by Morgan Henry
Merrin and Aenid walked silently down to the small hill. Aenid was not happy with Merrin’s behavior. The man was behaving as if she were brainless and helpless. A little voice in her head wondered if he was acting like an idiot because he cared about her welfare. She dismissed it. She would not allow him to treat her like a fragile flower.
* * * *
Merrin had sorted through the prisoners and ascertained which were the highest-ranking soldiers left. It turned out they had a cousin to the heir of Torquin as their involuntary guest. Merrin left him until last, preferring to glean what information he could from the lower-ranking men first.
As much as he hated the idea, he called for Lady Aenid to join him for the interrogation. It wasn’t that he thought she was incapable of providing valuable assistance. It was that he didn’t want her exposed to any more of the unpleasantness of war than she had already seen. If he were truly honest with himself, he realized that was a double standard. He was prepared for her to be a Baroness in all ways, except when it came to getting her hands dirty, so to speak.
He sighed to himself. Deep down inside there was in inner voice that was a tiny whisper that said if he truly loved and supported her, he might have to get over his prejudices. He did love her. He knew that now more than ever. Her dedication to her people, her inner strength and courage during the hunt for the invaders, and her intelligence and beauty were a hard combination not to love. No simpering, pandered woman had ever attracted him.
The fact that he wanted her absent guards beheaded was indication enough that he had fallen hard for her. He wasn’t going to actually behead them, but they weren’t going to be happy by the time he was through.
After a couple of hours speaking to the lower-ranked soldiers, this cousin, Amard, was in the interrogation tent waiting for him. Merrin needed a breath or two of fresh air to get his mind focused for this interrogation. It was now late and he was tired from the exertions of the day. The air would help wake him, as would the coffee he was sipping.
He had sent for Aenid. As much as he would like to let her curl up in her tent and sleep, he would follow his King’s orders and use her talents. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he hoped it would show Aenid that he valued her and her abilities.
Merrin saw her walking over to him, flanked closely by her two new guards. That made him smile. “My Lady,” he greeted her solemnly. She had cleaned up and changed her clothes since he last saw her. She now wore another of her serviceable gowns with split skirts, this one in dark blue. Her hair was pulled back into a smooth, tidy braid.
“Merrin,” she returned. “I was starting to wonder if you would call for me at all.”
He smiled ruefully. “In all honesty, I would rather let you sleep.”
“You are always an honest man,” she said grudgingly. “I would rather you sleep as well, but we must serve our King.”
“Too true,” he agreed. “I would like to speak to you about the interrogation.”
Aenid raised her eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I assume you have never had to interrogate war prisoners?” At her nod, he continued. “I don’t intend to use violence to get him to talk, but I may have to resort to it. He will likely resist answering questions. This is a cousin to the emperor of Torquin, so he knows he will likely be ransomed back eventually.”
“What do you want to know from him most?”
“The extent of involvement of Bruson, the longer-term plans for Torquin’s apparent campaign against Kerban, the schedule for this army to get to Dyfal.” He shrugged. “And anything else we manage to uncover.”
Aenid nodded. She could admit to herself she was nervous about this. She had every confidence in her ability to truthsay, but was worried about what more she would learn about Merrin. Would her tender lover turn out to be a vicious tormentor? She knew he was dedicated to his King and country and would do whatever it took to protect Kerban. If she were going to reject him for his continued overprotective manner and lack of respect for her position, would this side of him be the final death knell for their relationship?
Chapter 15
They walked to the interrogation tent together. It was set out on its own, ringed by much of the camp to prevent any escape of its inhabitants. Merrin and Aenid entered the structure. The interior of the tent was lit with a few lamps hanging from the supports. Amard was seated at a table, his bound hands resting on the wood surface in front of him. His armor had been taken away, but he still wore his Torquin surcoat. He had pale skin and blond hair. His nose was a sharp beak between his pale blue eyes, and his lips were thinned in displeasure.
There were two other chairs at the table in the tent. Merrin graciously seated Aenid in the one on the right. Merrin settled himself directly in front of Amard. There was paper and writing implements in front of him.
Merrin leaned forward and cut the leather ties binding Amard’s hands. He poured a drink of water from the pitcher on the left of the table for each of them. Merrin took a healthy swallow from his goblet.
Amard’s mouth twisted, and he drained his own goblet. He reached over and refilled it from the pitcher and drank again. “Thank you,” he said with a grudging tone to his voice.
Aenid released her abilities. She centered herself with a deep breath and felt kerfios flow through her. She allowed tendrils of kerfios to surround Amard, herself, and Merrin. Through the power she could sense that Amard’s words were true, but doubted they were sincere.
“My apologies,” said Merrin. “I had no intent to leave you without water. I assure you that your men have had food and drink as well.”
“Good.” Amard stared hard at Merrin with his pale blue eyes.
Merrin took a deep breath and stared back, equally as hard. “My name is Merrin. I am the King’s Champion. You know we want information from you. Will you speak freely?”
“Your reputation precedes you, Lord Merrin. You’re known as a fearsome interrogator, one who won’t stop until he has the answers he wants.” Amard’s deep voice was slightly accented but he spoke with little inflection in his voice.
