Rift (10 page)

Ember spoke carefully. “The pope knows of this?” She couldn’t believe the Church would condone friendship with enemies of their faith. Too many wars had been fought to separate Christendom from nonbelievers.

“Whom of the three popes do you mean?” His blunt question made Ember gasp. He smiled wryly before continuing. “While in name we serve the Church, our work is not like that of any other order.”

Father Michael’s gaze shifted away. “There are some elements of Conatus that remain hidden, even from its mightiest benefactors. Particularly when the Church is at war with itself.”

Ember went very still.

“I am a man of the cloth, Lady Morrow,” he said. “I can only offer you my assurance that my role here is to ensure that our order serves the greater work of God. Even if we may not be able to reveal the extent of that work to my superiors.”

“Are you not afraid such secrets will be discovered?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s a constant danger. No matter how necessary our work, if the Church believes its authority here to be questioned or waning, our fate would be the same as that of the Templars. That is the reason we seclude ourselves in the wilds of Scotland, why we rarely engage in the affairs of kingdoms or of men in general. Our lives are apart. And we take the orders of holy men and women, forsaking the comforts of flesh and family in our service. By freely placing such restrictions on our actions and our lives, the Church is reassured that our strength is tempered, our pride kept in check. We must demonstrate submissiveness and humility so that our purpose may be fulfilled.”

“I understand,” Ember said softly. What she understood even more was that the dangers of serving Conatus ranged far beyond the existence of monsters and the expectation that she would fight them. This place housed secrets and encouraged practices that could easily be deemed heretical.

Father Michael watched emotions play across her face. “The risks are many.”

Ember couldn’t pretend she wasn’t afraid. To flee would mean a safe and comfortable marriage that would please her father. She would provide grandchildren that would delight her mother. She would never fear death at the hands of a monster or the fires reserved for traitors of the faith.

But something within Ember stirred, restless and yearning toward the unknown. She’d gone into the cellar armed with a dagger, not the sword familiar to her. She’d faced a creature beyond her imagining. And she had survived.

To stay meant she would continue to battle with nightmares, but she would also be granted the ability and knowledge to defeat them. The secrets of Conatus would be her own. It was power she had never dreamed of, and its allure was intoxicating.

Father Michael asked, “What say you, child?”

“I have been called,” she said, if a bit unsteadily. She cleared her throat before she finished. “And I will serve.”

“And so you shall.” He took her hands in his, helping her rise. “Come with me, Lady Morrow.”

He led her from his simple quarters back into the chapel. Ember followed the priest dumbly, caught in a daze by her own words. She’d committed herself to Conatus, to the Guard, and some small part of her mind was screaming at her stupidity. How would she survive here? But another, deeper voice—one that she believed was her spirit—whispered that her choice was the right choice, the only choice. To know of the existence of evil, true evil that corrupted the world, had forever altered her heart and mind. If she had chosen a different path, she wouldn’t have slept another night. Her head would have been restless as she thought only of the horrors that might be creeping outside her door, waiting to rend her flesh. She would not live a life as the hunted; she would be the hunter.

Father Michael took her through a rear exit in the chapel and across the courtyard to the barracks. The structure resembled the manor but on a smaller scale.

“This is your home now, Lady Morrow,” the priest told her. “Your new companions will be waiting for you in the hall.”

Ember left Father Michael at the barracks’ entrance. As he’d told her, the Guard who had been lining the corridor that led to her trial were assembled, waiting for her.

“Novice!” A booming voice demanded attention. Ember’s gaze fell on the speaker. He was an impossibly tall man, nearly seven feet in height, his hair and eyes dark as freshly turned earth. Though it was the first time she’d seen him, Ember had no doubt as to the man’s identity: Lukasz, commander of the Guard. Alistair spoke of him with near reverence. The knight’s sharp features, hooked nose, and bright eyes made it clear why Alistair called him “the Falcon.” He was distinct from the warriors in appearance and demeanor. Unlike most of those residing in the keep, Lukasz hailed from kingdoms in the eastern reaches of Christendom, bearing with him an air of experience and worldliness that both intimidated and fascinated Ember. Power rolled off his shoulders as he moved through the room, his piercing gaze at last falling on her.

