Chapter Forty-One
With the help of Gaharet and D’Artagnon, Edmond shielded Isobella from the keep guard, but Lothair’s eyes, dark circles beneath them, didn’t miss a thing.
Lothair lowered his sword. “Guards, leave us. Wait at the end of the corridor. No one comes in, no one leaves without my authority.”
They sheathed their weapons and filed out, clomping down the hall with a jingle of chain mail. Lothair closed the door and stepped further into the room. Far enough to get a clear view of Isobella naked, the grimoire on the floor and Aubert’s hands around Douglas’ throat.
Edmond held his wolf in check. If Lothair so much as looked in Isobella’s direction one more time, it would not be possible for him to contain himself, or his wolf.
Attacking Lothair would not be wise. He released Isobella long enough to remove his tunic and slip it over her head, then she lunged for the grimoire.
Lothair stabbed the cover with the point of his sword, and she snatched her hand away, retreating. Edmond pulled her back into the safety of his arms.
“I thought she was but a witch, but now I see she is both witch and wolf.” Lothair shook his head.
“Another one turned, I take it, and still you do not accede to my request. Tsk, tsk, Gaharet, this is getting tiresome.” He tapped the book with the tip of his sword.
“And what is so important about this book?” He scooped it up from the floor, flicking through the pages, his frown deepening.
“And who is this man Aubert is intent on choking the life out of?”
“He is a warlock,” said Gaharet. “One of the witch Cordelia’s underlings.”
Lothair’s face brightened. “Excellent. He should be full of all manner of information.” Lothair gestured to the hole in the floor.
“It is a fortuitous thing my men haven’t finished filling in my underground chamber.
He can go in there until he gives up all his secrets.
Aubert, let him go. A few days locked in the dark with Renaud’s corpse should loosen his tongue. ”
Aubert snarled. Edmond’s hold on Isobella tightened. What Lothair proposed for Douglas was unpleasant, but their mate’s fury, her pain, hung in the air thicker than an autumn fog. Douglas deserved more than unpleasant.
Gaharet laid a hand on Aubert’s shoulder. “Let him go.”
Aubert’s growl filled the room, and for a moment Edmond thought he would refuse. It was one thing to kill a man in Lothair’s keep. It was another defying a direct command from both him and their alpha.
Aubert let go, and Douglas dropped to the floor, gasping for breath and clasping his throat. Aubert fake lunged at him, and Douglas scrambled back into the corner, but once beyond Aubert’s reach his sly grin was back.
Lothair waved his sword at the hole in the floor. “Put him in the underground chamber and lock the grate. I will question him myself in the morn.”
No one moved. A muscle ticked in Lothair’s jaw.
“Do you think that is wise?” asked Gaharet. “He is—”
“Gaharet.” Lothair turned tired eyes on their alpha. Disheveled, Lothair had the look of a man who had either not slept or not slept well. “I am in no mood for you to challenge my wishes. Lock him in the underground chamber. Now.”
With obvious reluctance, Gaharet and D’Artagnon grabbed Douglas by the arms and pulled him to his feet. He made no protest when they dragged him to the hole in the ground.
They stepped back, and Gaharet grabbed the grate. “Down you go.”
Douglas backed down one step, then another. Red marks the shape of Aubert’s hands colored the skin of his throat, but Douglas was not cowed. Not in the slightest. Because he was a warlock? Would an iron grate hold him? From the smug grin on Douglas’ face, Edmond did not believe so.
Aubert shoved the warlock down another step. “He said, down you go.”
Douglas glanced over his shoulder at the looming darkness that would soon swallow him. He shrugged, then looked straight at Isobella. He cocked his fingers in an odd manner, one finger pointing at Isobella and his thumb raised. “I’ll be seeing you around.”
Before anyone could stop him, Aubert was upon Douglas, his dagger in his hand, thrusting it into Douglas’ chest. The warlock gasped, his breath forced from his lungs.
He grabbed for the dagger with both hands, but Aubert was a skilled warrior, and with his strength behind his blade he had driven deep.
Angled it to create maximum damage. It was too late.
The warlock was already dead, though he did not yet realize it.
Aubert wrenched the dagger free. Douglas choked and coughed up blood. Then Aubert gave Douglas a shove, and he toppled backward down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness. He hit the bottom with a sickening thud.
“Well,” said Edmond. “He is in your underground chamber, and unlikely to ever leave it. Company for Renaud.”
Edmond could not say he was sorry. If Douglas were free, Isobella would never be safe. Edmond would have bet the entire coin in their estate if Douglas were to have been left alone, iron grate or no, he would have been gone by morn.
Aubert wiped the blood from his dagger on his tunic and slipped it back into its sheath.
D’Artagnon understood. He would have killed Didier for hurting Constance if he had had the chance.
From the hint of a shrug from Gaharet, it was clear his alpha did too.
And Edmond…he would have done the same if he had had the chance.
Lothair’s face was taut, his hand gripped tight around the hilt of his sword.
From the fury in his eyes, he wanted to strike him.
