Rising Fire (19 page)

William shook his head, frustrated that he could not learn what he needed if he was to use this power.

“Try to call it hence.” He turned to look at the self-proclaimed priest of the ancient gods. “Come into the trees where you will not be seen and call upon it.”

He followed the man through the small cluster of tents, already within the trees to a place deeper in the
forest. Once they reached a clearing, he turned and faced Marcus.

“I will try to assist you.”

“How?” he asked.

“By praying, of course. Calling on the ancients to lead us, to lead you.”

The blasphemous thought that Marcus's words were no different from those of the Catholic priests when calling on God entered William's mind then. Shrugging, for he was no theologian or philosopher to debate such a thing, he walked a few paces away and faced Marcus.

Uncertain of what to do, William closed his eyes and thought about the changes he'd noticed before—his vision changing to red, his blood heating and racing within him, and his body growing stronger and larger. Though he felt silly, he called the warblood forth in his thoughts.

“William?”

He heard the priest speak his name. He opened his eyes and watched him take a step away and then another, nodding as he moved.

His vision held a red tint, and he noticed small creatures and the movement of the trees around him. Inhaling, he smelled the fear in the priest's blood and then the scent of a deer close by. Glancing down, he saw larger hands covered in blue-tinged skin rather than his. Flexing them, he ached for a weapon and watched as one hand began to change into . . . something else.

“Warblood,” the priest said.

He could hear the pride and wonder in the priest's voice now. Crossing his hands over his chest, he smiled and nodded. He was the warblood.

And then, as quickly as a passing moment, it faded away.

“Sir William?” Marcus asked as he strode to him. “How did you make that happen?”

“I thought about becoming it, thought about the way my sight and smell and body had changed before, and it began.”

Can it be that simple?

“It is only the beginning. Your power is just rising, so you should practice this,” Marcus advised. “Come when you can and we will continue trying.”

“I think I should bring Roger,” he said. “For your protection if it gets out of my control.”

“Sir William, should the warblood get out of control, it will take much more than one of your human warriors to stop him.” Then Marcus shrugged and laughed. “Or one woman.”

It all came back to Brienne.

“I will return as I can,” he promised. Things were beginning to move now, and William felt the future pressing hard on them. He must be ready. He must learn.

He left Marcus then and rode back to the castle, waiting for Lord Hugh to make his move, all the while knowing he would. The invitation to share a meal with the lord and his family waited for him on his arrival back in his chamber.

B
rienne heard his call in her head, yet this time without pain. It was unexpected, for it was morning, and it was his custom to train her in the night. She left her chamber for his. Lady Margaret stood in the corridor outside the tower room and glared as Brienne approached. She curtsied before her father's wife and waited for the insult that always accompanied any encounter between them.

“He is waiting, girl. Hasten to him!” she hissed at her. Then Lady Margaret began calling out orders to the servants who scurried to her side.

Brienne rushed up the steps and knocked before entering. Lord Hugh stood at the window. The sun had won the battle over yesterday's storms, and its light filled the chamber through the costly glazed window in the wall that looked over the yard. For a moment, she did not see the feared lord but a man filled with regrets. But that was not possible.

“Her name was Jehanne. She was a year younger than you are now when we pledged our love.”

Stunned by the admission, she said the name in her thoughts.
Jehanne
. Her mother's name was Jehanne.

“Our families opposed the match, and she was sent away. I was told later she died of a wasting disease,” he said, his voice catching as he spoke. “I did not know you were hers—ours—until I saw the birthmark on your back. She . . .” He turned away and cleared his throat then. “She had the same one in the same place.”

Brienne could not breathe. The truth of her past came rushing at her in a blur. Her parents loved. A forbidden love, stopped by their families. He had not known their connection and now did. Now she did.

Jehanne.

“We firebloods pass our power through our descendants, and my family was part of a plan to protect and preserve our line from ancient days, Brienne. I do not think my father realized your mother carried it as well. Now it is time for you to join our legacy and carry out the next step.”

“I do not understand,” she said. “Legacy? What about Adelaide? She is your legitimate heir and . . . ”

“She cannot be part of this, for she has nothing in her blood but her humanity. Not like you,” he said, walking to her and gazing at her with something she never thought she'd see—pride. “Be at my side; claim your rightful place as our plan moves forward.” He held out his hand to her, and she stared at it.

Her heart beat so fast and hard, Brienne thought it would tear out of her chest. The pain of the past, being forgotten and shamed disappeared then. Everything she'd wanted was being offered to her. A small voice whispered in the back of her mind to have a care, but it mattered not.

“What is this plan, my lord? How can I be part of it?”

