A/N: It has been way too long since this story was updated. I'm simultaneously excited about finally getting to this point, and terrified, because I'm way past the point of no return. Things are going to get much more difficult before they get better. Please trust me. There is a plan.
Warning, this chapter is rated M for a little bit of Chelsie and a lot of…death and blood and unwanted characters making reappearances after long absences, and other nasty things that I tried not to go into too much detail about. You'll understand once you read it.
A reminder that I do not own Downton Abbey. (If it wasn't obvious by now, this chapter would do it.) Please do not sue me.
It was the day before Lady Mary's wedding.
Waking came slowly to Elsie. While her eyes were still shut, she heard Nosi snoring. It made her smile.
Our dog is slow to rise as well.
She could tell without looking that dawn was breaking. Something was different - the light coming through the window was brighter than usual. Wind rustled the leaves outside, a peaceful sound. Then she noticed the scent in the air.
No smoke.
For the first time since the mountain erupted the air tasted clean. After several days of the wind blowing from the north, the smell of fire was gone.
I do not know whose work that is, but I thank them. It is likely the Wind-Keepers, the Chattering Sisters.
Perhaps it is You, my friend. Goddess of the Harvest.
Opening her eyes, Elsie moved a little under the blanket, but she did not get up. She was far too comfortable. Charles's arms were warm around her. When she turned over to better look at her husband, he pulled her closer to him, though he was still asleep. She smiled.
My heart.
He was deep in slumber, which made her happy. She had been afraid hearing the terrible story from the King of Merton had made sleep impossible for him.
How young you are, Elsie thought, feasting on the sight of his familiar bushy eyebrows, his impressive nose. She gently ran a finger from his temple to his jaw and over his dimpled chin, careful not to wake him. There were more grey hairs on his head and lines beneath his eyes than when they first wed, true, but compared to the Divine – compared to Her - he had lived only a handful of days.
Well, you are not old.
Not like Me.
His quiet breathing lulled her back to sleep. She woke at the feel of his soft lips on her forehead. Then he kissed her temple, then her cheek.
Her breath hitched. "Mmmm," she murmured, smiling at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
"Good morning, wife," he rumbled. His curls were wild. He kissed her other cheek. "I did not like to wake you, but I must go soon."
"I'm glad you did wake me." She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders, pushing him gently onto his back. She climbed on top of him and kissed him, open-mouthed. Her small hands cradled his face. Desire raced through her veins, chasing her fatigue away. "Charles…" She murmured his name, kissing him again, over and over and over again.
It took a great deal of strength for her to remember to let him breathe. If her divine self would have had her own way there would not have been a moment for him to do so.
His hands slid down her back and rested on her hips. She moaned at his touch, breaking off her kiss.
"What can I give you, before I go?" Gazing up at her, his eyes danced. A smile quirked on his lips. She knew he knew quite well what he could give her.
Incorrigible man.
"I-I need you," she stuttered, gasping. She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. "Now."
The smile slipped from his face, and he half sat up, his mouth finding hers again. "Anything for you," he murmured, his lips tracing a line across her cheek to beneath her ear and down her neck. "You...are so beautiful…"
She was. Though there were shadows beneath her eyes, and her face was still pale from occasional sickness, she glowed. Her lips tasted like honey in springtime; her scent intoxicated him, like the finest wine. Her hair shone and her dark eyes carried a light that drew him in. Beckoned him to join her.
She, who could have any lover She pleased, wants me.
ME.
How could he feel anything but joy?
And yet at times like these, despite the joy he felt, he also felt a gap between himself and Elsie. Something deep in her eyes that he could not wholly understand. Like a tiny tongue of flame, that was only a hint of a much larger conflagration.
Her love is so much greater than mine…what can I truly give her that compares?
It was also impossible to forget the danger she posed; that which she had warned him of. Though, of course, he did not wholly understand THAT either.
"I love you." She breathed, taking him, her hips finding a rhythm with his.
More even than the feel of her, her words increased his desire. Her voice called to him like a warm breeze in the meadow on a summer's day. Fear, doubt, and all else faded, except for the woman in his arms.
"I love you." He murmured as she sat up. Her mouth opened in wordless ecstasy, and she threw her head back.
Her reaching her pleasure had become a familiar sight to him. Those moments never ceased to fill him with wonder.
Divine Goddess of Love. This is who She is.
He grunted. "Tell me if it-if it is-too much-for you-and-I-will-stop," he said. He was not at all sure he would be able to stop, at the pace she set.
A cry erupted from her. "My man, my love," she called. "Never stop."
He wished he could have lasted longer. She did not seem to mind at all that he did not. Her voice was loud and long, echoing her pleasure in their home.
Breathing hard, she rested her head on his shoulder, and she ran her hand through the dark and grey curls on his chest.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "Are you all right?"
"Y-yes," she rasped, hoarse.
"I wanted to be sure it wasn't too much. That I wasn't tempting you past the point that you could bear," he said, his chest rising and falling in tandem with hers. She wiped away a bead of sweat running down the side of his face.
"You were not."
There had been one moment when she had felt her control slipping. But it had been brief - not nearly like the day when she had almost revealed Herself. Her grip on her desire was something she was determined to master.
For his sake. For our unborn child's sake. For our family's sake.
"Though you are very tempting, my love," she smiled, nuzzling her nose against his.
"I'm glad you think so." He rubbed her back and sighed. "But I really must get up now."
With reluctance, she slid off of him. They dressed in silence. She kept touching him whenever she got the chance, as did he – she tied his rope belt around his waist and smoothed out the wrinkles from his tunic; his hands lingered on her hips as he pulled her tunic down over her, and his fingers danced across her collarbone after placing her shell necklace around her neck.
They stood kissing by the window. She told herself just one more. And again after three more kisses. Finally she had to step away from his arms, gripping her own hands behind her back to keep herself from touching him again. She smiled and bit her lip, shaking her head at her lack of restraint.
Letting out a breath, he laughed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Tempting, you said? You are more tempting than I am, love."
He milked the goat in the pen quickly. The cold air made him shiver, and his fingers felt stiff. Hurrying back to the door, he smiled hearing his wife humming inside.
She started a fire in the hearth the moment he had gone out. Though she felt warm enough at the moment (thanks to her husband), she knew they both would be grateful for a warm home later in the day. Though the sun was bright, the air was crisp. The warmth of summer had vanished. Autumn was upon them.
I need to bake more bread.
