Lord of Legends

by Susan Krinard

  “No.”

  “But you have a theory.”

  “I’ll tell you what little I know tonight.”

  Sinjin didn’t press her. He rose and walked to the sideboard, where he picked up a glass and set it down again. “The proof is in the pudding,” he said grimly. “When shall I meet this…gentleman?”

  Her heart resumed its normal rhythm. “Come to Donbridge,” she said, “but secretly. I don’t want to alert anyone who might have taken part in this.” She hurried on before he could interrupt. “Meet me at eleven tonight, by the folly. I’ll show you everything, and then we can decide what we ought to do.”

  “Why do I think you’re about to get me into a situation I’m going to regret?”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Once again he offered refreshments and tea, but she declined and hurried away. If she were very lucky, there would be time to speak to Ash and prepare him for the visit of another stranger.

  But once she got back to Donbridge, the opportunity never arose. The dowager, uncharacteristically attentive in spite of her usual hostility, made it impossible for Mariah to slip away from the house until after dinner. It was gone ten when the dowager finally retired. Mariah waited for another half hour, made certain the house was quiet, and then put on her simplest dress, a shawl and half-boots. She was halfway down the stairs when Nola appeared out of the shadows.

  “Nola!” Mariah hid the pillowcase of newly hoarded food behind her back, though she knew she had little hope of keeping it concealed for long. Nola curtseyed, her face wreathed in concern.

  “Begging your pardon, Countess,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t. I was just going down to the kitchen. Why are you up and about so late?”

  “I…I thought you might need help, your ladyship.”

  “Help, Nola? I can find my way to the kitchen by myself.”

  “I was just remembering what you told me, your ladyship,” she said. “About the prisoner and all.”

  “I’m afraid my imagination ran away with me,” Mariah said with a strained smile. “You needn’t give it another thought.”

  The maid bent her head, peering at the level of Mariah’s hip where the pillowcase protruded from behind her skirts. “You’re going to see him, your ladyship?”

  Mariah began to feel that the girl might prove to be every bit as difficult now as she had been helpful before. “What makes you think I’m going to see anyone, Nola?”

  “Just a feeling, your ladyship.”

  A feeling. Mariah suppressed a shiver. “Is there something you haven’t told me? Something about the subject we discussed yesterday?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then what I do is really none of your business,” Mariah said, more harshly than she’d intended. She immediately regretted it.

  “I know your intentions are good,” she said, “but I’m really just trying to find out what’s going on. It would be better if no one else were involved.”

  “But I saw Mr. Ware, your ladyship,” Nola said. “Out in the park.”

  Nola’s tone was anything but sly, yet Mariah was very much on her guard. “And why were you creeping about outside, Nola?”

  “I often go for walks at night, though Mrs. Baines doesn’t approve.” She performed another curtsey, which worked well to hide her expression. “I’m sorry, your ladyship.”

  “I should avoid annoying Mrs. Baines, if I were you. As for Mr. Ware, he is known to do just as he wishes. Our grounds are considerably larger than his and have excellent prospects by moonlight. There is a full moon tonight. Perhaps he had an urge to view it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. But…” Nola dropped her voice very low. “I could make sure she doesn’t see you.”

  Mariah froze. Was that what the girl’s interference was all about? Did she—did all the servants—know what the dowager suspected of her daughter-in-law?

  “I am not concerned about the dowager,” Mariah said sternly. “But I should not wish to disturb her. She has quite enough concerns as it is.”

  “Then you are going to see the man who looks like Lord Donnington.”

  Matters had proceeded to the point that denials would probably have little effect. She had begun this, and she could hardly blame the maid for behaving like the intelligent girl she was.

  “Tell me, Nola,” she said, “why should you want to help me?”

  “Because Lord Donnington’s going away wasn’t your fault, not like some people say.”

  Good Lord. “You might find yourself in trouble if you gossip about such matters in the servants’ quarters.”

  “But I don’t, your ladyship,” Nola said. “Never.” She glanced over her shoulder into the entrance hall. “What can I do, ma’am?”

  Countering Nola’s stubborn resolve was no more likely than convincing her that her mistress had nothing to hide. “Stay here,” Mariah said. “If I find a way for you to help, I’ll certainly let you know.”

  “I hope…I hope you will be very careful, your ladyship.”

  “I shall.” Mariah held the girl’s gaze. “No matter what else happens, you must keep our meetings absolutely secret.”

  Nola nodded solemnly. “I understand, your ladyship.”

  “Very good. You go up to bed now, Nola.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Realizing full well that she was taking a very great risk, Mariah stood at the foot of the stairs until Nola had disappeared into the shadows. She could afford to delay no longer.

  Outside, England’s lingering twilight had finally given way to darkness. Mariah kept the lantern as dim as she could and went directly to the folly.

  Sinjin was already there. He wore dark riding clothes and carried his own lantern, unlit. His horse, Shaitan, grazed contentedly on the long grass beside the lakeshore.

  Sinjin turned into Mariah’s light, hand raised to shield his eyes.

  “Merry?”

  “Sinjin! It isn’t yet eleven!”