“I have no wish to harm you, but I need answers. You would do no less in my position.” Merrin spoke quietly and calmly, and his words were all the more frightening to Aenid because of this.
“I’m assuming your little pet here is a truthsayer?” Amard enquired.
“The lady is indeed the king’s truthsayer and a Baroness in her own right. You would do well to remember this and treat her with respect and politeness.” Merrin’s voice was still soft, but somehow much harder.
Amard paled just a little at the deadly tone in Merrin’s voice. “I apologize, Lady. I guess it’s a good thing you’re here. Surely Merrin won’t stoop to bloody torture with you in the tent.”
“Don’t count on that.” Merrin’s voice was flat.
Aenid couldn’t help but give a little shiver. Merrin was telling the truth. She could sense that he completely believed he would torture Amard if necessary. Part of her was appalled that he would inflict grievous harm on a helpless man. But then she realized two things. First, that this was his duty, to his King and to Kerban, and Merrin would protect both to the best of his ability. This was something she could understand for she would do so as well. She knew he would take no joy in this particular duty and it gave her some comfort. Second, she realized that if he was willing to torture Amard in her presence, he was willing to show her all of his nature. That surprised her, and somehow softened her heart toward him a little, but only a little.
“Lord Merrin tells you the truth,” Aenid said quietly as she looked at Amard. “I would prefer you spare yourself. There are Healers here who can assist him in drawing out the torture longer than you can imagine.”
Amard paled further. “You truly are vile creatures,” he spat.
“No more so than you, but I see little point in debating cultural differences right now. We will protect our borders, and we will not allow our way of life to be threatened. You have invaded Kerban and we must respond.
Will you answer our questions now?” Merrin asked.
“Yes,” he muttered.
“Then we will begin.”
Merrin questioned Amard for what seemed like a very long time. Amard grudgingly gave information on his mission. He was to lead this band into Kerban and to Duke Bruson, who would house the troops over the winter and see they were trained and battle ready for the spring. They were then to join a larger force entering through Clawynd and push into Neath and Bridgend, hopefully taking Kerfaen and thus Kerban, or at least most of the kingdom. Amard didn’t have the details, but he seemed to think that Clawynd was under Bruson’s control somehow.
As the questioning wound down, Aenid felt that Amard was holding something back. Truthsaying was limited to some extent by the questions. She could tell if his answers were true, but if they were not asking the right questions, it was entirely possible to miss out on important information. The tendrils of kerfios surrounding Amard were enabling her to truthsay as well as giving her a heightened sense of his physical responses to Merrin’s questioning.
She could sense that Merrin was close to releasing him back to the rest of the prisoners. She couldn’t let him go without trying to find out the last secret Amard was holding back.
“There is something you’re not telling us,” Aenid said to Amard.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said flatly.
“You’re lying. You have more information that you know is important to us, but you’re trying to hide it.” Aenid’s voice was equally as flat.
There was silence in the tent. A muscle ticked in Amard’s jaw, the tension thick in the tent. He looked at Merrin. Aenid couldn’t see Merrin’s face well, but she saw and felt Amard flinch.
“Bruson’s been warned,” he finally said. “I sent him a message that you were following us. He’ll be prepared for you, holed up in that Keep of his.”
“What else?” Merrin asked.
Amard grimaced. “I don’t know if he got through, but I sent another messenger to warn him we were attacked.”
“Any more?”
“No, that’s it. I swear.” Amard looked at Aenid for confirmation.
“Truth,” she murmured.
Merrin nodded at her. “We’re done for now.”
He summoned the guard and had Amard removed. He finished making a few notes, then rose, offering Aenid his hand.
She took it and rose, surprised when he pulled her into his arms. For several long moments, he just held her. Aenid felt as if he were being comforted by her, rather than trying to give her comfort. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back gently, a little confused.
“I am a lucky man to have you here,” Merrin said, his voice thick with emotion.
Aenid tightened her hold around him. She wasn’t sure what to think. Where was the overprotective knight that tried to stifle her? “You’re exhausted, and so am I. Let’s make our report to the king and get some rest. Tomorrow won’t be easy either.”
Merrin gave a short bark of laughter. “I think it’s tomorrow already.”
They exited the tent and found King Graydon in his own tent. It was a good size, but not as lavish as one might expect for the ruler of a prosperous kingdom. He did have a cot, table and chairs, but otherwise the tent was similar to the rest in the camp.
After the requisite polite greetings, Merrin informed His Majesty of the results of their interrogation.
Graydon sighed. “It’s unfortunate that Bruson knows we’re coming. That Keep of his is virtually impregnable. I’m not keen on starving him out, since it’s all the others in the keep that will suffer for his treachery.”
“May I suggest, Sire, that we leave the plans for attack for tomorrow? We all need some rest and will think clearer in the morning,” Merrin said as they watched the king yawn.
“It is already tomorrow,” Graydon grumbled.
Aenid couldn’t help but laugh at that. When Graydon looked at her quizzically, she said, “I think Lord Merrin and I had this exact conversation a few minutes ago, Sire.”
