A Dark Champion (19 page)

They looked about uneasily.

“Exactly,” Kit said. “Stryder almost died because of a mistake. For that matter, I’m not even sure the Scorpion is a man. We’re making an assumption with no facts to support it. Besides, looking for the Scorpion is a waste of time. He or she’s not interested in any of you.
Kalb al ‘Akrab
is only sent after us when we grow a conscience or try to escape without fulfilling our bargain.”

Val folded his arms over his chest and gave him a look of disbelief. “If we’re safe, then why is Christian wounded and why were the rest of us attacked?”

“As a warning to me,” Kit said. “No doubt Elizabeth was a similar sacrifice because she tried to cover for me or maybe, like I said, she confronted him or her. She told me she had a suspicion, but she refused to elaborate.” Kit sighed. “Nay, I think the Scorpion is playing with us.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Again, because you’re all living. If you were meant
to die, you would have been attacked while you slept or when your guards were down. Not in the middle of the day when you could see the attacks coming.” He looked at Zenobia. “And not with poisons the Scorpion would know you could identify.”

Zenobia nodded. “He has a point.”

Swan moved forward. “It seems to me I know one way to draw the Scorpion out.”

“And that is?” Stryder asked.

Swan glanced speculatively at Kit. “We have something he wants.”

“You’re not endangering my brother.”

“Stryder, he’s right,” Kit said calmly. “I am the one thing he will expose himself for.”

“Then I say we get you out of here, to someplace safe.”

Kit shook his head. “There is no such place. The Scorpion will find me no matter where I go.”

“Perhaps. But this time you won’t be there alone,” Stryder assured him. “You’ll have us with you.” Stryder stepped back and addressed the group. “After nightfall, I want Nassir, Zenobia, and Christian to take you to the Scot in northern England.”

“And if the Scorpion follows him?” Rowena asked.

“If it’s who I think it is,” Stryder said, “he won’t. Besides if a noble goes missing, we will know instantly who the Scorpion is and I can send Swan after them to warn them.”

“I think not,” Swan said. “I don’t want to be the next dead man found.”

Stryder passed an evil glare at him.

“Have no fear,” Val said. “I shall go with you and keep those evil beasts from slaughtering you.”

Swan scoffed at that.

“It’s the only plan we have,” Stryder said sternly. “Tell the Scot that he is to keep Kit safe no matter what.”

“Don’t worry,” Christian said. “The Scot burns for nothing more than someone to breech his walls looking for one of us. I think he would relish the idea of laying hands to an assassin.”

“All right then,” Stryder said. “Until it’s time to leave, everyone act normal and let no one know what we’ve learned.”

“And what have we learned?” Swan asked. “That someone is trying to kill us. We knew that before this.”

Val elbowed him in the stomach. “I say if we need a sacrifice, we use Swan. He makes far too much noise for my tastes.”

Stryder ignored them.

“Nassir, Zenobia, will you stay with Kit until tonight? I don’t want him to be alone.”

Nassir nodded.

Assured they would keep him safe, Stryder took Rowena’s hand and started for the door.

“And now look at this,” Swan said, indicating their clasped hands.

Val slugged him so hard, Swan crumpled into an unconscious heap on the floor.

Stryder arched a brow at his large friend.

“I warned him I wanted silence. You two go and don’t worry about us.”

Feeling a little less sure about leaving his men to their own ends, Stryder led Rowena from the tent.

Rowena let out a tired sigh as they walked back toward the castle. “What an awful event-filled day this has been.”

“Aye, it has.”

She pulled him to a stop and ran her fingers over the scar on his hand that the Saracens had burned into his flesh. “Why won’t they just let all of you go?”

“Because we’re still fighting them.”

“And if you stopped?”

“Believe me, Rowena, I would give anything to lay aside my sword. But how can I when I know there are more men down there like Kit? More women like Elizabeth? Would you have me abandon them? To just turn my back on them and say, who cares?”

