Warrior (52 page)

shook her head at him. “Law? By

what law is an innocent man judged

guilty of treason?”

“Innocent man? Malcolm swore an

oath of fealty that he had no intention

of keeping. Men have been hung for

less.”

Jaisyn held up her hands and Vulcan

stared at them in shock. Was she

silencing him? Before he could reply,

she fired off questions. “Why does he

lay ill from wounds to both arms and a

fever contracted from infection? Was

there a fight? How did you find him,

Vulcan?” A shocked gasp escaped her

lips as another thought entered her

mind. “And where is Tarbin?”

Vulcan moved away from her.

“Tarbin has returned to Mitherie.”

She nodded but continued. “And

what of Malcolm? Why does he lie ill

as we speak?”

“Because he has tasted the steel of

my blade, wife!”

A range of emotions flickered over

her face and she closed her eyes.

When next she opened them, a

stranger stared back at him, an angry

stranger but a stranger nonetheless.

“Why give a traitor the honor of

fighting a king?” she snapped, golden

eyes turning cold in her face. “Why

not treat him according to your laws?

Why did you fight Malcolm, Vulcan?”

Staring at his queen, as she faced

him boldly and demanded answers,

Vulcan found himself at a true loss.

He did not wish to tell her he’d fought

Malcolm with the intention of injuring

him, that he’d left him without

medical attention for hours after that,

that he’d wanted the man to suffer, as

he had suffered when he’d believed

she’d taken Malcolm for her lover.

Jaisyn had said that she loved him.

Would she still love him when she

found out how little he’d trusted her?

“You

wanted

revenge,”

she

suddenly said, pulling him from his

thoughts as his gaze settled on her.

She stared at him, disappointment

clouding the anger that had previously

been there. He could see her

withdrawal from him as clearly as if

she had begun to move away. “Even

after I swore to you,
on my Goddess
,

that there was nothing between myself

and Malcolm, after I was taken

against my will and carted to Sulan,

you couldn’t trust me.”

Vulcan ran a hand through his hair

and contemplated lying. Moments

passed before he replied. “My

conclusions were not completely

unfounded. A spy witnessed him

entering your bedchambers in Sulan.”

“Where we discussed how he was

to free Isolde, not knowing that

Varian had already done so.”

“I judged you harshly and for that,”

he paused and allowed foreign words

to fall from his lips. “I am sorry.”

Jaisyn shook her head. “You should

apologize to Malcolm as well. He’s

the one who lies near death from your

hand.”

“Jaisyn, regardless of what Malcolm

did or did not do with you, he is still

guilty of treason.”

“Release him, Vulcan. If he lives…

release him from his oath and send

him to Mitherie. You have already

punished him enough for reneging, if

indeed he did, on his troth.”

“No. Malcolm chose his fate a long

time ago when he left for Mitherie. He

has been a marked a traitor ever since

and to release him would only

encourage those who would betray

me.”

Her golden eyes pinned him for a

span of seconds that seemed to last an

eternity. She drew in a deep breath

and said coldly, “You will do as you

wish,
liege
. I will pray the Goddess is

more merciful and takes him as the

fever rages within.” With that, she

turned and stalked from the tent.

He stared after her, shaking his head

and rubbing his chin. He could not

release Malcolm, not even for his

wife. Like his father before him, he

maintained his rule over kingdoms

because they feared the Wolf of the

North. If he released Malcolm, a

known traitor, there would be a

backlash. Montak, with Bael as its

king, might rebel, thinking that Vulcan

was growing soft. A few Lytherian

soldiers might want to follow in

Malcolm’s footsteps and flee to other

kingdoms. It would begin small, with

little things, and would end up toppling

his empire, the empire he was creating

for his heirs.

No! He looked around the empty

tent before sitting on the hard pallet.

Jaisyn would eventually understand.

Malcolm would not die for his

pleasure; in truth he no longer had

reason to wish the man dead. He

would die to ensure that their rule

continued,

that

succession

was

smooth. He thought of the baby in

Jaisyn’s belly, who, if male, would

stand to inherit all of the kingdoms he

ruled, and his fist clenched at his side.

Yes, his wife would eventually come

to understand.

***

They had arrived at St. Ives Castle

but what should have been a joyous

return was most depressing for Jaisyn.

Malcolm’s fever had broken the day

after she’d pleaded with Vulcan to

release him, and he had been half-

awake for the bumpy journey back to

the city. They’d had been back at the

castle for two days now, and Jaisyn

had visited him in the dungeon

regularly to make sure that he wasn’t

being ill-treated. Surprisingly, or

perhaps not so surprisingly, he was

being treated well. The men who

guarded and fed him were Lytherian

and as such, had served under him or

trained with him in the past. Malcolm

was a respected warrior. A healer still

visited him to change the dressing on

his wounds and to give him herbal

mixtures for the pain. When she was

not visiting Malcolm, she was arguing

with her husband, who refused to

even consider that Malcolm was not

forsworn.

