t care. “Not to mention many that are forbidden. I have heard that a prior duke, most likely your father, ordered certain books destroyed. I’m guessing that many of those exact ones are sitting on those shelves behind me.”
“They were forbidden for good reasons.”
This was getting them nowhere. “Perhaps so, but then it is obvious that someone else besides the sisters has held on to copies. Perhaps your father’s intentions weren’t to protect the world from the dark magic, but to make sure that only his bloodline would have access to the knowledge.”
“How dare you! My father ordered those destroyed because of the dangerous knowledge they contained. He was trying to protect his people from those who would twist the magic to their own purpose.”
“Just as your brother is now doing.”
She flinched as if his words had landed an actual blow. “I am not responsible for his actions.”
An ugly thought formed in Duncan’s mind. “A man with a more suspicious nature might wonder about that, Lavinia. After all, it was your father who ordered the books destroyed; yet they still exist. It is also your brother who has invoked spells from the forbidden grimoires. And you, the daughter and sister of the past three dukes, are the one charged with limiting access to the only collection of books that might hold the answers to countering Ifre Keirthan’s dark magic.”
Lavinia had been about to sip her tea. Instead, the cup slipped from her fingers as she stared at him in obvious shock. Her mouth worked, but at first no words came out. When they did, they cut like razors.
“You dare to question my honor! If I were my brother’s partner in this business, why would he use his blood magic to try to assassinate me?”
He studied her reactions and decided her outrage was sincere. To make sure, he prodded her one last time. “Why indeed? A deal that turned out badly for him, perhaps? What did he offer you?”
Her color paled. “He offered me a position of honor in his court if I would assist him with his studies. I refused.”
That much made sense. “And he wouldn’t tolerate such an insult. If you won’t stand with him, then he won’t let you live long enough to stand against him.”
Before she could respond, he kept talking. “I apologize for doubting you, my lady, but it still remains imperative that I begin hunting for answers. The longer we delay, the more likely your brother will succeed in his next attack on you or on those I am sworn to protect.”
Lavinia was busy sopping up the spilled tea, perhaps buying herself time to gather her thoughts.
When she was finished, she clasped her hands in her lap as she spoke. “While we are questioning motives, I have a few suspicions of my own. There were no attacks aimed at the abbey or at me until you arrived. It is only your claim that Musar’s guard brought the coins into the abbey. You also killed the only two men who could’ve given witness to the truth of that story.”
Damn, he’d hoped she wouldn’t put those facts together in quite that way. Again she was showing what an astute mind she possessed. Before he could counter her accusation, she held her hand up to keep him quiet.
“Then, for a man who claims to not like magic, you reek of it. You say you and your captain are bound to protect Lady Merewen. But then again, I have only your word for that.”
“I do not reek of anything, much less magic!”
Her smug smile was most irritating. “Then explain your eyes, Sir Duncan. You think I don’t recognize a man who has been marked by the gods when I see one? Yesterday you could hardly walk because of the wound on your leg. Yet today your limp barely shows. Who are you really? Or better yet, what are you?”
Duncan rose to his feet, the power of the Lady of the River running hot through his veins. He suspected his eyes glowed as he stared down at her.
“I am one of the Damned, Lady Lavinia. Captain Gideon and the four of us who serve with him are also known as the Warriors of the Mist, and we serve the Lady of the River as her avatars. She sends us into the world when there’s a cause she deems just, to do her bidding.”
He had no idea how she would react to his announcement, but she surprised him by immediately leaving the table and heading right into the forbidden section of the library. He trailed after her, hoping she was finally going to allow him access, but the ward snapped closed behind her. He could see but a dim outline of her moving around in the farthest corner of the room.
She wasn’t gone long. She returned carrying a thin volume in her hands. As soon as they returned to the table, she already had it open, flipping through the pages. When she found the passage she was looking for, she stopped to read it. It took a while. Her lips moved as she silently sounded out the words, obviously having to translate the meaning from the original language.
There were various accounts of how he and the others had become the Damned, but they all told the same basic facts. He could’ve read it for her, but at this point he doubted she would’ve trusted him to translate it accurately for her.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes wide with wonder. “The owl is your avatar.”
How did she know that? “Yes, his name is Kiva. Right now he sleeps in my shield in my quarters, but he has been my willing companion even before my service to the Lady.”
“I should’ve recognized your name as soon as you mentioned your captain. There are stories going back for centuries about a band of warriors who appear in times most dire to champion the people the gods have deemed worthy.”
She flipped through several more pages and then turned the book so that Duncan could see it. There was a painting of five warriors, all carrying shields and brandishing swords. All in all, the likenesses weren’t bad, although Gideon would not be pleased to learn such artwork existed.
“That’s my captain on the right. From there stand Kane, Murdoch, me, and our youngest member, Averel.”
Lavinia pulled the book back, studying the picture and then looking at him. “This book is at least five hundred years old. That would mean you and your friends . . .”
When she couldn’t come up with a
number herself, he supplied one. “As near as we can figure, we have not aged a day since we first marched into the river to sleep nearly two millennia ago.”
Obviously she was having a great deal of trouble making her mind believe what was right in front of her. “But, Duncan, you look no more than thirty years of age.”
Good guess. “Physically, I’m but eight and twenty. The world changes. The Damned do not.”
She pulled the book back to her side of the table and continued to read for several minutes. He settled back in his chair, stretching out his legs and leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling—anything to avoid watching Lavinia dive into his personal history, even though it would be a relief to have it out in the open between them.
How would she feel about having kissed a man who’d been born before the language she was reading had ever been spoken? In his time, young women were often wedded to older husbands because it took time for men to establish themselves enough to support a family. A woman would overlook a decade or two in age difference; the same could not be said for a thousand years or more.
That was depressing even though he had no right to even be thinking along those lines. He had taken a vow to serve the goddess. There was no room in his life for a mortal woman.
Lavinia closed the book and stood up. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll adjust the wards to allow you to pass. I understand that you are reluctant to invoke magic of any kind, but I would also like to teach you how to restore the wards yourself.”
His first instinct was to refuse, but there was a note in her voice that had him needing to know more. “Why, Lavinia?”
She blinked hard, trying to hide the thin sheen of tears in her eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before Ifre figures out where I have taken refuge. He’s my brother and knows me well. He could use that knowledge against me and any magic I have used to protect the abbey and the library. He wouldn’t be able to break through your wards, at least not easily.”
Her Knight's Quest: A Warriors of the Mist Novel Page 12
