Rift (11 page)

Alistair scowled at the word
boy,
but he inclined his head in reluctant acknowledgment of Barrow’s station. “Forgive me, my lord. Ember is a dear friend. I only spoke out of concern for her well-being.”

“Do you fear I would offer an initiate of the Guard ill treatment?” Barrow asked.

“I—” Alistair struggled, glancing around the room to find all gazes upon him. “I meant no insult. Sorcha had claimed Ember, so it seems right that she would be the one to train her.”

“Politics outweigh intent,” Sorcha said, smiling at Alistair. “You’ll find that is often the case, even when it comes to the Guard. We value our swords, but we know they can’t always win the day.”

“Bearing in mind that young Alistair is still serving as squire to Kael, I have decided it follows that I should lay claim to this girl,” Barrow said. “We’ll complete your training together.”

Alistair’s face darkened as he listened to Barrow. “You’ll remain Ember’s mentor, then?”

Ember couldn’t understand Alistair’s glowering when she was ready to shout for joy. Not only was she going to join the Guard, but her life would be training side by side with her best friend.

Barrow was still considering Alistair’s statement. He turned to Ember. She straightened up, hoping that all traces of embarrassment had vanished from her face.

“If the girl will have me,” he said, “I would be honored to train her.”

She started at his words. Accept the training of Barrow Hess? What madness would keep her from agreeing? Well, what madness other than an instinctive fear of Barrow’s ferocious reputation. She wondered if she could make it through a round on the practice field against him. But he’d just said it meant that she and Alistair would train together. Having Kael’s laughter and Alistair’s friendship to offset Barrow’s stern demeanor would be reassuring as she found her place among the Guard. No doubt she’d have to endure an inordinate amount of teasing from Kael and Alistair, but it would be worth it.

Barrow continued, keeping his gaze on Ember though she thought he spoke for Alistair’s benefit. “Ember comes from a landed family with great influence. Even the Circle must sometimes concede to the will of the nobles. We cannot show signs of doubt before them. If Edmund Morrow objects to women fighting in the Guard, it will only fortify his case should we place Ember in Sorcha’s care. If he were to take his complaint to the other nobles, it could cause great trouble.”

Alistair nodded, but he glared at Barrow before casting his gaze on Sorcha.

“I agree,” Sorcha said. “I withdraw my claim on the girl. Let her be trained by Barrow.”

Barrow drew his sword, laid the blade flat on his palms, and dropped to one knee before Ember. Her blood roared in her veins.

“To fight, to lead, and to teach are the roles of the Guard,” he said, holding her in his gaze. “The first two obligations I have fulfilled. I am indebted to my order to meet the last. I have no great knowledge to impart nor do I believe myself a wise teacher, but it would be my honor to guide you.”

Ember reached out, letting her fingertips rest on the flat of the blade. “And I would be honored to serve you, my lord.”

Behind her, Ember heard Alistair expel a hissing breath.

Kael chortled. “Barrow, my friend, you know how to stir up a hornet’s nest. Wait till Father Michael hears about this!”

Barrow rose, nodding at Ember before flashing a smile at Kael. “Father Michael speaks well of peacemakers. Let him now make peace.”

While the knights of Conatus swarmed around her, Ember accepted their hearty congratulations and words of welcome with forced smiles. She couldn’t help but wonder what sort of battle her call to the Guard would spark.

SEVEN

CIAN SAT ON THE EDGE
of the bed while Eira finished binding her hair up and then fastened her heavy riding cloak.

“You’ll be missed at the feast,” Cian said.

“The nobles won’t care if one of the weird sisters fails to appear at dinner,” Eira said.

Cian winced at her sister’s use of the foul name that dogged their steps. Catching sight of Cian’s frown, Eira laughed coldly.

“You know I speak the truth.”

“Even so.” Cian shrugged. “You mustn’t let them chase you away.”

“They aren’t chasing me anywhere,” Eira said. “It’s a night of power. We need someone to keep an eye on the villages in the glen in case an aspiring sorcerer attempts to draw on that power.”

Cian gave a reluctant nod. “Would you like me to join you?”

“No,” Eira said. “I’m abandoning you to a different type of watch, sister. I think Lord Morrow is of a mind to abduct his daughter and deliver her to Mackenzie’s son. Such is the gossip of the day.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a marriage began with kidnapping.” Cian rose, crossing the room to the window. As members of the Circle they no longer resided in the barracks but shared quarters in the manor. Though darkness covered the valley, Cian spotted winking lights one by one breaking through the black veil. Gatherings would take place up and down the glen to honor the turn of winter to spring, darkness to light. And Eira was right to worry about what might take place at a few such meetings. It was their life’s work to watch and to worry.

“I’d be more concerned if the other party were any other but Mackenzie,” Eira said. “He knows enough to prevent any foolishness. Mackenzie wants our protection more than a wealthy daughter- in-law.”

Cian laughed. “Do you think he’ll set Lord Morrow’s mind at ease?”

“Edmund Morrow will soon be back in the lowlands and no longer a concern of ours.” Eira pulled the hood of her cloak up, casting a shadow over her face.

“Do you think he’ll forget his younger daughter so quickly?” Cian turned away from the window to gaze at her sister.

“She is no longer his daughter,” Eira said. “She is one of us. You and I know what that means, even if he doesn’t.”

Without another word Eira left the room.

“And even if
she
doesn’t,” Cian murmured to no one but herself.