  “Sorry, but I was rather eager to see what this is all about.” He shifted slightly, and the lantern’s light caught metal near his waist.

  A gun.

  “For God’s sake, Sinjin!” she hissed. “There’s no need for that.”

  “He might be a lunatic,” Sinjin said, unfazed.

  “I never said—”

  “If there’s a prisoner in the folly, there has to be good reason for it. A poacher, most likely. A temporary punishment—”

  “A poacher who looks like Donnington?”

  His eyes told her that he had not lost any part of his skepticism. “I am most eager to observe this resemblance.”

  “Observe it, but don’t speak of it.” She reminded herself that what she was about to say was absolutely necessary. “You suspected that I had a theory about who might have done this to him. But it isn’t my theory, Sinjin. It’s his.”

  “I thought you said he didn’t remember anythi—”

  “He blames Donnington,” she said in a rush. “He believes that Donnington did this to him.”

  Sinjin was too stunned to laugh. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  “I didn’t say I accepted his claims,” she said. “But you must be careful, Sinjin. Don’t question him about it. I don’t think he realizes how much he looks like…like the man he blames for what’s happened to him.”

  “How is any of this possible?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Reflected light glazed the gun’s barrel as Sinjin gripped it reflexively. “I’m sorry, Merry, but I—”

  “Put that away. You won’t need it.” She stared into his eyes. “Wait here until I call you.”

  “Mariah…”

  “Please, just do as I say!”

  Sinjin subsided, though his expression was anything but sanguine. Mariah carried her pillowcase up the stairs, readying the key for the lock. She entered with every bit as much apprehension as she had the second time, hal
f afraid of what she might find.

  Everything was as she had left it. No one had been inside since she’d last come. Ash stood at the bars, his face turned so as to look beyond her, toward the square of darkness framed through the two doors.

  “Who?” he demanded in a harsh voice. “Who is he?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ASH SMELLED THE man before he walked into the room, his hand near his hip and the glitter of iron at his waist. He was dark-haired and brown-eyed, lean and well formed, and he wore a shirt, trousers and the overgarment that Ash remembered was called a “jacket.”

  He smelled almost exactly the same as the enemy who had put Ash in this place.

  Mariah blocked the stranger’s path, but he clearly saw Ash. His eyes widened in astonishment.

  “My God,” he said. “My God.” He stumbled into the wall, breathing heavily, and continued to stare.

  Ash flung himself at the bars, and the stranger jerked away. Mariah approached the cage, hand raised, the slim, straight lines of her brows drawn over her eyes.

  “Ash? Are you all right?”

  He didn’t know how to answer. “All right” meant feeling well, and he didn’t feel well. Mariah had been away too long. He was furious at the presence of the second human, who intruded with his Cold Iron and his thick male scent that was so much like Donnington’s. If there had been a way out of the cage, Ash would have charged him, knocked him down, impaled…

  “Who is he?” he repeated.

  “My name is Sinjin Ware,” the man said hoarsely, pushing away from the wall. “Who in hell are you?”

  “I call him Ash,” Mariah said. “Please, Sinjin, stand back.” She turned to Ash again. “Mr. Ware has come to help us. There is no reason to be afraid of him.”

  Ash laughed, drawing a startled expression from both humans. “Ware,” he snarled. “Donnington.”

  The man exchanged glances with Mariah. “My God,” he repeated. “Did you tell him who I—”

  “Do you still think he’s a poacher, Sinjin?” Mariah said before he could finish.

  “No. I had…no idea.”

  Ash banged at the bars with his fist. “He did this.”

  Sinjin drew his hand over the fringe of dark hair above his lip. “Believe me, Mariah. I had nothing to do with—”

  “You are his,” Ash said, no longer caring if his flesh touched iron. “His.”

  The human male looked ill. “What is he saying, Mariah?”

  She took his arm. “We shall return soon, Ash,” she said. She led the man she called Sinjin from the room and half closed the door. Ash realized at once that she did not want him to hear what they said to each other.

  “We must be careful, Sinjin,” she said in a low voice that Ash easily heard. “Ash is very—”

  “What the hell is going on?” Sinjin demanded.

  “I told you that Ash blames Donnington. He hates him. Somehow he’s realized that you are related to him.”

  “How? Giles and I look nothing alike!”

  “As I said at Rothwell, I am convinced that Ash has no idea how much he looks like Donnington. And I never mentioned you. I certainly never told him that you are Donnington’s brother.”

  “Does he know Donnington’s your husband?”

  “No. And it is too soon to tell him.”

  “You’re afraid of him. You do think he’s mad.”

  She didn’t answer. Ash pressed as close to the bars as he could without touching them.

  “Think carefully,” Mariah said at last. “Who in your family might resemble your brother?”

  “You aren’t suggesting—”

  “Who, Sinjin?”

  “No one!”

  “No one that you know of.”

  “Don’t you think I would be aware…Do you actually think this man is here because of my brother?”

  “I don’t know what to believe. Please stay here, Sinjin.”

