by Beth Mikell
His word stung, and burned against her self-reproach. “Trust me, please. I will do the right thing and I promise not to get in your way,” she whispered.
He pulled back. “‘Tis not about you getting in the way, Adara,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. “Forgive me for being sensitive on the matter, but I truly find myself in a situation I have never thought to find myself.”
She smiled despite the fact a battle was about to commence. The grunts and raised voices of Colin, Angus, and Dugan resounded around them. Pressure tightened her chest. The obscure outcome made her entirely more emotional than normal. “Admittedly, I feel the same.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Before she could answer shouts rang out from all sides, and Rowan yanked Adara close, pulling his sword, his eyes searching the woods.
“Colin!” Rowan yelled but his command was lost as a host of Gray Legion knights came out of the woods, surrounding them. James led his soldiers, their numbers greater.
The knight strode closer with a slimy smile upon his lips, his sword drawn. He gave the lady of HieLach a direct look. “Someone wants a word with you, my lady,” he sneered.
Rowan moved to engage James, but Adara prevented him, and she reached for his sword arm. “Nay, Rowan! Let me go see what this is about.”
“Aye, Rowan,” James said. “Be a good princess and stand aside.”
“I am going to kill you,” he snarled at the knight.
The other man gave a contemptuous smirk. “You are certainly welcome to try, but I have the advantage. Please, please, strike me down,” he taunted.
Rowan brought his sword up, ready to lunge toward the despised Gray Legion knight, but Adara moved quickly to stand between them. “Enough!” She gave James a seething glare. “I will come with you. I just ask that you do not harm them,” she succinctly to the large knight.
James mockingly bowed toward Adara. “On my honor, my lady,” he said, grabbing her arm, pulling her roughly to his side.
She gasped as James pinched her upper arm in his tight grip. From the corner of her eye, Rowan moved to grab her, but she reacted first. She brought her knee up, striking the inside of James’s leg near his groin, surprising him. He released her, grunting in pain and doubling over. She stepped back, kicking his sword hand from underneath, causing the knight to drop his sword. Before he could draw another breath, her leg came back up again, kneeing him in the face and the giant knight fell to his knees.
She snorted. “Honor?” she sneered. “I think you need a lesson or two in what honor means.” She drew her sword, pointing it at him.
Rowan grabbed her against him with a bewildered expression on his face. “Impressive, kitten,” he whispered close to her ear and she flashed him small smile, still holding her sword on the knight.
The small victory was fleeting. More Gray Legion knights spilled from the woods, surrounding them with reverberating speed. Rowan eased Adara back from the crowd, calling for Cylah and Simon at the same time.
“Take your lady out of here!” he commanded.
“I will not leave you!” She grasped his tunic, pulling desperately, her eyes wild.
He cut over her protest, holding her upper arms, staring down into her eyes. “You will leave,” he said harshly. “I will not hear of an objection. Go find Darrius!” he exclaimed, turning away to join the fight.
Simon and the women ran into the woods, sinking down into thick bushes, watching the battle unfold. Adara watched the four Elite knights fall under the pressure. One by one, they were captured, falling to their knees before their captors.
“We must help them!” She moved to stand, but Cylah placed a fast hand on her arm.
“No, my lady,” Simon said sharply.
Cylah blew out a huff. “And do what, pray? We will get captured too, my lady. While I am never one to miss a fight, we are outnumbered. We should wait for Lord Darrius,” she returned equally as emotional as Adara.
“Agreed,” Simon said.
Adara knew Cylah was right, but she could not handle watching the Elite’s capture. As Rowan was forced to his knees before the Gray Legion, hatred burned hard through her breast. She watched as James backhanded Rowan in the face with his gauntleted fist, knocking him to the ground. Vengeance was never a tablet she partook of, but her eyes narrowed on the man who held Rowan in his grasp.
She heard James bellow a command. “Find the damnable women and the missing Elite knight! Now!”
