Nightbound (29 page)

“I know nothing of your schemes.” Anger kept Jayr from looking directly at the
tresora
; she focused on the welds at the base of his cell’s bars. “We found Christian and Simone. What did you do to them?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Just as you did nothing to Farlae.” Jayr clamped down on her temper before she added, “These women are not part of my household. Whatever grudge brought you here to take your vengeance on me has nothing to do with them. Tell me what you used to harm them, and how it may be reversed.”

“I did nothing to Christian, Simone, or you.”

He was such an accomplished liar that as he spoke, his scent never changed. Jayr knew he would never tell her, not while the women still lived. She would inform him of
his fate, then, and leave with dignity. But when she spoke, the words came not from her cool head but from her bruised pride.

“You did nothing to me? You had me trust you, Devan. You convinced me to welcome you into my household, and accept your counsel, and verily believe every falsehood you uttered.” She reached out for the bars, and drew back her hand, clenching it into a fist. “You betrayed me in every manner imaginable.”

“As you say, my lady.” Leeds’s chains rattled as he rose and shuffled across the pitted slate to the cell door. “If I may know, when am I to be put to the sword?” When she didn’t answer him, he said, “Perhaps you have something else in mind. Do you mean to starve me, or let me rot? Perhaps have the men use me for a target?” Heavy manacles clanked against the bars, and gentle fingertips touched her arm. “You could enrapture me, you know.”

“Get off.” She spun around, thrusting her arm between the bars to shove him back. “You think yourself so tempting to me. You, who are everything vile and twisted. Rather I would feed on rats for all eternity than let a drop of your blood pass through my lips.”

Leeds staggered before he slowly straightened. “I know that, my lady. I know because you are everything that is honorable and true. I think I would kill for you.”

“Never say you did this for wanting of me.” But she could see it on his face, forlorn with longing. “Have you lost your wits? I am bonded. I belong to Byrne.”

He smiled a little. “That was evident from the first moment I beheld you with your seneschal. Do you even know how you look at him, as if he were all the world?
Not even he knows the depth of your love, I suspect. As for me, well, we so often covet that which can never be ours. And I knew I could never have you.”

He was toying with her, Jayr thought. Scheming to once more get inside her trust by making such a pathetic excuse. “You never knew me before you came here.”

“Also true. I was sent to this place to carry out several unpleasant tasks. I anticipated every danger except you, my lady.” He braced his forearm against the bars, his eyes boring into hers. “I am in love with you, Jayr.”

She backed away from the cell. “You
are
mad.”

“I should have left as soon as your spy found me out, but I could not leave you.” He curled his fingers around the bars. “My orders were to kill you. That was why I came to the lists tonight. I meant to run my blade through your heart.”

That was why he had taken that final, deadly lunge. “I should have cut off your hand
and
your head.”

“But instead you healed me, my lady.” He showed her the scar. “I am forever marked now by your blade and your blood. That was why I confessed to stabbing your wardrobe master. I knew I would never leave here. I have nothing left to me but you.”

He spoke of her as if she were already his possession; that was how disturbed he was. “You truly believe you have some chance with me.”

“On the contrary. I know very well that you will be the end of me. I will go to my death without a murmur.” He rested his forehead against the bars. “But no one will ever love you more than I do.”

“We’re finished.” Jayr spun on her heel to make for the stairs.

“My master intends to take the Realm by force,” Leeds called out, halting her. “When he comes, and it will be soon, he will slaughter every Kyn here.”

She glanced back at him. “Who is this master of yours? Another turncoat, like you? He will be hacked to pieces the moment he sets foot on my land. He and the other traitors like you.”

“You cannot put it a stop to it now,” he said. “Byrne, your men, they are only hours from dying. But I will not let them have you. Come away with me, tonight, and you will live.”

He sounded so desperate, so convincing, that Jayr almost believed him. “You would say anything to be free.”

“No.” He made a bitter sound. “But I would do anything to save you.”

“Make your peace with God, Devan. Jamys and Korvel will soon arrive, and once they have seen what you have done to their ladies, I am sending them to deal with you.” She went to the guards. “Go and fetch my seneschal, and have him meet me in the garrison.” As one trotted off, she turned to the second guard. “No one else is to see the prisoner, or speak with him.”

The guard nodded. “Aye, my lady.”

Leeds heard the door to the upper level of the castle slam, and retreated to the shadows. As he’d guessed, Jayr’s rejection of him had been quick, unwavering, and absolute. Less certain was her resolve to have him executed before dawn; she would have to set aside the guilt he had instilled in her as well as her own feminine instincts.

Women, even those who were immortal, were nurturers, not killers.

He closed his eyes, tired of the game he’d played too long. Duty had brought him here, but it would be love that destroyed him.

The guard shuffled to the door of his cell and inserted the key in the lock.

