Chapter Twenty-One
He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to tell Annaleigh what had happened.
He’d been trying to figure it out ever since leaving de Wolfe’s solar. All he could see was the hope in her eyes when he had asked permission to court her. Now, all he could see was the disappointment knowing that he hadn’t secured William’s blessing.
He was a failure.
That wasn’t something he normally experienced. Ever since he’d been a small boy, success and victory had come easily to him. There had been a few setbacks, of course, but nothing catastrophic. He’d always been able to recover.
But this time, it was different.
Not only had he not received permission to court Annaleigh, but the entire situation with de Wolfe had spiraled out of control.
What do you expect to gain?
Those words from de Wolfe were rolling around in his head.
He’d been so deeply offended by them that the conversation had immediately turned sour.
De Wolfe had tolerated his anger until he became insulting and, then, the man had come back at him.
Truth be told, War knew he deserved it, but he had been quite wounded by William’s intimation that he expected to “gain” something.
Truthfully, War didn’t know what he wanted.
Up until a few days ago, he’d only had one father.
He’d been content. Now, he’d lost the only father he’d ever known and de Wolfe didn’t seem too keen to having another son.
It wasn’t as if War expected him to fall at his feet, weeping with joy and gratitude.
Or… maybe he had, just a little. Maybe he’d hoped for an embrace and a warm reception with de Wolfe declaring how proud he was that War was his son.
Maybe that’s really why he’d been offended in the first place.
Wouldn’t any man be proud to have War Herringthorpe as a son?
After leaving the solar, he’d gone straight into the kitchen yard because he’d thought Annaleigh might be there. She seemed to spend a good deal of time in the kitchen yard, so he was hoping to find her there, but she was nowhere to be found. The cook was there and his helpers, but no Annaleigh.
War had plopped down on a bench against the kitchen wall and sulked.
Aye, sulked.
He thought long and hard about what had happened. He tried to maintain his indignant stance, but the more he reviewed the conversation, the more he could see that he’d needlessly become angry. War had always prided himself on maintaining his composure in any situation, but he’d failed in this case.
Yet one more failure in an accumulating list of them.
He was coming to think that de Wolfe had simply restrained himself from showing joy or surprise or gratitude in the face of such news because he was waiting for War to display how he felt.
The man wasn’t going to lay himself out there if War was unhappy about the whole thing and War hardly blamed him for that, but War had taken that restraint as rejection.
That’s what this was all about.
Rejection.
Given the way he’d acted, War didn’t blame de Wolfe for behaving the way he had.
War had all but said he didn’t want anyone to know of his association with William.
He didn’t even know why he’d said it. His only excuse was that perhaps the truth was that he had expected William to openly embrace him and when he hadn’t, that hurt turned to rage.
As he sat and sulked, he was beginning to feel stupid.
Worse than stupid.
Ridiculous.
He could have just kicked himself. He’d gone in there to ask for permission to court Annaleigh and he’d left with absolutely nothing.
He could hardly face Annaleigh with what he’d done, but he knew one thing – he had to apologize to de Wolfe.
Even if the man didn’t accept his apology, at least he would have tried.
He did the exact thing that Edmund told him not to do and he hoped he wasn’t going to pay the price.
He hoped it wasn’t going to cost him Annaleigh.
Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to his feet, he headed from the kitchen yard.
He began practicing what he was going to say to de Wolfe, asking for the man’s pardon.
He didn’t even think about bringing up courting Annaleigh again because de Wolfe might think he was only apologizing to gain permission, so that wasn’t going to come up.
He was just exiting the kitchen yard when he saw Kieran heading towards the stables.
Hage.
De Wolfe’s second in command and, by de Wolfe’s own admission, his best friend for many years. Kieran had remained calm during the dust up in the solar, trying to defuse the situation. But, at that moment, War would not be defused.
Now was a little different.
Perhaps he needed to speak with Kieran Hage first.
He began to follow Kieran as the man headed to the stables.
He picked up the pace to catch up with him when he suddenly saw Kieran bolt, straight for the stable yard.
Curious, not to mention concerned, War began to trot after him.
