Her Dark Knight's Redemption

by Nicole Locke

  ‘And his hearing?’

  ‘I don’t know what he was like before. It could have been why he was caught.’

  ‘He seems sick.’

  ‘In summer he’ll be better.’

  ‘He’ll be better with shelter, food.’

  Too true. ‘When I found him, his hands hadn’t one callous—his cries broke my heart. The guards completely ignored him.’

  Reynold nodded his head as if in agreement. ‘You never stole those loaves that day.’

  What did it matter? ‘Why else would I be returning them?’

  His eyes narrowed as if she disappointed him again. She didn’t care. ‘You were protecting the boy. You’re too cunning to steal from Ido. With that many loaves, you would have been flogged or branded.’

  Did he want the truth? ‘It wouldn’t have been my first offence. If they had taken me—’

  He clenched his burned hand. ‘You would have lost a hand with no coin to pay off the burgher. What were you thinking!’

  ‘You would have done the same.’

  ‘Sacrifice myself for others. Think again.’

  Disdainful words, yet...he was sacrificing himself. Danger around them, but he was ensuring her family was kept hidden and safe.

  Who was this man? It was as if Darkness was slowly revealing himself, but she didn’t know if she could trust him enough to wait.

  Looking away as if discomfited by her staring, he said, ‘When you were caught before...were you harmed?’

  When she was caught... Not so long ago, there were many days of starvation; days she was so hungry, she only slept. But the first time she was caught stealing, that fear and pain was etched forever in her memory. Now that she was older, she could look at it differently. Remember that the guard hadn’t been as cruel as he could have been. Gabriel was proof of true cruelty. ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘You do and you’re protecting him!’ He paced to the side. ‘Is there no one you wouldn’t protect? Blind, crooked, deaf. Are there more I should worry about along the way?’

  Darkness was pacing. Did thoughts of her cause such worry?

  ‘I’ll defend those who deserve defence. Anyone. Even those who feel they don’t need or deserve it.’

  Would she defend him?

  Reynold tried to keep his attention on his surroundings. Attempted to hear the conversations behind him, but his entire existence was on the thief. He shouldn’t be obsessed with her thoughts. Shouldn’t be standing here. They were exposed to the mercenaries, the women, to whoever followed them. They could be seen across the river. But after talking with Baldr and Louve, he needed to know more of her.

  And talking of her family instead of what was between them was safer. He was a coward.

  Even so he could not hide from everything because the more she revealed of Gabriel, the more he compared his own life to that boy. The more he realised how remarkable and compassionate this woman was. He needed to stay distant, to keep her away with his words, his deeds, and yet...once again he donned his wings trying to be near her. Close enough to ask a question he already knew the answer to. ‘Did he see the hanging of his parents?’

  Surprise. Pain. She crossed her arms and took a step back. ‘He did.’

  ‘Did they see him?’

  A quick nod was all Reynold needed to understand what had happened, but he couldn’t comprehend the depth of courage it took. ‘You took him. Why? You cannot even speak of it. There were horrors he no doubt witnessed. Slurs made—waste thrown.’

  ‘All of that, but he had to see them.’

  Aliette wasn’t cruel like his mother. Why did she do it? ‘Does any child need to see their parents hung?’

  She wiped her tears. ‘I... I only let him see when they reached the platform. I turned him before the deed.’

  ‘Into your arms.’ At her nod, he said, ‘You took him so his parents could see him and see you.’

  ‘My hands were on his shoulders.’

  ‘You protected him. You went, though you never did before, because you wanted them to know he would be taken care of. You did it for them.’

  ‘You act as though that is a fault,’ she said.

  ‘To put yourself up like that, to scar him to ease the conscience of two people who would soon be dead. What care have they whether their issue is taken?’

  She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. I did it for him, too. When Gabriel is older, he’ll know he comforted his parents at that moment. That he was brave enough, displayed the courage to face that horror, so that he could provide two people who loved him love in return. It’s how he can learn to love again. Don’t you see?’