No face appeared in the flames. It relieved Elsie, and also confused her.
What IS Victor doing? I do not want to see him watching me or any of us – never.
But I would feel better if I was not so blind.
She took comfort in the wind's changing, and the fresh air.
The shells that made up her necklace clicked together as she measured out flour and oil.
Sybil and Thomas and Edward will soon be home.
Our children…we will tell them about the baby.
The thought of telling them the news gave her some trepidation, but more joy.
"I am sorry there's no fresh bread to send with you to the shrine," she said to Charles after he came in. He set the milk bucket down by the hearth. "Take the cold lamb from yesterday. Take it," she repeated at his raised eyebrows. "I won't have you returning home with an empty belly. You'll need sharp eyes. Emma said Jacob chased away intruders hiding in the woods while he was on watch. It seems some of the stories are true."
It was unusual for anyone to be on watch at the shrine during the day. However, with the number of people in Downton (and, some locals whispered, most of the visitors being foreigners) there had been stories of the sacred place being violated. The king wanted it protected. This day, it was Charles's turn to watch. He would have been willing to do so on the next day, but he and Elsie had been invited to the wedding.
"I am always vigilant at the shrine, as you well know," he said. She smiled up at him as she kneaded dough. "No matter if I'm hungry or not. But I will not take all the food for myself." He set aside some of the lamb in a bowl. He took a small portion, some bread and cheese, and wrapped it up. "You and th-you need to eat, too," he said, catching himself. He pointed at the bowl. "Do NOT give this to the lads. They have their own."
She pressed her lips together, debating whether or not to argue with him. Though she had told him she and their bairn could survive on far less than what mortal women needed, she knew how protective he was.
And yesterday I hardly ate a morsel of food. The smell of roasted lamb sickened me…the day before that, I could not have enough of it!
As of yet, she was unsure if her belly would accept it.
"Very well. I will save a little for myself. Here, let me," she said, moving around the hearth to help pull his cloak around his shoulders.
Picking up his bundle of food, he glanced at the hearth fire. His eyes met hers in a silent question. They both went outside, Nosi following behind them. Elsie shut the door after the dog.
"I saw nothing in the fire," she whispered.
"Good." Charles gathered her into his arms and kissed her forehead. "Eat the rest of the lamb, and save some fresh bread for yourself. And rest before you watch the flocks…you need your strength." He rubbed her arms. "The baby needs to grow." He knew he was hovering, but he could not stop himself.
"You need to guard my shrine. I trust no one more than you to keep it safe," she smiled, giving him a quick kiss.
"I will." He bent down and petted Nosi. She whined, licking his hand, and started following after him. "No, girl," he held up his hand, standing on the brow of the hill. "Stay here with Elsie and our baby."
"Come here, you." Elsie crouched down, reaching for the dog. She petted Nosi.
"Is something wrong?" Charles asked. There was a line between his wife's eyes.
Shaking her head, she picked up Nosi. "Nothing more wrong than usual. She's worried, that's all." Elsie kissed the dog's head and gave her husband a half smile. "She worries about you, too."
"I'll be back before sundown, lass." He smiled at Nosi and blew Elsie a kiss.
After watching him go, Elsie and Nosi went back inside. "Come on, you can help me make the cheese," Elsie said. The dog yawned, and she rolled her eyes. "Someday I WILL make it without burning it. You'll see!"
It was true, what she had told Charles. Nosi was worried. But it was about nothing clear, nothing that could be identified as a threat. It comforted Elsie that Vyr, Nosi's sister, was quiet. If there was danger one of the dogs would alert them. Still, the familiar uneasy sensation rippled through her.
She sighed as she set the bread to bake in the coals.
They will not always be blind. I will not always be blind.
Shouting and the movement of men and animals filled the courtyard of the king's hall, turning the noise into a dull roar. Dust hung in the air, stirred up by horses and dogs. Robert and Bertie sat mounted on their horses by the open gates. Thomas helped another Grantham lord, Robert's friend John from Darnley, mount up.
"Can I get you anything else, milord?" Thomas asked, speaking loudly over the din.
"No. Thank you," John smiled down at him. "If I were you, I would leave as soon as the hunt does. All of the servants deserve to have some time away from here. You won't get a chance tomorrow." He trotted away through the crowd, followed by a pack of hounds, who all barked wildly.
"True enough." Edward muttered behind Thomas. Thomas turned towards his mate.
"Are Lady Mary and the others off?"
Edward nodded. "Along with Master George, Her Ladyship, the Queen of Hexham and her children, and all the female guests. The King of Merton's with them. Drini's with Master George, as usual. I'm glad she is – all these dogs howling would be driving her mad. A good portion of the women servants left with Lady Mary, too. Sybil told me to hurry along with you-"
"Of course she did! As if we would do anything else," Thomas huffed. "Papa and Mother won't be expecting us. I would like to get home before midday, if we can."
The tracks of a large boar had been spotted near the hall. Robert had been keen on tracking it for days, and had organized a hunt in the king of Carlisle's honor. Because most of the men would be going with him, Lady Mary had decided to visit Downton, to visit Anna and several others.
And, Thomas suspected, to spend some time away from Carlisle before they married.
I will never understand why she's marrying him.
She made her choice.
So have you.
It made his belly twist to even think about telling his parents that he and Edward would be leaving Grantham. He kept wondering if they should wait until after the wedding, but he knew they should tell them, now that they finally had a chance. And Sybil had been more impatient than usual to get home.
If I don't tell them, she will.
"She's been twitchier than I've ever seen her," he said. "Sarah used to give her a hard time for not paying attention, but she would have a reason to call her out for it now."
Looking over his shoulder, Edward pointed. "The king's gesturing you over."
"Which king?" Thomas turned. Inwardly, he groaned when he saw Robert motioning him over.
Not AGAIN.
"I'll be right back," he muttered to Edward.
The king of Grantham wore a scowl on his face. "Thomas," he began the moment the young man approached him, "Go up and tell Carlisle that he's coming with us. I know he said no last night, but I really must insist on him joining us. This hunt is in HIS honor, he's the bridegroom! It is ridiculous if he stays here!"
"Shouldn't we respect his wishes?" Bertie asked, patting his horse. His forehead was wrinkled. "He said he had sacred rituals to perform before the wedding. Surely you can forgive him this once."
Thomas had the feeling the two of them had being having this same conversation all morning.
And half the night.