“Nay, I would not.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“I would have you find this Scorpion and expose him. He alone knows the identities of the assassins. Find him and we stop this.”

“And just how do you propose we do that?”

“I’m not sure, but I think I may know of a way.”

R
owena was numb for the whole of the next week as Elizabeth was buried and the crowd tried to put aside the tragedies that had plagued the event thus far. It was as if a pall hung over everything and everyone, and what was normally a festive occasion more times than not was only half-hearted. The days of the tournament progressed slowly as knights and squires practiced for the oncoming events.

But all the while, Rowena missed her friend.

Stryder and his men were more concerned than ever for her safety, so much so that Stryder even forwent his plans to stay away from her while they looked into the truth of what had happened to Elizabeth. Her only solace came in meeting with Stryder to
teach him a song while he continually fought against learning one.

It had become quite a habitual routine. After supper, Rowena would travel with him to his tent, where he would grimace and complain for a full half an hour or more before he would sit and let her teach him the notes and words.

Neither of which he ever tried to duplicate well.

Then he would finish the lesson off with a kiss, and Swan would find some way to interrupt them so that Stryder would be forced to take her back to the castle.

It was enough to make her want to take her lute to Swan’s bottom. But he meant well, and for that she almost tolerated his interference.

During the daytime, while Stryder practiced his swordplay and jousting, Rowena tailed Damien everywhere he went, trying to catch him in the midst of some dubious behavior that would show him for who and what he was.

Elizabeth’s killer. He was the Scorpion. She was sure of it.

In fact, she had spied him only a few moments ago heading toward the king’s counsel room where Henry had been holding court all morning.

Why would Damien be interested in venturing there while the king was gone unless he was looking for information about the king that he could hand over to Henry’s enemies?

She was sure he was up to something evil. Insidious. Just like she had been when she had followed him into the woods two days ago.

Of course then, the dubious event had been him meeting with a farmer to buy fresh berries, but…

He was guilty of treason, and she would prove it.

Rowena held her breath as Damien slipped into the king’s room like a silent specter.

More careful this time, as she was learning from her previous mistakes at being caught by him, she peered through the cracks in the door to see what he was doing.

There was no sign of him.

Rowena tapped her chin in indecision. Should she slip into the room as well or wait for him to reappear?

Stryder had warned her most earnestly against following after Damien. After all, if he was the killer as she suspected, he wouldn’t hesitate to take her life as well.

But the prince seemed to like her well enough, and if she turned up dead, then Stryder would know for certain who had done it and no doubt he would avenge both her and Elizabeth.

There was still no sign of movement or sound from inside the room.

Now or never
…

Taking a deep breath, she cracked the door ever so slightly and glanced around.

No one was in there that she could see. Where could he have gone? There was no other exit out of the room.

She stuck her head in a bit further.

“Looking for me?”

Squeaking, she jumped as Damien’s deep voice startled her from behind.

She swung around to find him in the hallway, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. How she hated that cowl that kept him completely concealed from her. It was extremely disconcerting to speak to someone when you couldn’t see their face or eyes.

“I…I…” she stuttered as she tried to think up another fabrication, “was looking for my uncle.”

He cocked his head, or cowl rather, to the side. “And why would he be in there when Henry is not?”

She held her hands up and gestured as she tried her best to come up with a reasonable excuse he might actually believe this time. “Because he likes to sit on…nay, wait. He…he forgot something.”

“He forgot something?” Damien asked in that calm, even tone of his that somehow reminded her of a still, bottomless lake. “Well, if you tell me what it is, I can ask Henry or his marshals if someone has found it.”

Well, that wouldn’t work. The instant he did, he would know she was lying to him…again. “Nay, uh, I think he found it already.”

“Which is why you were here looking for him even though he’s nowhere to be found?”

She glared at Damien, wishing she could see his face. Then again, she had a distinct feeling he was laughing at her. Perhaps ’twas best she didn’t see his face after all.

