Bria didn’t like the tone in his voice. She didn’t like the intolerant look in his eyes. She scowled slightly. “Father, ever since you came back from the war –”
“You will not speak of it,” he commanded, moving his injured hand behind his back with his good one.
“We must speak of it. You hide behind your wounded hand. Instead of conquering it, you let it rule your life. You should be proud of it. You received it fighting for something you believed in. I haven’t seen you fight for something you believed in in a long time.”
“Enough!” her father roared. “I’ve heard enough of your speeches and your schemes. You can do no more for Mary than I can. If Knowles chooses to kill her, you will not interfere. He is your husband. You should obey him instead of fighting him and stealing from him.”
Bria glared at him for a long moment. Hurt and anger welled within her, but she refused to give in to it. “I used to admire you. You used to be strong and brave, a man I wanted to be like. Now all I have for you is pity.” With that, she whirled and stormed from the room.
Harry shifted his gaze to his son.
David Delaney turned away from his father’s piercing gaze, holding his useless arm close to his body. Harry saw the agony on his son’s face. “She’s right, you know,” Harry said gently. “You haven’t been the same since the war.”
David turned his back on Harry and gazed into the dying fire.
“I think you’re angry with her because you’re envious. You’d do the same thing... if you could.”
“The devil, you say!” Delaney spun and faced his father. “I’d have stood against Knowles without lying about it.”
Harry stepped forward and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You still can,” he said.
Bria stared down at the tunic in her hand. Who would have thought all those years ago when she and Mary and Garret had played the Midnight Shadow together that she’d become him? That the Midnight Shadow would be real?
Who would have thought all those years ago she would have fallen in love with the enemy? How could Terran execute Mary when he knew Mary was her friend? Bria clenched the fabric in her fist. It will end now, one way or the other.
Bria donned the black leggings and black tunic. A sense of destiny filled her, a sense of calm and direction. She bent to the bed to pick up the cloaked hood and stared at it for a long moment.
For Garrett. For Mary. For the people who had been wronged and robbed and beaten by Kenric.
She would face Kenric and defeat him. She was no longer afraid of him. But what of Terran? Could she confront him? Could she beat him? Would she have to?
Bria finished dressing and raised the black hood over her head to become the Midnight Shadow once more.
Terran stood silently in the Great Hall, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth, his arm resting on the stone mantel, a mug of ale dangling from his fingertips. But he didn’t see the orange-red flames biting at the logs, nor did he see the brown bark turn to charcoal black as it burned, and he was completely oblivious to the gray and white smoke swirling up from the fire. All he could see in his mind’s eye were two blue eyes. Two startlingly blue eyes staring at him from behind a mask.
Kenric stood behind him, his words barely heard. “Oh, how she begged for mercy,” he chuckled, “looking up at me with that piteous face. My mercy. As if I have any to give!” Kenric laughed aloud.
Terran ground his teeth. He’d known his cousin had a vicious streak, but to hear him talk about the girl like this made his stomach turn. She was just bait to catch much larger prey. Innocent bait... he pushed aside the memory of Bria’s voice defending her friend.
Not only would he capture the Midnight Shadow. His ploy would also show him who the traitors were. He wasn’t sure which of his men sided with Kenric. He had to expose them all or he could never keep Bria safe.
“She was trembling so much she could barely –”
But how could he defeat him if he didn’t know how many loyal men would fight Kenric’s traitorous dogs? He clenched his teeth. “Is the trap set for dusk?” he asked, cutting off his cousin.
Kenric nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “I’ll have men stationed around the walls and throughout the crowd. Double posts of guards near both gatehouses.”
“Leave the gates open so it’s easier for him to get in,” Terran ordered.
“He’ll get in, but he won’t get out.” Kenric smiled. “After tonight, the Midnight Shadow will no longer be a threat.”
Kenric leaned against the wall of one of the battlements, his gaze trained on Terran. His cousin spoke earnestly with the farmer who’d found Bria after Kenric had poisoned her.
