Alina’s suffering had etched its mark on her pretty face. “If you insist.”
“I’ll summon servants to bring the bath while I return to my workshop to fetch the herbs. I shan’t be gone long.”
Before she stepped through the door, she turned back to face Alina. Maybe she could offer the woman a small bit of hope. “This will not happen to you again. This I swear.”
For the first time, Alina showed a spark of emotion, even if it was fear. “Merewen! What have you done?”
“Now is not the time, but take comfort in the knowledge that Fagan will never—never—lay a hand on either of us again.”
Rather than risk sharing another word, Merewen left in search of the servant woman who saw to Alina’s needs.
“Magda, your mistress has need of you. Have a bath sent up for her and take her something light to eat. I’ll return shortly with some of my special herbs for her bath. They’ll help to soothe her—her spirit.”
Magda’s eyes were clouded with age, but still she saw enough. “I’ll go see to my lady. And thank you, mistress, for helping her. She’s known little enough of kindness in her life for some time now.”
Merewen could only nod. Her aunt’s suffering had been well-known to everyone within the household, but all had been powerless to stop it.
She hurried down the steps, hoping to make it to her workshop and back to her aunt’s room unseen. She made it only halfway through the hall before luck deserted her.
“Where in the gods’ names have you been?”
Olaf’s roar brought all activity to an immediate halt.
Merewen ignored the stares. “I was out on my rounds, seeing to the livestock and checking on the herds.”
Having answered his question, she started past him. She should have known better. He planted himself back in her path, his fists on his hips as he glared down at her.
“Was there something else you needed? I have duties to see to now.”
The flicker of unholy heat in his gaze pointed out her poor choice of words. “Yes, there is something I need of you, but it will have to wait. Soon, though, soon.”
But only because her uncle had told him so. She never thought she’d be grateful to Fagan for anything. Of course, he’d only forbidden Olaf to bed her before his return. That didn’t mean he couldn’t beat her if he so desired.
And he desired. It was there in the gleam of his beady eyes and the way he just licked his lips.
“I apologize for not telling you where I was, and I won’t neglect informing you of my plans again.”
She tried to look cowed by his displeasure. “If you don’t have need of me right now, I promised Lady Alina I would bring her some of that special soap she likes so much.”
For a minute, she thought he was going to let her pass unharmed. Instead, as she sought to walk around him, he tangled his fingers in her hair and yanked her up to her toes. He dragged her so close that her head was filled with the stench of unwashed male and garlic.
“You think you are too good for the likes of me, wench, but that’s going to change and soon. Considering what your uncle and the duke have planned for you, the day will come when you’ll be damned glad to spread your legs for me.”
He shoved her, sending her stumbling back into a nearby wall. “I don’t care what your aunt wants or needs any more than your uncle does. Fetch my dinner, and maybe I’ll reconsider your punishment for leaving the keep without my permission.”
She didn’t bother to reply. Nothing would change his mind, not if he was determined to humiliate and hurt her again. If the warriors weren’t there to stop him, she’d survive. She had before.
Knowing that, she straightened her shoulders and walked away. Olaf’s meal would wait until she fetched the herbs from her workshop. One of the servants could take them to Alina.
And rather than dwell on what Olaf had planned for her that evening, she focused on the knowledge that this was the last night he would terrorize her or her people.
Chapter 14
Gideon reined in Kestrel and waited for Kane to catch up. The sun hovered right over the horizon, bathing the world in shades of red and gold. It was beautiful to look at but far too revealing. If they traveled much farther, they risked being seen by the sentries at the keep.
Kestrel didn’t protest when Scim swooped down to land on Gideon’s arm. After giving the horse a few seconds to accept the bird’s presence, Gideon lowered his arm to let the gyrfalcon step off onto the specially designed perch on the front of Gideon’s saddle.
Kane had yet to call forth his own companion. Hob didn’t do well in sunlight, even at the dimming of the day. They also couldn’t risk running into anyone with Hob running loose. While Gideon could easily pass as a nobleman with a penchant for falconry, Kane couldn’t. His eyes flared red in times of high emotion, especially right before a battle. Coupled with Hob, the pair would send most humans screaming. As amusing as that might be, it certainly wouldn’t help their chances of approaching the keep unnoticed.
Kane stood up in his stirrups to look ahead. “We must be close.”
Gideon agreed. “We are. The gate is only a short distance beyond that bend you can see just ahead.”
Both men dismounted to rest the horses. Gideon took a long drink of water and then offered the skin to Kane, who shook his head.
Gideon stuck it back in his pack. “It shouldn’t be long now. Once the sun touches the horizon, I’ll position myself on the far side of the palisade.”
Kane’s laugh was unexpected. “I can’t believe you’re really going to attempt to breach the walls that way.”
To be truthful, neither could Gideon, but if he succeeded, they’d have four of the warriors within the keep and only Kane left to come through the gate itself. It would be helpful to know how many men Fagan had left behind to guard the keep. They hoped a few would side with Gideon and his men out of loyalty to Merewen’s father, but how many? It would be better not to count on any assistance at all.
