A Dark Champion (12 page)

“Aye, but it would make perfect sense. You would be free to pursue your music and I would have at least some of my admirers thwarted by my marriage. After all, why pursue me to be the countess of Blackmoor when I already have one safely entrenched on my lands?”

“Is this truly what you desire? A bride to be left alone while you travel the world?”

“We both have to marry someone, Rowena. That fate seems every bit as inescapable for me as it is for you.”

Rowena considered his words for a bit. It would get her uncle to leave her in peace and it would allow her to build her school.

“But what of love?” she asked quietly.

“What of it?”

“Do you not wish to be in love? To feel the ecstasy of Cupid’s bow piercing your heart with hope and promise? To ache with want every time you think of your wife waiting for your return?”

Stryder made a disgusted noise. “You are speaking foolishness now. Love like that doesn’t exist. Love is merely a title given to responsibilities to make them easier to bear.”

She frowned at his words. Did he truly mean that? “Is that all Kit is to you? Your Brotherhood?”

He looked away from her. “I treasure them all, aye, but in the end I would treasure my vow to you just as deeply.”

“Nay, Stryder,” she said, reaching up to take his chin into her hand. She forced him to look at her. “I’m not speaking of treasuring a vow. Not like that. I mean the fierce
passion
that love can bring. I want from my husband that same heartfelt devotion that causes you to pound any man who questions Kit’s manhood into the ground. I want more than my husband’s loyalty. I want his heart. I want him to burn for me in my absence just as I burn for him. I want my heart to ache with pain at the thought of being without him.”

He scoffed at that. “There is enough pain in life, why would you wish for more?”

“Because true love isn’t pain. It’s beautiful. It makes
all of us better people. Makes us strive to improve and become more than what we are.”

“Bah! If love is so great why then have you never felt it? Why haven’t I? There is no love like you describe. It’s a fabrication made up by men who seek only to get other men’s wives to betray their lords for them.”

Perhaps some men played on women’s hearts. But not all. She believed it existed. “Your father loved your mother beyond all reason. You said it yourself.”

“My father was a fool. One who killed himself and her. If that is love, then you can have it. I’ve no desire to run my sword through you, let alone myself.”

“And what of your friend Simon of Ravenswood? Did he not find love?”

He hesitated before he spoke. “They are newly wedded. ’Tis too soon to see if their love is real or merely infatuation.”

Rowena ground her teeth in frustration. She shoved lightly at his shoulder. “Stryder of Blackmoor, love does exist, and I will marry for nothing less.”

“And if the king commands otherwise?”

She paused at that. Henry could be most capricious at times, and he could very well recant his oath to her. It was a king’s prerogative to make marriages that benefitted his crown.

She would die if Henry forced her to marry someone like Cyril.

“Marry me, Rowena,” Stryder insisted. “I can’t offer you a great love, but I can make sure that Henry doesn’t tie you to another who will have no respect or regard for you whatsoever.”

Oh, it was tempting. But even though she adored
Stryder, they were so very different. He hated the things she held dear and she hated the warring nature that he lived for.

“What of my songs you despise so?” she asked him. “Will you tolerate them?”

“Grudgingly so, aye.”

She shook her head at that. “At least you’re honest.”

“At the end of the day, honesty is all I can offer you, Rowena. I can’t give you what I don’t feel, but I can give you truthfulness and respect.”

Rowena sighed as she sat there contemplating his words. It would solve much to be married to Stryder. He could shelter her and as this morning had shown, he was a kind and considerate lover. One who might not make her heart burn, but he did her body. Even now his touch was seared into her memory.

“And if I one day find the great love that I seek?” she asked quietly. “Or you for that matter. What then?”

He curled his lips in disgust. “You are a child questing for rainbows.”

His words set her anger off. “Am I? There is nothing childish in wanting to be loved.”

Stryder wanted to strangle her for her inability to see reason. Their marriage was the only sensible thing to do. They were compatible enough and he doubted if he would ever find a woman who appealed to him more. She would be a fine and sensible bride if she would give up this current madness that had her seeking the impossible.