Sir William joined him. He glanced around, his gaze coming to rest on Terran in the courtyard below. “Everything is going as planned. The men are ready.”
Kenric nodded his head, but remained quiet.
Below them, Terran nodded and clasped the farmer’s arm before turning toward the keep.
Kenric shook his head. “He’s never concerned himself with the peasants before.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s he up to?”
Terran stared down at the inner courtyard from his room in the keep. People packed the small square from stone wall to stone wall. He found himself transfixed by the play of events outside his window; he hadn’t moved for hours, watching as the usual traffic of carts and peasants and merchants gave way to meandering knights and curious farmers. They formed a massive sea of eager onlookers, all eyes locked on the execution platform in the middle of the courtyard.
“It’s time, Terran.”
Kenric stood in the doorway. Terran nodded to his cousin, but for a moment he couldn’t move. The thought of what was to come left him momentarily paralyzed. Am I doing the right thing? he wondered. Will this trap work? What if the Midnight Shadow gets killed? What if Bria... He forced the questions to stop lest they drive him mad.
Terran took a step toward the door. “Mary shall not be harmed,” Terran ordered.
“Of course not,” Kenric said. “The plan is to capture the Midnight Shadow.”
Together they proceeded down the stairs to the open keep doors. Terran paused on the steps of the keep and looked out over the murmuring crowd. Two dozen guards had positioned themselves in two lines leading from the stairs to a viewing stand, making a path for him. The viewing stand was a small, rectangular structure about three feet off the ground, providing an unobstructed view of the execution platform.
Terran walked past the guards, aware of the silence following him like the wake of a boat. He could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, and he slanted a gaze at the crowd. Some onlookers were clearly angry. Others looked afraid.
Frowning, he climbed onto the viewing stand and took his place at the front. Kenric took up a position behind him.
Suddenly, the people in the crowd shifted, craning their necks toward the commotion of shuffling peasants and shouts of protests beginning near the rear of the crowd.
Terran turned to see Mary being led toward the executioner’s platform. She was dressed in a drab brown tunic reaching to just below her knees. Her hands were bound in front of her with thick rope. Her head hung to her chest, her shoulders slumped. He felt sorry for the girl; he guessed how terrified she must be, but comforted himself with the thought that she was really in no danger.
The guards shoved her forward. The girl was so small the guards seemed like towering giants. She moved slowly through the crowd, which moved ever closer to her, everyone clamoring for a look at the doomed girl. For a moment, it seemed the crowd had actually swallowed her up. But she reappeared amidst the throng, moving ever closer to the executioner’s platform.
The guards shoved people out of the way as they led Mary to the stairs of the platform. A few in the crowd surged forward as if to help her, but the guards roughly pushed them back.
Sir William, the captain of the guard, stepped up the stairs to join them on the viewing stand, his eyes scanning the crowd.
“Any sign of him, Captain?” Terran asked.
Sir William shook his head.
Terran’s gaze moved over the crowd. The sun had begun to dip over the horizon, and the anxiety bottled up inside him drew his nerves taut.
Mary reached the stairs to the execution platform. A brown-robed monk took her elbow and began to lead her gently up the wooden steps. She stumbled once as her legs gave way beneath her, but the monk kept her on her feet with a firm grip on her elbow.
The guards stationed throughout the crowd drew closer to the executioner’s platform, making a tight circle around it. As Terran’s gaze moved back over the crowd, his eyes stopped on Mary. She was staring at the large block of wood sitting ominously on the platform. A wicker basket was positioned next to it, sitting beneath the indentation carved into the block. The poor girl was visibly trembling.
The monk urged her on, and Mary finally reached the top of the platform.
The crowd became quiet, deathly quiet, as the executioner mounted the rear stairs of the platform, his large boots thundering on the wooden steps. At his side, he gripped a heavy axe tightly in his beefy hand. He was dressed all in black, his head and neck completely covered by a black hood save for two large eyeholes. He stepped onto the platform, shifting the axe from one hand to the other.
