Chapter Three
Lycus Dane, Enforcer to the Lord of Wurrakia, paced in front of Lady Goshawk’s cell, clenching and unclenching his fists, grinding his teeth to hold back a growl of irritation.
He’d done plenty of loathsome things in service of his lord.
Doing loathsome things was his job. But menacing a young woman?
This command felt beneath him, no matter his willful lack of a rank and title.
But Lord Gerard, who acted as his overlord with Aylmer’s blessing, was furious and humiliated at the fact that he’d unknowingly been betrothed to a traitor’s daughter.
It didn’t matter in the slightest that the girl was almost certainly innocent of the conspiracy, the princeling’s pride had been stung, therefore she was forced to pay for that.
So here he was, “guarding” her cell as if the little raptor had the power to break the bars and he’d have to cut her down with his broadsword for trying to escape.
He knew very well that the real motivation for sending him down to the dungeons was to keep Lady Kestrel intimidated by his fearsome reputation and the nightmarish ruin of his scarred face.
And it worked. So effectively that she didn’t seem to be aware that he’d spent the past two days trying to get her to eat.
It was already insulting enough that he’d had to deliver her trays like a servant, but to have her so repulsed by him that she couldn’t touch the food he offered…
He didn’t like it. Such a stringent reminder of his hideousness seemed as much a punishment for him as it was for the prisoner.
And, for some odd reason, he didn’t want her to go hungry.
It was wasteful, pointless, allowed her enemy to win, and… just wrong for a healer of her rank.
Lycus glanced at the tray he’d placed on the floor by the bars of her cage and shook his head.
The old brown bread, boiled green beans, and cold, graying slice of pork looked flavorless and tough as shoe leather.
While such a loathsome repast was typical fare for prisoners, Kestrel was a lady and doubtless accustomed to quality food.
With a resigned sigh, he scooped up the tray from the floor.
Kestrel didn’t flinch at his sudden movement, which he should have considered either a relief or a failure in his job to terrorize her if he could ever make up his mind on where his feelings stood.
But her glassy-eyed stare at the wall definitely made him uncomfortable.
He’d seen warriors with that look when the tides of a battle turned and they knew they were going to die. Their eyes went like that when they let their minds take them away, leaving their bodies to die.
Lycus wouldn’t allow this. Not when the inquest hadn’t even begun.
For all anyone knew, Lord Goshawk was innocent.
Though he doubted that. Lord Aylmer had many flaws, but he wouldn’t arrest a noble and his entire household without concrete evidence of treason.
But that didn’t mean Lady Kestrel should crumble immediately.
Not when he remembered how fearlessly she’d argued with him in the middle of Mephistopheles’s attack.
She’d had courage then, so he knew she could have it now.
The palace cook tried to refuse his request for a more palatable meal for the prisoner, but all Lycus needed to do was stand there and stare at the man to have him reduced to spluttering compliance.
Lycus carried the tray back to the north-side dungeon, and rapped his knuckles on Lady Kestrel’s cell door. “If you don’t snap out of your trance and look at me, I will have to come inside.”
He didn’t really have a key, but the girl didn’t know that. Thankfully, his bluff worked. She blinked and turned to face him, only flinching slightly at the sight of his face.
“In respect of your rank, I got the cook to prepare a meal more worthy of your noble palate.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Horse shit.” At her light flush at his coarse language, he sighed.
He had no experience with noble ladies and their delicate sensibilities.
“You haven’t eaten in two days and I’d bet my favorite sword that you haven’t missed a meal in your life.
If you have any hopes of delivering a testimony that could save you and perhaps even your father, you need to keep your strength up. ”
“Why do you care how we fare in the trial?” She sneered. “You’re the crown’s dog.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile.
There was that backbone. “Because watching a blue-robe starve herself at the first bit of adversity in her life is a pathetic site.” He knelt and set down the tray.
“Now, eat. If you don’t, the cook will go back to making you eat gray meat and stale bread. ”
“Did my father get a better meal too?”
“Probably not.” Lycus fought back a twinge of pity. Food would be the least of Lord Goshawk’s concerns. “But he’s a man and a former knight who’s had worse fare on the march. He can handle some overcooked, unseasoned pork. Furthermore, I imagine he’d want you to eat.”
