Rise (10 page)

“You cannot trust your peers,” Bosque told Eira. “Someone took the traitor’s life.”

Eira cast a doubtful glance on Mercer’s corpse, which she’d ordered to be brought to her in the great hall for further examination. “Perhaps his body couldn’t withstand the torment. Many men die under the torturer’s care.”

Bosque smiled briefly. “No.”

“How can you be sure?” Eira asked.

“My wraiths can feed off a man for years,” he told her. “They would not be so careless with a fine meal. And they do not kill prisoners without my command.”

Alistair peered at Mercer’s stiff body. “There are no marks on his body.”

“Poison is the assassin’s favorite weapon,” Bosque answered him. “Who had access to the prisoner’s food?”

With a shrug, Alistair told him, “Any number of people. The kitchens aren’t guarded. It would have been easy for someone to add a fatal seasoning to the meal without garnering attention.”

“That is what I suspect happened,” Bosque said. “It would be wise to question the kitchen staff.”

“When you say question—” Alistair looked to Eira, wondering if Bosque meant to set his wraiths on the cooks.

Catching Alistair’s meaning, Bosque smiled. “Fear not, young Lord Hart. I only use extreme measure on those whose actions have earned that reward. Until we have the suspected assassin identified, a simple review of the persons who were in the kitchen when Mercer’s last meal was prepared will do.”

“I’ll have Cian do it,” Eira said. “She seemed reluctant to travel with us to Inverness.”

“And why is that?” Bosque asked her.

“Hunting her fellow Guardsmen turns my sister’s stomach, I’m afraid,” Eira said. When Bosque raised an eyebrow, Eira added, “She’ll come around.”

“I’m sure,” Bosque replied, though Alistair thought his tone skeptical at best. “Perhaps Claudio should assist her in the task.”

“If you think so,” Eira said. “It
would
add more weight to the investigation if two Circle members conducted the search.”

Bosque nodded. “Give the orders and meet us at the stables. We’ll depart when—”

A sharp rapping at the door stopped their conversation.

“Come!” Eira called.

One of the guards posted outside the great hall stepped into the room. His eyes briefly passed over Mercer’s corpse, and he swallowed visibly.

“Pardon me, Lady Eira,” he said. “But a visitor has arrived and pleads that she must be seen.”

“Very well,” Eira said.

The guard cleared his throat. “My lady, the visitor asks not for you, but for Lord Hart.”

Eira turned to Alistair. “Are you expecting a guest, Lord Hart?”

Alistair shook his head, but his heart gave a wild flail of hope. Perhaps in reaching the coast, Ember had looked over the sea and realized how pointless the voyage would be.

“Lord Hart?” the guard asked, shifting his weight as he hovered near the door.

Opening and closing his mouth, Alistair couldn’t find breath to answer.

“Send the visitor in,” Eira answered with a laugh. “Lord Hart is taken by surprise and can’t find his voice.”

The guard bowed and slipped out the door, returning a moment later with a slight figure who was covered head to toe in a traveling cloak. The visitor lifted pale, trembling hands and pushed back the cloak’s hood.

The face revealed wasn’t the one Alistair had hoped for, but was nonetheless familiar.

Agnes Morrow hurried forward and then awkwardly dropped to her knees.

“My lord Hart, I am your humble servant who begs for your mercy and the refuge of this place,” Ember’s sister said.

Taken aback, Alistair reached down to help her rise. “Lady Morrow, you need not kneel before a longtime friend.”

As Agnes turned grateful eyes on him, Alistair saw how colorless her skin was and the way her face was pinched with weariness. He wondered if the illness she’d experienced upon her last visit to Tearmunn had worsened.

“Why are you here, Lady Morrow?” Alistair asked. “I thought you would be settling in at your new French estate.”

“And why pleading for refuge?” Eira cut in. “Are you not the daughter of a lord?”

Agnes wobbled a bit when she curtsied to Eira. “My lady, I have brought dishonor upon my family and have been cast out.”

“What?” Alistair couldn’t believe her words. If any daughter merited Lord Morrow’s ire, it was Ember. Agnes had always been the obedient child.

Eira’s eyes narrowed. “Dishonor?”