"I am under no obligation to forgive him anything until tomorrow, after he's married my eldest daughter," grunted Robert. "'Sacred rituals'…I've never heard of any such marriage rites held in Carlisle! This is the first time he has ever shown the slightest interest in devotion to the gods. I think he's being bloody rude – you hunted with me before your wedding, as did Matthew-"
"Richard, King of Carlisle, is not me. Or Matthew." Bertie said. "I would let him have his way. Once he's your son-in-law, he's bound to respect your wishes."
Mulish, Robert glanced at the open gates, then down at Thomas. "We must be off. The hounds have caught the scent, and I can't hold them back anymore. Go tell Carlisle his horse is ready. He's a good rider, and should be able to catch us."
Without another word, he wheeled his horse around and trotted out of the gates. Bertie followed behind, leading the other lords and distinguished guests. By the time Thomas reached the bottom of the stairs the courtyard felt empty. Except for guards on the top of the wall, and a few milling about, the place was emptier than it had been since Midsummer.
"Well?" Edward asked, raising his eyebrows.
Thomas shook his head. "I have to ask him. Again. He'll say no – of course he will. But I've got no choice."
He found Carlisle in his rooms, with one of his servants. Lady Mary's betrothed listened to Thomas without saying anything, though by the time Thomas was finished, he wore a rare smile.
"I must beg the king of Grantham's pardon," he said. "But there are things that I must attend to, before the wedding. You are a faithful servant, to obey him in this. You knew I would say no." He turned back to the scroll he was reading.
I did.
"Yes, well…" Thomas shuffled his feet. "His Lordship has already left on the hunt with the others."
"Is the king of Merton with him?" Carlisle asked, without looking up.
"No. He went to Downton with Lady Mary and Master George." It did not surprise Thomas that the southern king was not hunting. His grandchildren never let him out of their sight.
"Hmmm. So I am here alone, with a handful of guards who could not be excused from their duty, the cooks, and some washerwomen," Carlisle mused, his eyes on his scroll. He sounded amused.
"My lord?" Thomas asked after a long pause. He did not want to ask, but knew he had to. "Is there anything else you need? To perform the rituals?"
Carlisle turned back to him. "No. I have all I need. I do not need your help, though – these are closed rites, only done by those from my kingdom and sometimes chosen foreigners. Perhaps someday you will learn them," he said in a solemn voice.
I have no interest in learning your customs.
Thomas hoped his face did not betray his thoughts. He wondered at what Robert had said. It was true; before now, he could not remember Carlisle showing the slightest devotion to the Divine. There was no altar visible, no statue to any of the gods, no hint of incense in the air.
That is not proof that he is not devoted…I showed no interest in the gods either, for a long time.
"May I go?" He asked. "If you do not need me, then-"
"I need you to do one thing for me before I release you." Carlisle said. He sighed, running a hand through his thin hair. "My hunting dog, Jarm, is missing. Usually I wouldn't worry too much about him, but he disappeared yesterday north of the hall and has not been seen since. I need you to find him and bring him back to me."
Everything in Thomas rebelled.
Not NOW, not today, not when this is the first chance we have had to go home!
The last thing he wanted was to go on a search for a dog.
A dog that I don't even like very much.
Jarm was a mean, surly cur. He had bitten two of Robert's dogs early in Carlisle's visit, and had been confined to the kennels most of the time.
"Missing?" he asked. "It isn't like him to run away. Why have I heard nothing of this?"
Ever since Ethan's death, the kennel men had paid much more attention to all the dogs' behavior.
How strange…
Carlisle smiled a little, for once looking apologetic. "Yesterday evening the king of Grantham had just asked me to go on the hunt, when I was told Jarm was missing. I did not want to make any more trouble for my host after turning him down. I hoped that my dog would return by this morning, but he has not. If anyone can find him, I'm sure you can."
It took all of Thomas's willpower not to sigh in exasperation. It was clear Carlisle expected him to do it, so there was no chance of giving the task to someone else. "Then…then I will find him for you."
"Thank you." Carlisle dismissed him with a wave of his hand. His servant smiled at Thomas, though it looked more like a grimace. Thomas did not return his smile.
Down the stairs, he stomped across the courtyard, his eyes blazing. The scent of roasting sheep and goats wafted from the kitchens along with the familiar smell of baking bread. It was all in preparation for the wedding feast. For once, Thomas ignored his growling belly. By the gates, Edward talked to their friend, the guard Silas.
"His dog is missing? And the king expects you to find him?" Silas asked after Thomas had hurriedly told them what had happened. "Why not ask one of the kennel men to search, or ask one of his own servants?"
"After tomorrow, I will be his servant," Thomas snapped. "I couldn't say no to him, not then. You had better go on to Downton without me," he pushed Edward's shoulder. "Catch up with Sybil, and tell her-"
"I'll wait for you." Edward crossed his arms. He nodded towards the gates. "Go. The faster you find Jarm, the sooner we can leave."
His jaw was set. Thomas knew what that meant. He glowered at his mate.
Stubborn ass! I'll never convince you to go ahead.
"Come with me. I don't know if Roland was told yesterday about Jarm, but if he wasn't, he needs to know." Silas tugged on Edward's arm. They climbed the ladder to the top of the wall, leaving Thomas standing in the courtyard.
For a long time Thomas noticed nothing except the ground in front of him, as he searched for tracks. He was grudgingly grateful that he had seen Jarm's tracks enough to know the difference between Carlisle's dog and others. Clutching a rope in his hand, he bent over, like in a perpetual bow, scanning the ground.
In places between bare trees he saw where Drini had been. He went past the place where he had played with Master George once, before finally spotting tracks that looked like Jarm's.
I hope they ARE his.
He hated the thought of wasting time, following another animal's tracks by mistake.
At least the day was bright. The winds had been blowing from the north, pushing back at the brown leaking into the blue sky from the south. Dead leaves crunched beneath his feet. Before he was fully aware of it, he began to turn to the left, to the west.
The tracks led him to the river. Normally that way would have slowed him down, forcing him to go back south to the bridge by the king's hall, but the water was so low he waded across without much trouble. The water was cold; his tunic stuck to his thighs. Shivering, he went on, glad of the sunshine. The sun warmed his back.
It isn't midday. Yet.
Why, WHY did Jarm have to run off? I have never had to search for him before – why today, of all days!?