Her

arguments

were

countered with his, and when he’d

had enough of her, she was dismissed.

Jaisyn had just eaten her midday

meal, without her husband’s company

as he, his brother and a few of his

warriors had gone hunting, and was

on the stone staircase that led to the

dungeon when she noticed that ahead

of her were the Lytherian justices. She

walked faster and was behind them as

they entered the small, brick-laid cell

in which Malcolm was kept.

***

He had been lying on the pallet

pushed against the corner of the dim

room, both arms at his sides, when he

heard the groan of the door as it

opened. Malcolm looked up and saw

the three men dressed in black

garments with the Lytherian seal on

one side of cloth and the scales on the

other. The King’s Justices. Of course

they would have to sentence him.

Petty crimes were handled by the City

Magistrate, but this, treason as he was

accused,

this

warranted

higher

ranking officials. They stepped into his

cell, making way for the queen, who

entered behind them. Jaisyn wore a

peach gown he’d seen her wear

before, when she’d been only a

princess and he’d had hopes of

claiming her for himself. She stared at

the men, her eyes cool, her eyebrows

slightly raised, but they had eyes only

for him.

“Malcolm Sudbury,” began the man

in the middle, reading from a small

black book that he held in his hands.

Malcolm turned to him, and pushed

himself up slowly, ignoring the pain in

his arm.

“Yes?” Malcolm replied, knowing

that protocol dictated that he reply as

such.

“You are charged with treason

against your king and country,” the

one to the left continued. Malcolm

remained silent. The justice on the

right added, “You swore an oath to

Vulcan of Morden, which broken, is

punishable by death. You broke the

other when you left Lytheria and fled

to Mitherie.”

“You have also sworn fealty to the

prince of Mitherie,” the middle justice

was speaking once more. Malcolm

shook his head at that. “I have not,

Lord Justice.” It was the truth. Tarbin

had never asked for his fealty, and he

had not given it.

The man spared him a cool glance

before ignoring his comment and

continuing. “The punishment for

treason is death. The King has been

merciful and instead of the death

reserved for a traitor, your death will

be quick. Your head will be severed

from your body and you will be given

to your family for proper burial. May

the Goddess have mercy upon your

soul.” He closed the book with a snap.

“When? When am I to die?”

Malcolm heard his voice. It sounded

calm, even to his ears. He felt the

blood in his veins run cold and stifled

the urge to shiver. He had known that

Vulcan would not relent, however

much his wife pleaded. But to be

made aware of one’s death prior to it

still sent fear running down one’s

spine.

There was a rustling sound as the

Justice on the right moved backward a

step. “Three days hence at dawn’s

first light.”

“The High Priestess will be notified

and will come to you before you are

taken by the guards. May merciful

Lyria be with you.” This came from

the Justice on the left. They all turned

as one unit, which for all purposes

they were, and bowed deeply to the

queen before exiting the cell.

Jaisyn moved aside, and looked

down at Malcolm. She was surprised

to find him smiling up at her.

“Your dress is beautiful, Majesty,”

he complimented her.

Jaisyn came further into the cell,

until she stood directly before him.

She stepped to the side, smoothed

down the back of her dress, and sat

on the pallet, next to him. “I

remember your maids were not happy

when you decided to join in a game of

mud sliding wearing either that gown

or one very similar to it.”

She

smiled

curiously,

perhaps

wondering how he could think such

things when he was to die soon. It was

easy. Malcolm had accepted that he

would die. Now, he wanted only to sit

and reminisce with his oldest friend.

“Malcolm, I will speak to Vulcan

again when he returns. You are

innocent of treason and I cannot

believe my husband capable of killing

an innocent man.”

He nodded and sobered slightly. “I

am glad that you know that I am

innocent.” A smile broke out across

his lips once more, “Word has it that

you are carrying the heir to both

Morden and Lytheria?”

Blushing, Jaisyn nodded and a soft

smile briefly touched her lips.

“I thought you weren’t going to do

anything so feminine, Majesty?” he

joked, remembering a young teenage

girl who’d cringed at the thought of

babies. When he’d had the misfortune

of mentioning that she would someday

have to have one, Jaisyn had almost

strangled him.

As a brow lifted, Jaisyn shrugged

her

shoulders.

“I

guess

things

change.”

“They certainly do, Majesty,” was

his reply. Jaisyn sighed and stood,

swatting his hands lightly as he tried to

assist

her.

“You’ll

open

your

stitches.”

When she was upright, she looked

down at him with sad eyes. “Is there

anything you want?”

He slowly leaned back, allowing his

head to touch the pallet. His eyes

followed her. “No. I am quite

content.”

Jaisyn nodded and made her way

over to the opened door. A guard

stood beside it, looking grim.