Leeds rose to his feet, tensing as he saw the warrior’s slack expression, and the glow of gold in his eyes. “So you’ve come for me.”

Did you doubt it, mortal?
a voice inside his head asked.

The guard dragged his feet across the cell, and began releasing his manacles.

“I’ve done my part,” Leeds said, rubbing his hands together to restore the circulation. “Where are the jewels?”

Go to the spring. There you will find all that you desire.

Leeds didn’t trust the immortal, not since the first time he had spoken to him. “If you’re wrong about her, everything will be lost.”

She is the last. She is the one. She will not fail me.

To the guard, Leeds said, “I need your clothes.”

“This traitor confessed to stabbing Farlae,” Harlech told Beau as they walked along the outer ward. “He refuses to say what he used to poison the visiting ladies, but that was his doing as well. As soon as the ladies’ lords arrive, the suzeraina will put the traitor in their hands. I expect they will convince him to admit the rest.” He made an ugly sound. “I still cannot believe how he deceived us all.”

“He has done a terrible thing.” Beau felt a hollowness in his chest, and thought of Alys. He wanted to keep her here at the Realm, but he could not stomach the idea of
continuing his own deception. “Harlech, there is something I must tell you.”

“You do not really mean to take that mortal as your
kyara
, do you?” the captain asked. “She is lovely, and I am certain of her affections for you, but you know how it will go. You cannot give her children. She will age while you do not, and someday leave you to go on living without her.”

“What I must say does concern my love for Alys, but not in the manner you think. It is about me, who I am.” Beau removed his sword, setting it aside to stand unarmed before his foster brother. “When the Templars brought me to your family, they told you that I was an orphan, the son of an English Crusader and his Italian wife. They gave you my name as Beaumaris of York.”

Harlech frowned. “Who told you this?”

“I have always known,” Beau admitted. “When I came to your household, I did not say a word for all those months because I could not. Nor could I understand the priests who brought me to you. I did not speak English.”

“Of course, you spoke your mother’s tongue—”

Beau shook his head. “My mother was not Italian. She was Saracen.”

Harlech fell silent.

“By the time I had learned enough English to tell you, I had also been thoroughly schooled on how dearly Saracens were despised. I cannot say why the priests lied to you, but I thought if I spoke the truth—if I told you that I was the bastard son of a Saracen harlot—that you would kill me.”

The captain gave him a narrow look. “So you concealed it out of shame.”

“You misunderstand me. I loved my mother. I cannot regret being born the son of two enemies. It is not as if I had some choice in the matter.” Beau looked into Harlech’s eyes. “My shame is that I never confided in you. You have been my brother, and my best friend. That is why you had to be the first I told…after Alys.”

“So you’ve confided this to her.”

Beau nodded. “I have been afraid of the truth all of my life, and I never meant to tell her, or anyone. I cannot say why I would face it now, except that she makes me want to be a better man.” He ducked his head. “I will accept whatever punishment you or Lady Jayr decide I deserve for deceiving you.”

“What you deserve is the truth.” Harlech lifted his fist, opening it to grip Beau’s shoulder. “There is more you do not know, lad. The priests who brought you to my family told us the truth of who you were. They did not name you, or invent an Italian mother to explain away your dark hide. My father and I did. I’ve always known about your mother.”

Beau stared at him. “But…all these years, and you said nothing?”

“You were barely out of swaddling when they brought you to us,” Harlech reminded him. “You never spoke of it, and in time I told myself that you had forgotten your cradle tongue and your origins. No, truth be told, I had hoped you would never remember. No child should be taken from his mother as you were.”

“All my struggles to keep my secret, that was never a secret.” Beau sighed and glanced at the garrison’s quarters.
“Will our comrades be as understanding as you, I wonder?”

“They know you to be a formidable warrior, the best blade in the Realm, and a loyal friend, which is all that matters,” the captain said. “I expect your lady Alys feels the same. Unless you now fancy yourself to be Saracen, and intend to go about dressing in robes and speaking your heathen tongue. That may prove somewhat contentious.”

“That is not my aim.” Beau picked up his sword. “There is another matter I must tell you.”

Harlech arched his brows. “Your mother was Saracen, and your lady is a Scot. Never tell me that your grandparents were Huns.”

“I cannot say who my grandparents were, but I have kept another thing from you,” Beau said, determined to be rid of the last of his secrets. “I have not been going into the city merely to hunt. I have also been taking instruction on how to read, and to write.”

“You have been going to school? With mortals?” Harlech chuckled. “Beaumaris the Scholar. Now, that will greatly entertain the lads.”

Alys didn’t want to tell Beau she’d been caught talking to Jayr’s prisoner, and she’d felt light-headed ever since leaving the dungeons. She wandered through the keep, stepping out of sight whenever she saw one of the Kyn, and ended up standing outside the infirmary, unable to decide whether she should go in. It wasn’t as if she were really ill; she was probably more upset than anything.