Near the top of a ridge, beneath a dark hedge of dead hawthorn bushes, he found Jarm. The dog chewed on what was left of a rabbit. Swallowing back bile, Thomas managed to get the rope around Jarm's neck in a loose knot. He knew enough to let the dog keep the bloody carcass in his mouth.
He tugged on the rope. Jarm resisted, growling, but Thomas dragged him back east.
At the bottom of the ridge he saw enormous boar tracks, headed northwest.
Well, the king and the other hunters were going north…hopefully they got the boar. Or else the king will be in a worse mood when they get back.
Dropping what was left of the rabbit, Jarm sniffed at the boar's tracks.
"Is that what you were after?" Thomas muttered, clutching the rope, holding him back. He had never seen any boar that huge. "No wonder you ran off."
Jarm lunged forward to follow the boar. Thomas dug in his heels and pulled him back.
The dog fought him all the way back to the river, yanking him backwards a lot. It was one of the most frustrating walks Thomas had ever endured. All he wanted was to get back to the hall, meet Edward, and go to Downton. Jarm slowed him every step of the way.
"Come on," Thomas grunted, pulling the dog back around at the top of another ridge. Taking another step, he almost fell flat on his face. The rope had tangled around his legs and he had to turn in a complete circle to get it straightened out. "I know you want to go after the boar, but your master wants you back at the hall. I do, too!"
He'll be my master after tomorrow.
The thought gave Thomas no comfort.
Pulling Jarm along, he skidded to a stop only once. He had thought he'd heard a horn. There was only one he knew of anywhere close by, and it was at the hall.
Why would someone blow the horn?
He heard nothing more and hurried on. High above him, an eagle wheeled in the air.
It was not until Thomas saw the bridge to the king's hall through the trees, with the river sparkling in the sunlight, that he realized what was missing.
There was no birdsong at all in the woods. It was as if all of them had flown away.
The wind whispered through the trees by the shrine. Sunlight beaded onto Charles's head. He yawned.
Behind him in the woods, something snapped.
He whipped around, one hand on a pillar for balance. There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see through the trees. Holding his breath, he listened to the wind.
Nothing.
It was quiet. Too quiet. He frowned, scanning the bare tree branches behind him.
Where are the sparrows?
Strong arms suddenly grabbed him from behind. They bent his arms, forcing his wrists together.
"What-"
His yell was silenced by someone stuffing a cloth into his mouth. At the same time, another cloth was slipped over his eyes.
He tried to kick at whoever held him, but he was tripped and he fell forward onto the ground. From the tangle of arms around him, the hands on his shoulders; it was clear there was more than one person holding him. Still, he struggled.
He moved his wrists back and forth, up and down. His captor who bound his hands together punched him hard in the back of the head. Even with his eyes covered, Charles saw stars.
Gods, no, don't let me pass out!
Yelling only made him feel as though he was choking, so he stopped. Someone yanked him to his feet.
"Be careful with the shepherd," a strange man's voice said, close to him. "Do NOT hit him again like that!"
Someone whispered close by. The hair on the back of Charles's neck stood up.
Who ARE they?
What do they want with me?
The familiar thump of horse's hooves came nearer. He was half-lifted, half-dragged onto the back of the animal. Someone else, taller than Charles but less broad, sat behind him and held him in place.
Someone touched Charles's knee. He flinched.
"The king demands your presence," the stranger said.
The man with Charles on the horse clicked his tongue, and they set off at a trot. The thumps and soft thuds of other horses surrounded them. Surely they must have riders as well, Charles thought, but the overwhelming silence frightened him even more. It was uncanny.
His eyes bound, he could only make out dim light. Small branches and twigs tore at his tunic, stung his legs. The horse turned more than once. It was impossible to know which way they were going.
Panic clawed at Charles's throat.
The king? Robert would never do this – I don't know who these men are – no one knows I'm gone from the shrine – Elsie will worry when I don't come home –
The thought of his wife calmed him. He took a deep breath.
There WAS a way to let her know what had happened to him.
Divine Lady, help me! Strange men have taken me, and we are riding somewhere unknown!
Eala, Immortal Goddess, hear me!
HELP ME!
Thomas reached the break in the trees and scrambled down a steep slope to the road, pulling Jarm behind him. The bridge was just ahead, the king's hall on the hill just beyond. From the position of the sun,Thomas guessed it was a little past midday.
Edward and I will go to Downton for a little while. The whole day has not slipped out of reach.
He barely noticed the wind lifting his hair. Its scent made him glance to the southwest. The wind came from that direction, bringing with it a strong smell of burnt wood. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he shrugged and yanked on Jarm's rope again. The kitchens were at the western edge of the hall, so the burning smell was not unusual.
It was nice to NOT smell it for a while.
Crossing the bridge, he looked up and waved at the figures on top of the wall so they could open the gate. One raised his hand in greeting, and the gates creaked as they opened from the inside.
Jarm leaped forward before they were open all the way, ripping the rope leash from Thomas's hand.
"Catch him!" Thomas bellowed at one of the guards, racing after the dog. He prayed Carlisle's dog would run through the gates instead of back into the woods. "Don't let him get away!"
To his relief, Jarm raced straight into the courtyard, barking. Thomas let out a breath and slowed to a walk. He slipped through the opening the guards had made for him, looking for Jarm. The dog had gone straight to the bottom of the stairs that led to the upper rooms, sniffing at something that lay there. A couple of Carlisle guards watched him in amusement.
"Gone hunting, but found something in the courtyard," Thomas muttered, shaking his head. "Of course."
Then he saw what had distracted the dog.
It was a Grantham guard, face down in the dirt, his body contorted.
He was clearly dead.
What…no.
No.
What?
Thomas stumbled forward towards the man. It was one of Robert's men, sure enough; all of them wore thin bronze rings on their left arms.
Before Thomas could reach the man, or see who he was, another guard grabbed his left arm.
"Let go," Thomas tried to wrench himself free. "Who is-somebody-somebody HELP!"
It was only then that he realized how empty the courtyard was. Emptier than it had been before.
"Where-is-everyone?" Panting, Thomas's eyes darted everywhere. The emptiness and quiet were eerie. He tried to break the man's grip holding him, but another guard grabbed his right arm. "Let GO of me! One of the king's men is dead!"
"We know. Nothing can be done for him." One of the guards holding him said. Thomas glanced up at him. He was sure he had never seen him before.
The man was tall, almost gangly. He had no beard and his face was as smooth as a young boy's.
"He had a choice. So do you, now." He said. His voice was high, much higher than a grown man's should be.
