Enchanted (30 page)

“Aye,” Geoffrey said carelessly, for he
was still caught by the sight of Amber’s cross lying coolly
against her palm.

“Truth,” said Amber.

“Did you put an evil witch’s potion in
my wine?” Ariane asked.

Geoffrey’s head snapped around once more to
face his accuser. The amethyst dress Ariane wore seethed quietly,
making silver embroidery glitter and race like veiled lightning
throughout the cloth. The jewels in her hair glittered as coldly
violet as her eyes.

“Nay,” Geoffrey said.

“Lie,” Amber said.

A murmuring ran through the assembled knights.
Ariane ignored it.

“Did that potion make my mind heavy and my
body slack, unable to scream or fight?” Ariane asked.

“Nay!”

“Lie.”

The murmur became a muttering of outrage. Warily
Duncan looked at Simon.

Simon was absolutely calm, utterly in control of
himself. With an inner sigh of relief, and a silent thanks to Simon
for his restraint, Duncan eased his punishing grip.

Simon didn’t move to take advantage of
Duncan’s looser grip. Soon the grip became more gentle
still.

“Did you then carry me to my bed?”
Ariane asked.

Silence, then, “Aye.”

“Truth.”

Ariane took a deep breath to still the hatred and
contempt that made her tremble.

A scream voiced in
silence
.

“There you raped me, and when morning finally
came—”

“Nay!”

“Lie.”

A betrayal so deep it all but
killed her soul
.

“—you brought my father up to see me
lying naked in bloody sheets—”

“Never!”

“Lie.”

“—and you told him that I had seduced
you with a witch’s potion.”

“Nay! You—”

“Lie.”

Ariane, the
Betrayed
.

The murmuring of her name and her betrayal went
like a storm wind through the great hall, telling Geoffrey the Fair
that Ariane had won.

“Then you—” Ariane began.

Geoffrey leaped out of his chair. Blunt fingers
closed around Ariane’s neck as though he would choke the
truth to silence, and her with it.

With a savage cry Simon exploded free of
Duncan’s restraint and vaulted the lord’s table,
scattering costly goblets and plates in every direction. As one,
Duncan, Dominic and Erik went over the table after Simon.

They weren’t quick enough. Simon hit the
floor running. Knights took one look at the black hell of his eyes
and scrambled to get out of his way.

Suddenly Geoffrey’s high scream ripped
through the hall. Ariane’s long sleeves had whipped across
his face. Livid streaks of red marked wherever the dress had
touched his bare skin.

“Curse you to hell, witch!” Geoffrey
raged. “I wish I had managed to kill you and your cursed
husband when I attacked you in the Disputed Lands!”

Geoffrey whipped a dagger from beneath his mantle
and raised the blade.

Simon’s dagger flew in a blur of silver
between the tables and buried itself to the hilt in
Geoffrey’s shoulder. Before anyone could draw a breath,
Geoffrey was falling and Simon was upon him.

Simon snatched Geoffrey’s dagger as it rolled
from his numbed hand. Smoothly Simon returned the blade to
Geoffrey, point first between his ribs, exactly where Ariane had
been wounded by the renegade’s dagger. When the blade could
go no deeper, Simon twisted the haft sharply.

“May you spend eternity in hell,” Simon
said softly.

Geoffrey was dead before he hit the floor.

Towering over his slain foe, Simon heard as though
at a great distance the words of the knights within the great
hall.

Geoffrey the Fair
.

A renegade butcher
.

Deguerre’s beloved
knight
.

Dead
.

Simon the Loyal has finally
avenged Ariane the Betrayed
.

A shudder tore through Simon when Dominic’s
hand gently gripped his shoulder. Rage receded, sanity returned,
and Simon knew what he had done.

Hating himself for his unruly passions, Simon
turned from Geoffrey’s corpse to face the Glendruid Wolf.

“Again I have betrayed you,” Simon said
in a voice made harsh by restraint.

“You have defended your wife’s honor
and her life,” Dominic said evenly. “There is no
betrayal in that.”

“I could have spared Geoffrey. I did not.
Worse, if it were mine to do again, I know I would do the
same…only more slowly, more painfully, until the swine
squealed for me to end it.”

Simon turned away, holding out his hand.
“Lady Amber, I beg a favor of you.”

Amber hesitated in the instant before she touched
Simon. Her fingers jerked once, then were still. Her breath came
out in a long sigh. She watched Simon with haunted golden eyes,
waiting for him to speak.