His Majesty smiled ruefully. “In that case, we’re all starting to repeat ourselves and it’s a sign we need some rest. I order you to bed,” he said with humor.
Merrin laughed at that. “I cannot argue with the king,” he said and bowed low with a flourish.
“Don’t mock me or I’ll string you up by your thumbs.” The king growled, but he smiled broadly to let them know he was joking.
* * * *
Merrin had hauled Aenid into his tent that night. They had not been in the same tent since leaving the manor house at Clawynd. Aenid was too conflicted about Merrin. She wanted more of the sexual pleasure she experienced in bed with him, but what was the point if he didn’t respect her? She would only be setting herself up for heartache, since she wouldn’t be his lover or wife if he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that she was Baroness of Clawynd.
She was surprised when he pulled her into his tent, murmuring that he needed her close by. She told herself that she was too tired to resist him, but deep down, she knew that she, too, wanted to feel him next to her.
Aenid awoke late the next morning. Or at least she assumed it was late by the brightness in the tent and the noise outside. Merrin was still asleep beside her, lying on his back, his arm flung out to the side. She was cuddled into his other side, her head resting in the hollow where his arm met his body. She couldn’t help it last night. She wanted to touch him, to be close to him again. She told herself it was lust, the wanton desire for his fine body and not truly a deep connection. She was fascinated with the hard planes of muscle that made up his body, the feel of his crisp chest hair, the hardness of his cock, and the softness of the skin of his sac.
She caressed his chest as she lay there, thinking. They had prevented the force from holing up at the keep of Dyfal, but the traitorous rat Bruson was still safe and warned they were coming. They had only accomplished half of their goal.
It frustrated Aenid. She was determined to keep Kerban safe. The memory of the collar around her neck ensured that she would do anything to keep Torquin out of her country. There was no way she would submit to that torture again, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. If anything, she wanted to invade Torquin and liberate anyone who had one of the silver devices around their neck.
She was somewhat familiar with Bruson’s keep from her incarceration and subsequent escape. There was no way anyone could get in unless they went through the front gate, and that led into the courtyard where Bruson’s archers could pick them off from the inner walls. She suspected that Bruson had an escape route, but she had no idea how to find it, and it was unlikely they could get a significant force through it.
So, how to get into the first courtyard and past it to the inner keep? Bruson would never invite them in, now that he was aware the king knew of his treachery. And the king wasn’t stupid enough to walk into the first courtyard and be trapped. Starving Bruson out wasn’t a great idea, either. He would allow everyone else to die, and head out his escape hole when things got desperate enough.
She ruminated on the problem for a bit. Merrin finally started to stir under her wandering fingers.
Merrin rumbled deep in his chest. “If you keep that up, there’s no telling what I’ll do,” he said sleepily.
Aenid jumped and gave a small laugh. Caught. “I may be able to guess, but we would likely be interrupted by Setha bringing coffee.”
Merrin sighed. “I’m not sure I want the entire camp to hear you scream in pleasure anyway.” He quickly rolled over and on top of Aenid, taking her lips in a passionate morning kiss. “Those cries will be for me alone,” he murmured into her ear, his voice deep and husky with desire. She shivered involuntarily under him, responding to the sexual promise in his voice.
He nuzzled her cheek and started to get up. Micha had left clean pants and a tunic out for him and Merrin started to put them on.
“Merrin,” began Aenid hesitantly.
“Yes, love?”
“I have an idea of how we can get into Bruson’s Keep.
“Oh?”
Aenid hesitantly told him her idea.
“That’s actually not bad,” he mused when she finished. “It flies in the face of all tried and true battle tactics, but we need to deal with Bruson. And the quicker, the better.”
Setha scratched at the tent flap then, and brought in morning coffee and breakfast for the two of them.
“His Majesty has asked to see you when you have breakfasted,” she informed them. “He gave strict instructions not to wake you. I’ve your riding habit cleaned as best as we’re able and laid out for you when you’re ready, My Lady.”
“Thank you, Setha,” Aenid said warmly. “After yesterday, anything remotely clean will be most welcome.”
The two ate quickly, and Setha had Aenid washed and dressed in short order. The king may have left orders not to wake them, but it was a fool who dallied when summoned by their ruler.
They found King Graydon sitting at a table outside his tent. There were papers piled neatly in front of him and he was reading one intently as they approached. His clothing was clean and tidy, but he had the air of a man that hadn’t slept much.
Merrin and Aenid made their greetings to their King.
“It seems likely Amard’s messenger got through to Bruson. The trackers found what is likely his trail heading toward the keep and it’s old enough that he’ll be there well before us,” the king informed them. “There goes any hope we have of surprise, not that there was much to begin with.”
“Actually, Sire, Lady Aenid has come up with an idea that may get us into the keep.” Merrin couldn’t keep the sly smile off his face.
“Oh?” Graydon looked intently at Aenid.
She blushed and dipped her head. “It is only an idea, Sire. We’ll have to plan more to pull it off. If we can.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“Sire, shall we move into the tent for some privacy while we discuss this?” Merrin asked.