Is he a eunuch?
Thomas had heard of such men, but he had never met one before.
"What ch-choice?" He gasped. He glanced at the other guard, who looked a lot like the one on his left, except his hair was reddish-brown. "Who are you? What-what happened here?"
Neither of them answered him. They began to drag him towards the entrance to the hall. Thomas fought them, but only half-heartedly. He could not believe what he saw around him.
Carlisle guards stood in ones and twos, their spears and swords out, watching him pass. None of them looked familiar, and they all were tall and beardless. Many of their weapons were bloody. There were no other guards in sight. No Grantham guards, none from Hexham or Painswick; no one from Merton either, though there had been fewer of them.
The question of where the other guards were, was all around Thomas. And not just the guards.
There were dead people scattered about on the ground. Bodies everywhere.
Several women lay on the ground, their bloodied bodies and forgotten laundry scattered near the entrance to the north gate. A cluster of Painswick guards, all shot full of arrows by the silent kennels. A woman who resembled the cook was slumped over the top stairs.
Reuben, the Hexham guard, laid in a pool of dark blood.
The smell of blood, and a rotten stench, one Thomas knew was death, was everywhere.
Four guards stood in the doorway to the great hall. Splayed on the ground in front of them, in the middle of a pile of bodies, was Silas. He had been stabbed multiple times, and his throat had been cut. Someone had left their knife in his right eye. Beside him were the shattered remains of a horn.
Thomas's belly heaved. He voided everything that he had eaten that day, not caring that he got sick on himself. One of the guards grabbed the rope that served as his belt. Thomas could not muster the strength or will to walk on his own. His feet dragged behind him as the guards carried him.
This is not real, he thought, wetness dripping down his jaw. As he and the guards approached Silas's body, the dead guard's one undefiled eye seemed to stare straight at him.
This is a bad dream. A nightmare.
All these people can't be dead.
Silas was looking forward to going home…he's never met his baby daughter…
Reuben, that Hexham guard…he was sweet on Sybil.
This cannot be real.
One thought made his heart stop for a moment.
By the gods, if Edward is dead, I will throw myself into the river.
Thomas turned his head, searching for any glimpse of his mate. He hoped with all his might that he would not see him, but seeing how many had been slaughtered, he hovered close to despair.
Silas was second only to Robert's captain, Roland. Edward is a good fighter, but...
His greatest hope was that Edward had somehow escaped.
One of the guards in front of the hall shoved aside Silas's body with his foot. "May the Dark God burn him forever," he spat on the dead man's face. "He killed eight of our brothers before he was slain. May the Mighty Warrior accept our noble dead as his chosen ones. They gave their blood as a sacrifice."
"They gave their blood as a sacrifice," the four guards who stood in front of the battered doors chanted. From the sound of their voices, Thomas knew they were eunuchs, too.
Silas gave HIS blood.
He was trying to block the door…trying to protect anyone inside from the carnage outside.
And he tried to blow the horn for help.
The four guards pushed the battered hall doors open. Inside were more bodies, but Thomas barely glanced at them.
Richard, King of Carlisle, sat in Robert's chair.
"Get out of there," Thomas cried. "That is the King of Grantham's seat-" He lunged forward, but the eunuchs holding him were stronger. Another, standing near, punched him in the side of his face. The blow knocked Thomas off his feet. The men holding him dragged him upright again.
"It is now my seat," Carlisle said, ever calm. Beside the chair, Jarm lay quiet. His snout was bloody, and his fur was shiny wet all down his front. Thomas's belly heaved, and black spots appeared in front of his eyes. "Hold him," he heard Carlisle say. A moment later someone held a skin to his lips. He drank. It was warm water, with a bitter taste. It made him gag, and he brought up half the mouthful he'd swallowed, but the man with the skin forced him to swallow more of it.
He blinked, his sight clearing. The eunuchs kept their grip on his arms.
Thomas squinted at the King of Carlisle. The man sat with his sword across his lap. It too was stained red, like many of the guards' swords outside. "W…why?" He asked. He hated himself for asking. "W-what have you…done…why?"
Carlisle sat back in the chair. "Shall I explain it to you? I warn you, I can tell you some of it, but the longer you delay here, the worse it will be for you – and for others. I cannot wait forever." He flicked away a piece of dirt on his otherwise immaculate tunic.
Thomas's head throbbed. None of it made sense, none of it. Explain WHAT? How can you explain this? Why would you slaughter people in the hall the day before your wedding, for no reason?
He forced himself to concentrate, trying not to think too much about Edward, and whether or not his mate was still alive. "Why have you done this?" He asked, a little surprised at how calm he sounded. His heart beat as though it was trying to escape from his chest. "The King of Grantham will never let his daughter marry you now."
Lady Mary won't want you either, after she sees what you've done here.
I never trusted you.
"Robert will have no choice, if he wants the rest of his kingdom spared," Carlisle said. "My warriors destroyed nearly every village in eastern Hexham without leaving a trace. They would have destroyed all of Merton, if the volcano had not done it for them." He cleaned his sword with a cloth. "If your soft-hearted fool of a king so much as opens his mouth without my leave, I will send them to destroy every village north of Downton, and to sack his palace."
Something stirred in Thomas's memory. "The brigands…in Merton and Hexham," he whispered. "They were yours? But…but they attacked Carlisle too…"
"How would it have looked, if they had burned farms and villages in every kingdom except mine? Every eye would have been on me with suspicion." Carlisle's lip curled up. "It was worth a few lost harvests to keep Robert's trust when I needed to."
"You sent your soldiers against your own people." Thomas whispered. "So when you sent half your court and your guards away-"
"My servants traveled a longer distance to reach the sea safely, to sail home. My captain and guards joined their brothers in Merton, and came north. They are near to the hall now. Even with the other nobles and guests here, they are more than a match for all the rest of the fighting men together." Carlisle stood up. "Painswick's men are feeble – all men who follow a woman are. And Bertie's men? They are little better. Some of the Grantham guards fought well," he half shrugged. "It was a shame for so many of them to die. I gave Silas the choice – surrender, or death." His eyes glittered. "He died."
Thomas bowed his head. It felt as though someone had plunged a white hot knife, fresh at the forge, into his heart and was holding it there.
This cannot be real.
But it was.