Or perhaps run him through. Or both. Aubert ignored him and crossed the room to stand in front of Isobella.
She reeked of sex and Edmond, his brother’s tunic loose around her shoulders, the neckline plunging between her breasts.
The sight of her had him wanting to drop to his knees and pull her close, but he did not.
Though it sliced him to the bone as surely as Lothair’s sword would, he had to know. “Is it true?”
Wide brown eyes stared up at him.
“Did you volunteer?”
“I…” She reached for Edmond’s hand, her gaze shifting from him to Lothair to Gaharet, then back again.
“Do not lie to me.”
“Aubert,” Edmond interrupted. “Now is not the time—”
“Did you put a spell on me? On us? Did you lie to us to get what you wanted? To all of us?”
She pushed out of his brother’s arms. “No! I didn’t put a spell on you, I swear. And I didn’t lie to you. Any of you.” Her shoulders sagged. “But I did…kind of volunteer. But I had my reasons.”
Aubert shook his head. He could not believe this was happening to them. Again. “You wanted—no, you needed—something from us.” Aubert raked a hand through his hair. “And we gave it to you.”
“I was dying. I didn’t have a lot of choices.”
She reached for his arm, but he spun away from her.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I had hoped when I came here a Langeais wolf would turn me, and I am so grateful you did, but that is not the—”
“Grateful?” She had agreed to be their mate out of gratitude? She had taken what had been but moments ago a wondrous thing and twisted it into something… He hung his head, unable to look at her anymore. “You are no different from Sabine.”
“Aubert!”
He ignored his brother and the throb of hurt radiating from Isobella, flung open the door, and stormed from the room.
“Aubert!” Edmond called after him, but he did not turn back.
“Who’s Sabine?”
Lothair’s words carried to Aubert as he pushed past the keep guard at the end of the corridor.
They did not try to stop him. Something in his face must have warned them he would cut them down if they tried.
He kept going, taking the stairs two at a time.
He did not want to hear what the others had to say about Sabine. Or Isobella’s excuses.
Aubert did not stop running until he was on the top floor of the keep, bursting out onto the ramparts and heaving in lungsful of night air.
He leaned against the ramparts, staring out across the Langeais village and a moonlit River Loire, the pain in his chest unbearable.
He could not bear to lose her, but Aubert had to wonder, had they ever truly had Isobella at all?
* * * *
Isobella covered her face with her hands. She would not cry. Not in front of everyone. She would… “I have to find Aubert.” She made for the door. “I have to talk to him. He has to know—”
Edmond stepped in front of her, grabbing her by the arms. Not tight, but firm. “Give him time, Bella. Aubert will come around.”
“You don’t think that I…” That she was like Sabine. That she had used him to get what she’d needed. That she might have spelled them. “I promise, I didn’t use any magic. And I didn’t agree to…just because…”
“I know.” Edmond tucked a stray curl behind her ear and straightened up his tunic that had slipped down over one shoulder. “Aubert did not mean what he said. He let the warlock’s words get to him. Give him time to sort things out in his head, and he will come to his senses.”
Would he, though? The anguish on his face, the betrayal…
Aubert was hurting. She knew what that was like, and it was the last thing Isobella had wanted to do.
To him or to Edmond. She leaned her head on Edmond’s bare chest. All she could do was hope Edmond was right.
That Aubert would give her a chance to explain.
And if he didn’t? What’d happened with Sabine had left deep wounds on Aubert that hadn’t healed.
What if he refused to take her as his mate?
She rubbed at her chest. She knew what that meant.
They’d been clear about it back in the training room.
It was both of them or neither. She might well lose Edmond, too.
Lothair sheathed his sword with a dull rasp. “Another body to bury under rubble thanks to you and your wolves. This is becoming quite the habit.” He bared his teeth at Gaharet. “I am not impressed.”
The hinges squeaked as Gaharet closed the iron grate. “He was a warlock. He would have escaped the moment we walked away, and you would have been none the wiser until morn. It is better this way.”
“Hm.” Lothair chewed over Gaharet’s words. His sigh was weary and resigned. “What will you do now?”
“There is not much more we can do here. We do not know where Lance or Cordelia are, except they are not in Langeais.” Gaharet returned his sword to its scabbard.
“We will return to my keep to regroup. It will give Isobella a chance to study the contents of that book.” He held out his hand for the grimoire. “Tell us what we are up against.”
Isobella tensed, waiting for Lothair to give Gaharet the grimoire. Based on Stef’s warnings, Lothair wasn’t the person they’d want to have possession of it.
“I think I will keep this.” Lothair tucked the grimoire under his arm. “And I will join you on your journey to your keep. See you home safe. We shall leave at first light.”
“There is no need,” said Gaharet, though his gaze lingered on the grimoire.
Isobella wasn’t the only one who thought it shouldn’t be in Lothair’s hands.
“Mm.” Lothair would not meet their eyes. “But after recent events, I have a need to be free of these walls for a while. To be with company that does not hate me. At least not too much.”
Without a backward glance, Lothair, head down, walked out of the room.