As the other Gray Legion knights fanned out to look for the trio, they eased deeper into the woods, winding through the trees and brush. With a unison gasp, they came face to face with their salvation.
“Lady Adara, it seems you are in need of rescue, perhaps?” Darrius asked, his deep blue eyes flicking over to Simon questioningly.
She almost laughed with relief. Both Lord Darrius and Sir Douglas stood before her, swords drawn. “We are not nearly as in need of rescue as your men, my lord.”
The Imperial Arm smirked. “Not too worry, my lady. They can hold their own. But you on the other hand, you should not be here. It is not safe.”
She nodded, but did not agree. “I get that remark quite a lot, my lord, but I am not leaving. If you have a plan, tell me. Otherwise, I am marching right up to Chevington Manor with or without your help.” She pushed her braid behind her back, having come loose from its coil on top of her head during their flight away.
“My lady!” Cylah exclaimed sharply, her angry gaze upon her mistress.
Darrius smiled at the two women. “Believe me when I say—I have a plan—but, shall we step deeper into the woods to discuss it?”
*.*.*.*
The Gray Legion gave up their search for their quarry and took the Elite knights to Chevington Manor. Darrius orchestrated the whole affair to his plan, rather than allowing another Gray Legion circus to continue. Time was what Darrius would make and no one would interfere his decisions. In only a matter of minutes, he would have everything wrapped up tightly within his fist. He would finish years of torment—all in the name of God and King Henry III—courtesy of the Imperial Arm and his Elite guard.
Chapter 18
Adara walked beside Lord Darrius with Cylah at her side toward to the bolthole exit of Chevington Manor. Sir Douglas would take his half his army to the front gate, and lead a distraction. She knew exactly where they going, having played here as a child. But it was not strategies that occupied her mind now.
Rowan.
Nothing would replace the memory of him captured and backhanded by that dishonorable monster.
Her hand tightened over the hilt of her drawn sword as a bloodlust speared her heart. Rowan was hers… every part of him. From the top of his dark hair to his silver-tongued words. From his dimpled cheeks when he smiled to his hardheaded, stubbornness. She loved him and she would not lose him! God, why had she waited to say she loved him?
Her stubborn pride beat a threatening path inside her heart until humility clamored with regret. Her breath heaved out between her lips, defying calm every second they drew near their goal and purpose. What she would not give to see him right now and beg forgiveness for the time she wasted. All her life had been spent on safety and staying alive by the teachings of her father and Decimus, but the softness of love and intricacies of the heart remained a myth until her Scotsman. He provoked her mind, body, and soul to love without restraint. She would help Lord Darrius put an end to her uncle’s tyranny and slay the Gray Legion once and for all. Then she would take her knight and live life as she always wanted… peacefully.
Adara drew up short as Lord Darrius stilled, and a strange whistle sang through the air. With baited breath, she waited as he returned the call. A knight came from the dark woods and bowed before the Imperial Arm.
“My lord.”
“Noah, I am happy to see you are still in one piece,” Darrius said. “What news have you?” he asked, not wasting time.
The young knight’s expression fell into discontent
. “Lord, excuse me, but the rivers of hell have unfolded. We must hurry! And the other knight you sought after, Decimus? He is alive but just barely.”
Adara’s heart jolted as the knight made his report. Decimus. And her dear Rowan. “My lord, we must make haste, please,” she said, receiving a nod from the Imperial Arm.
They trekked the woods for several more minutes, and she found the entrance without trouble. The group paused at the opening and the distinct ring of sword against sword sang through the air—heated and powerful. The distraction caused by Sir Douglas was well underway. Noah moved to light the tunnel with a torch but Adara stopped, surprising them all.
“Wait! Not that way.”
Darrius raised an eyebrow, glancing at the Lady of HieLach, but Noah protested. “Excuse me, my lady, but it is the only way.”
She shook her head, sheathing her sword, running her hand over the rock wall of the tunnel. “The bolthole point of entrance will dump us into an open hallway without a lot of coverage. Blind, if you will. But I know…” she said, running her hand against the rock wall, “another way.” She pulled a rock. An audible click penetrated the air and gave way to another tunnel.
