Rise (18 page)

Laughing at his startled expression, Ember put her heels to Caber, challenging the stallion to overtake Tempête. The silver filly, equally alarmed by the sudden race she’d become part of, snorted and put on a fresh burst of speed. She pulled ahead of Caber, but he refused to concede. Caber matched Tempête’s stride until the filly and stallion were running side by side, a storm of hooves, manes, and tails whipping in the wind.

The riders crested a hill, horses still neck and neck, and Barrow finally reined in Tempête. Caber, who was more interested in keeping close to the silver filly than continuing at his furious gallop, didn’t give Ember any trouble as she slowed him. They continued at a milder lope, then a trot, and finally an easy walk. Caber was a bit lathered from the run, but Tempête, looking as if she’d only taken a quick turn around the pasture, showed no signs of weariness.

Barrow pulled on the reins again, bringing Tempête to a stop in the middle of the road. He looked back toward the hill they’d just topped. Kael and Lukasz were hidden on the other side.

“Good run,” Ember said, a bit breathless with the exhilaration of the ride.

With a smile, Barrow maneuvered Tempête close to Caber and then reached for Ember. He didn’t quite pull her from the saddle, but almost. Ember couldn’t worry about falling from her horse when Barrow’s arms were around her and he was bending to kiss her. He braced her against him with one arm while his other hand tangled in her hair.

Ember dropped Caber’s reins so she could run her hands over Barrow’s neck and shoulders. His kiss was full of the desperate ache that overtook her limbs. She needed to be closer to him.

A shrill whinny sounded, and Barrow was pulled suddenly from Ember’s arms. Fortunately Ember grabbed Caber’s reins and righted herself in the saddle before the stallion began to prance in a circle, snorting at Tempête. From the way her ears were pinned back and her nostrils flared, Ember could only guess that Tempête had grown tired of standing so close to Caber.

“Who won?” Kael shouted to them.

Their companions had just crested the hill and loped up to join them.

“I think it was a draw,” Barrow answered, offering Ember a knowing smile.

Ember laughed. “That sounds about right.”

Setting out at a steady lope, their party continued through the French countryside. They made idle chatter as they rode, jokes and laughter accompanying the rhythmic hoofbeats of their mounts. As the sun made its arc across the spring sky, watching over their journey, Ember could almost forget that they were exiles.

The first shadows of dusk had fallen when the Château de Lusignan rose before them. Ember’s breath caught. She’d heard her father’s extensive boasts about how grand her sister’s match had been, but Ember had taken most of his claims as bluster.

She’d been wrong.

The château claimed a broad swath of the countryside. Fortified by an outer wall and a second inner wall that featured barbican towers, the castle warned away intruders and at the same time proclaimed the wealth and standing of its occupants.

“Your sister married into great fortune,” Barrow observed.

All Ember could do was nod. Timid Agnes was the lady of this massive estate. Had marriage and the accompanying responsibilities changed her sister? Had Agnes found joy in becoming a countess?

The chaos of recent events had kept Ember from considering anything other than her own circumstance. Now that Agnes’s home lay before her, Ember was eager to be reunited with her sister. The happiness of their reunion was paired with a new springing hope that the advancement of her sister’s position would mean Agnes could give them real aid.

“This bodes well for us.” Ember voiced her thoughts to Barrow. “My sister remains in good standing with my father. Perhaps, learning of what’s happened, he will rally to our cause.”

“Your father casts his lot with the physical world, the world of men.” Barrow frowned. “Not with the mystical war we wage. I doubt he can help us.”

“He has powerful friends,” Ember pressed. “Even if he alone can’t provide assistance, at least he could rally the Scottish nobles against Eira.”

Barrow still seemed doubtful, but Lukasz spoke up. “Whatever help is offered, we will accept gratefully.”

They reached the outer walls of the castle just as twilight overtook the sunset. Passing by the households that were clumped between the outer and inner walls, they made their way to the gate that led to the count’s manor. The estate bustled with activity. Servants hurried about their tasks. The ringing of a blacksmith’s hammer caught Ember’s ear. Fires roared in the open kitchens. Hens and roosters avoided crossing paths with the massive hunting dogs that roamed the courtyard.