She shivered when he said, “Step forward.”

Ember had never felt more alone as she stood, a solitary figure, while the twenty-some number that made up the full Guard formed a ring around her.

Lukasz drew a claymore from its sheath, which was strapped across his back. The sword was taller than Ember, and she knew one sweep of the knight’s thick-muscled arm would easily cleave her in two, as it had undoubtedly already done to many of Lukasz’s foes.

He pointed the blade at her. Ember clenched her fists, forcing her shrieking muscles to remain still. Every inch of her being was screaming to jump back from the sword, even to flee from the room.

“Who has claimed this girl and will bear the burden of guiding her steps?” Lukasz asked.

His words didn’t come as a surprise. Alistair had explained that Ember would have a mentor, a seasoned warrior to train her as she rose from novice to a full member of the Guard. Of course, that had all been speculation. Now that she stood with the knights of Conatus and had chosen to become one of them, the haze of astonishment that had surrounded her bled away. She wouldn’t be going back to her father’s manor. She would not marry Lord Mackenzie’s son.

Ember let her eyes slip over the half circle of knights facing her. One of these warriors would be at her side day after day, teaching her to fight. She shivered, wishing that Kael MacRath weren’t already Alistair’s mentor. Though she’d only just met him, his cheerful demeanor was much less frightening than the hardened faces staring at her now. Glancing to her right, Ember met the gaze of a woman whose piercing blue eyes seemed at war with her mouth, one side of which was pulling up as if in amusement. Unlike the wild, loose tresses of Eira and Cian, this woman’s muddy-brown hair was pulled up in a severe knot. As the sole woman Ember had spotted among the Guard besides the sisters, she could only assume this must be Sorcha—who according to Alistair was as ferocious as any man on the battlefield. As Ember held her gaze, Sorcha’s half smile broke into a full grin, which Ember found herself responding to with an uncertain smile. Sorcha’s open expression was confident, if a bit mischievous.

It must be her,
Ember thought with relief. For her mentor to be the only woman of the Guard was reassuring. As much as she’d hoped with all her being to be a part of it, this was a man’s world and Ember knew she’d need wisdom and experience like Sorcha’s if she were to succeed. Ember began to breathe a little easier. Though Sorcha’s expression was crafty as a wildcat’s, Ember thought wiliness and courage must have made her the warrior Alistair claimed she was.

Sorcha winked at her, and Ember almost giggled but managed to keep still. The warrior woman had taken a step forward when shouts filled the room, turning all attention to the doorway.

Lukasz frowned, shaking his head. His height allowed him to see past the ring of Guards to whoever had entered the room. “You shouldn’t be here, Lord Morrow. We’re in the midst of our own ceremony. Only members of the Guard may be present.”

“And that’s why I’m here! I found your priest and he claimed my daughter passed some sort of trial. This madness must end.” Ember’s stomach twisted when her father pushed his way into the circle, glaring at her. “I only beg for reason. Surely there has been an error.”

His eyes were bright with outrage. “Ember, your mother and sister beg you to reconsider. As do I.”

“For what reason?” she asked, her temper flaring. Not only was her father still denying what she’d always wanted, but she was also humiliated that he would confront her about it with the entire Guard assembled to witness his outburst.

“For every reason!” He lunged forward, gripping her arms. “You would throw your life away to drink blood with the rest of these brutes?”

“Is that what you think we do here?” Kael asked, grinning. “How flattering.”

He’d stepped from the ring of knights and came to stand beside Ember. Alistair mimicked his mentor’s actions, taking up a post at Kael’s shoulder. Ember started when Barrow materialized at her back, glowering at her father.

Her father paled, glancing around at the rest of the Guard. “Forgive me. Of course I give you nothing but honor for your sacrifice, but this is my daughter. She’s just a child and doesn’t understand the cost.”

“Is this true?” Barrow’s question was directed not at her father, but to Ember.

“No.” Ember pulled out of her father’s grasp, holding the gray-eyed knight’s stern gaze. “This is my choice. I belong with the Guard.”

Barrow’s mouth twitched like he was about to smile, but her father’s mirthless laugh shattered the moment.