Hanging her head, Agnes murmured, “Yes, my lady; thus, I come to you asking for mercy and shelter. I may no longer claim my former station. Whatever work you might find for me I would do with a thankful heart.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Agnes,” Alistair said, flustered. “You will not shame yourself through common labor. Your father is known to have a quick temper and often speaks rashly. Whatever the quarrel between you is, we will resolve it soon enough.”

Eira stepped closer to Agnes. “Push back your cloak.”

“My lady?” Agnes looked at her with wide eyes.

“You heard me.” Under Eira’s hawkish gaze, Agnes seemed a trembling rabbit.

With shaking hands, Agnes unfastened her heavy cloak. She let it drop into a heap at her feet, lowering her head once more.

Eira looked Agnes up and down, her eyes stopping on the unmistakable swell of Agnes’s belly. “You’re with child.”

Alistair began to swear, drawing startled looks from Eira and Bosque. Struggling to compose himself, Alistair said, “Lord Mar and Lady Eira, if you’d please give me a moment alone with Lady Morrow.”

Eira seemed ready to object, but Bosque laid his hand on her shoulder.

“Of course, Lord Hart,” Bosque told him, leading Eira from the hall.

When they were gone and the door closed, Alistair came to Agnes, taking her hands.

“Is it as I suspect?” he asked, his throat tight.

Agnes began to cry. “I thought he loved me.”

“My brother is brash,” Alistair said, peppering his words with another round of curses. “Too quick to make declarations he has no intentions of following through… but how were you to know that?”

“When I arrived at Château de Lusignan, I had convinced myself I could still become the count’s wife.” Agnes struggled to speak through her tears. “I insisted on keeping my own ladies-in-waiting, and with their help, I was able to hide my condition through the wedding. But in the marriage bed, there was nothing—” Agnes broke down.

“The count returned you to your father?” Alistair asked when her weeping subsided.

She nodded. “The marriage was annulled, of course, and my father was furious. My mother pleaded with him to have mercy, but his condition of letting me stay was to confess the name of the father.”

“And why didn’t you?” Alistair had little sympathy for his older brother’s actions.

Henry had indulged his desire for Agnes fully aware that he would marry another. The arrangement for their father’s second son to become the husband of Lady Howard of Yorkshire had been made when they were small children. Lady Howard’s estate was much greater than Lord Morrow’s, though the lady herself was half as pretty as Agnes. Henry had taken full advantage of his proximity to Agnes, and distance from Lady Howard, as long as he could. Once the time for the wedding had arrived, however, Henry discarded Agnes without explanation or apology.

That Agnes would continue to protect Henry’s name bespoke her love for him… and her naiveté. Though he wouldn’t tell Agnes for fear of breaking her heart even more, Alistair wagered that if Henry were to face accusations of fathering an illegitimate child, he would deny the bastard was his without care that it meant bringing further shame to Agnes.

Though Alistair couldn’t undo his brother’s churlish deeds, he could honor his family and Agnes by protecting her now.

“You will have your refuge, Agnes,” Alistair told her. “I give you my word—which is much truer than Henry’s.”

He guided her to a chair. “Wait here. I’ll return shortly.”

Alistair left Agnes sniffling at the crescent table to join Bosque and Eira where they waited in the hall.

Before speaking to them, Alistair addressed the guard at the door. “Go find a maid to show Lady Morrow to a room in the manor and attend to her. Make sure she understands this is her new position. Someone else will take over her former responsibilities.”

“Yes, my lord.” The guard bowed and went to find a maidservant.

Eira locked eyes with Alistair. “You’re giving orders now?”

“I’m helping a friend,” Alistair said, unwavering. “It’s the chivalrous thing to do.”

“Send her to a nunnery,” Eira said with a snort. “We’re in the midst of our own troubles and can’t worry over the health of a girl and her bastard. Chivalry be damned.”

“Lady Eira,” Alistair said through clenched teeth, “I would not argue with you, but I ask that you not insult Lady Morrow. She is a naive girl, misled by another. The dishonor is not hers to bear.”

“But the child is,” Eira answered coolly.

“If I may.” Bosque’s smooth voice slipped between them. “Lady Morrow’s arrival presents an advantage, not a burden.”

“How?” Eira turned on him, seething.

“I can think of two things,” Bosque told her. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, your sister, Cian, seems reluctant to embrace the changes you’ve made in Conatus.”

Eira didn’t answer him, but she nodded.

“Perhaps an act of charity would reassure her?” Bosque said.