When Lukasz dismounted, the rest of the party followed suit. The commander called to a nearby servant. The man approached the tall knight apprehensively. After they exchanged a few words, the servant hurried to the manor.

“Should we follow?” Ember asked.

“If we’re playing at nobility, we must wait to be invited,” Lukasz said. “The count should offer you an official welcome and make a show of his hospitality.”

Kael grinned, rubbing his stomach. “I hope that show involves a roast pheasant.”

Ember laughed, the rumble of her own stomach reminding her that dinner would be appreciated.

The manor door opened, and Ember handed her reins to Barrow, expecting to run into Agnes’s open arms. But her sister didn’t appear, only a man. He was dressed more finely than the servant whom Lukasz had sent into the great house, but not richly enough to be the count.

He walked straight to Ember. A thin man with a close-clipped beard and a pinched face.

Though Ember had a fair command of French, she was still relieved when the count’s man spoke to her in English.

“His excellency will not see you,” he told her. So much disdain filled his gaze that Ember had to look away. She sensed Barrow moving closer, looming over her shoulder so as to remind the manservant that he contended not only with a young lady.

Lukasz crossed to stand at her elbow. “Lady Morrow merits a more gracious welcome than this. Is your master so lacking in manners?”

The servant snorted, his lips curling.

“If the count is indisposed, I understand,” Ember said quickly. “I only wish to speak with my sister.”

The servant thrust his chin out, his face sour. “Your sister is not here.”

“Not here?” Ember stared at him. “But she must be. She’s the count’s wife. Has he sent her to court?”

That Agnes could have gone to Paris hadn’t crossed Ember’s mind. She ground her teeth, knowing that a side excursion to the French court wasn’t possible.

“The lady Agnes is returned to her home in Scotland,” the man continued. He began to smile at Ember, his mouth twisting in wicked delight. “On my lord’s wedding night, he discovered to his horror that his bride was not… pure.”

Barrow stepped around Ember, menacing the servant. “Take care with your words, sir, lest you find yourself lacking a tongue to speak them.”

The Frenchman grimaced, but didn’t back down. “My tongue speaks only the truth.” He squinted at Ember. “Your family was too disgraced to tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Ember asked, more anxious for her sister’s well-being by the minute.

“Your sister, the lady Agnes Morrow, was with child.”

Ember rocked back, as if the servant had delivered a blow.

Lukasz spoke in a low, dangerous tone. “I will ask this but once: do you besmirch the elder lady Morrow’s name, or are you speaking the truth?”

The servant eyed Lukasz’s height and the hilt that peeked over his shoulders. “I do no dishonor to the lady’s name,” he said. “That was her own doing.”

“Ember.” Barrow put an arm around her shoulders, seeing that she’d gone weak in the knees.

A bit of the Frenchman’s haughty demeanor left when he saw how distressed Ember was. Clearing his throat, he offered her a letter.

“My master received this letter and now gives it to you, for whom it was intended.” With a curt bow, he half turned toward the manor. “And that will be the extent of his hospitality. You will find an inn on the road leading north from the château. It should provide accommodations suitable for your party.”

Whether their purpose now lacked its former urgency or out of respect for Ember’s shock, Lukasz led them on at a plodding pace. Ember didn’t remember Barrow helping her into the saddle, nor the way he folded Caber’s reins into her left hand. Her right hand clasped the unopened letter to her chest.

Ember had little sense of how much time passed before they reached the inn, only that the evening had grown dark. Numbly, she slid from Caber’s back. Barrow guided her to the entrance while Kael and Lukasz made arrangements for the horses. Settling Ember at a table, Barrow went to speak to the innkeeper.

Breaking the letter’s seal, Ember opened the pages and recognized her sister’s handwriting. The ink blurred as Ember stared at the words, too afraid to read them and know what had befallen Agnes.

A cup plunked in front of her on the table.

“Drink this,” Barrow said.

Ember started to shake her head, her thirst and appetite smothered by worry.

“Drink it, Ember.” He took the letter from her, putting the cup in its place.

Too wearied to argue, Ember took a large swallow and immediately began to cough. The liquid burned all the way down her throat and lit a fire in her belly.

Wheezing, she pushed the cup away and glared at Barrow.

“You weren’t supposed to drink that much, lass.” He couldn’t quite hide his smile. “But it did the job.”