“If I can slip into the keep early, I can prevent Lady Merewen from getting right into the middle of the fighting.” Gods above, he hoped so.
Kane’s mouth quirked up in a brief smile. “I’ve never known you to worry so much about one woman before. But then the others we’ve championed were content to stand back and let us do all of the fighting.”
And the bleeding. That much was true. Most of their applicants had been too beaten down by their oppressors to have the strength to fight back on their own. Merewen was defiantly different to the point of being reckless.
“Our calling has always been to protect those the gods found worthy of saving. I will not allow her to get hurt. She has suffered enough abuse at the hands of one who should have protected her.” He looked to the darkening sky. “I sense she is in danger far worse than just Fagan’s neglect and abuse.”
All trace of humor disappeared in Kane’s expression. “You think she might be a target for the dark magic that has been invoked in this land?”
“I think her uncle is hungry enough for power and gold that he would sacrifice her to get it. I suspect he has struck a foul bargain with the duke.”
Fear for Merewen made him restless. As he paced, Scim picked up on his tension and drummed his wings. The noise made Kestrel restive as well. Gideon fought down his emotions, struggling to find the cold, unemotional warrior he’d always been.
It was hard. This intense connection to Merewen had him taking risks he wouldn’t normally consider. He’d always done as the gods commanded by relentlessly defending those who’d called the Damned from the river. For the first time, he was willing to risk everything, to lay down his life if it meant Merewen could live in peace.
Did this power she had over him strengthen his determination to prevail, or did he risk disaster by letting thoughts of her cloud his thinking? How was he to know?
“Tell me more about what you sense in this magic.”
Now Kane’s gaze was drawn to the north and east. “Such disc
ussions are better left for the bright light of day. Suffice it to say that once unleashed, it will demand sacrifice of life and blood until it reaches full strength.”
“And when that happens?”
His friend turned a bleak smile in his direction. “Then nothing and no one will be safe. The gods themselves will be hard put to contain the damage it will do.”
Gideon moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend, a position comforting in its familiarity. “Is this something that can be fought with sword and shield?”
“Perhaps.” Kane shrugged. “It’s been too long since I last studied the magic my family practiced. The dangers in invoking such power remain clear in my mind, but the details are but dim memories. Our best hope in finding a way to stop it lies with Duncan’s search.”
Gideon would far rather rely on something solid, like his sword. “Would an ordinary man’s library include such lore?”
Kane drew circles in the dust with a stick. “Perhaps not, but then Lady Merewen’s father did own the old text that had the terms of our calling in it. It would seem from what she told Duncan that her father assembled a substantial collection.”
He snapped the stick in half and tossed it away. “My grandfather’s library would certainly have had the information we needed. I have no idea what became of his spell books after he was killed. Much knowledge was likely destroyed by those who executed him and razed his home to the ground.”
The loss of Kane’s family was something he rarely talked about. He’d never been one to show the true depths of his feelings, but Gideon knew his friend still mourned the passing of his mother. His grandfather was another matter entirely.
As Gideon stood staring up at the fading sun, an unexpected wave of terror washed over him, strong enough to buckle his knees and to leave him flailing for balance. Kane managed to catch him before he hit the ground.
Kane’s second effort jerked Gideon back upright. “What in the name of the gods is wrong with you?”
Gideon drew a ragged breath, searching for control. It was slow in coming. “I’m not sure.”
Then he was. As certain as the moon would rise, Merewen was in trouble. This crippling fear he was feeling wasn’t his, but hers. Someone was threatening her, hurting her.
He fought for his balance, Then he jerked free from Kane’s grasp and took off at a dead run for Kestrel. “It’s Lady Merewen. She’s in danger.”
“How do you know?” Kane asked as he vaulted onto his own mount.
“From the beginning, the gods have forged a connection between us that I cannot explain. Right now, Lady Merewen is beyond scared. She’s terrified.” He urged Kestrel forward. “We need to ride hard. Now.”
Kane moved up beside him, shouting over the sound of pounding hooves and pulses. “I will wait nearby for Murdoch to open the gate.”
“I don’t see any alternative.”
The sun was about to slip out of sight. At least he’d have the cover of darkness. And when he found the bastard who was terrorizing Merewen, blood would run.
Averel strolled slowly along the walkway, his eyes constantly on the grasslands outside the keep. Like Murdoch’s, the young warrior’s ability to see in the dimmest of light was superior to that of the merely human guards. Only Kane had better vision at night, but that was due to his family’s ties to the darkest of magic.
Murdoch reversed directions when he reached the far corner and started back toward the center. He hoped Merewen had taken his advice to stay cloistered in her rooms after checking on Alina.
Unfortunately, that would be out of character for her. His replacement was due to arrive soon. Once he was off duty, he’d check on Merewen and perhaps her aunt. His hand strayed to the dagger in his belt at the thought of Lady Alina.
His instincts were telling him that she’d remained sequestered in her rooms for more sinister reasons. Telling himself that Merewen would have gotten word to him if Alina had been seriously injured, he made the turn again and counted off the steps to the corner.
