Love's Call (35 page)

“So why didn’t she…conceive…all this time?” The words were hard for him to get out. His heart thumped, his chest aching.

“Sometimes it’s better to leave some questions up to the Blessed Spirit,” Lord Dagget said gently.

“Take things slow with her, Roduch,” Lord Aldern said, squeezing his forearm.

The healer nodded agreement, but his captain wore a soft smile, as if Leargan expected nothing else.

“I am.” Roduch looked away before glancing back at his lords and captain. “It wouldn’t have mattered, you know. I would still want her, even if she couldn’t give me children, but it’s a relief to know the little bastard didn’t take that from her.”

Lord Dagget smiled, and Lord Aldern gave him an approving nod.

Leargan patted his forearm.

Emotion threatened to choke him. Roduch blinked and swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Blessed Spirit, he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to care for her for the rest of their lives.

Less than an hour later, King Nathal and his captain strode back into the hall.

The king spoke to Keir and Gamel before whirling around in front of the dais, not mounting the three steps or taking a seat. He raised his chin and squared his wide shoulders, speaking without preamble. “Tynan Mont, I sentence you to no less than thirty turns at the work camp in the penal territory of the Province of Dalunas.”

Tynan Mont gasped, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“That amount of time will not replace the lives of your cousin and his family that you stole, but you will have plenty of time to contemplate it. As you know, your marriage has been dissolved, so you are a free man.” There were several snickers in the large room. “Since you are the last of your line, your land is forfeit from your family and formally awarded to Master Harlan Pelham and his line in perpetuity. You are never to regain it. If you should make your way back into the borders of Greenwald upon your release in
thirty turns
time, you are to have nothing to do with your former wife, Mistress Avril Larange. You shall never be permitted to hold land on my continent again.”

Avril’s former husband sputtered, shaking his head and making two tight fists. His shackles rattled.

“Be very well informed, and relieved, that gelding is not a part of my proclamation, Master Mont. I take the mistreatment of women
very
seriously.”

The sorry excuse for a man gulped.

“Take him back to the dungeon,” King Nathal commanded.

Chains clanged and clinked as Merrick and Dallon dragged the little bastard up out of the chair. Tynan Mont was in a shocked stupor, being shoved forward to shuffle his feet.

Alasdair and Laith brought up the rear, and soon they were out of sight.

The crowd started to file out, excited conversations and loud voices dwindling as the great hall emptied.

“I want to be among those that take him to Dalunas,” Roduch said as he gained his feet. He looked at Lord Aldern, and then at the king.

“That will be up to Lord Aldern,” King Nathal said, his voice kind.

“Of course, Roduch,” the half-elfin duke said quickly.

Roduch nodded in appreciation and glanced at his captain.

Leargan tilted his head, studying him, but finally, his captain inclined his head.

Roduch released the breath he’d not realized he’d been holding.

“The journey is long. Would you not rather stay with your lady?” The king stepped closer to them.

“I need to see this through. I need to see him interred at Dalunas.” Roduch made a fist.

“Very well.” One corner of King Nathal’s mouth shot up.

“If you’ll all excuse me, I need to find Avril,” Roduch said.

“She’s with Ansley,” Sir Murdoch supplied.

Roduch nodded thanks before rushing out the great hall.

He heard a few chuckles.

Chapter Thirty-four

Leargan sighed, leaning against the fence surrounding the training ground, watching his men pair off with the king’s men to spar. He’d been invited to join them of course, but he was too busy sulking.

King Nathal, Sir Murdoch and the men had been in Greenwald a full sevenday. Time required to inform the penal territory of its new prisoner’s advent; the king had sent a messenger the very day of the trial.

Hell, Leargan was surprised Ansley hadn’t volunteered to take Tynan’s proclamation and sentence parchment. It was a sure way to stay away from him, but King Nathal had summoned another Senior Rider, a man named Simond. He’d been off to Dalunas without even staying for a meal at the castle.

She hadn’t even looked at him since the night of the feast, even when they’d been in the same room. If her father
had
talked to her, nothing had come of it.

They still weren’t married.

It was killing him.

Everyone knew she’d rejected him, even if they didn’t know why.