“Well, since he has indeed found it,” she said, inclining her head toward him, “I shall take my leave of you and head back to the great hall.”

She hurried away, but with every step she took, she could feel his gaze on her like a tangible, almost lethal touch.

At the top of the stairs she turned to see that he hadn’t moved even the slightest bit. “Are you waiting for someone, milord?” she asked him.

“I was just waiting to see if you would look back. You shouldn’t be so predictable, Rowena. It could get you into trouble.”

She swallowed at his words. “Is that a threat?”

“Nay, Rowena. I would never threaten such a rare lady as yourself. Only others who aren’t as entertaining as you are.”

A tremor of fear went through her. “So you admit to threatening others?”

“Hmmm,” he said, as if considering that. “Aye, I have. For that matter, I’ve even been known to kill a few of them from time to time.”

He turned at that and went back into the study.

Rowena blinked twice as his words rang in her ears.

He admits it!
Rowena’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what Damien had just done.

She rushed down the stairs and out of the castle with only one destination in mind. Stryder.

It took her several minutes to find him training in the list with Raven, who had returned just the day before from his trip to York. Unfortunately, as Zenobia had predicted, he and Will had arrived too late to help their friend. The two of them had been quiet and withdrawn since their return.

But at least Rowena had good news for all of them.

“I have proof!” she announced proudly as the men fought before her.

Stryder lowered his sword as soon as he saw her running toward him. Until he caught a flash of silver.

Whirling fast, he barely had enough time to dodge Raven’s attack.

Raven pulled back immediately. “I’m sorry, Stryder,” he said breathlessly. “I hadn’t realized you were distracted.”

His youngest knight looked at Rowena, blushed, then excused himself.

Stryder pulled his helm from his head as Rowena danced around him like a small child who had just been given a gift.

“He’s guilty!” she proclaimed for the millionth time, and since it had been that many if not more, he didn’t have to ask who she was referring to.

Stryder sighed. Poor Damien. ’Twas a wonder the man hadn’t killed Rowena for her persistence.

He looked at her wryly. “What did he say now?”

She counted her two items off on her fingers. “He threatened me
and
he admitted he’s killed people.”

He arched a brow at that. “I’m guilty of both of those myself and yet you still live. Healthy and sound in spite of all the aggravation.”

She gave him a menacing glare. “But, but—”

“Rowena, love,” he said, interrupting her tirade against Damien, “you must stop dogging Damien’s steps. Everyone has noticed that you all but follow him to the garderobe. The man is toying with you.”

“He admitted it,” she insisted.

Stryder strove for patience. “What exactly did he say?”

“Well, he said my nosiness might be bad for me and I asked if he were threatening me. He said nay, he would never threaten me, and so I asked if he had
threatened others. He said aye, and that he’d even been known to kill a few of them. See! Proof!”

He shook his head at her. “Those are words, milady. Nothing more, nothing less. You can’t convict one of the most powerful, well-connected men in Christendom of being an assassin without incontrovertible proof. Damien is far too smart to give that to you. Trust me, I know him.”

She looked away as if frustrated with him. “I can’t believe he’s going to get away with what he has done,” she said, her voice thick with heartfelt emotion. “Elizabeth is dead because of him and I want him to pay for it.”

He removed his gauntlet and touched her creamy cheek lightly. Her soft skin went a long way in soothing his ire with her persistence. In truth, he admired and respected her temerity. “We have no proof that he killed her. All we know is she drowned. It could have been an accident.”

She looked up at him with those passionate green eyes that were untainted by the tragedies that had marked his life. “Do you really believe that?”

“Honestly, nay,” he admitted, “I do not. But no one is going to listen to us unless we catch him midstrike.”

She let out an aggravated breath. He saw the tears darken her eyes before she blinked them back. “I owe Elizabeth.”

“I know, sweeting,” he said as he caressed her cheek. “I understand the need to put her spirit to rest, believe me. But getting yourself killed isn’t going to bring her back. You must stop following him. If he is guilty,
we
will catch him.”