Rowena placed her hand to his cheek. “I appreciate what you’re offering me, Stryder. Really, I do. But I
want a dream, and I won’t settle for anything less than that.”

“And if Henry forces you?”

Her eyes turned dark and sad. “I shall be miserable all the rest of my life. But until then, I will stand by my convictions and believe that there is something better for me than the shallow marriage my parents shared.”

He stamped down his impatience with her and admired her again for the fact that she wasn’t so easily swayed by anyone’s arguments. If he respected anything in life, it was someone who could stand behind their beliefs and defend them. “Then I hope you find this great love you seek and that it comes to you before it’s too late.”

The door opened to show them a chancellor who stood there glaring at them. “Come, my lady,” he said sternly. “’Tis unseemly for you to be here without chaperone.”

Rowena went stiff in his arms. “But the queen—”

“My orders are from the king himself. You must leave.”

Rowena bit her lip at the thought of leaving Stryder alone in his cell. She recalled the panic on his face when she’d first entered.

“Go, milady,” Stryder said, urging her toward the chancellor.

“I can’t leave you here.”

His gaze softened as he traced the line of her jaw with his rough fingers. “I’m a man full grown. I shall be fine alone. Believe me, I lived a nightmare for years. This little cell is nothing.”

Even so, she saw the uncertainty in his crystal blue eyes.

“I will return to you as soon as I speak to Henry.”

Stryder took her hand into his and placed a most gentle kiss on her hand. “Thank you, Rowena. For your comfort.”

She inclined her head to him and reluctantly withdrew her hand. Stryder gave her hand one lingering squeeze before he released her.

“I will be back, Stryder.”

Stryder nodded as the chancellor took her arm and escorted her out of his cell.

His heart was lodged in his throat as the door slammed shut, enclosing him in the small space alone again. Only the comfort of Rowena’s scent on his skin kept him sane and whole.

The image of her face gave him the strength and courage he needed to bear the terror of the four stone walls that imprisoned him. The strength he needed to fight the demons of the past that tried to tear him down.

Stryder looked up at the window far above his head. His men would find the assassin. He had faith in them.

Just as he had faith in Rowena. She would be back. And until then he would focus on her and not let the past defeat him.

“What do you mean, I can’t see him again, Majesty?” Rowena asked. Her entire body shook with the weight of her anger at King Henry’s denial of her request to stay with Stryder.

Against her normal custom, she had taken a full hour to dress appropriately before she sought an audience with the king. Henry never looked favorably on people who didn’t show him respect and so she had taken great care with her appearance.

Not to mention she had wasted another three hours waiting outside his quarters in a small room packed with other nobles wanting to speak with him.

In all that time, Stryder had been waiting, alone, in his cell. It was enough to make her want to trounce the king fully for his cruelty.

“We have told you, Lady Rowena, ’tis unseemly for you to visit with a man while he is locked inside a prison cell under suspicion of murder.”

“But he is innocent!” she said, trying to mitigate some of the fury out of her tone.

Henry’s eyes turned dark in warning. “We do not know this. There are two witnesses now that have seen him leaving the scene of both murders, not to mention the evidence of his tunic in the hand of the dead man.”

Rowena looked at Eleanor, but the queen refused to meet her gaze.

How could they do this to Stryder? Did they not understand the extent of their cruelty? “But Majesty, Lord Stryder will die in that cell alone. You can’t imprison him.”

“He will not die, Rowena,” Henry said as if she were an idiotic child who knew nothing of the world. “You may have faith in that. Now if you’ll excuse Us, We have other more pressing business.”

Rowena wanted to argue, but didn’t dare. No one argued with the king. At least not for long.

Sighing, she gathered her skirts and headed out of the king’s receiving chambers with no real destination in mind.

What was she going to do now?

She had given her word, and it pained her greatly that she couldn’t keep it. More than that, it pained her that there was no one there with Stryder. No one to give him comfort and keep him distracted.

Damn the king and his blindness!