Worse than that were the sympathetic looks and sad smiles
everyone
shared with him. Pats on the arm and back. He was so transparent, Leargan was surprised no one had given him the
there’s-more-than-one-sword-in-the-armory
speech.

He’d always been a private person, but now his love life—or lack thereof—was
very
public.

Cringing, he gripped the hilt of his sword and growled to himself.

Leargan was restless.

He needed…
Ansley.

Since that wasn’t possible, he needed to get away. Get some air. Something to focus on so he could clear his head.

Duties.

They’d always saved him before.

Scanning the fighting yard, he failed to spot Jorrin or the king. Niall and Sir Murdoch, even Roduch, were no long in sight either.

“Damn,” Leargan muttered.

Was he too late?

He shoved off the fence, sprinting to where Fia was tied. Without a word to any of his men, he mounted as fast as he could, then kicked his mare toward the castle.

“Let’s go, lass.”

She nickered as she took off in her element. Her powerful muscles rippled under his thighs as Leargan urged Fia even faster.

His beloved mount could benefit from getting away, too. It’d been a while since they’d run free together.

Leargan jumped off her back even before they’d stopped in front of the stables, shoving Fia’s reins at the surprised lad that rushed to meet them in the courtyard. His mare tossed her head but the stable boy gained control quickly, and Leargan didn’t look back as he ran for the castle.

As he skidded to a stop, he almost toppled over before Jorrin’s ledger room door. He wrenched it open. Several heads shot up, but he didn’t pause as he rushed into the room.

“I’m going. As a matter of fact, I’ll lead.” Leargan caught Niall’s eye.

One of his Second’s eyebrows shot up, but his shoulders loosened.

Niall was supposed to lead the party to Dalunas. But he could stay in Greenwald with his wife. No doubt Lyde would appreciate Leargan taking her husband’s place. The journey would be long and arduous. Likely more than a fortnight total.

Two sevendays I can forget about Ansley.

He sucked in a breath and squared his shoulders, standing taller.

“Leargan?” King Nathal was the first to speak, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I need to lead my men. Niall, you stay here. As my Second. As you should.” Leargan looked at Jorrin, then back at the king. “It makes more sense for me to go. I’m captain.”

Surprise and hope rippled across Niall’s face. But his fellow knight and longtime friend locked his blue eyes with Leargan. “I don’t shirk my duties.”

“I know. Not saying that. It just…makes more sense for me to go.”

You have Lyde. I have…no one.

Leargan ignored the tightness in his chest, blaming it on his sprint into the castle.

Niall stared, his gaze intense. His friend knew exactly why Leargan had volunteered to go, but he said nothing. When his Second inclined his head, Leargan smiled and looked at the king.

“I have no issue with this change,” King Nathal said. “Jorrin?”

“It is fine with me.” The half-elfin duke shrugged.

“When do we leave?” Leargan asked.

Roduch smiled, leaning back in the chair he was occupying.

Sir Murdoch and Tristan regarded him silently, both wore expressions of concern.

Leargan ignored them, making eye contact with the man who’d raised him.

“At dawn,” the king said. “Murdoch has some route recommendations.” King Nathal gestured to the detailed map of the Provinces laid out on Jorrin’s desk.

“Looks like we have some things to discuss then,” Leargan said.

The king nodded.

Sir Murdoch started talking and pointing to landmarks.

Leargan’s heart sped up.

Blessed Spirit, please let this work.

****

“Frankly, Cera, I don’t care.” Ansley strove for nonchalance when she was really falling apart inside.

The duchess gave her a long look and Aimil snorted out loud from her chair by the fireplace in the Duchess Solar.

Great,
she hadn’t fooled either of them.

“Well, I thought you’d want to know. Dalunas is a long, hard ride. They’ll likely be gone more than a fortnight.”

Ansley shrugged, not answering. Maybe by the time Leargan got back, she’d be in Terraquist with her father, forgetting about him. She averted her eyes from her friend’s keen gray gaze.

Cera rocked her fussy son and silence fell over them.

Ansley shifted in her chair and ignored the book she’d been pretending to read as Cera nursed Fallon and Aimil was attempting some sort of needlework.