  Never could he have guessed this fathomless selflessness. But love? He thought he understood it with Aliette, but he was wrong. He had to be wrong because she thought he’d leave her behind to be found by his enemies.

  ‘Love?’ he said. ‘What do you know of it? You were abandoned just as Gabriel’s parents left him.’

  She flinched. ‘They didn’t abandon him.’

  ‘Gabriel’s parents both stole. They both got caught. If they had had any intention of providing care, only one of them would have taken the risk. They were fools.’

  Disbelief flashed across her pleading features, then her eyes grew wide. A curve to her lips, as though she knew something he didn’t. ‘You don’t believe that.’

  He felt a hard thump in his heart. ‘I said it.’

  ‘You did say it, but what would you have done? If you were your parents and your child was starving, would you risk your life?’

  ‘Don’t mention my family.’

  ‘Why? You mention mine. Is the reason you find abundance in your stories because you have no one?’

  ‘What if I have my books and stories, thief? All the better than to surround myself with people and yet still not find a home.’ Aliette paled as if he had struck her. ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘You did. All this time I kept thinking you used words to keep people away, that you couldn’t possibly be that cruel. But I’m wrong, aren’t I? You don’t care about people. Just those stories. After all, you have a home, wealth, parents, yet they aren’t surrounding you with love and affection, with warmth. Where are your parents, Reynold?’

  Safely ensconced in a castle plotting revenge on their son.

  She couldn’t know that when he talked of enemies he talked of his parents. His family. Everyone assumed it was someone outside the united Warstone clan. No father should try to drown his son. No mother burns her babies to test their loyalty. Aliette couldn’t know, but it was a mistake to fly so close to her because despite his words to keep her away, she saw him.

  ‘Goodnight, thief, get some sleep.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Horses’ hooves pounding against mud and snow woke Aliette before Reynold ripped open the blanket that covered the tent’s entrance.

  ‘Get out of here!’

  Long hours and she had fallen asleep mere moments before. Reynold was blurred through half-open eyes. ‘What is happening?’

  ‘There are fools who announce their presence. As if we would camp and not be protected.’

  A bellow. The high-pitched whinny of a felled horse.

  ‘They have met our guards,’ Reynold said, his voice full of fierce satisfaction.

  Aliette sat up. There were cries... ‘Guards?’

  ‘My men are in the trees.’

  ‘Reynold! They’ve got fire,’ Louve shouted.

  Darkness changed in an instant. ‘Follow Louve,’ he said. ‘Get out of the tent and go to the trees near our horses. There are men there who will protect you.’

  Then he was gone and she was fully awake.

  To hear urgency. Raw. Visceral. A clang of metal, the slam of blunt force. To feel the barrage of vibrations and pounding. Horses? Men falling? Loud and incessa
nt.

  Aliette scrambled out of the tent, tore the blanket from the rope.

  ‘Leave that,’ Louve commanded.

  Aliette dropped the blanket. At one point she’d have begged for a blanket such as this. The sounds were unmuted now, close, becoming closer. Trees blocked the way to see clearly, but the light of torches cast long shadows towards her.

  ‘The women?’

  ‘Safe.’ Louve pointed over the clash of men. ‘On the other side. We need to get you there.’

  Glancing at the blanket as if he knew the importance to her, Louve pulled her close. A few steps away and the trees no longer blocked the fighting.

  Mercenaries. Men, illuminated by raging torches. The arc of swords above their heads. Some thrusting, holding the hilt with two hands. Others swooping and caving their bodies to avoid death. And Reynold in the thick of it, a macabre spectre. The swift swirl of Darkness.

  Except—

  ‘What is he doing?’ Louve said.

  She felt the same. Reynold’s sword was sheathed, he needed help! Louve had the only weapon, but he stepped right to avoid her hand.

  ‘You’ll get him killed if you take my knife. You’ll get me killed if we stay here. Let’s go!’

