The Lady and the Falconer

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She opened her mouth to tell him her father was rich, but closed it immediately. This man would, no doubt, take her for ransom. She could tell him who she was, but that might be even worse. With the price Barclay put on her head, he might very well hand her over to him. The tip of the sword pressed against her abdomen. “I plan to take Castle Fulton,” she finally whispered.

  The man was silent for a long moment. “Would you mind telling me that again? I think my ears must be full of wax. I could’ve sworn that you, an ugly boy with no coin, just told me you are going to attack Fulton.”

  The words spoken back to her sounded utterly ridiculous. Everything he said was true. She had no coin, no army. A sense of defeat swelled inside her, but she pushed it back with a strong sense of determination. She refused to be ridiculed and intimidated by him. She straightened her shoulders, drawing forth all her courage to face him. “That’s what I told you,” she retorted. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. Either join my cause or let me get on with my recruiting.”

  “You’re a damn fool!” the man hissed. “Rome was built by breaking the backs of thousands of slaves.”

  “The men I employ will not be slaves,” she reminded him. “They will be well rewarded for their efforts. Now remove your sword.”

  The man hesitated for a long moment, then abruptly removed his sword and set it on the seat next to him. He looked out into the tavern at the patrons, the fighter, the monk and the drunk peasant. “Gather round, men!” he called out. “The boy here promises us all gold! Bags of gold! All we have to do is risk our lives without pay! He assures me we shall all be rewarded in the end!”

  The monk raised his head slightly, but then turned back to his food. The fighter eyed the pair with disinterest.

  “Bastard,” Solace hissed, rising. “I wouldn’t call food and board ‘without pay.’” She had to get out of there. She couldn’t be seen dealing with mercenaries. All sorts of suspicions would be aroused.

  The man dismissed her with an impatient wave of his hand.

  Solace quickly took the rear door out of the Wolf’s Inn. A cold breeze accosted her as she exited into the street behind the inn, catching her hood and almost pulling it from her head, but she grabbed it before it could blow off. Damn, she thought. Now I’ll have to wait a couple of days, perhaps a week, before I can return to the inn. She paced two steps one way and whirled, pacing the other way.

  She paced for a few moments longer, trying to get rid of the fear and anxiety and anger gripping her. The honorless blackguard! How could he rob some helpless boy? This was the type of man she was dealing with. She rubbed her hand along her forehead. Where is Father? she wondered. Where could he be?

  Solace turned toward the blacksmith’s shop. The streets at this time of night were vacant, the shops lining them all closed. She refused to give up her plan, no matter how outrageous it sounded!

  “It isn’t safe to be out alone after dark. Even for a boy who thinks he can command an army of mercenaries.”

  Solace whirled, hearing the voice. She couldn’t see where it was coming from, but she was sure it was the mercenary from the inn! What did he want of her? Whatever it was, she wanted no part of it! A shiver of dread shot up her spine. She took a step backward, scanning the dark street, the shadows near the shops for the owner of the ominous voice. But it was useless. The night’s blackness was all around her, enshrouding her in its impenetrable cloak.

  Solace turned and ran.

  A dark shape stepped in front of her, moving out from behind a store front, and she slammed into a solid wall of flesh. Terror seized her in an icy hold. She barely noticed her hood had slipped from her head. She jerked back from the man, trying to move around him.

  The man clamped a hand over her mouth and ensnared her waist with his free arm, trapping her against his body. “Barclay has a very high price on your head,” the man whispered hotly in her ear.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Solace struggled uselessly against her captor, pushing against his strong chest with powerless fingers. The heavy hood he still wore hid his face deep in its black shadows, giving him the appearance of an executioner. Finally, desperation overpowering her fear, she brought her knee up, driving it into his groin.

  The man doubled over, releasing her mouth for a moment. Solace inhaled for a scream, but the man shoved his hand over her mouth again, grabbing the nape of her neck roughly. Cursing, he pulled her toward a dark alley, stumbling as he moved. She tried to fight, but his hold tightened, bruising the back of her neck. He stopped in the darkness of the alley, gasping and still partially bent.

  Solace pulled at the strong fingers clamped over her mouth, trying to break free of his hold, trying to call for help. He pushed her back against the rear of the inn, snarling, “Shut up!”

  For a moment Solace could barely breathe. He held her still, one hand clamped over her mouth, one at the back of her neck. Solace watched him with wide eyes. But his gaze was not on her. It was on the street.

  Then she heard it. Footsteps. Had someone else been following her? What was going on? The footsteps faltered just before the entrance to the alley.

  The man released the nape of her neck, and his hand dipped to the handle of the sword at his waist.

  For a moment everything froze. She instinctively knew the danger was not from the cloaked man who held her against the wall, but from the person at the entrance to the alley.

  Then the footsteps moved off. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, the man dropped his hand from her mouth and leaned against the wall beside her. “That was a pleasant greeting,” he murmured.

  Solace straightened, instantly pulling away from him. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “It’s only been a month, Solace. You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.” He brushed off the hood. The moonlight fell over his dark, wavy hair. His gray eyes shone like silver, gleaming like the eyes of some nocturnal animal. The once black X on his cheek was healing, becoming a permanent fallen cross etched in his skin.