“Where does this lead?” Darrius moved to her side, staring down the darkened passage.
Adara smiled. “Three points. Behind the keep, Sir Robert’s bedchamber, and the fortress—all of which will allow us to enter unseen.”
The Imperial Arm nodded. “We need to get the gate open, my lady.”
“Cylah, torch please,” she said and her knight relieved a stunned Noah from his light. “Behind the keep it is… follow me.”
Dismal and black, the shadowy tunnel smelled of dust and rotten spoilage. The dank passage strayed on the side of eerie with many twists, turns, and cobwebs. Adara used the torch to burn a path forward, leading the group toward retribution.
“I am curious, my lady, why is there two exits?” Darrius followed her lead.
Without breaking stride, she answered, “Sir Robert did not originally build Chevington Manor, but won it in a lucky hand of cards—the unscrupulous bastard,” she said, climbing some stairs, ignoring the chuckles she received. “Honestly, my uncle would not sustain the ability or intellect to construct something so intricate. It is not of his nature.”
Darrius grunted. “Indeed not, my lady.”
Adara paused when the passage broke off into three different directions, but only one tunnel remained accessible. The other two had been walled up with stones. “Well, this is unexpected,” she said with annoyance, holding the light up to inspect the barricade.
The Imperial Arm looked down the only remaining tunnel. “Where does this lead?”
She grimaced. “Sir Robert’s bedchamber. Mayhap his intellect has increased after all.”
“Not by much,” Cylah murmured under her breath. “Self-preservation does not a wise man make,” she said, and received a laugh from Simon.
“Or maybe it does, considering the source,” the young knight said.
The woman knight gave an uncustomary smile to the Elite knight. “I see we think alike.”
“May I have the light, my lady?” Darrius asked.
She gave it without hesitation.
“Let’s go and be prepared for anything,” said the Imperial Arm, leading the way with a torch in one hand and his sword in the other.
*.*.*.*
Sir Robert entered the great hall, pausing in the doorway before proceeding forward to greet the arrival of his guests. His dress bespoke of extreme ostentatiousness from his loud green mantle to the blue bejeweled tunic over the wide girth of his stomach and pants. His wild cloud of red hair brushed his shoulders.
“I brought you a gift that was lurking in the woods, my lord,” James said through a scornful smile, as his men forced Rowan, Colin, Dugan, and Angus to their knees.
Sir Robert smiled, cocking his eyebrow at his captives. “Come now, James. ‘Tis no way to treat His Majesty’s finest in all the country, is it?”
James scoffed. “Finest?” He shook his head “I caught them like a fish in a net.”
The older man paced in front of the Elite, and he stopped at the end of the line, looking down at the large knight. “So, Angus, would you like to tell me what you are doing here?” He singled out the large knight, thinking he was the least educated of the lot and most likely to give away information.
Angus glared up to the Gray Legion lord, anger riding his expression. “Give me my sword, and I will be happy to comply.”
“Angus!” Rowan said sharply, but nothing more.
Sir Robert looked between Angus and Rowan with a questioning look. The older man folded his arms, stroking his thick red beard curiously. “Interesting, James. It seems they are under orders not to speak to us.”
The Gray Legion knight walked up beside Sir Robert, smacking Dugan in the head, receiving a murderous glance from the Lord of Carthmore. “I guess that means I will have to make them speak, eh?”
Sir Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Or we could kill them. I have no use for them.”
The Gray Legion knight smiled demonically, drawing his sword. “Now that’s more like it! I have been waiting for this moment!” he said, pointing his sword, ready to run Dugan through the heart.
“Stop!”
All eyes turned at the voice. They found Adara standing in the doorway.
“Well, well, well. This is a massive turn of events,” Sir Robert said, throwing back his head with a laugh. “Tell me, my dear niece, what are you doing here?”