“Tell my wife,” Simon said without
looking at Ariane, “that I would have silenced the swine
sooner, had Blackthorne been stronger.”

“Truth.”

“Tell my wife that I am certain of her
fidelity to me.”

“Truth.”

“And finally,” Simon said softly,
“
tell my wife that I hold her in no
greater regard for being certain of her
innocence
.”

“Truth.”

Instantly Simon released Amber.

“I regret the pain I have caused you,
lady,” Simon said.

“There was none.”

“You are as kind as you are
beautiful.”

Simon turned and looked at Ariane.

“Nightingale,” he said softly,
“are you at peace, now?”

Ariane couldn’t speak. Tears wrenched her
throat and spilled from her eyes, for she heard all that Simon did
not say. Her reckless determination to prove her own innocence had
caused Simon to betray the brother whom he cherished more than he
cherished anything in life.

In defending Ariane, Simon had slain
Blackthorne’s peace as surely as he had slain Geoffrey the
Fair.

Marie’s words about betrayal and the Holy
Land echoed in Ariane’s mind, telling her another truth that
had been learned too late:
Simon is a man of
extraordinary passion. It will be many more years before he
forgets. Or forgives me
.

Ariane feared it would be the same for her.

“M
y lady?” asked
Blanche.

“What is it?”

Ariane winced at the sound of her own voice.
Geoffrey’s death today had been enough to bring strain to
anyone, but Baron Deguerre’s messenger announcing the
imminent arrival of his lord had been the final straw. Blackthorne
Keep’s nerves were strung to a high pitch as people waited to
find out precisely when the baron would arrive, and more
importantly, with how many warriors.

“I can’t find your favorite
comb,” Blanche admitted unhappily.

Ariane barely heard. She was certain she had heard
the sound of the sentry above the crying of the wind.

“M’lady?”

“’Tis under the bed in the corner near
the window,” Ariane said curtly.

Blanche was halfway across the room to retrieve the
comb when she stopped and spun back to Ariane.

“Your gift has come back to you!”

The words got through Ariane’s preoccupation.
She gave Blanche an impatient look.

“Nay,” Ariane said. “I merely saw
it there earlier.”

“Oh.”

Blanche went to the bed, got down on her hands and
knees, and pawed through the draperies.

“’Tis keen eyesight you have,”
Blanche muttered. “I can barely find the cursed thing with
both hands.”

“Did you say something?” Ariane
asked.

“No,” Blanche muttered.

As the handmaiden scrambled to her feet, she was
grateful that the amber witch wasn’t nearby to catch her out
in a lie.

Ariane barely noticed Blanche as she combed and
braided and piled her mistress’s black hair high. Ariane was
thinking of the coming night, when Simon finished walking the
battlements.

She wondered if he were as angry with her as he
once had been with Marie…or if Simon would come to his wife
in the darkness, teaching her all over again that ecstasy was
always new, always burning.

Nightingale, are you at peace,
now
?

Tears burned against Ariane’s eyelids.

She was not at peace. She had risked more than she
knew when she put Geoffrey to Learned questioning, only to discover
that the answer truly meant nothing to Simon.

But that same answer had forced him to again betray
his brother.

Simon had not loved Ariane before.

He would not love her now.

“When do you think he will come?”
Blanche asked.

“Simon?” Ariane asked huskily.

“Nay. Your father.”

“Soon. Very soon.”

“Tonight?” Blanche asked, startled.
“’Tis already quite late.”

“It would be like the baron to arrive when
everyone assumes he will wait.”

“Oh. How many warriors will he
have?”

“Too many.”

A cry rang down from the icy battlements. Ariane
listened, motionless, and heard the sentry announce the coming of
Baron Deguerre through darkness and storm.

“My Learned dress,” Ariane said.
“Quickly.”

Blanche brought the dress and stepped back after
giving it to her lady, well pleased not to touch the fabric
anymore.

Even as Ariane’s fingers flew over silver
laces, Dominic, Simon, Erik, and Duncan were sweeping through the
keep, calling out orders to knights.

“A gentleman would have waited until tomorrow
to come to the keep,” Simon said under his breath,
“when most of us wouldn’t be abed.”

“Deguerre is hoping to find our knights fully
stupid with ale, and us along with them,” Dominic said.

“Always the tactician,” Simon said.

“Deguerre or Dominic?” Duncan asked
dryly.

“Deguerre,” said Dominic.

“Dominic,” said Simon.