  Another glance, the melee closer. Reynold still standing. She could feel the heat of the torches. Some fallen, some thrown. A tree was ablaze, the smoke hazing the men. Were there fewer standing? They swerved left, she lost sight.

  She followed Louve, ran and crouched as he did, grabbed a thick branch. Another turn. Swiped a sturdy rock, dropped the branch and grabbed some more rocks. With Louve in front of her, she tore left to get closer and hid behind a tree.

  The reverberations of men and scattered horses thumped through her chest, but now she could see. Reynold downing men, but not killing them. His clashes were raw prolonged brutality. Why he didn’t pull a sword, why the others fighting against him didn’t pull theirs she couldn’t fathom.

  The other mercenaries leapt around as though they’d been part of this strange battle before. In the corner of her eye, she caught Louve entering the fray with a shout of words towards Reynold, who jerked, allowing his foe to gain a punch. She pressed further against the tree.

  Then she saw him. A man, an enemy, behind the fighting and to her left. Hiding among the trees, but creeping closer, his eyes trained on Reynold’s back. His hand locked around a dagger’s handle for an easy strike.

  She palmed the rocks she’d gathered in her gown. She’d get one, maybe two chances to take him down, the trees a barrier, the mercenaries fighting another.

  The first fit her hand perfectly, but wouldn’t take him down. The next heavier and too cumbersome to throw. She glanced at Reynold, his back exposed, the man he engaged noting his friend who was creeping steadily closer.

  Aliette heard no sounds or vibrations except for her heart and breath. Saw nothing except the man and Reynold’s vulnerability.

  She threw, the rock knocking against his temple. He crumpled down, but was not out, so she clenched the larger rock and leapt upon him.

  The man fighting Reynold dodged towards her and she struck the side of her captive’s head. He went limp under her. Reynold whipped around. His grey gaze like fire locked on her.

  ‘You fool.’ With a snarl, he released his sword at his side and plunged it into the man charging her. Reynold’s sword slashed out again. ‘Fools, all of you!’

  Aliette was exposed, the cover of trees blocked. She was helpless as one, two men were felled under Reynold’s sword. He was swarmed now.

  She’d done nothing more than she always did to protect herself, and her family. To grab objects and knock out her attacker so she could run. But she’d released something here. Something different. This wasn’t the battle as before. The men no longer fighting as if they’d seen it all before.

  Crouching low against the enemy she’d felled, his chest rising and lowering, she felt all the fool if she were to die here like this, so steadfast on saving Reynold when her own—

  Aliette scrambled away from the man until she broke free and ran to the shore.

  No!

  The boat was engulfed in flames.

  * * *

  Chest heaving, his fists raw, Reynold strained to sense any movement at all. He recognised none of the trained men who attacked, but most carried heavy purses. It could only be his family who sent them. Splashing in the river, the sound of grief. Rage rising again, he sprinted.

  Not fast enough. Aliette flailed her arms and body in the Seine. Remnants of the flaming boat protruded above the water.

  The boat! Storming over her gown and chemise strewn on the pebbles, he tore off his chainmail, the hauberk, his boots. No time for the rest.

  Aliette, who’d saved him. And now, flinging himself in the water, he cried out, ‘Stop!’

  Abject terror. Cries of pain. Her heart broken. Reynold felt each sputtering gasp of air like a gash against him. She’d drown before she reached the opposite bank and was too far gone to swim back. Another stroke, a stronger kick, he wrapped an arm around her chest.

  ‘No!’ She fought him. A fist against his nose, a jab to his eye. The water was too deep to plant his feet and shove back. He could get no leverage on her. And all too aware that they were both vulnerable, exposed. He’d be unable to avoid arrows, fire. A thrown dagger.

  ‘It’s over,’ he shouted. ‘They’re safe. We must swim back!

  ‘No! Grace, Gabriel. My family.’ Clawing at him, she screamed, ‘The boat, the boat!’

