Chapter Five
The next morning at Cloryn dawned foggy and cold.
In the great hall, the soldiers who had slept in various positions all around the room were just beginning to stir.
Bretton was up, having slept very little last night after his conversation with Allaston.
She had planted things in his mind, things that made him think, and he had lay awake most of the night thinking on what she had said.
So much of what she’d said made sense to him, but there was one particular question she had proposed that he couldn’t seem to shake.
Will killing my father make all things possible for you?
He couldn’t honestly answer that question.
The truth was that he’d never given much thought to his life after killing Jax de Velt and damn the man’s daughter for bringing the subject up.
Of course he wanted to marry, if only to have heirs, but he had no chance of a good marriage from a good family, so he would have to take what he could get.
He could get Allaston de Velt. She already belonged to him so he had been thinking on a marriage of convenience with her more and more.
And even more than that after last night.
She was a beautiful woman. Aye, she was, even though it was difficult to think that way over a woman who carried de Velt’s blood.
That meant their children would also carry de Velt’s blood.
Did he really want to mix his blood with the blood of the man he hated most in the world?
He had been wrestling with that very question.
God forbid, what if one of his sons ended up looking like Jax de Velt?
Would he hate the lad every time he looked at him?
He simply didn’t have an answer for that.
Exhausted, frustrated, and in a foul mood, he entered the great hall in search of food and his commanders, in that order.
The room was dark for the most part, the fire pit in the center having long gone cold, and it smelled badly of unwashed bodies and dogs.
Over near one of the feasting tables, servants were starting to set out bread and drink.
He made his way to the table and collected a mug of watered ale, stuffing some bread into his mouth as Grayton entered the hall well behind him.
Bretton caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“A blessed morn to you, my lord,” Grayton greeted him pleasantly. “I hope you rested well.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Bretton looked at the man and scowled. “I did not,” he said. “Where are the others? I intend to ride to Rhayder today to scout the location and I would take Teague and Dallan with me. I will leave Olivier here with you.”
Grayton eyed the man. He knew he had spent a good deal of time with the prisoner the previous night but he’d not seen him after that.
Bretton had evidently gone to bed after speaking with her, so this was the first that he’d seen the man.
He was very curious to know what had gone on between him and the prisoner.
“As you wish,” he said casually, eyeing the man as he reached for a lopsided cup of ale. “I’ve not yet seen your prisoner this morning. How is she faring?”
Bretton was back to his usual emotionless expression. “I would not know,” he said. “I have not seen her this morning.”
Grayton took a bite of his bread. “I did not send the physic to her last night,” he said. “I had the odd feeling that you did not approve of my removing her from the vault, so I did not want to press the matter. If she dies, she dies. Her fate is consigned to God.”
Bretton took great slabs of tart white cheese and put it on his bread, taking a big bite. “She was coughing last night when I spoke with her but she did not seem to be deathly ill,” he replied, chewing. “In fact, she seemed quite well.”
Grayton looked at him with surprise. “She did?” he said. “Most interesting. Mayhap she is healing, after all.”
Bretton didn’t say anything for a moment as he chewed his meal. Swallowing what was in his mouth, he spoke.
“Have you thought about what you shall do when we are finished with de Velt?” he asked.
Grayton shook his head. “I confess, I have not,” he said. “I always thought we would move on to other targets.”
Bretton glanced at him curiously. “Targets? What targets?”
Grayton shrugged. “We must continue to pay the men,” he said. “I assumed we would continue doing what we are doing, even after we confiscate de Velt’s holdings. Why? Did you have another idea about it?”
Bretton took another bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. “I do not know,” he said. “My goal has always been to reclaim de Velt’s properties and kill the man to avenge my father. After that, I figured that I would live in one of these castles and administer my domain.”
Grayton nodded, still not entirely sure why Bretton had asked the question about life after conquest. He’d only asked it after spending time with de Velt’s daughter.