  A moment later she returned to the inner chamber, fetched the bag she had brought with her and opened it, producing another loaf of bread, small red fruits, a white stone-like container and another shaped of clear crystal.

  “Bread, strawberries, butter and jam,” she said, smiling at Ash. She sat in the chair, spread a cloth across her heavy skirt and removed two pieces of the bread from its wrapping. She coated them with the yellow substance in the stone container and the thick, sweet-smelling fruit from the crystal.

  Ash could see Ware peering through the crack in the door. Donnington’s brother, though Ash didn’t know what that word might mean. He only knew it was important. As was husband, though he refused to consider why it hurt so much to think of Mariah bearing a connection to his enemy.

  And Mariah had said he looked like Donnington. Ash had not seen Donnington when he had gazed at his own face in the water, yet something in him knew it was true.

  The thoughts flying through his head made his hunger go away, but he knew he must remain strong. He took the bread through the bars, and then Mariah left the room again.

  “You speak to him as if he doesn’t know what bread and jam are,” Ware whispered. “And he’s only half-dressed.”

  “He was left with almost nothing,” she said. “Nothing to eat, nothing to wear.”

  “You brought him those clothes?”

  “Of course. What else was I to do?”

  “You said you saw another stranger by the folly. This man hasn’t been completely neglected. Someone must come here to feed him, clean his…” He paused. “What did your maid say?”

  “Nola said there was a strange man living in a cottage on the grounds, and no one knows what he does. Ash implied that someone comes to him every few days. Someone who doesn’t want anyone else to know that Ash is here.”

  Sinjin made a harsh, angry sound. “This is a highly volatile situation, Mariah,” he said. “Obviously this man has suffered, but as for his identity or Donnington’s…involvement, we’ll have to give this very careful thought. Acting too quickly can only—”

  Mariah strode back into Ash’s room, Ware on her heels. He caught at Mariah’s arm. “Mariah, listen to me. We—”

  The bars rattled as Ash banged against them. Fire coursed over his skin.

  “Don’t touch her,” he commanded. “Don’t touch her!”

  Both humans started. “He is a lunatic,” Ware said.

  Mariah shook him off. “He’s nothing of the kind.” She moved as close to Ash as she could without touching the bars. “Don’t, Ash. Please.”

  The fire licked at Ash’s forehead. “Stay away from him.”

  “Sinjin won’t hurt me, Ash. I promise you, he’s our friend.”

  “Merry, this man is obviously disturbed,” Ware said. “Don’t promise him anything. Not until we know what he’s done.”

  “Done?” She whirled to face him. “What could he have done to deserve this?”

  “We need to keep our wits about us. You must see that.”

  “Yes. We must all keep our wits about us.” She smiled at Ash, though her lips trembled. “Try to be patient, Ash. We both want to help, to find out why you’re here so we can let you go.”

  “Merry…” Sinjin warned.

  But she wasn’t listening to him. “Have you remembered anything new, Ash?” she asked. “Anything you can tell us?”

  To offer her the truth would be to admit too much. That he was not human. That there was some other world ruled by those who were not human. That he had possessed another life, another form far mightier than this one. No, he could not offer her the truth.

  For she had not given him the truth.

  “No,” he said.

  “We’ll find a way, Ash.”

  “Which will require considerable finesse,” Ware said. “And you will leave the investigation to me, Mariah.”

  “First we must find Ash’s keeper.”

  “I’ll look into it as soon as it’s light enough to search,” Ware said. “You go back to the house, Merry. Pretend that nothing has happened.”


  She flashed another glance at Ash and pushed Sinjin out of the room again. “Suppose Donnington does know about this?” she said. “Might Vivian not know, as well?”

  “Mother? You’re joking.”

  “Perhaps. But, as you said, we can make no judgments as yet. I’ll learn what I can in the house. You find this keeper. And you must discover how Ash is related to your family.”

  “If he is—”

  “No judgments, Sinjin.”

  “I’ll do just as you say. But, Merry…Don’t say anything to my mother. Not under any circumstances. She would be worse than shocked if she saw him.”

  “This can’t be kept hidden for long.”

  “Go back to the house. I’ll stay with him until dawn.”

  “That would not be wise.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him. He’s shown a propensity for violence.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you simply haven’t been questioning him the right away?”

  “What do you propose? Torture?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder, given his startling resemblance to Donnington, if your desire to help isn’t some sort of obsession.”

  “It ought to be every bit as much of an obsession with you, Sinjin! This man could be your direct relation.”

  There was a long moment of silence. “I was right, wasn’t I? This isn’t just natural concern on your part.”

  “Do you believe that compassion isn’t sufficient reason to help someone?”

  “I mean the way you look at him, speak to him—”

  “We shouldn’t leave Ash alone,” she said. The door swung open again, and Mariah walked straight over to the bars.

  “I’m sorry, Ash,” she said. “Mr. Ware and I—”

  “Release me.”

  She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. Ware walked up behind her, examining Ash through narrowed eyes.

  “A gentleman, is he?” Ware said. “He does speak rather like a duke I once knew. Truly, Merry, you must realize that this man may not be sane, let alone capable of or willing to speak the truth. We—”