"It was a pity, ordering my men to kill him. And it was a waste. Of my soldiers who died, and of that young man's life. I wanted his service. Still," Carlisle sheathed his cleaned sword, "For the most part, my plan has worked. I did not anticipate the earthquakes, nor the volcano erupting. But even those have helped me…Grantham is in my grasp, and now with Merton's king fled here, that kingdom is as good as mine-"
All of it was too much. Thomas could not understand him, and the more the man talked, the less he understood. If he could only get out of the hall, find Edward, and think-
Thank the gods they all went away this morning. The queen, Lady Mary…Sybil…Master George and his cousins.
I've got to get to Downton. To warn them.
"Merton is gone," he said to Carlisle. "Burnt, and buried-"
The man was not listening. "-Hexham too, since Bertie is here. Crowborough is weak, I know how to defeat them…but all that is for later. What I want is here. Now is what I have been waiting for."
The doors creaked open behind them. Thomas could not turn his head all the way, but out of the corner of his eye he could see three more eunuchs enter, and a shorter man with them, wearing a tattered green cloak.
"The hall is yours, my king," one of the eunuchs said to Carlisle. "The wind has not increased. We have all the prisoners safely guarded, including the one you asked for."
Carlisle nodded, his eyes fixed on Thomas.
"Your marriage to Lady Mary is tomorrow, and with her you were promised a dowry. Half of Grantham would have been as good as yours if you had waited another day," Thomas said, desperately trying to understand. "Why kill our people, and everyone else?"
I pray Edward is a prisoner…that he is not dead.
"I am not foolish enough to think anyone but my own people would agree with my plans. With many of his household gone, Robert will know he has little choice but to surrender to me. Unless he wants to see more of his people die needlessly. I am a patient man," Carlisle said. "But I can wait no longer. Not even another day; I knew it last night. These fires keep burning closer, and I cannot risk losing what I came for. Have you not noticed the wind changed yet again this morning?"
Thomas's mouth went dry. No…
"The fire is headed towards Downton as we speak," Carlisle said. "If the wind does not cease, I think it will reach the village by moonrise."
No…the village…Phyllis and Lily, Master Joseph, Anna and Master John…
Gods. Papa and Mother live SOUTH of Downton! The fire will reach them first!
"I will marry Lady Mary tomorrow, fire or no fire," Carlisle said. "I do keep my promises. But I will not leave Downton without my prize." He stood up and put his hand on Thomas's shoulder. "And that is how you will help me."
Thomas barely heard him.
Lady Mary, the queen, the court…Sybil…the king and all those who went hunting with him will be returning like mice to a trap.
His talk of 'sacred rituals'…that was a lie, too.
"How-how can I help you?" Thomas stuttered, meeting his eyes. I will not help you, not EVER again. "You only have to wait. Everyone will come back here. And I am already here."
A prisoner.
"Not everyone will come here." Carlisle's eyes gleamed. "The woman I want will not. Not without someone to bring her."
"But Lady Mary will come back-"
"Lady Mary is a king's daughter," the older man said. "She is beautiful, and intelligent, for a woman. And she carries herself well. She will be a good queen. But she cannot give me all I desire. I do not want a queen only, Thomas."
Thomas stared at him. The king smiled.
"I want a goddess."
It took several moments for Thomas to understand what he had said. "Lady…Mary isn't a goddess," he stammered.
Standing against the wall with the others, the man in the tattered green cloak laughed aloud.
"No. She is not divine. No more than I am, or you," Carlisle said. He studied Thomas as though he was reading a scroll. "You and I are similar in some ways. Neither of us believed in the gods-"
"I do." Thomas interrupted, not caring what the king thought. He didn't know why Carlisle had done what he had done, or what game he was playing now; he knew that he was finished helping him. Or agreeing with him about anything.
Carlisle ignored him. "What most people call divine, is only power. So-called holy men and women claim all sorts of secret knowledge. They know if they can control others, that is the true religion. Power. True, there are things that cannot be explained, but they rarely mean much. A plague; a storm; a mountain spewing out fire…these things are the whims of fate. Of chance. What matters is how we use them to our advantage."
Your advantage, you mean.
"My father believed in the Divine," Carlisle said. "One of them, at least. He swore to me that he didn't care about the whole pantheon – the generous Harvest goddess, the merciful Healer, the Divine Lady who, if revealed, would kill all men who looked upon her. He said most of them were conjured by priests and priestesses to comfort suffering people or to explain things they could not. I agreed with him. But until his dying breath he swore to me that there was only one god worth one's devotion, one who gives true power."
"Hades." Thomas said, thinking of Daisy and his first mother.
The older man shook his head. "No. The God of War."
Of course. His kingdom has always been known for making war on everyone.
Until the last few years.
It was all a lie, wasn't it?
Thomas shifted his feet. One of the guards behind him grabbed his shoulder, making him stand still. Thomas glanced toward the figures along the wall. There was something familiar about the green-cloaked man, but Carlisle was speaking again, and Thomas looked back at him.
"…gave my devotion solely to the Great Warrior. Since my father's time, my court was visited by many people, claiming to know the god's will. It continued after I was king. A soothsayer here, a would-be priest there. They were all frauds. Until a year ago, in the spring. A man appeared in my palace. At first he was like all the others. I motioned for my guards to remove him, but when they went to touch him, he fell to the floor in a fit. When he rose again, he spoke in a voice that not of men. His voice boomed, roared around my hall, so great that cracks appeared from the floor to the roof. All of us held our hands over our ears, and yet we could still hear him. As you can imagine," Carlisle leaned forward, "all who were there, including myself, were shaken to our very core. Such power! We had to listen."
"He spoke of a small kingdom, north and west of Carlisle, the kingdom of Grantham. He said that near the village of Downton a simple shepherdess lived. But she was no common woman. No woman at all. She was a beauty the likes of which no man has ever seen, nor will ever see. He said that she was the Goddess of Love in mortal form."
Carlisle's eyes shone.
He is utterly mad.
Thomas stared at him, unbelieving. "Are you-are you saying that Eala is here? The Divine Lady?"
His question made the king laugh out loud. "You are an intelligent lad. But there are clearly things right before your eyes that you cannot see." He got up and put a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Yes, the goddess is here. Of that I have no doubt. I once doubted her existence, but no more."
"And – you want – her?"
"I want that which others do not possess. That which no one possesses. Wealth and plunder can be taken in battle, and can be lost later. Wars can be lost and kingdoms broken. I want Carlisle to have what can never be lost and what can never be broken. Immortality…if my kingdom had an immortal king, who could ever rise against us?"