“Very well.” She lifted her skirts, gifting him with the precious sight of her ankles before she headed back toward the castle.

Stryder watched the sway of her hips as he hardened, aching for a taste of those ankles…those legs…

Mayhap tonight he could bribe Val to knock Swan unconscious again so that he and Rowena could have one night of undisturbed freedom.

Pulling his other gauntlet off, he tossed it into his helm with the other one, and made his way to his tent. When he arrived, he was stunned to find Damien in there, waiting for him.

His old friend stood in the center, looking straight at him as he came inside.

“She is spectacular, isn’t she?” Damien asked, his voice rumbling like thunder through the quiet stillness.

Stryder didn’t answer. Though he had no issue with Damien, he more than understood why the prince hated him. “Why are you here?”

Damien didn’t answer his question either. “She’s quite a trophy for the tournament. I’m told new lords have been arriving daily since Henry made his proclamation that the winner will be Rowena’s husband. Most of them plan to lock her in a convent should they win. They may not appreciate the lady and her untoward tongue, but they are all in love with her lands.”

Stryder forced aside the anger he felt at Damien’s words. The man was only trying to raise his temper and he would never give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. “Why are you telling me this?”

Damien shrugged. “I just thought you would be interested.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said in a deadly, calm voice. “There’s not a man here who hasn’t fallen in tournament to me. Most of them multiple times.”

“Are you sure about that?” Damien asked.

“Aye.”

“Very well then. Hold tight to your arrogance.”

Damien headed for the exit, but paused to turn around. “By the way, I intend to enter the joust for her hand. I concede that you did best me with the sword. Hand to hand has never been my strong suit, but the lance is another matter. No one, not even you, Lord of Blackmoor, can challenge me there. But don’t worry, Stryder. I shall take
good
care of your lady once we’re wed.”

That succeeded in breaking his calm. When Stryder spoke, it was from between clenched teeth with his voice carrying the full weight of his wrath. “Nay, you will not. Win, lose, or draw, I intend to see Rowena free to choose her own husband.”

Damien laughed evilly at that. “Do you honestly believe Henry will allow her such a freedom? Rowena needs a powerful lord in charge of her lands. Someone with strong political ties. Win, lose, or draw, I will have her. Mark my words.” With that spoken, Damien swept out of the tent, leaving his cloak to billow out ominously behind him.

Stryder followed him outside. “She will never marry you!” He ignored the knights who turned to stare at him while Damien paused, then turned back to face him.

The prince looked at him for several heartbeats before he spoke in a calm tone. “Women like her can easily be wooed with song and poetry. With letters of love from the one they desire. Tell me, have you ever written her a love letter? Oh wait, I forgot. You’re nothing but an illiterate buffoon. All you’re fit for is brute strength and knocking grown men to the ground. Do you really think that in the end, she will choose a barbarian like you over someone like me?”

Damien turned on his heel and headed down the line of tents.

It took every ounce of will Stryder possessed not to attack Damien over those words. As an old friend, Damien knew the history of Stryder’s parents. The mere fact that Damien had hurled the difference of his being a knight and Rowena being cultured at Stryder made his blood boil.

But no more so than the truth of what the bastard had said.

In the back of his mind, he saw Rowena last night as she teased him about the fact that he didn’t catch on to her songs quickly and that his fingers often fumbled the chords.

That he was ever a knight and never a troubadour.

Rowena loved troubadours and their songs.

And she had spent her life preaching against knighthood….

He heard his mother’s faint laughter ringing in his head as he remembered the times she had criticized his father for his oafishness.

“Want me to kill him in his sleep?”

Stryder looked over his shoulder to find Will stand
ing there with a murderous gaze directed at the place where Damien had vanished.

“You heard?”

“Aye. Several dozen heard,” Will looked around at the men who were still staring at Stryder.

Stryder sent them a glare that made them flee instantly.

“Too bad you’re not Kit making those threats,” Stryder said churlishly. “Then I might say yea.”