22 #2
Cassandra turned and looked at Simon with glittering silver eyes.
“You haven’t the Learning to understand,” she said. “Nor do you wish it. You have contempt for anything less tangible than a sword.”
With a snarled word, Simon vaulted onto his war stallion. Soon the three riders were headed back for Stone Ring Keep at an even faster pace than they had left it.
“HOW is Duncan?” Dominic and Simon asked Meg simultaneously.
Meg looked from the great hall where she was sitting to the lord’s solar just beyond. Duncan was there at a table, listening to Ariane’s mournful tunes while staring into the costly, ancient pendant that Amber had once worn.
At least Meg assumed that was what had captured Duncan’s attention. He had his hands cupped around the pendant, protecting and concealing it as though it were a fragile flame in the wind.
“Duncan is the same as he was yesterday,” Meg said. “If I speak loudly enough, he will answer. Otherwise, he ignores everyone but Dominic, to whom he feels indebted.”
Simon grimaced. “God’s blood. ’Tis like he has no…”
“Soul?” Meg offered.
“No emotions, certainly,” Dominic said.
“’Tis the cost of locking away much of yourself in order to survive,” she said. “You should understand that, husband. You once did the same.”
“Aye. But I hadn’t met you then. Duncan has already met his witch. If he cuts off so much of himself in order to live…” Dominic shrugged. “I fear it will be like a poisoned wound, with no healing short of death.”
Simon muttered something about the foolishness of giving that much of yourself to a woman and stalked into the lord’s solar. Meg and Dominic followed. Even when all three stood in front of Duncan, he didn’t look up from his study of the amber pendant.
“He is bewitched,” Simon said bluntly.
“He is no more bewitched than Dominic is,” Meg said. “Duncan’s heart and body and soul have chosen a mate despite his vow. That mate is not Ariane.”
“Yes,” Dominic said simply. “I fear you are right.”
Duncan’s suffering has just begun.
Simon looked over at the violet-eyed heiress who drew such mourning from the harp’s taut strings.
“Don’t you know any joyful airs?” Simon asked. “’Tis enough to make a stone snivel.”
Ariane glanced at him and set aside the harp without a word.
“Duncan,” Dominic said.
Though quiet, Dominic’s voice commanded Duncan’s attention. He looked away from the pendant concealed by his hands.
“I cannot watch you die. I release you from all obligation to me,” Dominic said clearly. “Your marriage to Amber is intact. It will remain so.”
Duncan’s fingers tightened on the pendant’s chain, making the concealed amber jerk against the tabletop. He looked at the gemstone again. It was dulled, as though from too much handling.
Yet he had touched it only once. The grief he had felt then had brought him to his knees.
He had been careful not to touch the amber again.
“I am released from no obligation,” Duncan said.
His voice, like his eyes, lacked animation. Neither lacked conviction, however. He meant what he said.
“Don’t be—” Dominic began.
“Without Stone Ring Keep as your ally,” Duncan said, ignoring Dominic’s attempt to speak, “Blackthorne will soon be at war with the Disputed Lands.”
Dominic wanted to deny it. He couldn’t. He badly needed allies, for he couldn’t afford to hire more knights until he brought Blackthorne back from the ruin its previous lord had made of it.
“Without Ariane’s dowry, I can’t hold Stone Ring Keep,” Duncan said. “Nor can you give me money without stripping Blackthorne to the bone.”
A low curse was Dominic’s only answer.
“In five days I will wed Ariane,” Duncan concluded.
“Nay! I’ll not see you live like a man half alive,” Dominic said grimly. “Or worse.”
“You have no control over the matter. You are no longer my lord.”
“I’ll refuse to put my seal on the annulment.”
“’Tis but a formality,” Duncan said indifferently. “The Church won’t care. The keep’s chaplain will marry us. I am lord of this keep, not you.”
Dominic opened his mouth to argue further, but Meg’s hand on his wrist restrained him.
Duncan didn’t notice. He was looking at the amber again, lost in its cloudy depths. Sometimes he almost believed he could see Amber there.
Sometimes…
A peregrine called softly. The trill was too sweet to have come from a falcon’s throat. It hung in the air like light made into music.
Duncan looked up.
Erik stood nearby, his uncanny peregrine on his wrist.
“I will match Ariane’s dowry,” Erik said.
For a moment life flared in Duncan’s eyes. Then it died, leaving him darker than before.
“’Tis generous of you,” Duncan said tonelessly, “but Baron Deguerre would go to war if his daughter were jilted by a Scots bastard. In the end it would be the same—Blackthorne lost because of a broken vow.”
Erik looked to Dominic.
The Glendruid Wolf nodded reluctantly.
“Deguerre was furious at having to wed his daughter to a nameless bastard knight,” Dominic said slowly. “If Duncan refuses Ariane, Deguerre will go to war against both of us. And he will have King Henry’s blessing.”