Thomas shivered at the look on his face. He was not joking – far from it, he was in deadly earnest. Richard, King of Carlisle, never joked.
"B-but you said you weren't divine," Thomas said, trying to understand. His head throbbed and his heart ached.
Silas, dead outside…
None of this makes sense.
"I am not divine or immortal," Carlisle said. "My son will be."
"Your son?"
"The Goddess of Love will bear me a son." The king said as calmly as though he read figures for the year's harvest.
Thomas stared at him. "If…what you say is true, if the Divine Lady is here, why do you think she would…agree to give you a son?"
Any ordinary woman would never agree to it. Why would the goddess?
"Eala will give me a son." Carlisle sat back down in Robert's chair. "She has let her desire lead her into weakness. That is something else I did not anticipate, but it has given me the power to destroy all she holds dear – and I will use that power, if it comes to it. I do not think I will have to; she will not want more bloodshed. Like the old saying goes, she knows giving me what I require is simply a sprat to catch the mackerel."
His words stirred something in Thomas's mind.
"You never came to Grantham for Lady Mary," he said. He was beyond grateful that she, Master George and Sybil were in Downton. "You only used her like bait, to get to Grantham."
He felt sure he was right about that, even if most of the rest of Carlisle's talk was the mad ravings of a lunatic.
If he is right about the fire…I MUST get away, warn Papa and Mother…
Carlisle smiled. "You are beginning to see. But Lady Mary will serve a purpose for me. She will be my queen. The children she gives me will be held in high regard. All the more so because their brother, the goddess's son, will have divine blood."
Lady Mary will never want to see him again after he's killed so many. She won't want to be in the same room as him, much less do anything else, once she knows THIS is his plan.
Thomas shook his head. "But there is no goddess here," he said. "Definitely not the Divine Lady."
I screamed at Eala once. Dared her to show herself. She never appeared.
"It does seems unbelievable." Carlisle replied. "At my palace, when the man spoke with the voice of the Mighty Warrior, even then I had trouble believing it myself. Do you really think I would travel all this way if I was not sure?" He sat back in Robert's chair. "I could not travel to Grantham to see for myself, of course. I had to rule my kingdom. And Robert knew what I looked like. Had I come here earlier, he would have found out and insisted on making a fuss of my arrival. So I sent someone close to me. My manservant."
"The one who was ill, whose place I took?" Thomas asked.
"The same. Though he was not ill when I left him in Crowborough."
Another lie. Of course.
"And he…found the goddess here?" Thomas said, his voice flat. He did not believe it. It was too crazy to be real.
This cannot be real.
A soft voice spoke. "I found you first, Thomas."
It was the man in the green cloak. He stepped forward, his hands behind him. There was several days' worth of stubble on his chin. "You led me to the goddess. After the competition on Midsummer. Do you remember?*"
Midsummer?
The man smiled as though he was an old friend. "I did say I would see you again."
A memory appeared in Thomas's mind. Of sitting in the crowd at Midsummer, talking to a stranger after his fight with Papa.
"Alex?" He croaked.
Bowing, the man nodded. "I'm not surprised you didn't recognize me. It has been a long time. You did a great service to me," he said. "My master had sent me to Grantham to see if it was true: if the Goddess of Love walked amongst us. I asked you to show me the shepherdess. You did, and I returned home."
"And I knew that the man at my palace had spoken truly." Carlisle said.
It was all too much. Thomas gaped open-mouthed at Alex.
That was so long ago…before Daisy died, before Papa and I reconciled. Before Papa and Mother were married. That was the Midsummer they made their vows.
Mother.
Elsie. He…they…are talking about Elsie.
I DID show her to Alex. He gave me a pouch of gold.
I was a different lad then…
Wait.
They think SHE is the goddess? THE goddess? Eala!?
If they had stabbed Thomas in the belly with a red-hot iron, it could not have hurt worse. He reeled, close to fainting, and the guards holding him held him on his feet.
No.
It's impossible.
You thought she was dangerous, once.
When I didn't like her!
Alex stepped up beside Thomas. "I've been told you are a good servant. Surely you understand what the king requires of you."
The gods help him, he did.
He wants me to get Elsie. To bring her to him, for him to-
Bile rose in his throat.
No. NO. No, I won't.
I can't.
I won't.
NO.
She is Papa's wife.
She is Sybil's mother.
She's more of a mother to Edward than his own ever was.
And she is my mother now, too.
"Think of the treasure Alexander gave you." Carlisle said smoothly. "You will have what he gave you then, and much more besides. If you bring her to me."
This cannot be real.
"No." The word came out loud. Thomas shook his head. "No, I won't." A thought occurred to him. "Even if I knew where she was, I still wouldn't. It's been a year since I have seen her-"
Carlisle nodded at Alex. The dark-haired man punched Thomas in the mouth so hard, he lost his balance. The guards holding him staggered.
"You are a hopeless liar." Alex's smile glinted. "I've heard better lies from children."
Swallowing, Thomas tasted blood in his mouth. A tooth floated loose. He spat it out, blood and spittle lingering on his chin and dripping onto his tunic. The pain was nothing to what he felt inside.
I can't betray her. It would be betraying my family. Not just her and Papa. Sybil and Edward too…Daisy's memory.
Carlisle stood and crossed his arms. "It would not be wise to be stubborn now." His voice was soft.
"You know where the shepherdess is. Where is she?" Alex asked Thomas.
"I don't know-"
That time, Alex punched him right in the belly. Thomas doubled over, air whooshing out of him. Alex held up his chin as the guards held him steady.
"You fool," the man sneered. He squeezed Thomas's chin, his fingers clamped on either side of his jaw. Thomas groaned in pain. "I saw her myself in Downton, this year at Midsummer. She was quite taken with some grey-haired man. She saw me as well, but she didn't seem too pleased. More's the pity."
"Look," Thomas gasped, "All right…I've seen her a few times. She doesn't come to the village often."
That is the truth.
"That's better." Carlisle paced in front of him. "But I don't have all day for you to get to the point. If you want any of the treasure I promised you, you had better keep talking."
Thomas shook his head, his heart pounding. "I swear, I've seen her, but I don't know where she is."
Alex immediately backhanded him so hard he saw stars.
"The king of Grantham must like stupid servants," Alex said, grinning.
Thomas blinked at him in sudden understanding.
He ENJOYS this. Causing pain.
He could easily believe the man in front of him had violated Ethel and Lavinia that summer.