Tempted to throw the rest of the drink in his face, Ember had to admit that the concoction had pulled her out of her stupor. “What is it?”

“Aqua vitae,” Barrow answered. “Much stronger stuff than wine. You needed a bit of a jolt.”

Kael and Lukasz joined them at the table. Ember glanced around the small inn. The main floor held a cluster of tables and chairs, only one other of which was occupied. The clothes of the pair of men sitting there suggested they were merchants. A large fireplace warmed and cheered the room, and the air held a pleasant mix of scents: spice, smoke, and hops.

The innkeeper appeared at their table with a platter of cold roast duck and a pitcher of ale. They ate quietly. When the meat was gone and they were sipping at their cups of ale, Barrow placed the letter in front of Ember.

“You’ll have to read it,” he said. “We can’t tarry in Lusignan when the count offers no sanctuary.”

Ember nodded, though her heart was hard and cold in her chest. She began to read. Soon her hands were shaking. The pages dropped from her hands and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.

“You must tell us what has taken place,” Lukasz said to her quietly. “Whether it concerns our fate or simply to unburden your spirit.”

Covering her face with her hands, Ember squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself to speak through her horror.

“She carries an illegitimate child,” Ember told them, “and my father has cast her out of his house.”

“He cast out his own child? Where is she now?” Kael asked, his usual mirth replaced by outrage. “Is she destitute? Without shelter or sustenance?”

When Ember answered, she looked directly at Barrow. “Agnes has gone to Tearmunn.”

Lukasz bowed his head. “She writes to you as a hostage, then.”

“No.” Ember tried to keep her voice steady. “She speaks only of the care she’s been given… by Alistair in particular.”

She glanced at the pages again. “The child was fathered by Alistair’s elder brother Henry.”

A growl of disgust erupted from Barrow’s throat. “Does Alistair hope to protect his brother from dishonor?”

Frowning at Barrow, Ember said, “Agnes says little of Henry, only that she went to Tearmunn with nothing and has been treated as if she retains her noble station.”

Ember hesitated, then quietly she said, “My sister asks when I return to Tearmunn. She is afraid and heartbroken and begs for my presence.”

“No.” Barrow stared at her in alarm.

“She is my sister,” Ember replied. “And she has wandered unknowing into a lion’s den. I must go to her.”

Lukasz covered her hand with his. “Consider this, Ember. Your sister might have been coerced into putting these words to the page. What if the letter is only a snare set for you?”

“Yes,” Barrow said urgently. “Lukasz speaks reason, Ember. Take heed.”

“I know Agnes well.” Ember pulled her hand from Lukasz’s. “These are the secrets and sorrows of her heart. The letter is not a trap.”

“That doesn’t mean that her welcome at Tearmunn is not a ploy to lure you back,” Kael argued.

Ember sighed. “I can’t argue with that, but it doesn’t change that she has gone to the keep and I must follow.”

“Why?” Barrow demanded. “How can you aid your sister by putting yourself in danger?”

Lowering her gaze, Ember spoke softly. “I won’t be in danger. Not if I return on a premise besides that of sisterhood.”

“For what other reason would you put yourself in the hands of our enemy?” Kael asked her.

Fixing her eyes on Lukasz, but not daring to look at Barrow, Ember said, “For the reasons that Alistair wishes. The reasons he didn’t take me back to Tearmunn by force the night he hunted us with wolves of fire.”

“You can’t be serious,” Barrow hissed through his teeth.

“There could be more to gain here than my sister’s well-being.” Ember continued to speak to the commander, though she could feel the weight of Barrow’s gaze.

Lukasz nodded, and she went on. “We’ve been cut off from Tearmunn, and Jérôme tells us that Eira’s influence is spreading well beyond our home. Without support from the other sites of Conatus, you have no means to communicate with those within Tearmunn who would resist Eira.”

“Cian will find a way in time,” Lukasz told her, but Ember heard the edge of doubt in his voice. “She’ll send word… somehow.”

“But soon enough?” Ember pressed. “Eira works quickly. While we hide, she rallies more to her side. If I go to Tearmunn, I can serve as an envoy to our allies within the keep.”

“And how will you send word to us,” Kael asked, “when the others cannot?”