“Ariane and I will be wed in five days,” Duncan said. “It matters not. Amber is gone.”
For a time there was no sound but the crackling of the fire and the distant moan of wind. Then Ariane took up the harp again. The tune she played caught the mood of the room with eerie accuracy: frustration and grief, a cold trap irrevocably closing, grinding life and hope between its cruel teeth.
Simon looked from his brother to the aloof Norman heiress. His mouth flattened into a grim line. Then he turned to Dominic once more.
“I’ll marry the Norman wench,” Simon said curtly.
Though Duncan didn’t look up, the harp music stopped in a jangle of startled notes.
“What did you say?” Dominic asked.
“We will present it to the world as a love match,” Simon continued, giving the last two words a sardonic emphasis. “A drawing together of hearts that resulted in elopement. We defied English king and Norman father equally. For love, of course.”
The irony resonating in Simon’s voice made Meg wince, but she raised no argument.
“What do you think?” Erik asked Dominic.
“King Henry won’t object, for he will get what he wanted,” Dominic said slowly.
“Which is?” Erik asked.
“Deguerre’s daughter wed to a noble who is loyal to King Henry,” Simon said bluntly.
“And Deguerre? Will he object?” Erik asked.
“No,” Dominic said. “Simon is my brother and my strong right arm. As such, he is a more advantageous mate than Duncan of Maxwell would be.”
“Lady Ariane,” Erik said. “What say you?”
“I understand now why Simon is called the Loyal,” Ariane answered. “What a treasure such fealty must be, more precious than rubies…”
Ariane plucked two strings. The purity of their harmony vibrated in the room for a moment, then died to a haunting whisper.
“I would prefer a nunnery to the marriage bed,” Ariane said, “but neither my father nor God has seen fit to offer such to me.”
“Nor can we,” Dominic said bluntly.
“‘A drawing together of hearts…’” Ariane repeated.
Her hand flashed, her fingers raked, and clashing cords filled the silence.
“Duncan. Simon.” Ariane shrugged. “One man is much the same as another. Proud and cruel in equal parts. I will do my duty.”
“You deserve a better wife than this cold Norman heiress,” Dominic said to Simon.
“Blackthorne deserves better than war, brother. And so do you.” Simon smiled thinly. “Surely marriage can be no worse than the sultan’s hell you endured to ransom me.”
Silently Dominic clasped his brother’s shoulder.
“I will do what I can to sweeten your life,” Dominic said simply. “I had hoped for a better match for you.”
“You’ll find none richer nor more useful than Ariane, daughter of Baron Deguerre,” Simon said.
“I meant that I had hoped to find a woman who would love you as well as bring you wealth.”
“Love? God’s teeth.” Simon looked sideways at his brother. “When I can hold love in my hand, see it, touch it, and weigh it, I’ll worry about its lack. Until then, I’ll take a good dowry and count myself lucky.”
Shaking his head and smiling at the same time, Dominic turned to the one man who had yet to agree.
“Duncan?” Dominic asked.
Duncan didn’t look up from the gemstone that lay on the table beneath his cupped hands, shielded from all other eyes but his own.
“Duncan,” Dominic said in a clear voice. “Do you agree to the marriage of Simon and Ariane?”
“Do as you will,” Duncan said indifferently. “Either way, Amber is gone. Not even the Learned can find her.”
“Aye,” Erik said. “But you might be able to reach her, Duncan.”
Slowly Duncan’s head came up. Hope struggled against despair in his eyes.
“You are her dark warrior and she is your golden light,” Erik said. “The rowan gave you to Amber and Amber to you.”
The words ran through Duncan like lightning. He stood in a rush, dragging the pendant with him. When the cool amber brushed his hand, he made a sound as though he had been raked by steel talons.
For the first time, Erik saw the dull pendant. Color drained from his face. The cry the peregrine gave was a naked lament.
Moments later Cassandra appeared in the doorway to the great hall, her scarlet robes flying. A single look at the pendant told her why the falcon had screamed.
Instinctively Meg came to her feet and stood next to the Glendruid Wolf.
“What is it?” Meg asked. “What has happened?”
“Amber,” Cassandra said. “Taking the Druid way all but cost her life.”
Duncan yanked Erik around to face him.
“Tell me how to get to Amber,” Duncan said curtly.
“God’s blood,” Erik said. “Look at the pendant! ’Tis too late. She is dying.”
“Tell me what I must know,” Duncan commanded. “Quickly!”
“You aren’t Learned,” Cassandra said. “The only way is the Druid way, and even I—”
“Bring the pendant over to the fire,” Erik interrupted.
Cassandra started to object, but a glance at Erik’s savage yellow eyes stopped her words in her throat. She laced her hands together and let her long scarlet sleeves hide her fingers.
Swiftly Duncan followed Erik to the fire.
“Cup the pendant in your hands,” Erik ordered.