Knight's Lady, page 23
part #1 of Tenebrae Series
It would have to be a stabbing. Magic would be useless against such a powerful faerie, even hadTrefor had more experience and knowledge under his belt. Dagda would see it coming from too far off. A gun would have been nice to have, but it was too early yet for a firearm portable enough for assassination. Metallurgy wasn’t far enough along for him to “invent” a pistol that wouldn’t blow up in his hand. Near as he could figure, they were even a few years away from the first enormous and cumbersome cannon.
Poison was a possibility, but hard to pull off, and Trefor wasn’t sure what might kill a faerie. It wouldn’t do to just make him sick or piss him off. Stabbing was the most common tactic for this, almost a cliché, but Trefor supposed there was a reason it was common. Straightforward, simple, quick, and it could be accomplished by one man without the involvement of kitchen help.
As Trefor watched, Dagda laughed at a particularly funny point made by Morag and kissed her. A big, sloppy kiss, right there among the gathering of faerie knights.
Yeah, Trefor figured he’d be happy to put a knife into Dagda’s heart.
***
All through the midday meal Lindsay thought hard about what Trefor had said. Love spell. She refrained from drinking the mead, though she pretended to sip from her goblet. Occasionally she picked up Reubair’s wine to ease her thirst, and in that way avoided poisoning herself. She wondered how long it would take for the potion she’d been drinking over the past weeks to lose its power. Today she didn’t notice any lessening of it. Her blood still surged when she looked at him.
In a way it was a relief to know the thoughts she’d been having weren’t hers, but understanding she was under the influence of Reubair’s magic did nothing to lessen the effects of it. When she looked at him, she did her level best to hate him for what he’d done. It was an evil thing. But she still felt the stirring in her belly, and it was stronger than ever. Anymore, all she had to do was think of him and her body responded. The lines of his face, the grace of his lean frame, the timbre of his voice all set her off in the same way Alex’s did, but with an edge that was nearly painful. As if the yearning for him was a danger if it would never be satisfied. As if it were doing damage to her heart each day it wasn’t.
After eating, Reubair followed her to the bedchamber. Usually he went to his presence chamber for afternoon meetings with members of his court, but today he seemed filled with good cheer and perhaps a bit too much wine. No business at hand today, it seemed. He and Dagda had spent the mealtime flogging a running ribald joke about mistresses and wives, during which Lindsay had maintained an idiot grin and said nothing. She was sure it had appeared she’d thought the ridiculous double entendres funny, and Dagda was led to believe she was there with Reubair by her free will. The thought was so cringeworthy she could hardly eat. But to open her mouth would have invited riposte from Reubair, or worse, and she needed to keep the status quo until she could get Alex out of the dungeon. It would have to be soon, if Trefor was to be believed. Tonight.
Now, in the bedchamber, she eyed her captor as he removed his boots to make himself comfortable. This wasn’t good. He never undressed unless he was headed for bed, and the day was far too young for that. She took her cloak from its wall hook to leave, but as she swept it around her he asked her where she was going. There was an edge to his voice she didn’t like. She could sense he wasn’t going to let her escape, even for the afternoon.
“I wish to take a walk. The garden is prettier than usual these days.”
“It’s barely summer, and it’ll be there tomorrow. And every day until winter, I’ll wager.” He lounged against a bedpost to regard her.
“I need some air.”
“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of air in this room. Stay.” It was a command. She was stuck. With a suppressed sigh she returned her cloak to its hook, then went to her closet bed.
“No. Stay with me.” Again, the edge in his voice told her something was up and he wasn’t going to let her hide. But she went for her sanctum anyway. She had to get away from him.
He pushed away from the post and intercepted her. “I said stay.” His fingers on her upper arm dug into her flesh until it hurt. She stared at his hand, then frowned up at him until he loosened his grip. But he didn’t let go. She waited to learn what was going on.