Kestrel rose from her cot, but didn’t approach the bars. “If I eat, will you tell me all you know of why this is happening to us?”
“I’m here as a guard dog, not to negotiate with you.” That should have been it, but something about her wan, vulnerable face made him give in despite his better wisdom. “Fine. But I don’t know much.”
“We have a bargain, then.” She bent and took the flagon of water from the tray, taking a deep drink, then peering up at him expectantly. Her blue-green eyes only met his for a fraction of a second before flitting away.
Lycus crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to match his hard stare. “After you eat at least half of what I brought you.
She gave a frustrated huff, then picked up the roasted chicken thigh.
It was cold, meant for one of the palace residents when they wanted a picnic or a quick repast while outdoors, but prepared fancily enough, drowned in a butter-wine sauce, and encrusted in herbs.
When she bit into it, her eyes closed with such bliss that he again had to fight a smile.
After the first bite, her stubbornness from the past two days and nights evaporated like morning mist and she tore into it with unladylike savagery.
“Not so fast,” he cautioned. “You’ll become sick.”
“Do you want me to eat or not?” she practically growled.
“Retract your talons, little raptor.” He laughed. “I was only trying to save you the embarrassment of puking in front of me.”
She didn’t respond, other than slowing down slightly. As she ate, Lycus sifted through his memories, trying to decide what he could tell her without compromising the inquest.
***
A month ago, he was summoned to the council hall where Lords Aylmer and Gerard sat at the round table with Lord Mormont, the captain of the guard and with Lord Vargus, the chief informer.
“So, it is true, then?” Lord Aylmer had asked with a nervous tremor in his voice.
“I’m afraid so,” Lord Vargus had replied in an overly-tragic tone that told Lycus that he wasn’t afraid or disappointed at all. Vargus lived for courtly intrigue. That was why he had this job.
Lord Gerard’s face went red with fury. “How could you have betrothed me to his daughter, Father? When we arrest him for treason, I’ll never be able to save face.”
Alymer reddened as well. “There’s no way we could have foreseen that Lord Cregan would have betrayed the realm. Especially not in that way. We still don’t know why he did it,” he turned to Lord Vargus. “Do we?”
“I’m afraid not, my lord, but given enough time, we will ferret out the motive of his betrayal to his nation…and to the King.”
“Who cares why he did it?” Gerard snarled. “Arrest him now! Take his head off and be done with it.”
Lord Aylmer shook his head. “I appreciate your patriotism, my son, but we must follow the law. First, the traitor must be imprisoned to keep him from enacting further harm, then we must arrange an inquest, not only to rule out the slight chance that Cregan Goshawk was framed, but also to find out how many more conspirators were involved. There’s never just one. ”
Instead of being placated by his father’s words, Gerard’s frown deepened. “The longer we leave Cregan alive, the weaker we look. Send me and a contingent of men to Raptor’s Roost. I’ll arrest his household and give him a trial by combat.”
Lycus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Defeating a cripple would make Gerard look like the weak one.
Lord Aylmer raised another salient point.
“We’re not going to risk losing time and warriors to a possible siege.
Instead, we will summon Cregan Goshawk and his household here.
My invitation will imply that we’re to announce your betrothal to his daughter and celebrate with feasts, a ball, and a tourney.
He’s sure to bring his household then and Vargus’s spy will make note of who he leaves at the estate and why.
Once the Goshawk family and retainers arrive, we’ll take them all into custody.
Then you will take some men to seize Raptor’s Roost and question the steward.
” At last, Lycus’s presence was explained and acknowledged.
“Our Wolf will sniff out any remaining plotters.”
Lycus felt a measure of relief that he wouldn’t be tasked with the role of torturing Cregan Goshawk.
Although he’d tortured prisoners before, most had been people he didn’t know.
And while he hadn’t officially met Cregan Goshawk, he had met his daughter the day Mephistopheles had attacked.
Like all women, she’d been terrified of him.
Unlike other women, however, she’d argued with him and convinced him to deviate slightly from his orders.
Lord Gerard had been furious until both his father and his brother pointed out the wisdom in taking a healer of her rank to the hospital.