Chapter Seventeen
“What you did got a man killed. Was that your intention?”
It was dawn after the feast that saw the death of Raymond de Honiton.
It the dim solar of Axminster, where phantoms crawled in the shadows and the smell of smoke was heavy in the air, Isabel was questioning Astoria.
The young woman was a weeping mess. She had been for hours.
Tied up in a chair in the solar of Axminster, because she’d tried to run off twice, she was sobbing so hard that she’d swooned.
But Isabel wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
“Tell me what your intention was,” she said angrily, kicking the leg of the chair to rouse Astoria.
“Your petty persecution of a woman who never did you any harm has ended in a man being killed. Is that what you hoped for? Someone’s death?
I can only imagine it was Mira’s death from the way you manipulated both her and Raymond, but instead, Raymond is dead and Jerome de Honiton has declared war on us all. ”
Astoria burst into fresh tears. “I… I did not mean for anyone to be killed,” she sobbed. “I only meant… I only…”
“Only what?”
“I only meant to discourage Douglas from Mira!”
“By sending her to the vault where Raymond was waiting for her?”
“Aye!”
“And then telling Davyss to send Douglas down there as well?”
“So he would catch them together and know that she was a trollop.”
“And you hoped it would end their romance?”
“Aye! But that’s all I wished for, I swear it!”
Isabel had a small broom in her hand, one used to sweep out the ashes from the hearth.
She’d collected it as a weapon to use against Astoria, to punish her, and as Astoria admitted her crimes, she swatted Astoria about the head and neck with the broom.
It didn’t really hurt, but the bristles were dirty and prickly, and Astoria screamed as if she was being stabbed.
Isabel whacked her some more.
“You wicked, wicked creature,” she said angrily. “Your scheming and lies have cost a man his life.”
Astoria wailed. “I am sorry,” she said. “I did not mean that it should.”
Isabel stopped beating her for the moment, but it was difficult to show such restraint.
She wanted to beat Astoria until her anger was satisfied, which might take years at this rate.
But more than that, she felt disappointment.
Extreme disappointment that the years Isabel had been mentoring Astoria had only taught her to be mean-spirited and vindictive.
She felt like a failure.
Some of that anger was directed at herself.
“But it did,” she said. “It did cost a man his life. No matter what you intended, your actions had severe consequences. It is clear that you are no longer suited to remaining at Axminster and under my tutelage. You have learned nothing from me, Astoria. I am greatly shamed by you.”
Astoria looked at her, eyes wide with fear. “What do you mean?” she said. “Are you sending me away?”
Isabel nodded. “Far away,” she said. “I am sending you back to your father. Mayhap he can impress upon you the error of your ways, for certainly, you do not listen to me. You were a happy child when you came here, so I do not know what has turned you into this unsavory creature, but I no longer want you here. You are a bad influence on the younger girls, and they are still quite malleable. I must try to undo whatever you have done to them. Mira warned me about your influence and I should have listened more closely, for now your wicked ways have cost us dearly.”
Astoria’s face was pale with fear. “Please,” she begged. “Please do not send me back to my father. Please!”
“I am going to send you back to him with a full accounting of what you have done. Let him deal with you, for I am finished.”
Astoria dissolved into more tears. Tears and mucus rolled down her face, onto the top of her dress, which was covered with ash from the broom to create a sort of mud.
Momentarily finished in her interrogation, Isabel went over to the solar door and pulled it open to find Eric, Douglas, and Jonathan standing there.
They were gazing back at her with various expressions of concern.
Isabel pointed at Astoria.
“Jonathan, untie Lady Astoria and take her to the top floor,” she commanded.
“There is a small chamber, facing north, that is usually used by servants, but it has a heavy lock on the door. Lock her up in that chamber. Keep the key and surrender it to no one save me or Eric. Do not give it to Douglas. Do you understand?”
Jonathan nodded as he pushed past her into the chamber. “Aye, Lady Isabel.”
As Jonathan was taking his prisoner into custody, Isabel’s gaze moved to Eric and Douglas.
“Both of you,” she said, quieter now. “Inside.”
She stood aside as Eric and Douglas quickly entered the chamber. Astoria caught sight of Douglas, however, and began to wail again.