*.*.*.*
Adara flicked a glance toward Rowan, but his expression reflected anger, his eyes glinting and narrowed. His lips drew into a flat line. She walked with her head held high, stopping in the middle of the room. She faced her uncle with Innis at her side. She had donned Sir Douglas’s red mantle with the royal guard crest pinned to her shoulder. To the untrained eye, such details would have gone unnoticed, but it was small telling fact for the Imperial Elite. She hoped they would realize Darrius and Sir Douglas were ready to rain hell down on the gathering.
She lifted her chin. “It’s over, uncle. I ask you to surrender,” she said calmly.
Sir Robert laughed. “Hear that, James? She asked us to surrender.”
The other man laughed, moving closer to Adara, and despite herself, she flinched.
“I think you jest, my lady,” James said. “I think I owe you a few strikes,” he said smartly, reaching out to grab her arm, but Innis stepped in front of her, blocking his path.
Before the knight could react, Sir Robert ended the potential situation. “James, take—” he began when the sound of heated battle came from outside. “Go see to that!”
The knight took off.
Adara looked at Rowan and he shook his head at her, but wisely, her own expression did not change. She looked back at Sir Robert, her intent to keep his attention for a long as possible, so the king’s men could enter the keep.
“You do not have long, uncle. Lord Darrius will come to either arrest you or send you to your death. As my only surviving family, I give you the choice to surrender,” she said succinctly.
She watched from the corner of her eye how Innis moved closer to Angus, intent on freeing the bound knight. Adara walked around Sir Robert to draw his attention away, coming to stand a few feet near Rowan.
Her uncle sniffed rudely, waving his meaty hand in the air. “Let Lord Darrius come. My knights will kill him easily. As far as surrendering, I never will.”
A surge of anger vibrated through her. “Have you no shame for your actions? When did your diseased mind become so corrupt and vain? How dare you stand there with such contemptuous disregard? Look how much pain you caused so many people—so many lives lost for the sake of your greed. Your insatiable desire for wealth brought you to this point. Do not suppose that I will allow you to go free. Your actions are inexcusable,” Adara said acidly.
Sir Robert clapped his hands together. “Bravo, dear niece. Excellent performance
,” he said caustically. “Will you be so high and mighty after I give you my offering?”
“What are talking about?” she snapped.
To her horror, two guards brought a very badly beaten Decimus, dumping his injured body to the floor with a thud. Gasping in shock, she sprang forward, but Sir Robert stepped in her path, preventing her from seeing to her injured knight.
“I think you will find I am not above negotiating, dear niece.”
She raised her chin, her control shredded. “Get out of my way,” she seethed. “There is nothing to negotiate.”
When she started around Sir Robert, he reached out to grab her arm. “Oh, I think we have much to discuss, beginning with your real purpose at being here.”
“Let her go, father!” Erik came into the room with his sword drawn.
Sir Robert turned his caustic gaze on his son. “Get out of here, Erik,” he hissed. “This is not your business!”
Erik stopped in front of his father. “It is my business! How can it not be? You have dishonored our family. My own father is a liar and a traitor—participating in the very thing you so openly condemned. How can this not affect me? You have destroyed our name in the eyes of society, and you will pay for your criminal offenses.”
His father exhaled a huff. “Everything I have done was to ensure your future, Erik. Now be a good boy and run along. This does not concern you,” he said.
*.*.*.*
Rowan was tired of listening to Sir Robert’s insults and justifications. The Lord of Chevington’s hand on Adara charged his toleration too. He could take only so much, his overwrought nerves were shaken raw the moment she stepped into the hall. He knew Darrius and Sir Douglas had arrived by the fact Innis was with her, and she wore the mantle of a royal guard. But she was at the center of danger. And he was still bound and unable to help her. Fury thundered through him, laying waste to his sanity.
“Get your hands off her!” He jumped to his feet, his patience obliterated.
Surprised, Sir Robert and Erik jumped apart. Her uncle jerked Adara in front of him. She gasped, stumbling as he pulled her up tight against his grotesquely fat body.
