The Lady and the Falconer (20 page)

Solace brushed her hair from her sister’s hand.

Beth snatched at Solace’s blue houppelande. “You’re always clothed in the latest fashions!”

Solace stood, her brows drawing together in a frown.

Beth pursued her, pinching Solace’s sun-kissed cheeks in a mock kiss. “Your skin is as white as the lime wash. You’re never in the sun! Your lips –”

Solace pulled her face free of Beth’s hold.

“Solace,” Alissa said patiently, “you must be mistaken. Graham wouldn’t have wanted you.”

Solace’s anger deepened. “Why?” she demanded. “He had been following me around the castle for months.”

Beth snorted in disbelief.

“Regardless of what you believe,” she said to Beth. “Graham attacked me. That was why he had those marks on his face. I did it, not Logan.”

“Logan,” Beth cooed in a strangely sensual way, before turning her gaze to her mother. “He killed Graham!” A sly smile twisted Beth’s lips. “I want him executed, Mother!”

“No,” Solace gasped, stepping toward Alissa. “You can’t do that.”

“He killed Graham. Of course he will be executed.”

Horror filled Solace as a smug, vindictive look crossed Beth’s face. “It was trial by combat. He won. He proved his innocence.”

Alissa turned dark eyes to Solace. “Because of your interference, he dies at dawn,” she said.

“Interference?” Solace echoed in confusion.

“When he was defenseless you gave him the piece of wood.”

“No!” Solace gasped.

“Burn him, Mother,” Beth suggested in a retaliatory voice.

Alissa nodded in agreement.

“Please, Mother,” Solace begged, grabbing hold of her hand. “He was helping me.”

Alissa’s eyes narrowed to cold slits and she pulled her hand free. “Yes,” she murmured. “Helping you become a whore.”

“Looks like you’ll have to find someone else to spread your legs for,” Beth hissed, joyfully. “Harlot.”

“Mother...” Solace pleaded, glancing at Alissa.

“Slut,” Beth called out.

Solace stumbled back, horrified at the sudden turn of events, fearful that she couldn’t stop them. She turned and fled from the courtyard to the keep, racing through the hallways of the castle, not seeing the faces of the villagers who watched her run past them. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to get away from their accusations.

She wasn’t a harlot. She wasn’t a whore.

Solace found herself standing before the large wooden doors leading to the old hall. Cobwebs still hung thick in the corners; the dust stirred around her, making her sneeze.

She pushed the doors open, and this time they didn’t seem to give as easily as they had before. She raced to the window and dropped to her knees before it, resting her forehead against the cold stone of the ledge. Its coolness felt soothing to her hot brow. It was almost as hot as her guilt. Logan had helped her, saved her from Graham. And because of that he was going to be executed.

She could not let him die. But what could she do? If only she could postpone his execution until her father came home. She would do anything to spare Logan.

She turned around to stare at the pictures against the wall. “Tell me,” she challenged them. “Tell me the secret. How shall I help Logan?”

Her voice echoed through the room, answerless.

She shook her head and wiped a strand of hair from her eyes. She couldn’t get over the fact that Alissa didn’t believe her. Solace had expected as much from Beth, but not Alissa. Perhaps if she were a man things would be different. A brother to Beth. Then there wouldn’t be any competition between them. She had always wanted a brother, or a sister for that matter. The closest thing to a brother she had was Peter. He had always been there for her. More like a family than her stepmother and half sister.

Then an image came to her mind. She again remembered Peter fighting side by side with Logan. They had been built so much alike. So very tall, so broad. It was strange. Why, if she didn’t know better, she would think they were...

Solace straightened, her face dawning with realization. That was it! That was where she had seen the crest before! She pushed away from the window, her heart hammering. The crest! Her mind kept screaming. She knew she had seen it somewhere before.

She approached the plate armor she had knocked over and noticed no one had reassembled the fallen suit. Her eyes scanned the floor, looking for the shield. But it was not there. It was gone.

Solace scowled. It had been here. The final piece to the puzzle. She searched the floor, but it was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, she stepped back, sighing.

She was sure it had been here. Perhaps the crest was somewhere else. On a tapestry, perhaps. Her gaze moved to the tapestry on the wall behind where the suit of armor had been.

The tapestry depicted two mighty warriors on horseback. Their swords crossed as their animals reared in combat. But nowhere on the entire tapestry was there a crest.

Solace hung her head. She had been so sure she could find answers here, so sure. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. There was a strange bulge beneath the tapestry. She stepped closer and noticed that something was hidden beneath the fabric.

She eased the tapestry aside and released a curtain of dust that assaulted her. She swatted aside the annoying cloud, moving closer, refusing to give up her pursuit of the answer. When the dust settled, Solace gasped.

The shield that had been hidden by the tapestry glinted in the sunlight. On its surface she could see two crossed swords upon a full moon... the Grey family crest. The same crest she’d seen on Logan’s sword!

Chapter Nineteen

T
he constant drip-drip was going to drive Logan insane, he was sure. He was bound by a metal collar around his neck that was attached by a thick chain to a large bolt on the wall. For the first few hours, he had paced the cell, trying to relieve the battle lust surging through his veins, trying to tell himself that Solace would get him out of here. She was his last hope. His only hope. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He sat on the dirty ground, his forehead resting on his bent knees. There was no sunlight in the bowels of the castle, no way to tell exactly what time it was. He had slept once, restlessly and shivering. In a rough guess, he figured half a day had passed because they had brought him two meager meals. Earlier he had searched the cell for a means of escape, pulling his chains until his wrists were raw and chafed. Now he began to doubt he would ever see the light of day again. His only hold on sanity was a pair of bright green eyes and the hope that he would see them again.