“You two are supposed to be on my side.” Ansley’s voice was feeble to even her own ears, and she frowned. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and snapped the book closed, rising from the chair to go to one of the many windows looking over the courtyard. Her eyes smarted and she blinked.

She was
so
done with tears.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed Cera set Fallon in a rocking cradle by the warm blaze, after pressing a kiss to his dark red curls. Soon, the duchess enfolded her in a hug from behind.

Sighing, Ansley leaned into Cera as her friend’s arms settled around her waist. “Thanks,” she whispered.

In less than a minute, Aimil joined their hug, both of Ansley’s friend’s holding her tight.

“We
are
on your side,” Cera whispered close to her ear. “But I see two of my friends hurting.”

“I’m not talking about this,” Ansley said.

Neither of them pushed her; just squeezed their arms around her in comfort.

Ansley closed her eyes, determined not to cry. She’d been in this position, bawling while her best friends held her, too much as of late.

When will it stop?

“I didn’t tell you to upset you, but now you’ve some time to think about things,” Cera said.

“There’s nothing to think about.” Ansley pulled away from Cera and Aimil, whirling to meet the duchess’s gray eyes. “I said I don’t want to talk about this.”

Aimil frowned, resting a hand on her rounded tummy.

Cera sighed, her brow knitted tight. “Ansley—”

“Hello,” Avril’s soft voice caused all three of them to glance to the doorway. She smiled, but it was sad, and guilt crept up from the pit of Ansley’s stomach.

The girl had been through so much.

“I’m sorry, Ansley. My issues took your man away,” Avril said as she slipped into the warm bright room.

How long had she been there before joining them?

“He’s not my man,” Ansley said quickly.

Avril’s dark curls danced about her shoulders as she came to them.

“You are at fault for
nothing
,” Ansley said as tears once again threatened. “Leargan is Cera’s captain and he…” Her vision blurred, and Avril reached for her.

The gesture surprised Ansley, but she didn’t turn the shorter girl away when Avril hugged her tight.

“It’ll be all right,” Avril whispered.

Ansley sniffed and pulled away, swiping at her nose. “Aye.”

“Everyone and everything will be fine,” Cera said, handing Ansley a soft corner of linen to wipe her face.

They all found chairs around the warm fire, Cera rocking Fallon’s cradle gently. Ansley didn’t bother to retrieve the discarded book, but Aimil returned to her project.

“At any rate, I’m sorry,” Avril whispered, looking into the fire.

The younger girl wasn’t apologizing for Leargan being gone, but Ansley ignored that knowledge and forced words out. “No. I mean, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Avril. That man is getting
exactly
what he deserves, and Leargan,” her voice broke, but she made herself continue, “is a fine knight. It makes sense that he led his men. It makes sense that Roduch and Lucan went, too.”

Avril looked down. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d taken a breath, then she locked her emerald gaze with Ansley’s. “Thank you for being so gracious.”

“Heh. I’m not gracious.”

“I miss Roduch already, very much,” Avril said, cheeks pink.

“You care for him,” Cera said.

Avril beamed.

Aimil laughed. “I think that’s a yes.”

“I…more than care for him,” Avril said softly.

Ansley fought the urge to close her eyes as pain hit her in waves.

You’re a wretch. Happiness for them should be first and foremost.

She
was
happy for Roduch and Avril. She was just sad for her and Leargan.

Guilt warred with envy. Her stomach clenched.

“Good. You deserve a real man,” Cera said.

“Thank you,” Avril answered, looking down again. “He’s so gentle and patient with me…I don’t know how I would’ve survived this without him.”

“Roduch is strong and steady. He’ll be at your side always, Avril,” Aimil said.

“I’ve always been very fond of him.” Cera smiled.

“As have I,” Ansley said.

Avril smiled, expression genuine and open. Her riot of ebony curls loose, beautiful green eyes bright, she was about as relaxed as Ansley had ever seen her.

“Thank you,” Ansley whispered. “You’ve made me feel better.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Cera reached for Ansley’s hand and squeezed.

“I’ve never really had friends,” Avril said, looking at each of them. “I’m glad I have some now, and I’m grateful you’re letting me stay here, Lady Cera.”