  Cursing himself, he squeezed her to him. Her hand uselessly slapped at the water’s uneven surface as she struggled against his might.

  ‘They’re not there,’ he called out. ‘They’re not there.’

  ‘Where?’ she whimpered, her eyes focused on the remnants of the boat, on the groan of splintering wood crashing into the water.

  Damn his pride. She was worthy of the truth, but not like this. ‘We’re swimming back.’

  This time she helped him. Small at first, her attention on the boat, on her family, but her legs kicked along with his until they reached the shore, and he dragged her on to the bank and rested her on her strewn clothing.

  ‘Reynold,’ Louve said, coming from the trees.

  He covered her body with his own. Aliette clung to him.

  ‘Did you get them all?’ he bit out.

  Louve stopped, threw two blankets their way. ‘Yes. I heard the splashing—how deep did you go? I’ll build the fire.’

  The fire, warmth, could wait. Not the danger. ‘All are dead?’

  ‘None survived.’

  No survivors gave them time to reach the house in Troyes. No time to waste, but Aliette’s trembles were increasing. His focus was wholly on her.

  ‘Leave. Take care of the others, keep all away from this shore.’

  ‘We need to—’

  Aliette’s tiny hands gripped his tunic as if she was drowning. ‘Now!’

  Watching Louve retreat, he whispered. ‘Are you well? Have you been hurt?’

  ‘Where are they? If not on the boat, then where?’ she sobbed. ‘And why?’

  He pushed up. She didn’t release her hold on his tunic and their legs were tangled. This close, the moonlight showed little, her soaked hair darker than the clothes they laid on, the brightness of her skin dimmed by shadows and night.

  But her eyes—Her questions were not soft this time, her gaze did not beckon. Sheened with despair and a growing awareness of betrayal, Aliette’s eyes beseeched and demanded that he tell the truth.

  ‘They were never in the carts. When we took them from the tunnel, we settled them in a carriage with blankets and food. One that was sent ahead of us, along a different path that will purposefully keep them a day behind.’

  Releasing her grip, he felt her fingers spasm as if to strike. He braced for it, deser
ved whatever pain she deemed necessary.

  ‘You hid them from me?’ She scrambled out from under him, clenched her chemise which was locked under their knees. ‘Where are they now?’

  ‘Still a day behind and safe.’

  She yanked on the chemise. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because the men who were on that boat, which is now gone, gave the signal.’

  ‘What men?’ She pointed. ‘What boat! How far do the lies go? Did you burn it?’

  When he shook his head, she continued, ‘So your enemy did.’ She threw the corner of her chemise down and stood. Naked. Glorious. The moonlight glistening off her skin, pebbled from the cold.

  He stood with her. Gathered her clothes to drape around her and she shoved them away, shoved him away.

  ‘I can’t help them! I can’t keep them safe if you hide them from me! How dare you direct my life, their lives? How—?’

  ‘I’m the target.’ He pounded his chest. ‘Do you understand? The bulk of my hired swords are there protecting the carriage. I ensured they were the safe ones.’

  ‘They’re safe,’ she repeated. Her sodden hair wrapped around her shoulders, a thick tendril around her neck. The flash of her blue eyes showing wariness, showing anger. The white of her skin darkening, chafing from the cold. The end of winter, but the air was sharp.

  He took a step forward, holding out her clothes like an offering. Relief swept through him as she took them, though she only clutched them to her.

  ‘But you aren’t. You’re travelling by this road, in front of many. Those men who attacked—’

  ‘I knew they would come. I was prepared.’ He took a step back, and another. ‘But you—Louve had you.’

  ‘You didn’t draw your sword or a dagger. He was approaching your back.’

  ‘And you just leapt upon him?’

  She shook her head, her expression one of determination. ‘Tell me. What was in those carts...that boat? What were your mercenaries carrying? And stop lying! Why would they target that boat if you were not on it? I want answers.’