The wine shone in his eyes, and she could hear it in his voice, though he spoke more softly now. “Come sit with me. And cheer yourself. I wish your good company.”
“You have my company, such as it is. I’ve nothing better to give you.”
“Nonsense. I’ve seen you far more charming than this.” He let go of her arm. “Nevertheless, I’ll take what you are willing to bestow. You’re not to retreat to your bed so early.”
She clasped her hands in front of her. “Fine. Let me know when I’m free to go.”
A smile leapt to his face, but it was a cajoling one. “Come, don’t be that way.”
“I am what I am.”
“And I adore that about you.”
She blinked. He’d never used any such words to her before, and it touched her. Hard. In a place she’d thought well protected and reserved for Alex. Adore. Lindsay reminded herself Reubair had cast a spell over her. A love spell, the faerie equivalent of a rufie, his intention just as surely rape. And now, since she’d not fallen for it, he was attempting a more conventional seduction, the mainstay of human men: lies.
However, her compromised body betrayed her. Her heart began to pound, and her entire groin seemed to reply. The throbbing was nearly unbearable, and she took a deep breath to calm it. Then she retreated to sit in a chair by the hearth, the farthest she could get from Reubair’s bed. Her hands clasped demurely in her lap and her knees pressed together, facing away from him, she turned and leveled a bland gaze at him. Her blood rushed through her, pounding in her ears and in every one of her most sensitive places, but she was determined he wouldn’t know it. The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly, and she kept complete control over her breathing. He couldn’t know what she was feeling.
A big, white grin splashed across his face. “Your eyes have gone dark, my love. You cannot pretend I don’t excite you.”
Damn. She shut her eyes and wished she could control eye dilation. Her voice was low and careful. “If you think I’m in the habit of throwing my legs open for every man who excites me, you’re mad. But then, I do think you’re mad, in any case.”
He sauntered toward her. “But you admit I have reached you. I’ve touched you in a private place.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort.”
“That is a lie. I can almost hear your heart from where I stand.” He knelt by her chair. “And it beats for me.”
“It beats because if it didn’t I would die.”
“You’re a strong woman. I believe there are none stronger in the whole of Ireland, Scotland, or England. I’ll wager I could travel all the way to Jerusalem and not find a better wife.”
“So long as Alasdair an Dubhar is alive, you won’t have any sort of wife in me.”
“I’ll find him and that will be the end of him.”
A laugh burst from her, but it had an edge of hysteria.
“What a charming thing to say! Why, it makes me want to throw off all my clothes!”
He sighed in frustration and took her hands in both of his. “I would have you consensually if I could. A divorce would save his life.” He bent to kiss her hands in his, and for an instant she considered his words seriously. On the surface it seemed a win-win offer, but then her better sense prevailed.
“Freeing me would save your life.” Her words belied her emotions. His lips on her knuckles were tender and sent a charge through her that settled in warm, moist places. It did make her want to throw off her clothes. Her breaths came more quickly than she wished, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Then he drew her to her feet and kissed her mouth, and she couldn’t help but respond by opening it. As if she were watching a couple on a movie screen, she observed herself and hated herself for what she was doing. He seemed to dive into her, reaching with his tongue with an eagerness that struck her as nearly pathetic. He wanted her too much, and it made her that much more horrified that she wanted him in return. She accepted him and met his tongue with hers, and the rest of her body tingled with an excitement she wanted to deny but couldn’t.
Alex. She focused on Alex. She pictured him finding out about this, and the desire waned enough she was able to break away. She turned her face from Reubair and stared at the floor, unable to look him in the eye, struggling for breath.
‘You want me,” he said, his voice tight and husky.
‘I want to be left alone. I want to go home.” Home, to Alex in the dungeon below. She would die with him there, rather than live through this.
“No, you don’t. You feel for me.”
“I feel revulsion.”
“There is no denying that. Nevertheless, you have a desire for me that is plain to see, however perverse you think it. Like the good Christian who lusts after his neighbor’s wife. Or ass, whatever the case may be. However wrong you think it, you nevertheless want me.”