He led her to a chair and poured some wine into a cup. Much richer than the ale she usually drank, it was sweet and potent and reminded her of the wine William had offered her. She drank another mouthful and waited on her father's words.

“We are part of an ancient people, Brienne, descended from the gods whom the Celts worshipped before coming to these islands. We were blessed with their powers so that we could remain faithful to them. But over the centuries the old beliefs have fallen away, and now this other religion seeks to control all. In the north, my grandfather discovered the sacred place where the old gods could be called forth and hid it from those who would destroy it.”

Old gods? Powers? Sacred place? Her head spun from hearing all of this. She was a simple girl, brought up to believe in one God, though now she realized that in her village, no one ever said so publicly. No priest saw to their souls, but she remembered hearing one mentioned from long ago. “Old gods?” she asked.

“Aye, the ancient seven,” he said. A shadow crossed his face as he mentioned them, quickly gone. “Worry not over that now. I can teach you all about them as we travel north. We must gather our friends to us and go there, to protect it once more from destruction.”

“North?” she asked. She knew Lord Hugh held properties in places all over Scotland even if Yester and Gifford were the only two she'd ever seen. She thought on the rest of his words. “But who knows of this and seeks to destroy such a place?” She knew the answer even as she uttered the question. “The king?” she whispered.

“Aye. I have been his closest adviser since his boyhood and knew he sought the place, and I have tried to prevent that. He knows that the legends were true and seeks to destroy what could threaten his control and his kingdom.”

So many questions flooded her mind that she could not sort through them. And then she realized the part she'd missed. The king knew. The king sent . . .

Sir William de Brus, the king's knight.

“William is part of this, too?” At his nod, her heart fell.

“He is here to spy for the king, who suspects my part in this.” She closed her eyes. “But I plan to explain this and ask for his help.”

“You do?” She stood and walked to where he was. “Do you think he will? Mayhap if he understands?”

“He would be a huge advantage to have on our side. You have seen him fight,” he said. “A warrior like him could help us.”

“He is . . . ?” That little voice whispered not to give too much away. With what she'd witnessed, Brienne suspected he was involved in this more than her father let on.

“He is?”

“Very experienced? In war and fighting?” She shrugged then. “I have not met many men outside the village, my lord. I have nothing to compare him to.”

He nodded, watching her now. Did he suspect what she did about William, or did he know?

“Ah, I forget you have not seen more of the country or the world outside these walls and lands. Aye, he has fought before, in France and here, too, I think. And he is skilled.”

They remained silent for a few minutes, and she
thought on everything he'd said. She wanted to be part of her father's family. She'd longed for such a thing, and now he was offering it to her, asking her to join him in this strange endeavor.

“Is there anything I can do, my lord? To help you?” she asked, making her decision. There was much yet unknown in this, she knew, but she took this step now. He smiled at her, and once more pride was there in his eyes.

“I think if he sees that you are at ease here and part of the larger plan, he might see reason. I will speak to him about specific things, but if you are welcoming to him, it could ease the tension between us.”

“But, my lord,” she began. “It is not my place to do that. Lady Margaret or Lady Adelaide . . . ”

“They will be leaving on the morrow to travel to our holdings in Brittany.” He shrugged then. “My wife failed in her duty, giving me neither a son nor a child of the blood I needed.” Stunned at such a revelation, she gasped. He shook his head and laughed.

“Worry not over them, Brienne. Both will be well compensated with lands and gold. A marriage has already been arranged for Adelaide. They go now to see to it.”

Though she knew of such things, that nobles married for titles, lands, and gold, because she knew the warmth of love, the coldhearted sound of it shocked her.

“So, Jehanne's daughter, it is good to know that you will be at my side in this grand effort to right past wrongs.” He walked toward the door, and Brienne followed. “We will begin our campaign to bring Sir William to our side at supper. He will dine with us in the family hall. Prepare yourself well.”

With that, he lifted the latch and opened the door, allowing her to leave. She practically floated down the stairs and along the corridor, ignoring the servants and the noises and everything.

Jehanne's daughter
, he'd called her.

*   *   *

William followed the servant from the main keep over to where the family and closest retainers lived. His men would eat with the others in the hall. He felt naked, wearing only his eating dagger and no other weapon, and uncomfortable. Though with the number of armed guards scattered around every step of the path they took, unless he was mounted and armored, he would stand no chance of even surviving if they turned on him.

He nodded to several soldiers he'd trained with over the last few days here. Lord Hugh had a core group of warriors who would be formidable in a battle, and William hoped his premonition that he would be the one they fought was wrong. But he'd long ago learned to trust that sense, and it had saved his life many times.