“I am so very sorry, Douglas,” she sobbed. “Please forgive me. I never meant for any of this to happen!”
Douglas wouldn’t even look at her as Isabel answered in his place. “You are only sorry that you were caught in your heinous scheme,” she said. “Had your plan worked out as you had hoped, you would not be sorry at all.”
Jonathan had Astoria on her feet, dragging her toward the door. “I am truly sorry, I swear it,” she wept. “I did not mean for anyone to die!”
Jonathan hauled her out of the room and they could hear her weeping fade away. Isabel closed the solar door and looked straight at Douglas.
“Are you sticking to your story, Douglas?” she asked. “That you killed Raymond de Honiton?”
Douglas, who had been looking at his feet as Jonathan removed Astoria, lifted his gaze to Isabel.
“Aye, my lady.”
“Then why was Mira covered in his blood?”
“Because she got caught in the spray, my lady.”
“And she had nothing to do with it?”
“I killed him, my lady.”
Isabel knew it wasn’t the truth. She had seen the mess in the vault and she had seen the rock.
She’d also seen Mira covered with blood while Douglas had very little on him.
But Douglas had confessed to the killing right away, even to the point of silencing Mira when she tried to speak about it.
Mira was currently upstairs, sleeping from a potion the physic had given her because of the injuries sustained in Raymond’s attack, while Douglas freely confessed the killing not only to Isabel, but to a distraught Jerome de Honiton.
A man who immediately declared war on the de Lohr empire.
Oh, Isabel knew why Douglas had confessed.
God help her, she knew. He did it to protect Mira, to protect Axminster, and to focus de Honiton on the much larger de Lohr war machine rather than the weaker Axminster.
He was a man of conviction, of chivalry, of nerves of steel to lie as he had.
To look Jerome de Honiton in the face and take the blame for something he did not do took a man of steel, indeed.
Isabel knew all of this and she loved him for it.
As a sister would love a brother, as a friend would love a friend.
But it broke her heart that he’d accepted blame.
There was a pitcher of wine over near the hearth, stale wine that had flecks of dust floating on the top of it.
Isabel, who was still slightly drunk from the feast only hours earlier, picked up the wine vessel and drank out of the neck.
Long gulps. Licking her lips, she set it back down again and made her way over to Douglas.
She moved in very close to him.
“You may tell everyone that you killed him, but I want to know the truth,” she whispered with her wine-ladened breath. “Tell me what truly happened, Douglas, and I will take it to my grave. But this is my castle. I deserve to know the truth.”
Douglas’ gaze lingered on her. Her left shoulder was against his left shoulder.
She was facing one way and he was facing the other.
But she was as close to him as she could possibly be without standing on him.
It was an intimate gesture of concern, of supplication, and of trust. Douglas had refused to tell anyone the truth of what happened and sworn Jonathan and Davyss to secrecy. They would never betray him, he knew.
And he knew Isabel wouldn’t either. It was her castle, after all.
But he had to make sure.
“Are you doubting my word?” he finally asked, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.
Isabel didn’t seem pleased that he’d evaded the question.
“Look at the situation from my perspective,” she said.
“Mira has clearly been battered. She was covered with blood, indicative of a fight for her life. You, on the other hand, do not have a scratch on you. And you say you killed him? With a rock smashed into his head, which would have been messy to say the least? If Mira did not do it, why is she covered in gore? And if you did it, how did you stay so clean?”
“I am highly skilled.”
“Enough that blood would not even stain you?”
“Possibly.”
“And a man fighting for his life would not touch you in any way?”
“I am a superior warrior.”
“I agree,” Isabel said. “You are a superior warrior. But I will ask you a direct question and you will give me a truthful answer. If you do not, I will never believe anything you say ever again. Are we clear?”
“We are, my lady.”
“Did you kill Raymond?”
He didn’t reply right away. He was looking away, his jaw twitching faintly, before he made the effort to turn in her direction. Even then, he simply looked at her, hesitant to speak at all.
“Does it truly matter?” he asked.
“It does to me.”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “If you do not keep your promise, I will cut your tongue out.”
Isabel believed him, but she looked at him with some surprise. “When have I ever broken your trust, Douglas?”