The monk guided Mary toward the block. Her eyes had gone blank, and Terran wondered if she had lost her reason. She seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings, her face as expressionless as if she were asleep, or already dead inside. The monk guided her to her knees, and Terran’s stomach tightened. This was going too far. Where was the Midnight Shadow? Was his trap going to work?
The monk stepped back as Mary placed her neck on the chopping block. Her hair dangled down into the wicker basket below her head.
The executioner moved into position near Mary’s head. He gripped the axe with both hands as he moved the head of the heavy weapon into place at his feet.
Terran scanned the crowd, looking for a sign of his enemy, but saw nothing but morbidly curious faces awaiting an unjust execution.
The executioner raised the axe over his head and glanced over to the viewing platform, waiting for the final order to proceed.
He had to put a stop to this charade. Mary didn’t deserve to die. He opened his mouth to tell the executioner to lower his weapon.
Suddenly, there was another commotion, this time at the bottom of the stairs of the execution platform. Terran glanced toward the sudden flurry of movement and swore he saw a flash of black explode through the crowd.
The blur leaped onto the platform and hit the executioner, knocking the large man to the ground. The axe flew out of his hands and landed with a loud thud in one of the platform’s wooden planks. Then, just as quickly, the shape was gone. Mary had disappeared into the crowd with it.
“The Midnight Shadow!” The shout erupted from somewhere in the crowd.
The onlookers exploded in wild chaos, yelling and pushing for a glimpse of the Midnight Shadow.
“Don’t let him escape!” Kenric ordered, his gaze focused on the bottom of the stairway to the executioner’s stand.
Another flash of black drew Terran’s gaze as a cloaked figure moved through the crowd. “There he is!” he shouted.
With a wave of his arm, Kenric signaled the guards forward.
Quick as lightning, the Midnight Shadow engaged the first guard, slicing his sword down to block the guard’s blow.
The crowd scattered away from the swinging weapons and their deadly blades, clearing a small circle in which the combatants fought.
The Midnight Shadow parried and struck with the skill of a trained fighter. But as the second, third, and fourth guards moved in, he was hard pressed to defend himself. Finally, one of the guards grabbed his arm and another wrenched the sword from his hand.
Terran’s heart pounded in his chest. Was it her?
“Take off his mask!” Kenric shouted.
Terran stepped forward to the edge of the viewing stand, anxiously looking down into the courtyard.
The crowd shifted uneasily as people jostled for position to see the unveiling. The entire courtyard again became unnervingly, eerily quiet.
One of the guards reached forward and yanked the mask from the Midnight Shadow’s head.
Terran held his breath as the mask slid over the rebel’s neck, chin, nose, and finally off his head to reveal...
... Harry Delaney. Bria’s grandfather!
“It can’t be,” Kenric hissed. “He never could have overpowered the tax collectors.”
“He’s not the Midnight Shadow!” a voice called. “I am!”
Terran swiveled his head to see another Midnight Shadow standing at the outskirts of the crowd, sword at the ready.
Another Midnight Shadow!
Kenric fumed, “What’s going on? Get him!”
But even as soldiers pushed their way through the crowd, one peasant and then another pointed toward the crenels. Terran looked up to see a third Midnight Shadow. This one grabbed a nearby rope and swung down toward Harry, hitting two guards with his booted feet, knocking them down.
“Get them!” Kenric shouted. “Get them all!”
Terran’s gaze shifted to the second Midnight Shadow, who was engaged in battle with two guards. He was skillful enough to keep the two guards at bay, but there was something strange about the way he fought. His right arm wielded the sword expertly, but he never seemed to lift his left arm, either for balance or for form. It hung at his side like a useless thing. Had he been wounded already, or...
Realization rocked Terran. He knew of only one man who had a crippled arm. And if Bria’s grandfather was here, why not her father?