He couldn’t see the stable yard or the stables itself from his angle but when he came around the corner of the inner wall, he could see everything perfectly.
What he saw had him stopping dead in his tracks.
Kieran was standing a dozen or so feet from the stables’ entry, frozen, but War could see clearly what had the man rooted to the spot. In the entry, he could see some man he didn’t recognize pulling limp and unconscious Annaleigh with him and another man who had a dagger pointed at her chest.
Annaleigh had blood on her face.
After that, War saw red.
He didn’t know who the pair was and he didn’t care, but they were dead men. He had no concept of the situation, of what had happened or why Annaleigh was bloodied, but none of that mattered.
The man named War, bred for battle, emerged full-force.
His first instinct was to run past Kieran like a madman and charge the pair that had Annaleigh, but he was thankfully able to curb the urge.
He was seasoned enough to know that doing so would put Annaleigh’s life in danger.
He couldn’t even entertain the thought that she might be already dead.
In fact, if there was a dagger pointed at her, then clearly she must be alive. He clung to that belief.
She’s alive!
He had to save her.
Kieran was speaking to the pair in even, steady tones but War couldn’t hear what was being said.
Not that it mattered. He began looking around frantically for a way into the rear of the stable yard, but the area was fairly self-enclosed.
He didn’t know Castle Questing well enough to know if there were any additional entrances but he assumed so.
He ducked away, rushing back along the wall towards the kitchens which, if he remembered correctly, butted up against the stable yard wall.
Perhaps there was a way in that way.
“War!”
He heard his name, turning to see Alexei coming from the hall, waving at him.
Other than a few daggers, War wasn’t armed, but Alexei was.
The knight from Vilnius always wore his broadsword, in every situation.
He even slept with it. War rushed the man, reaching out to unsheathe his broadsword when he came within range.
“I need your weapon,” he said, extreme urgency in his tone. “Go to the mouth of the stable yard and stay out of sight. I will need you.”
Alexei’s relaxed expression instantly morphed into one of great concern. “What is happening?”
War didn’t have time to explain. “Annaleigh is in trouble,” he said. “Go to the mouth of the stable yard and stay out of sight. When I need you, I’ll shout.”
Alexei was wise enough not to ask any questions.
He’d served with War long enough to know that this was a moment to simply follow orders, and he did.
As he ran over to the entry to the stable yard, War, with Alexei’s broadsword, raced to the rear of the kitchen yard where it joined with the stable yard.
As he’d hoped, there was a small gate between the two.
Quietly, War lifted the latch. Unfortunately, the iron gate had a sticky hinge and the gate creaked as he opened it.
He paused a couple of times, hoping a break in the noise wouldn’t make it sound as if the gate were being opened to those who might be attuned to such a thing.
The last thing he wanted to do was tip off whoever held Annaleigh captive, so after a few breaks in the opening of the noisy gate, he slipped into the stable yard.
War was in the shadows, away from the torchlight, so Kieran didn’t see him as he continued to converse with the men who held Annaleigh.
War couldn’t see her from this angle, but as he frantically looked for a way into the stables other than the main entry, he saw a small servants’ door cut into the side of the south wall.
With great stealth, War slipped up to the door and opened it with the ultimate care. Fortunately, this door made no noise as it opened and War slid into the stables, his gaze fixed on two men at the entry, facing Kieran.
At this point, he could hear what they were saying.
There were demands for a horse. Kieran offered to get them horses, but he had to be allowed to come into the stables.
The men began to back up, away from the enormous knight, and the man dragging Annaleigh heaved her into his arms, but he almost dropped her.
War found himself wincing as the man held Annaleigh precariously and awkwardly.
He could see her head and left arm flapping uncomfortably.
Moving with extreme care and silence, War crept along in the shadows, dropping to his knees to stay low when those shadows no longer covered his movements.
Now, the men were threatening to throw Annaleigh over a mountain.
War could hear them. Kieran was telling them how unwise that would be.
The men began to back up further, their backs to War, and as Kieran approached the entry cautiously, War knew he had to act now and act swiftly.
The Vilnius sword began to arc.