It was truth, and the empathy it showed in him made inroads on her resolve. A whimper escaped her, and she tensed as he gently removed her headdress and let it drop to the floor. He ran his fingers into her hair, feeling its waves.
“You have glorious hair. So thick, and deep dark. Like fertile earth.” His voice went nearly too soft to hear. “Like the scent of you. Dark and earthy. Ready to receive seed.”
Excited and repulsed at once, Lindsay closed her eyes against the sight of him. His hands were large and strong. His body warm near her. She could hear each breath he took. He smelled like leather and wool, and a hint of wintergreen. Also ever so faintly of earth. Musty and warm, a burrow among tree roots where life could thrive in safety. He took her face between his palms and kissed her again. The room seemed to spin. She was unable to pull away, but she knew if she didn’t, in a few moments she would be with him on the bed and all would be lost.
Alex. She had to think of Alex. If he knew of this, he would rise from the floor of his cell and come after Reubair. Somehow she found the strength to break free again and stepped back. “Alex will kill you.”
“Worth the risk.” He closed on her again and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Indeed, worth the dying. But remember, he must find me first.”
She blurted a panicky laugh. “Your keep is not so large...” Her voice trailed off as she realized in a burst of cold sweat what she’d just done. She went very still, hoping he would miss it.
“My keep?” There was a long silence as he searched her eyes, and Lindsay could almost hear the snap of things coming together in Reubair’s head. Her absences. The mystery guests downstairs. He’d only seen Alex once last summer, as an opponent in battle, then the prisoners once on their arrival, but finally Reubair’s memory made the connection. Alex wore red and black; why had she mentioned it? He stepped back and held Lindsay at arm’s length. His expression clouded, darkening with dangerous rage. “He’s here. I can see it in your face.” Then a pause, as something else clicked. “It’s the real reason your cousin appeared from nowhere.” He snorted anger. “It’s the reason you’ve been keeping me out of the dungeon.”
She said nothing, and the ache of both wanting Reubair and fearing for Alex was intolerable. She couldn’t have spoken even were there something to say to save Alex.
Reubair hauled off and smacked her face. She reeled sideways and fell against the chair behind her. Her head buzzed as she tried to regain her feet, which had tangled in her skirts. He yanked his boots onto his feet and strode from the room.
“Reubair!” Lindsay ran after him to the anteroom and leapt onto his back. He twisted and shook her off, and she was grabbed by the two guardsmen posted outside the chamber. “Reubair, if you kill him you’ll never have my goodwill!"
He turned to shout at her, “By all accounts, I’ll never have it, in any case. As you know, I’m quite willing to take you by force, and you’ve made it clear it’s the only way I’ll have what I want.”
“I’ll kill myself!”
“You’ll try.” With that, he turned and continued to the stairwell and downward. Lindsay fought the guardsmen and managed to free herself. She followed Reubair again.
* * *
Trefor stuck with Dagda that afternoon. He wanted to know where the king went, what he did with his days. Reubair, like his counterparts among human nobility, often spent his free time in the chapel, but he was a rarity among the Danann and Dagda certainly didn’t hold with Reubair’s religion. Dagda would have other things to do while Reubair prayed.
Today Trefor was disappointed. Dagda hung around the Great Hall and didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. Reubair’s court gathered around the faerie king in an informal sort of way, pretending an insouciance Trefor knew wasn’t possible for these guys. They were, of course, buttering their bread on both sides while their liege was occupied sniffing under the skirts of the Countess Cruachan upstairs. To Trefor it seemed Dagda was also taking advantage of Reubair’s absence in chatting up the various faerie knights in residence, feeling out their loyalty and opinions. Trefor lounged in a chair slightly apart from the gathering near the head table and listened in as much as he could. Few paid him much attention, for he was only a minor guest and not of terrible significance in this court, and he summoned maucht to aid his invisibility.