  “Logan!” Solace gasped. A tumult of emotions flared within her. Disbelief. Anger. Joy. She didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t even really sure he was standing before her. She had missed him so much. An overwhelming sadness filled her. Every night she had replayed the events leading up to his opening the gates, the way he had looked at her, the warm feeling that had encompassed her when he was near. Now it started somewhere deep inside of her and raced through her veins. She knew with certainty she would do it all again, just to relive those few blissful days with him.

  “That’s a new look for you. Do you think it fools anyone?” His words were cold and clipped.

  She refused to be baited by his anger and smiled grimly in the face of his irritability. “It’s the same look for you, Logan. Scowling brows and all.”

  He pushed his face close to hers. “This isn’t a game, Solace,” he snarled. “Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be walking the streets at night, not to mention trying to recruit mercenaries!”

  “Have you come all this way to lecture me?”

  “I came to make you stop this crazy plan of yours,” he snapped. “And you will stop. You’re only going to aggravate Barclay and keep him in a high state of alert. And then no one will have a chance to retake Fulton.”

  “When I get my army,” she responded.

  “Damn it, woman!” Logan snarled. “Do you have a death wish? Didn’t I just prove to you that you’re risking your life?”

  Solace stared at him for a long moment. She wished he would smile at her. She wished she could touch that soft wave in his hair. She wished he had greeted her with a warm hug, a gentle kiss. A somber feeling settled over her. “All you’ve proved is that you’re an expert at deceiving me,” she retorted.

  Logan exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his dark mane. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

  “Then why did you come here?” Solace demanded.

  “Because someone has to tell y
ou what a foolish thing it is you’re doing,” he said. “You don’t know how to go about this. It’s dangerous business. You could get hurt or killed.”

  “I can’t let Barclay harm my people. I have to get my castle back.” She turned her gaze to the stars. They splattered the sky like freckles across a lad’s face.

  Logan stood for a long moment, and eventually she turned her gaze to him. He reached out, slipping his hand around hers.

  Solace watched the way his large hand enfolded hers, the way his thumb easily, comfortingly, slid back and forth across her knuckles.

  “I want you to come with me to Cavindale.”

  Solace began to shake her head and opened her mouth to object.

  But Logan continued quickly, “I have an army waiting there.”

  Logan saw the greedy light in her eyes even in the darkness, saw her green orbs spark like fire when he mentioned the army.

  “An army?” she asked. “But how?”

  Logan called forth a grin. “A month is plenty of time to put out the word,” he said.

  “An army of mercenaries?” she inquired.

  He nodded.

  “And you’d let me command your army?”

  He couldn’t help admiring her bravado. She was a courageous woman. “With my help,” he said.

  Logan prepared himself for her anger, but it never came. Instead, a look of weary sadness crossed her features.

  “I wish I could believe you,” she said in a thick voice, and dropped her gaze to the ground.

  “You can, Solace,” Logan said desperately.

  She turned to look at him over her shoulder, a guarded skepticism in her lidded eyes. “Then what do you need me for?”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it, setting his jaw.

  Solace turned away from him and started out of the alley.

  “I don’t want to see you hurt again,” he called. When she didn’t stop, Logan cursed and rushed after her. He reached her before she entered the street, stepping in front of her to block her path. “Why do you think I came all this way to stop you?”

  “I think you did it to keep me out of the way,” she replied.

  “Do you think that one woman is going to make a difference in this battle?” Logan wondered, sternly. “Think about what you’re saying. Think about what you’re doing. It’s madness!”

  “Because I’m a woman.”

  “No. Because you don’t know how to go about hiring mercenaries. You don’t know what kind of men you’re dealing with.”

  “I don’t need your help, thank you.” She moved around him.

  Logan blocked her path with his body again. “All it takes is one man. Maybe the next one you approach. He’ll follow you through the streets like I did, then pull you into a lonely alley, a vacant field, a dark corner.” He watched her fight the horror threatening to engulf her and knew this was his only weapon. “He’ll take your body in ways you can’t even imagine! Then drag you back to the inn and share you with his friends. When they’re done playing with you, he’ll slit your throat and leave you on the dirty floor of the inn.”

  Solace swallowed hard.

  “If you’re dead, it won’t really matter who has Castle Fulton, will it?”

  She raised that stubborn little chin, fighting to find her voice. “And you know mercenaries so well?”

  Logan pushed his face close to hers. “I’m one of them.”

  Solace reared back as a tremor shuddered through her. She pushed past him, moving down the street.

  Logan watched her for a moment, wondering if it had been enough, wondering if the foolish chit would cease trying to raise an army. He knew his answer immediately. She was far too stubborn to leave her people and her castle in Barclay’s hands. He had to convince her to come to Cavindale with him.

  He raced after her toward her friend’s shop. He caught up to her as she rounded the last corner before the blacksmith’s. Voices floated to him on a dark breeze, prickling the back of his neck. His arm shot out, grabbing her wrist. When she turned to him, he put his finger to his lips in a motion for silence.