“It might,” Eira said. “And the second thing?”

“Of course the utmost care will be given to a lady of Agnes Morrow’s station and to someone in her condition,” Bosque replied. “But that same care might also be provided for a valuable hostage.”

“What?” Alistair said sharply.

Bosque silenced him with a glance.

“A hostage?” Eira frowned at Bosque.

“Lady Morrow may have been disowned by her father, but I’m certain he expected nothing less than for Conatus to protect her,” Bosque explained. “And in protecting her from public shame, we’re doing him a service.”

With an assessing gaze, Bosque said to Alistair, “Your interest in the lady’s condition suggests an intimate knowledge of the situation.”

“The child isn’t mine,” Alistair replied. “I swear it.”

Bosque didn’t look away, and Alistair relented under the force of the man’s silver stare.

“My brother Henry.” Alistair’s shoulders slumped. “He took advantage of her long infatuation.”

“And your brother is now married?” Bosque asked.

Alistair nodded. “He is a lord in Yorkshire.”

Turning to Eira, Bosque said, “As you plot your new course and break from the rule of the church, you’ll want the support of nobles—both in coin and men. Use every advantage you have.”

“I can see the wisdom of what you say,” Eira told him. “Lady Morrow will be given a home in Tearmunn.”

“Alistair will send a letter to Lord Morrow, informing him of our generosity,” Bosque said. “And he will also request that Agnes send a letter.”

“What would you have Agnes say to her father?” Alistair asked, thinking that such a letter would find its way into Lord Morrow’s fire without being read.

Bosque smiled at him. “The letter is not for her father. She will write to her sister.”

Alistair gaped at Bosque, who said, “If your absent Ember keeps her word, she will go to Château de Lusignan. Should she arrive there to find her sister missing and a letter explaining what’s happened, the younger lady Morrow might be persuaded to return to Tearmunn more quickly than otherwise.”

“Yes,” Alistair breathed, a sudden fever washing over him.

“If she survives,” Eira muttered, earning a warning glare from Bosque and a fearful look from Alistair.

“That lies in the hands of fate,” Bosque said. “As do Alistair’s hopes.”

“My lords and my lady.” The guard had returned with a maidservant.

“See to it,” Eira told Alistair. “And I’ll deal with the other task we discussed. We’ll meet in the stables thereafter and make our way to Inverness.”

Alistair had thought that Bosque would employ his mystical means of transport to speed their trip to Inverness, but it was not so.

“The rift frees me to do many things,” Bosque explained to Alistair and Eira. “But that form of travel presents great risk to you. One companion I can watch over, but with more there is too much chance someone would be lost in the nether.”

Shuddering at the thought of becoming trapped in Bosque’s world, Alistair happily endured the journey to Inverness. Relying on the speed of their horses, they reached the coast well after dark of the following day. The night sky was clear; stars looked down on them like a million witnesses.

Upon Bosque’s advice, they’d left the road before they reached Craig Dunain, traveling north to an isolated shoreline west of the port of Inverness. They left the horses a short distance from the rocky coast, tethering Alistair’s and Eira’s mounts so the beasts would not attempt to flee from Bosque’s shadow steed.

With little wind, the firth lay calm, mirroring the midnight blue sky.

The delays of the day and Bosque’s refusal to leave Alistair—freeing herself and Bosque to travel in the nether—had put Eira in a foul mood.

“Have we lost too much time?” Eira asked as they walked to the stone-covered beach.

“No,” Bosque answered. “I welcomed the delay. This work is better done at night.”

Eira made a noncommittal sound, but Alistair gazed worriedly at the firth’s dark waters. He’d put Agnes to writing her letter to Ember before they’d left Tearmunn. Now his mind was fixed on her words and how they might bring Ember back to him.

But not if she is lost at
sea.

Alistair pulled his eyes from the water and found Bosque watching him.

“Ember will soon face trials wrought by her choices,” Bosque said. “For your sake, I hope she is able to overcome them.”

Alistair nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He sent the stars a silent wish to watch over Ember and carry her safely to France. As to her companions, Alistair could just have easily wished for their demise. He laid the blame for her imminent endangerment at the feet of Lukasz and Kael… and especially Barrow. If Barrow escaped the sea with his life, the only sweetness Alistair would find in his being spared was the thought that he could slay Barrow himself one day.