Back and forth he went, going nowhere, just as he had done for so much of his life, for so long. He never regretted standing at Gideon’s side on that day centuries ago when their lives had been turned upside down and inside out. Without Gideon’s intervention, Murdoch would have likely died at the hands of Warwick, his liege lord.
He owed Gideon both his life and his sanity. He would stand with the captain as long as the gods decreed the five of them would live in this endless cycle of cold sleep alternating with the brief tastes of life—if three months of walking, talking, breathing air, all accompanied by endless fighting, could be called living.
Each time they answered the call, they all secretly prayed it would be the last time. Surely the gods would eventually grant them peace.
But for now, their purpose was clear, and he needed to remain focused. Averel was coming toward him. He stopped and waited for him to ensure the other guards would not overhear their conversation.
His friend looked puzzled. “Your relief has been here for several minutes. I thought you were in a hurry to make sure all is quiet inside the hall before Gideon and Kane arrive.”
For the first time, Murdoch realized how dark it had gotten. “I have been lost in thought. Sorry.”
Before Averel could reply, the cry of a raptor stopped them both in their tracks.
“Gideon.”
As tempting as it was to rush to the gate and throw it open, they had to stick to the plan. Murdoch kept his movements slow and casual as he peered over the wall toward the narrow road that led to the front gate.
If his friends were out there, he couldn’t see them, but then he didn’t expect to. Gideon wouldn’t reveal his presence until the last possible second, and Kane’s very nature was at one with the night itself.
“Go let Duncan know the battle is upon us.”
Averel’s eyes glittered in the darkness as he squeezed past Murdoch on the narrow walkway, his battle fever already running high. “To our success, Murdoch. Let’s pray that the gods guide our swords and our footsteps this night. May the dawn bring a new day for Lady Merewen and her people.”
Murdoch could only nod. He’d long ago given up on the gods making anything easier on Gideon and the others. They weren’t called the Damned for no reason.
“Watch your back, pup.”
He waited a scattering of minutes before following the young knight. By the time Murdoch started down the circular staircase to the bailey, it was difficult to keep his pace slow and steady. He checked the slide of his sword in its sheath and then his throwing knives.
The rush of blood in his veins left his skin flushed and hot. Unlike Kane, Murdoch had no love of violence, but he did have a talent for it. Right now, with him poised on the edge of a battle, his senses sharpened his awareness of his surroundings—the sounds, the smells, the shadows, and the patches of light.
When he walked into the great hall, he knew where each man sat or stood, who looked tired or drunk, and which men would be most likely to respond to the sound of an alarm with swords drawn and ready to defend the keep. Fagan had taken a fair portion of his men with him, but there were enough left to offer the Damned a good fight for possession of the keep. Murdoch did one last survey of the area.
No sign of Lady Alina or Merewen. With luck they were both safely tucked away in their rooms. He noticed the servants were also absent. It was early for all of them to have disappeared for the night.
But it was certainly all the better for everyone.
The real question was, where had Olaf gone?
Murdoch wheeled around and headed right back out into the night. Fagan’s captain liked to prowl around on the walkway at odd times. The last thing they needed was for him to interfere with the plans their captain had put in motion. It would be just like Olaf to send the farmer away and refuse to send word to Merewen that she was needed.
Murdoch charged back up the steps ready to face the enemy.
* * *
M
erewen hoped she’d made it back from her workshop without Olaf’s noticing that she’d delayed in bringing him his meal. She’d handed off the soap and soothing herbs to a servant and sent her to find Magda. Meanwhile, Ellie had piled Olaf’s tray high with food and a flagon of his favorite wine. With luck, he’d eat and drink himself into a stupor. Merewen briefly considered adding some special spices to his drink that would help with that, but using her gift to do harm was forbidden. She didn’t know who had set down the rules, but at her father’s urging she’d sworn to follow them.
Olaf’s eyes tracked her progress as she walked across the hall. The smirk on his face boded ill for her, but she kept a steady pace. The man relished the taste of fear, and she refused to feed his appetite for it.
She shouldered the heavy tray and made her way to Olaf’s seat at the head table. He watched her every move, much like a mountain cat sat motionless, waiting for its prey to come within striking distance.
The man had never been much more than muscles and a strong sword arm. But the longer Olaf served her uncle, the more cruel and vicious he’d become, taking far too much pleasure in watching others suffer. Her father would never have tolerated anyone given to that kind of behavior to remain in his employ.
Fagan encouraged it.
Merewen set down Olaf’s trencher and drink. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. As soon as she had the food arranged, he struck out, sweeping it off the table onto the floor.
“You defied my orders again. Bring me fresh food, and then wait for me in your room. I’ll be along presently to teach you a lesson about what happens to women who don’t obey their masters.”
Merewen wanted to heave the tray at Olaf’s thick skull, but that would only set him off. As long as he thought she was properly cowed by his threats, he’d savor the moment and stay seated long enough to eat his meal.
Backing away, she was careful to keep her eyes down so he wouldn’t see the absolute fury in them. The shaking held off until she reached the kitchen. She leaned against the wall, fighting to breathe. In her head, she knew that to stay safe, all she had to do was find one of the three warriors already within the keep walls. Any of them would fight to protect her from Olaf’s fists.
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