The Glendruid Wolf smiled sardonically.

The four men stepped into the bailey. Ice gleamed
sullenly in the backlash of torchlight.

“Erik,” Dominic said, “I ask you
to conceal your cleverness. Let Deguerre think you
are…”

“Stupid?” Erik suggested.

“That would be too much to hope,”
Dominic retorted. “Deguerre is diabolically shrewd. But if
you are silent, there is at least a chance of surprising him with
the clarity of your mind.”

Erik smiled like a wolf. “I didn’t
think you had noticed.”

Simon swallowed laughter as he picked his way
across slick cobblestones. Erik’s ability to see patterns
where others saw only chaos had set the Glendruid Wolf and the
Learned sorcerer at one another’s throats more than once.

To Dominic, Erik was very much a double-edged
sword. Yet Dominic could not help but respect the younger
man’s courage and uncanny mind.

When the four men were close to the gatehouse,
Harry the Lame pushed open the door. Inside, a fire in the brazier
burned like a great orange eye set amid an ebony chill.

“Do you think Deguerre will surrender his
arms?” Duncan asked as he stepped into the gatehouse.

“Why shouldn’t he?” Simon asked
blandly. “You and your knights did. So did Erik and his
knights. Neither of you owes fealty to Dominic. Particularly the
sorcerer.”

“Aye,” Erik said under his breath.
“The Glendruid Wolf has given me nothing but
trouble.”

“Thank you,” murmured Dominic. “I
didn’t think you had noticed.”

“What if Deguerre doesn’t accept the
ban?” Erik asked, ignoring Dominic.

“Then he sleeps in the fields with ice for
his pillow and wind for his blanket,” Simon said.

“You sound as though you relish the
prospect,” Dominic said.

“I would prefer the baron slept in hell with
his beloved swine-knight than in the clean fields of Blackthorne
Keep,” Simon said.

Dominic gave his younger brother a wary look.

“Have no fear,” Simon said tightly.
“I am yours to command, so long as it doesn’t add to
what Ariane has already suffered.”

Duncan and Erik exchanged a glance in the wavering
torchlight. It was the first time either man had heard Simon put a
boundary on his loyalty to the Glendruid Wolf.

“And if more suffering is required?”
Dominic asked.

“Then, Glendruid Wolf, you had best restrain
me more carefully than before. I find I am fed to the teeth with
men who would torment a helpless nightingale.”

“Not quite helpless,” Dominic said
dryly. “You saw the marks upon Geoffrey’s
face.”

“Aye,” Duncan muttered. “Lady
Ariane must have fingernails like daggers.”

“Not nails,” Erik said. “A dress
from the most accomplished weaver the Silverfells clan has ever
produced.”

“What do you mean?” Simon asked.

“Serena’s weaving responds to Ariane as
though she were an ancient Learned warrior commanding skills we
have long since lost,” Erik said.

“Explain,” Dominic said bluntly.

“For Ariane, the dress is armor and weapon
both. I wonder if Cassandra foresaw that.”

“Just as you are wondering how you can use it
to your advantage,” Duncan said rather grimly.

As much as Duncan liked Amber’s brother,
Duncan hadn’t forgotten who had set in motion the dangerous
events that had ended with Duncan betrothed to one woman, married
to another, and foresworn in the bargain.

“To
my
advantage?” Erik challenged softly. “Nay. To the
advantage of the Disputed Lands. Like the Glendruid Wolf, I prefer
peace to war.”

The sound of many horses trotting toward the keep
made the four men look at one another.

“A pity Deguerre isn’t a peaceful
lord,” Erik said. “How many fighting men does he have
with him?”

“I shall know when Sven returns,”
Dominic said.

“Ah, yes. The Ghost. I could use a man like
him,” Erik said. “There are places in the Disputed
Lands that are…closed…to me.”

“Should we manage to blunt Deguerre’s
sword, you may have Sven with my blessing. And his,” Dominic
added dryly. “Peace bores him.”

“Lord,” Harry said. “A knight
comes.”

“Alone?”

“Aye.”

A chill moved through Simon.

“’Tis more like a parley between
enemies than a visit from a father-in-law,” Duncan said under
his breath.

“Simon,” Dominic said. “Can you
control your temper long enough to speak for me?”

“Aye.”

“Then do so.” Dominic turned to Erik.
“Is your wolfhound a reliable, er, scout?”

“Aye.”

“Can you send it to patrolling all the places
more than one or two men might hide beyond the keep’s
walls?”