The conversation wasn’t of much significance, either. Except for the occasional fit of nosiness on the part of Dagda, there wasn’t much said that would catch anyone’s attention. Every once in a while Dagda would ask a question that struck Trefor as prying into Reubair’s life and business. Then, curiosity satisfied, he would talk of other things. Trefor could see that both Dagda and Reubair were right to not trust each other.
Then Dagda stood and announced he would retire to his bedchamber to rest his royal head, and the party broke up. Trefor rose with the cluster, as if he had somewhere else to go, and watched the king gather himself to leave. Morag said to him, just loud enough for Trefor to overhear, “Your majesty, I must plead a commitment elsewhere.”
A shadow of disappointment fell over the king’s eyes. Apparently he’d been counting on the company of his mistress during his nap. “You know I don’t care to sleep alone.”
Duh.
Morag smiled to jolly him out of his pique, and said, “I’ll be along as soon as I can.”
“I see where I stand in your esteem.”
“It would be a lie to say anyone could take precedence over this. Not even you. I know you value my honesty, my liege.”
“You’re not going to pray, are you? Like that priest’s boy upstairs.”
“Indeed not. But I might dance a little. Have patience, and I’ll do a little for you. I know you enjoy watching me dance, and I promise to come to you an enthusiastic companion.”
That brought a smile. “You make me more eager to see you in my chamber.”
“I promise the wait will be a small price to pay.”
Dagda laughed and kissed her. “Very well. Hurry to me once you’ve done your obeisance to the goddess. And give her my regards.”
Morag grinned, and as she turned away her eyes flitted toward Trefor. A shiver ran through him. Here was an opportunity. The king would be alone. There would be guards, but they could be easily befuddled. No ruler was ever as safe as his protectors believed; it would be a simple matter to redirect Dagda’s guard to get past them. That was what made the rules of hospitality so necessary. A visitor was terribly vulnerable to those of his host’s household. As Dagda and his guard left the room via the stairwell and Morag left by the door to the outside, Trefor drifted toward the stairwell slowly enough to not catch anyone’s attention. He listened to the ascending footsteps, waiting until Dagda had reached the floor where his chamber was before entering the narrow staircase.
He’d gone only a couple of flights when there was a shout from above. It was Lindsay, hollering at Reubair to not kill someone.
Kill who? Then she threatened to kill herself, and Trefor knew. Reubair had found Alex. Horror yawned in Trefor’s gut. Reubair was sure to kill both Alex and Lindsay if he found the earl and his priest in the dungeon.
Sounds of hurried footsteps came from above. Lindsay was shouting after them, and Trefor knew it must be Reubair on his way down. His mind flew as he realized his opportunity was improving. All hell was breaking loose, and anything could happen to the king during this sort of confusion. Trefor could easily slip into the king’s chambers while the focus of the entire keep was on the commotion headed toward the dungeon.
But it would be at the expense of Lindsay and Alex. His parents. Deirbhile’s words returned to him in a cascade that swept his thoughts all sideways. She’d held that family was more important than anything. More important than life. She’d given over the idea of marrying for love, so that her father would prosper. Trefor’s mother was the reason he was in the faerie lands to begin with. Sudden shame filled him, that he would let her and his father die so he could assassinate the king.
In an instant he knew what he must do, so surely that he didn’t hesitate when Reubair descended and tried to shove him aside in the stairwell. Trefor laid a hand on Reubair’s chest in the close quarters and murmured, “The man you want to kill is upstairs.” He pictured King Dagda and pushed with the maucht he’d nurtured the past hour or so. The energy coming off Reubair was ridiculously easy to redirect. There was so much of it, and it was so out of control, Trefor barely had to touch it to use it. Reubair stopped cold in his tracks, clinging with his fingers to the stone wall, panting with his rage and confusion. His eyes dulled, then brightened again. Trefor repeated the spell. “Upstairs. Dagda is there. Kill him.”