Grayton was coming to wonder if the woman hadn’t said something to Bretton to get the man’s mind working.
In any case, he picked up another piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth.
“We do not have to decide anything at this moment,” he said, mouth full.
“Complete conquest of de Velt’s holdings is still a long way off.
We have four more castles to claim and that will not prove easy.
For now, I will go find Dallan and the other commanders and send them to you. Shall I send them here?”
Bretton nodded. “Aye,” he said. “And make sure the grooms have the chargers prepared. Make sure the horses are well fed and watered.”
Grayton nodded. “If you are agreeable, I will also make sure your prisoner is well fed and watered.”
Bretton merely shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or the other.
With a quick glance at his liege, Grayton wandered out of the hall to complete his tasks as Bretton remained behind, eating the warmed mutton and gravy the servants brought around, watching the soldiers sleeping in the hall become lucid.
Men were stretching, groaning, and farting.
A few were pissing in the fire pit. Bretton looked at his men, seeing brutal and seasoned soldiers, men who would probably continue as mercenaries long after Bretton decided to settle down and remain in one place.
The more he thought on it, the more he realized he didn’t want to continue conquest after he had confiscated all of de Velt’s holdings.
At some point, he wanted to stop and enjoy the fruits of his labor and impeccable planning.
He knew it was strange for a mercenary to think that way, but he couldn’t help it.
At some point in his life, he realized he wanted peace.
He wasn’t out for everyone’s blood, only de Velt’s.
But until such time as he spilled it, he would continue to kill, maim, and burn until it got him what he wanted.
So he sat there and brooded over the future until the men began to crowd around the feasting table where he was sitting, grabbing at food and drink.
When that happened, Bretton finished the remainder of ale in his cup and quit the smelly, cold hall.
His intention was to go to the stable to see if his charger was prepared but as he quit the hall, he inevitably noticed the keep to his right.
Dark and shadowed against the rising sun, his thoughts turned to the contents of the keep, to Lady Allaston de Velt sleeping peacefully on the second floor.
Damn that woman and her logic! He refused to admit that the woman was coming to intrigue him even though she was. He wasn’t sure why but until he could figure it out, she would continue to weigh on his mind and he didn’t like that at all. She could prove to be a deadly distraction.
He shifted course and headed for the keep.
*
She was ready for him.
Allaston hadn’t slept most of the night, either, even though she had been ill and exhausted.
Every time she closed her eyes, visions of de Llion and his hatred of her father filled her mind.
To her, Jax de Velt was a loving father and a strict task master.
To de Llion, he was a killer. She could hardly believe that she and de Llion were speaking of the same person but she knew in her heart of hearts that there was no mistake.
She had known of her father’s past. But to her, it was just that – a past. That was not the man he was today.
She wondered if de Llion believed he was doing the world a favor by eliminating the hated Jax de Velt, but that was a fleeting thought.
After having spoken to the man in depth about it, she knew his motives were entirely self-serving.
He was doing it for himself. For vengeance. It was vengeance she had to disrupt.
So she tried to sleep, and she did for a few hours, but well before dawn she awoke, her mind racing.
She couldn’t simply let de Llion lure her father to his death.
She was determined to fight back, to stop him somehow, even if it meant her own life.
She simply couldn’t stand by and let de Llion complete his plans.
Therefore, she rose very early with a plan in mind.
It would mean de Llion’s life or her own. Today, that would be decided.
The thought of violence terrified her. She had never really been around it until the night de Llion and his men came to Alberbury.
She knew, however, that it would take violence to stop Bretton de Llion so she crafted an idea.
The fire poker, the one she had noticed last night, was sitting near the hearth.
It was the only thing in the room that could be construed as a weapon so it was what she intended to use.
She fully intended to kill the man with it because she knew if she didn’t kill him, he would kill her.
It was his life or hers, and she would do all she could to ensure she would remain alive.