“Aye.”

“Please do so. Quickly.”

Erik whistled. The sound was as clear and carrying
as that of a pipe.

Stagkiller materialized from the shadows just
behind the gatehouse. Erik spoke to him in an ancient tongue. The
wolfhound looked at Erik with unearthly golden eyes, then turned
and trotted through the open sally port. A heartbeat later
Stagkiller vanished into the darkness and wind.

Beyond the moat, a horse snorted and a knight spoke
sharply. Harness and chain mail trappings jangled as the horse
shied.

“Go,” Dominic said quietly.

Simon walked out into the wind. His mantle lifted
and whipped, showing flashes of the luxuriant white fur lining.

The knight’s horse snorted again and stepped
sideways. Though it lacked a war stallion’s muscular power,
the animal had a lean, long-legged look of speed about it. In the
torchlight the horse’s coat was as pale as the lining of
Simon’s mantle.

“Lord Charles, Baron of Deguerre,” the
knight said loudly, “comes not far behind me. Will Lord
Dominic le Sabre, called the Glendruid Wolf, receive the
baron?”

“Aye,” Simon said, “if the baron
will agree to leave all arms and armor at the gate. Lord Dominic
permits no arms inside, unless they are locked in Blackthorne
Keep’s armory.”

“By the Cross,” the knight said,
shocked. “Who are you to order the Baron of
Deguerre?”

“Lord Dominic’s brother and his
seneschal,” Simon said succinctly. “My words are
his.”

“You are Sir Simon, called the
Loyal?”

“Aye.”

“Husband to Lady Ariane?”

“Aye.”

“I will take your brother’s cold
welcome to the baron.”

The messenger turned his horse, spurred it, and
galloped back into the night.

“What do you think he will do?” Dominic
asked Simon as he walked back into the gatehouse.

“Leave enough armed men beyond the
keep’s wall to lay siege,” Simon said.

“Erik?” Dominic asked.

“I agree,” Erik said. “The baron
will come inside with a handful of spies and assassins. When he has
estimated the strength and temper of the keep, he will
leave.”

“Will he lay siege?” Dominic asked
Erik.

Erik shrugged. “That depends on how much
weakness he finds inside and what excuse he can cobble together to
justify a battle, if that is what he seeks.”

“Have you any other insights, Learned or
otherwise?”

Erik narrowed his eyes until they were little more
than gleaming yellow slits reflecting torchlight.

Dominic waited. However impatient he might become
with the heart-stopping risks Erik was willing to take, he
respected the Learned man’s tactical abilities. It had taken
a brilliant strategist to pull victory from the ruins of Amber and
Duncan’s forbidden love, and peace from the endless turmoil
of the Disputed Lands.

“There are many possibilities,” Erik
said finally. “Too many. The baron could be bent on seeing
his daughter well settled with an unexpected husband, or the baron
could be bent on war, or he could be anywhere between.”

“Aye,” Dominic said softly.

“How is your Glendruid wife sleeping?”
Erik asked.

“Badly.”

“She dreams?”

“Yes.”

“Even in the day?”

Dominic’s breath caught. “At supper.
Yes.”

Erik’s hands went to the sword that
wasn’t there. His fingers flexed and he sighed.

“Then there is more wrong than
Geoffrey’s death put aright,” Erik said simply.

“What else is there?” Simon
demanded.

“I don’t know,” Erik said.

“Nor do I,” Dominic said. “But I
know this—if there is a weakness, Baron Deguerre will find
it.”

The sound of horses cantering toward the keep came
clearly in a pause between gusts of wind.

“He comes,” Duncan said.

“Aye,” said Dominic.

“Armed?” Simon asked.

Silence stretched like a harp string, then Dominic
shook his head.

“Nay,” Dominic said. “The baron
is shrewd indeed. He will spy out the keep from the inside before
he decides if he is insulted by my cold welcome.”

Erik gave Dominic a quick, slanting glance,
realizing that the Glendruid Wolf had hoped to anger the baron
enough so that he would refuse to pass through the keep’s
gates.

“Subtly done, wolf,” Erik said
softly.

“But unsuccessfully,” Dominic said.
“Now we will have to find the baron’s weakness before
he finds ours.”

“Are you so certain we have one?” Simon
asked.

“Yes,” Dominic said. “As certain
as Deguerre is.”

“In the name of God, what is it?”
Duncan demanded.

“In the name of God,
I
don’t know
.”