As the hours inched by and the drip-drip was drowned out by another prisoner’s moans, Logan began to doubt that he would be able to finish his mission. Peter would never know that he was here, looking for him. Solace would never truly know how much she meant to him. He hadn’t realized it until he had seen Graham on top of her. Then, when his opportunity came to destroy the monster, he had taken it, forsaking all else to save Solace. To exact his revenge.

Revenge. It was the wrong revenge. He forced himself to think back, trying to clear his mind, trying to focus on his mission. He closed his eyes and he could see Sullivan’s Hill as if it had all happened yesterday.

Dark. It was so dark. Then, Lagan realized he was lying on his back in the grass, staring up at the starless night sky. A strange light flickered at the edge of his vision, but he paid it no mind as he boosted himself to his elbow. A sharp spear of agony cut through his head, and he raised a hand to his forehead. His hair was plastered to his skin in thick clumps of wetness. Logan knew it was blood. Slowly, he sat up, gently probing the cut on the side of his head.

Burning wood. The smell wafted to his nose, and he snapped his head up to see the castle -- his castle -- burning! Thick, consuming flames billowed out from the interior of his home.

“Father,” Logan whispered, a frantic feeling knotting the inside of his stomach.

He was on his feet instantly. The world swam before his eyes and he staggered, battling off the effects of his wound. When the dizziness retreated, Logan searched the hill for his horse, but the animal was nowhere to be found.

He walked down Sullivan’s Hill, resisting the urge to run, knowing he would stumble and fall if he did. How had the castle fallen ? How could his father have been beaten so quickly, so easily? They had had food and reserves prepared for nearly a year!

His step quickened, his stomach twisted and every one of his muscles corded tight. Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

He moved through town, fighting off the throbbing in his head, moving from shadow to shadow until the castle loomed before him. Smoke churned skyward from inside the walls in thick black clouds of destruction. As he came to the main road he had to pull back quickly.

Armored men were moving in groups along it.

Logan pressed himself close to the walls of the tailor’s shop.

The flickering red of the flames burning behind the approaching men swayed over their tunics. Logan’s eyes gaped. Lined with gold, the white tunics bore the symbol of the lion -- Farindale’s crest!

His jaw tightened as he watched the soldiers disappear into the blacksmith’s shop at the end of the street.

Suddenly, a movement across the road caught his attention. Logan swiveled his gaze to the shadows. He made out the figure of a man stumbling along the road. He was dragging his leg behind him, hurrying to escape.

Logan glanced one way along the street and then the other, making sure it was clear of guards, before racing across. He ignored the throbbing in his head as best he could, knowing he had to find answers. As he neared the bent man, Logan could see he was severely wounded. The man clutched his arm to his chest where his torn chain mail hung from his body, groaning with each step he took. Logan recognized the man’s crest immediately, two swords crossed over a full moon. His family crest.

Logan caught him by the shoulder and turned him. The man whirled with a gasp. When he set eyes on Logan he sighed slightly, but none of the tension left his body and his gaze darted anxiously down the street.

“What happened?” Logan demanded looking at the castle.

“Lord Farindale defeated us. They burned the apartments and all who were within,” the soldier answered.

Logan’s eyes riveted on the soldier’s like hot metal. “My mother?” he gasped.

“Dead, my lord,” the man answered grimly.

Logan’s lips parted in disbelief. Dead. “Father?” he asked, almost desperately. “Where is he?”

“Killed defending the castle.”

Suddenly, anger burned across his vision and he grabbed the man, shaking him for speaking the words he didn’t want to hear, refused to believe. “This can not be! Farindale could not have gained entrance to the castle so easily!”

“The main gate was open!” the man hollered.

Stunned, Logan stopped shaking him. His fingers dug into the man’s shoulders. “What?”

“Your father refused to close the gate, my lord,” the man said.

“Refused? But why? He knew Farindale was coming.”

The sounds of voices came from down the street and Logan ignored them, glaring at the man. The man tried to move from Logan’s grasp, but his grip tightened.

“We must go,” the man pleaded.

Logan’s hold was relentless. “Why were the gates open?” he demanded.

The man shook his head. “If we stay, it will be our heads!”

“Why!”

“He was waiting.”

“Waiting?” Logan repeated gravely. “For what? What could be so important to keep the gates open?”

“You.”

Utter horror swept through Logan. The soldier easily broke away from him and scampered away, casting only one backward glance at his former lord who stood unmoving. But Logan did
not see him. His mind’s eye saw Castle Fulton falling, his friends and family butchered. He felt as though the life had been cut out of him. He felt numb. His father. His mother.

All because of him.

The shock of guilt held him immobile in its clenched fist. Finally, a consuming grief filled him and he fell to his knees, pressing his palms to his teary eyes, his body trembling with remorse.

Behind him, the castle burned.

Logan had spent years waiting and planning to return to Castle Fulton and seek revenge. He clenched his fists. And now that he was here, all he could think about was Solace. Her innocence. Her pure beauty. He cursed silently.