I am glad I gave away the gold.
"That other lad, now, he swore he didn't know anything, either." Alex went on. "He said he had never seen the shepherdess, he didn't know who she was, and he didn't know you. All lies. He paid for them before I was through with him."
Thomas's belly clenched.
Other lad?
"Ethan?" Thomas whispered. His eyes burned.
"That's the one. I saw him in the woods with one of the women. It was easy enough to follow him, listen as he talked with some of the others. He knew many things, more than what was good for him. If he hadn't been so stubborn and tried to lie, I would have let him go. But he refused to give me what I needed. Until he was in so much pain he couldn't hold anything back. It is always incredible what people don't know, until somehow they do know. He knew who the shepherdess was, he had seen her, and he most certainly knew you."
Tears filled Thomas's eyes.
He tried to lie for me. And he died for it.
How many people have already died because of me?
The image of Silas and the others dead in the courtyard swam in front of him.
"Enough," Carlisle growled to Alex. "Go with them." He motioned to the guards along the wall. All three left, and after a moment Alex followed them. The sound of the doors closing echoed in the hall.
Carlisle wrapped a hand around Thomas's shoulder. "You know where the goddess is. I don't want to see you punished any more. Why bring more pain on yourself? Tell me where she is, and I will reward you with your heart's desire."
He almost sounded reasonable.
Thomas met his eyes. "I don't want your gold. I never wanted it. The gold Alex gave me before…I gave it away."
A smile crossed the king's face. "Oh, we both know you don't consider gold to be your treasure." He said.
The doors behind them opened once more. Alex and one of the guards held a bruised and bloody Edward between them. His hands and eyes were bound.
"NO!" shrieked Thomas, before he could stop himself.
No, not Edward, not my mate, my other half…
Edward's head turned in his direction. "Thomas? Is that you?" His voice was weak, low. "Don't hurt him, please, keep me instead-"
"We will keep you. If your man behaves." Alex rubbed the top of his head, and Edward flinched.
Struggling against his guards, Thomas shuffled towards Carlisle. "Let him go, he has NOTHING to do with this, please, by the gods let him go-"
He hated himself, begging and pleading at Carlisle's feet, but he thought he would break, seeing Edward in pain. Something was wrong with his mate's left hand or his arm; Edward's face was grey, at least the part of it that was visible, and he held his bound wrists at an odd angle, like his arm was broken.
"Where is the shepherdess?" Alex asked, his eyes on Thomas. "Tell us."
"Don't," gasped Edward. "Don't tell them anything."
"I-I don't know-" Thomas stuttered, looking at Alex. "Let him go. PLEASE."
Pulling a knife from his belt, Alex held it against Edward's throat. "You have a choice, Thomas. Tell us where she is, or he dies."
Edward at home, laughing with Mother beside the hearth. Them teasing him. He and Edward in the meadow, with Sybil.
Edward, his hand held up after defeating Robert during the competition.
Edward talking with Daisy and Anna, and weeping at Daisy's grave.
The point of the knife flitted along Edward's neck. Thomas could almost feel his mate's heart beating.
If he died I could not live.
Papa, I am so sorry.
"My-my father married the shepherdess," he took a shuddering breath. Tears flowed down his cheeks. "She lives with him." His knees gave out and he dangled like a small child in between the guards. Carlisle looked down at him.
"Good. Bring her to me, and I will let Edward go."
Papa will never forgive me. Mother will hate me forever for this.
His guards hauled Thomas back upright again. Before he could move or speak, the other two guards entered. They too held someone between them. All the air left Thomas's body.
Papa.
Like Edward, Charles's wrists and eyes were bound. Unlike Thomas's mate, he did not appear to be hurt.
"Who is there?" Charles asked. "Where am I?" His voice echoed in the hall.
"Unbind the cloth from his eyes," Carlisle said. One of the guards did so.
Thomas bowed his head, not wanting to look up. His hands trembled, his heart somehow beat despite being shattered within his chest.
He had never felt so broken.
I would give anything to go back. To not speak to Alex, to not do what he wanted me to do.
For none of this to have happened.
For me not to have been so angry with Papa.
For me not to have hated Mother.
I am glad Daisy is dead. She never lived to see this.
He could not bring himself to believe Carlisle; not about the oracle, or about the Divine Lady. But he knew it didn't matter if he believed what the man said was true or not. Carlisle wanted Elsie, and he had done everything to get her.
"Thomas?"
Lifting his head, Thomas stared into his father's eyes. Charles wore an expression of confusion, of concern. Greater than either of these, Thomas saw relief when he looked at his papa. There was only love in his face.
"Are you all right? What happened?"
Thomas could not speak. Carlisle turned to Charles.
"I am the king of Carlisle. The woman you once called your wife, is now mine. Your son agreed to bring her here."
"He lies, it isn't like that-" Edward began, but Alex punched him in the mouth before he could finish.
Charles's eyes darted from Edward, back to Carlisle. "There is no need for that! Let him go…let them both go. Keep me as a hostage." He pressed his lips together, and he pulled himself to his full height, looking down his nose at Carlisle. He was taller than both of the guards who held him. "My wife accepted my offer of marriage of her own free will and bound her hand to mine, when we made our vows. She would not renounce them simply at someone's word." His eyes narrowed. "Even a king's word. And Thomas would never agree to bring her here. He loves and respects her as my wife, and as his second mother."
Every word he said was a dagger in Thomas's heart.
Papa loves her. She adores him.
I love her, too.
Carlisle turned back to Thomas. He cut the ropes binding his wrists together. His eyes glittered. "Bring the shepherdess to me," he said. "If you do not bring her to me, your father will die. If you do not return with her before sundown, Edward will die. If you get word to Robert and we hear the king's horn at any time, they both will die. So if I were you, I would pray that Robert and the others keep hunting until the evening."
"Thomas." Charles's face turned the color of ash. "Thomas, don't listen to him! You don't know what you would be doing-"
But he did.
Alas, he knew all too well what he was going to do.
What choice do I have?
If I do not bring Mother here, Papa and Edward will die.
Unable to look at his father, he stared back at the king of Carlisle. "I will bring her before sundown."
Two of the eunuchs escorted him out of the hall and across the silent courtyard. The gates were closed behind him.
He ran down the hill and across the bridge, running as fast as he could, toward home. Wind rushed in his face. It brought with it the smell of smoke.
The land was on fire.
A/N:
*Chapter 17
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