  He led her into the shadows of a nearby building.

  “What?” Solace asked in a whisper.

  Logan’s eyes were locked on the blacksmith’s shop. Three horses were tethered out front. The window covering flickered with light from a burning candle inside the shop. Something was not right. His senses tingled with warning. Something smelled strange. He knew the smell, but the wind dragged it away from his nose before he could place it. He strained to hear the voices again, but could not make out a sound.

  From the outside, everything looked calm and normal.

  Solace yanked her arm away from him, taking a step forward.

  Logan seized her shoulder and dragged her back into the shadows. “Wait,” he whispered urgently in her ear.

  The door to the shop opened, and the voices floated out into the night air. Logan couldn’t hear the words, but one melodic voice set his teeth on edge.

  A scream ripped through the night, erupting from the open door. The stench assaulted his sense of smell again and Logan reeled back, recognizing the pungent odor of burning flesh. The brand on his cheek throbbed as the unwanted memory of his own agony lurched to the front of his mind.

  Solace pushed forward, but Logan caught her around the waist, pulling her farther away.

  Two of Barclay’s men exited the shop, carrying a body between them. Inside, the screaming continued.

  Logan placed a hand over Solace’s mouth to stifle her horrified gasps of disbelief.

  A third man appeared in the doorway, his face hidden in dark shadows. But Logan could still see his features in his mind’s eye. Thin, cruel lips. Cold blue eyes. A once handsome face turned ugly from inside. Logan froze, his muscles tensing, his jaw clenching so tight that his teeth ached.

  “I want her found,” the man ordered, stepping into the street.

  Logan’s eyes narrowed as the moonlight struck Baron Edwin Barclay’s face.

  “She’s in this village. Seal off all the roads. No one is to leave without my knowing about it. If she escapes, I will burn the town to the ground.” Barclay whirled, but suddenly halted. His billowing cape settled around his shoulders. Then he swiveled his head, pinning Logan and Solace to the spot.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Logan felt Solace stiffen in his arms. He tightened his hold on her to keep her absolutely still.

  Barclay’s blue eyes seared into the spot they were standing as if he were able to see into the darkness. Finally, he turned and went back into the shop.

  For a long moment Logan couldn’t move. He watched as the soldiers threw the body over one of the horses and reentered the blacksmith’s shop. Then three mounted soldiers appeared from behind the shop and, before riding hard into the night, passed not five feet from where Logan and Solace had stood.

  Logan exploded into motion, pulling Solace with him. He moved with precision and purpose through the streets. He knew he didn’t have much time. Barclay’s soldiers were setting up guards at the roads even now.

  They quickly reached the Wolf’s Inn to find Alexander waiting for them, the horses untethered and ready to ride. “Looks like you stuck a stick in the hornet’s nest,” Alexander mumbled. Logan took the reins from his friend’s hand, and the two of them mounted their horses.

  Logan reached down to help Solace mount, but she didn’t offer him her hand. “I can’t leave,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Logan demanded, his horse dancing anxiously beneath him.

  “They killed Geoffrey,” she said softly. “I have to help Mitch.”

  “What do you think you can do against an armed garrison?” Logan demanded. “You exposed yourself at the inn. What did you think was going to happen? Any fool could see you weren’t a boy!” He extended a hand to her. “Come on.”

  She shook her head stubbornly, glancing back at the village.

  Alexander’s mount pranced nervously.

&n
bsp; Logan saw the tears in her eyes, but there was no time for sympathy. He knew if they stood around much longer they would be trapped. His anger rose. “You should never have gone to the inn. It wouldn’t have taken much to ask a few questions, or follow you and find out where you were staying. It could have been one of the villagers that gave you away. It could have been a mercenary.” He shoved his hand toward her. “Come on!”

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered. “I should never have gone to them for help.”

  “It’s not important whose fault it is. What’s important is that you’re still alive to fight Barclay.”

  Solace raised her eyes to him. Logan saw the pain there, and then he saw her lips clench in firm resolve. She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up behind him, spurring the horse hard toward Cavindale.

  ***

  Castle Fulton’s towers appeared red in the setting sun, as if blood ran from the turrets. The red light splashed through a small arrow slit in one of the towers, casting a bloody cross over Nolan Ryder’s body. He gazed down upon the land with apathetic black eyes.

  His long black beard nearly touched the thick leather belt around his waist. “I don’t like doing business like this.”

  “Take the terms or leave them,” a woman’s voice said from behind him. “I can find others who will take the job for half the coin.”

  Ryder knew this was true, but none were as skilled as he. He rubbed his hand across his mouth, massaging his red lips. “You say she was last seen in Westhaven?”

  “Two days ago. It shouldn’t be hard for such a talented tracker as you to pick up her trail.” She jingled the pouch of gold in her hand slightly.

  Manipulative bitch, Ryder thought. “I’ll have to bribe many men. There’ll be lodging and food to pay for.” He turned to her. She was a beautiful woman, but there was coldness in her blue eyes that he found even more intriguing. “I need more up front,” he finally said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll get you what you need. But not a shilling over half of what we agreed to.”