He climbed the steps to a higher story and down a corridor. The chamber they entered was a large one, holding one long table and several smaller ones. This night, only the long table was prepared for use. He'd been escorted to his seat when Lord Hugh arrived . . . with Brienne at his side. His surprise was even greater when Lady Margaret and Lady Adelaide entered behind them. If anyone thought this unusual, they did not show it by expression, glance, or gesture. A few higher servants and companions of the ladies took their places, and everyone waited on Lord Hugh to sit.

William discovered that because it was such a small
group, they were seated on both sides of the table instead of all along one side. And it placed him where he could watch and speak to Brienne.

Dressed in a simple but costly gown that nearly matched the shade of her unusual eyes, she was a treat to watch. It was hard to believe that just a week before, this young woman had lived in the village. She spoke quietly with two of the women who served as companions to the women in Lord Hugh's family. He could not help but smile when her face lit in delight at something she heard.

The meal began and continued through several servings. Heavy platters of roasted meat and fowl, pots of stew, wheels of cheese, and loaves of bread filled the table until he swore it buckled in the middle. Servants paced, quietly and efficiently, around them, assisting with the food, offering wine and ale, until everyone had eaten their fill.

Through it all, William watched her. A few times, he answered her questions about other places in Scotland or in France. He listened to her throughout supper and enjoyed her curiosity about what lay outside Yester's boundaries and outside Lord Hugh's dominion. For a moment he thought about taking her and escaping these lands, going back to France and showing her the sunny fields where grapes grew. Or to visit his mother's family holdings near the coast, with its turquoise waters and warm, sandy beaches.

He ached to have her to himself, away from the king, away from her father, and away from all the intrigue and danger that festered around them. But wanting could never be having.

“She has blossomed, has she not, Sir William?” He
turned to Lord Hugh, who watched him with much interest, almost as interested as he'd been in Brienne.

“She is lovely, my lord,” he admitted.

No one with eyes that could see would not agree with that now. Garbed as a lady instead of a villager, she seemed at ease with it all. Lovely and more to him, she yet glowed as no other woman did in his sight. There was something between them that pulled his attention back to her, over and over. He wanted to sit and watch her uninterrupted by duty, by honor, by any other demands on him.

“Lady Margaret,” Lord Hugh said, a bit louder. “Are the arrangements made for the morrow?” William glanced down at the lady, who stopped her conversation and nodded to her husband.

“Aye, my lord. As you ordered,” she replied in a low, respectful tone. “We leave after we break our fast in the morning.”

“Very well,” he said. “Adelaide, you are accustomed to this betrothal?”

“Aye, my lord,” came the reply from the young lady, who sat motionless next to her mother. “Certainly, my lord.”

“Then mayhap you should retire early so that you are well rested for your journey?”

Stools scraped back along the stone floor, almost in unison, as they obeyed his suggestion immediately as the command it truly was. He and the other men stood and watched as they left. The servants cleared the table of the remnants of the meal and placed trays of sweet pastries and cakes before Lord Hugh.

“Come, Brienne,” he said then to the only remaining
woman in the chamber. “You need not sit over there by yourself. If you are not too tired, stay with us.”

Instead of the stern, unfeeling voice with which he'd ordered his wife and daughter away, he spoke to her softly, inviting her to stay.

William waited for her to sit, now in the seat next to him to the right, and then he sat. Eudes and the captain of his guards sat on the other side of Lord Hugh. Alain, his steward, faced his lord, seated to William's left. As Lord Hugh's discussion about travel arrangements continued with his men, William turned to Brienne.

“You seem more at peace, Brienne,” he said quietly.

“I am, Sir William,” she said, smiling. “I thought on your words and their wisdom. And I thank you for your friendship at a time when I needed it most.” She touched him then, resting her hand on his. “This is where I wish to be.”

Though his body reacted to just this slight contact, he tamped down the feelings that coursed through him.

“I wish I could follow my own advice,” he said, keeping his hand still so she did not realize she yet touched him. “I am always so much more proficient at sharing my wisdom than in learning from it myself.”

She laughed, and for a moment he forgot where they were. He'd seen her in fear, in passion, in the village, and here in the castle, and yet he did not remember hearing her laugh aloud like that before. He glanced over to see Lord Hugh's reaction, but he was engrossed in the discussion with his men.

“So,” he said in a low voice, “Lady Margaret is leaving in the morn? And you remain?”

“Aye. Apparently this betrothal requires a visit, and so the lady is seeing to it. I was . . . not invited to accompany them.”

“You do not look disappointed in the least,” he offered, watching the delicate skin around her eyes crinkle as she smiled and shook her head.