As she walked through the halls of the castle, everyone was gossiping about Stryder’s arrest. His guilt.

“He is his father’s son….”

The words were repeated over and over again by more people than she could count. Only she knew the truth. He wasn’t his father’s son. But that knowledge would only damage him more.

Seeking peace from their inane speculations and cruelty, she headed toward the one place she knew she wouldn’t hear such words.

Stryder’s tent.

At least there she would either be alone or with others who knew the truth of the matter. There no one would be accusing the earl of murder. Instead, they would be trying to acquit him.

Rowena noted that a few of the knights’ heads turned as she made her way through their tented area. Several of them glared openly at her, especially when they realized where she was headed.

No doubt they thought she had put Stryder up to
the murders. She’d been accused of worse things. Not that she truly cared what they thought of her. Only Stryder’s freedom mattered to her.

Reaching his tent, she stepped quietly inside. Kit was already there, sitting alone at Stryder’s desk, his hands clenched tight in his lap. He looked so incredibly tired and sad. A tuft of his black hair stood out in front as if he had been tugging at it in frustration. His clothes were a bit rumpled, which for him was rare. He normally took great care to keep his tunic and surcoat scrupulously orderly.

“Kit?”

He jumped at her low tone and turned around in his chair to face her. “Rowena,” he breathed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Are you all right?”

He nodded, then shook his head. “I worry over my brother.”

“As do I.” She crossed the floor to stand near him. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she sought to give Kit some comfort. “I have to admit I’m rather surprised to find you here.”

“’Tis the only place I could find peace. I swear if I hear one more person malign my brother…”

She nodded in understanding. “I came for the same reason.”

Kit stood up and offered her his chair. She smiled at the gesture as she took his vacated seat. He was ever a gentleman.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Looking for the murderer.” He combed his fin
gers through his hair as if aware he had somehow mussed it.

“Have they any ideas?”

“Nay. I know they won’t find the assassin. ’Tis an evil force at work here. I can feel it.”

“You sound like Zenobia.”

“Someone call my name?”

They both looked at the door to see Zenobia entering. Kit quickly made his excuses and left.

Zenobia frowned at his hasty exit. “Why is it he runs every time I draw near?”

Rowena shrugged. “Kit is rather shy with most people.”

“Hmmm…” Zenobia frowned as she moved to sit in the chair across the desk from Rowena.

“So how goes the search?”

Zenobia sighed wearily. “Much like Nassir, ’tis ever frustrating. No one knows anything other than someone wearing a cloak like Stryder’s was seen leaving the tent. Again.”

Zenobia stood up and opened one of the drawers on Stryder’s desk. “Where is the note you found in Cyril’s tent?”

“The one in Arabic?”

Zenobia continued to open drawers. “Aye. Stryder had it last night while we were in here speaking of Cyril’s death.”

Both women searched the desk, but found nothing.

“Maybe one of the men took it?” Rowena asked hopefully.

Zenobia’s frown deepened. “Perhaps. But I can’t
imagine why. I saw Stryder place it in the desk myself just before we took our leave.”

A bad feeling went through Rowena as she remembered Stryder’s torn tunic. “Do you think the murderer might have taken it?”

Zenobia’s eyes mirrored the horror Rowena felt.

“Who is this person?” Rowena asked. “That they would dare come and go from Stryder’s tent?”

“I know not, but we had best find him soon. Otherwise someone else will pay a price most foul for our inadequacy.”

Aquarius paused as he reread the note he’d stolen from Stryder’s tent.

“I am such a fool,” he breathed as he studied the script. It was flowing and elegant.

A woman’s hand.

And all this time, he had assumed the Jackal or the Scorpion, like him, would be a man. He should have known better. Just as he should have recognized her face earlier.

Though to be fair, their captors hadn’t brought them together often. Only at certain banquets and feasts where they were made to perform for the benefit of others….

His stomach tightened as rage gripped him anew. Somehow he would repay his captors for their cruelty.

Silently, he made his way across the yard and into the castle with only one destination in mind. He only hoped that the other assassin would be alone so that he could confront her.