“You are a woman, not a warrior,” Edmund said, glaring at Ember. “You should honor your family with a marriage suiting your rank and children to carry on your legacy, not the mischief and bloodshed that you’ll find here.”

From behind him, Sorcha snorted.

“Agnes will give you grandchildren, Father,” Ember said. “Leave me be.” She almost added “please” but worried it would make her sound weak. If she could have begged him to leave, she would have, but members of the Guard didn’t beg . . . at least she didn’t think they did.

Ignoring her, Ember’s father whirled, thrusting his fist at Sorcha. “How did you bewitch my daughter? Only you could have requested her to serve you.”

Sorcha’s hand went to her sword hilt. “That’s quite an accusation, my lord. I would be more careful of your tongue. I would remind you that two of the Guard, both women, now belong to the Circle. You are indebted to Conatus. This is the price required.”

Edmund’s eyes bulged. His face was a bright shade of red slowly ebbing into violet. Ember wanted to shout her fury at him, but she was loath to act like a temperamental child before her new companions.

“Peace, Lord Morrow.” Barrow stepped in front of her father, breaking his line of sight to Sorcha. “It was not Sorcha who chose Ember.”

“Then who?” her father said, his clenched fists trembling. “Who dares claim my daughter as a squire?”

“I do,” Barrow said.

Ember gaped at him while Sorcha clapped her hand over her mouth. Ember couldn’t tell if it was from shock or if she was laughing and trying to hide it.

The mottled hues painting Edmund’s face drained away, leaving his skin sallow. “But why? Why would you choose a girl to serve you?”

“That is a matter for the Guard and the Guard alone,” Barrow said.

Edmund choked and spluttered, staring at Barrow in disbelief.

“You have your answer, my lord,” Barrow said. “Leave us now or you will be taken from these quarters by force.”

Glaring at Barrow for a moment longer, Edmund finally bowed his head. To question Barrow’s statement would be to challenge his honor—a foolish act for any man. Edmund turned away, passing Ember as he moved to the door.

“Foolish girl,” he hissed under his breath. “I swear you’ve not heard the end of this.”

When he left the room, Kael closed the chamber doors, barring them with a stout length of wood.

“I’d say that’s enough interruptions for today.” He grinned at her.

Ember’s stomach churned with a mixture of embarrassment, relief, and lingering fear. Her father was a proud and powerful man. If he believed he could still bring her back from the Guard, he would keep after it like hounds after a fox.

Sorcha laughed, slapping Barrow on the shoulder.

“Show me your tongue, my lord,” she said. “I didn’t know it was forked.”

Barrow offered her a fleeting smile. “The man outstepped his place, as he has a habit of doing too often. He needed to be reminded of it . . . again.”

A tightness overtook Ember’s chest. Barrow had been lying. For a brief moment she’d believed that the most feared warrior of Conatus had chosen her as his apprentice, proving beyond any doubt that she was destined for a life with the Guard, but it had only been a ruse. She turned away, not wanting the others to see her cheeks burn. By giving her back to the others, Ember was now facing Alistair. He watched her face and his eyes narrowed. He stepped beside her, leaning down to whisper.

“What ails you?”

Every buried fear, nagging doubt planted beneath her skin by her family surfaced. If Barrow doubted her place among the Guard, perhaps she didn’t belong here. What if her father was right? She couldn’t bear it.

Alistair touched her shoulder, drawing her slightly apart from the others and peering at her face in concern. “Ember?”

Ember managed to choke out her confession. “Barrow didn’t want me.”

Something about her words made Alistair stiffen.

“Of course not,” he said. “And why would you desire otherwise? He’s too brutal to guide an initiate. And it’s better for you to be trained by a woman—Sorcha has been wanting a squire, and no man would have a woman try to teach him swordplay.”

His words stung Ember more than Barrow’s lie. Did he think so little of her? When he’d given her a sword and taught her to use it, had it only been in fun?

Sorcha was still laughing. “You’re caught in your own web now, my friend. You’ll have to take her on or her father will cry foul.”

“Surely you jest.” Alistair snorted. “Barrow has no call for an apprentice.”

“Do you know me so well, boy?” Barrow’s eyebrows went up.