Terran’s gaze swiveled to Harry and the other Midnight Shadow at his side. This third Midnight Shadow was quite skilled. His thrusts and parries were timed to perfection. Or were they hers?
Terran’s jaw clenched as prickles raced across the back of his neck. He had to know. He leaped from the viewer’s platform, hit the ground and quickly moved forward, not taking his gaze from the Midnight Shadow beside Harry. A guard stumbled back from the fight and into Terran’s path. Terran grabbed him by his tunic and shoved him out of the way.
The Midnight Shadow deflected a blow and countered with another, driving another guard back. Then he turned with his sword raised and came face to face with Terran.
Terran wasn’t surprised by what he saw. Crystal blue eyes gazed at him through the two slits in the mask. The bluest eyes he had ever seen. God’s blood! Why didn’t I see it before?
Bria. His heart ached to hold her and touch her. But as long as she stayed hidden behind the mask of his enemy, he could only stare.
Behind her, one of the guards lifted his weapon to strike her down.
Terran lurched forward, lifting his blade to block the blow and then knock the guard’s sword aside, saving the Midnight Shadow’s life. Saving Bria’s life.
He shoved the guard away in disgust, then looked back at his black-cloaked enemy. His lover.
She said nothing as she slowly lowered her weapon.
He raised his sword and placed the tip to her neck. Which one would she be when he unmasked her? Enemy or lover?
The fighting around them seemed to slow, the noise lowering to a whisper, the figures fading into a hazy blur.
Bria lowered her weapon even further until the tip was almost touching the ground. Terran’s heart ached. He could see the dazzling blue of her eyes shining at him from the dark holes in her mask. He could see the sadness in them, the pain, the anguish. But behind it all, her inner fire burned bright. If he captured her, he would be sentencing her to death. The flame would be extinguished forever, the only flame that could ever warm his cold heart.
“Well done, cousin,” Kenric said, approaching from the viewer’s platform. “Unmask him.”
Terran kept the tip of his blade to her neck, transfixed by her brilliant blue eyes. Despite the growing pain in his heart, he felt a su
dden surge of anger racing through him as well, anger at her betrayal. How could she stand against her husband? “I don’t have to,” he announced.
“What do you mean? Unmask him!” Kenric snapped.
Terran turned his full anger on Kenric. “You overstep yourself, cousin. I give the commands.”
“Fool,” Kenric gritted. He whirled away from Terran, throwing his arms high above his head. “Now!” he hollered. “Attack!”
The courtyard exploded with a cacophony of fighting as Kenric’s paid mercenaries moved in, clashing with Terran’s loyal men. The thunderous sound of dozens of blades colliding, of steel cracking against steel, clanged in the courtyard. Allegiances quickly played themselves out as Kenric’s men grouped together, each ripping off his tunic to reveal a black snake painted onto a chest plate or leather armor.
All of the snakes had eyes as cold and as black as Kenric’s.
Terran turned to his cousin. “You traitorous bastard.” He swung at Kenric, but his cousin ducked his blow and raced out of the circle of guards. Terran suddenly found himself surrounded by men bearing the snake symbol, men he didn’t recognize. I’ve been living like a blind man in my own castle.
He turned to block a blow and found himself fighting side by side with Bria. He finished the guard with a quick strike and felt pride swell in his chest as Bria dispatched another opponent with great skill, defeating him with two solid blows.
He opened his mouth to say something to her, but three mercenaries attacking one of his guards needed his immediate attention.
Anger fueled Terran’s rage, and he fought like a man possessed. He quickly helped his man defeat the mercenaries, then whirled to look for his cousin. Kenric had retreated to the viewer’s platform and was watching the battle from afar. Of course. He was too much a coward to wage his own fight. Slowly his cousin smiled a chilling, triumphant smile.
Terran turned to survey the battle around him, needing to know the reason behind the smile. Kenric’s men seemed to be swarming everywhere, outnumbering his loyal forces almost three to one.
Daring Damsels Page 87