Most of Ember’s triumph was pecked away through dinner by her mother’s constant lamenting and her sister’s pathetic sniffling. It had been like this all day. She’d returned to the guest quarters to collect her belongings only to be beset by a dissonant chorus composed of her father’s curses, her mother’s pleas, and her sister’s sobs. After what had seemed like the longest hours of her life, they’d returned to the manor hall for the feast as a family but with none of the warmth one hoped for among kin. Her father had refused to sit with them, instead seeking a place beside Lord Mackenzie. No doubt he was conniving a way to see her married to the highland lord’s son, despite the day’s events. Ember could only hope his pleas would fall on deaf ears. She glanced frequently across the room, hoping to spy evidence that her father wasn’t making any progress toward his goal. From his reddened face and the sour turn of his mouth it seemed his efforts were being frustrated.

Even with this reassurance, Ember was finding it difficult to enjoy the feast. Her family had been seated at a table of honor not far from the head table, where members of the Circle sat. Alistair and the rest of the Guard were gathered at their own long table, and Ember wished she could join them. At that table her presence would be welcomed. Currently she felt much like a guest at her own funeral. But since it was the last time she’d spend with her family for the foreseeable future, she felt obligated to remain at their side.

“Surely you can’t want this?” Ember’s mother asked for the third time. “If you don’t want to live in the highlands after your father’s debt to Conatus is paid, I’m certain we can find a husband for you other than Mackenzie’s son. I’ll speak with your father.”

Ember ignored her, trying to enjoy the decadent feast spread before her. The heavy wooden board was laden with foods welcoming spring. Nests were filled with hard-cooked eggs, an accompaniment to roasted pheasant and suckling pig. Wine breads, bursting with preserved fruits, forecast the ripeness of summer berries to come. She was about to tuck into a crock of fish stew scented with savory herbs when her father’s shouts roared through the hall.

“Am I not lord of my own house?” Edmund’s fist swept across the table, sending platters of food sailing. Slabs of meat smacked onto the floor while vegetables rolled underfoot.

Lord Mackenzie rose, trying to calm her father. “Sit down, my lord.”

“I will not!” Edmund’s face matched the beets that were now staining the floor.

Ember sat frozen in horror. Her father’s anger was obvious, but so was how deeply he’d sunk into his wine cup. In his rage he waved his arms, swaying unsteadily as his glare swept the room.

“This place is cursed, I tell you!” he cried, stumbling toward his family. He pointed an accusing finger at Ember. “A den of iniquity that has stolen my daughter to bend her to their will.”

Ember had been so focused on her father’s ranting that she hadn’t noticed others moving nearby. Father Michael walked calmly to the center of the room.

“Lord Morrow, do not speak of evil here,” he said. “Your child has been called to a higher purpose, God’s purpose.”

“No!” Edmund stumbled forward, knocking the priest aside. “Yer . . . no man of . . . of . . . God. There’s . . . there’s . . . no true Church wi’in these . . . walls. Your lies . . . all . . . yer . . . lies . . .”

Her father’s words began to slur as his voice became hoarse. She could no longer make sense of his rambling, only picking out a few words as he shook his fists in the air, shouting.

“. . . devil’s snare . . . heathens . . .”

“You know not of what you speak,” Father Michael said, bowing his head and making the sign of the cross. “Stop this wicked speech.”

“Tricked!” Edmund cried out. Ember shrank into her chair as he came toward her, pointing an accusing finger. “No daughter of mine will become a witch.”

Sensing a presence behind her, she drew a quick breath when she turned to see Barrow standing over her. His stance wasn’t aggressive, but he looked as immovable as an oak tree.

“You’ll find no witches here, my lord,” he said, offering her father a cold smile. Ember shuddered when his hand rested on her shoulder. A strange sensation curled from the point where his fingers touched her, sliding over her skin and snatching her breath.

Another tall figure loomed before her father, blocking his path to the table.

Edmund Morrow lurched into Lukasz’s immense form. The knight grasped her father’s arms, steering him away from Ember.

“Seek your bed, my lord,” Lukasz said, giving her father no choice in the matter as he pushed him to the door. “Before you do any further harm.”

Ossia Morrow rose, pale and trembling. She didn’t look at her younger daughter when she spoke.

“Agnes, we must see to your father.” Ember’s mother made a much more dignified exit from the hall.

Ember watched her mother disappear into the hall and her heart pinched with grief. Despite their disapproval, she’d still hoped to part from her family on good terms. Now it seemed only bitterness would mark their farewell.

A soft touch turned Ember’s gaze. Agnes’s slender fingers grasped hers shakily.

“I shall miss you,” Agnes whispered.

For the first time that day, Ember’s resolve cracked. She grabbed Agnes, pulling her into a fierce embrace. “I wish you every happiness, Agnes.”

Agnes flinched at Ember’s words. She kissed Ember’s cheek and hurried after their mother, leaving Ember to sit alone. The scene having ended, conversation returned to its low din. Servants appeared to clean up the rubble of food and broken dishes Ember’s father had left in his wake. She twisted her hands together, unsure of what to say or do now that her family had abandoned her. Without the storm of her father’s rage commanding her attention, her mind began to reel. He’d obviously been drunk, but his furious cries had unsettled her. Of course he would be angry about losing her match to Mackenzie’s son, but he’d voiced fears about trickery and curses. How much did her father know about the secrets of Conatus? His shrieks echoed in her mind, making her shiver.

“It’s over now.” A chair scraped over the stone floor as Alistair pulled up a seat next to her. “They’ll be gone in the morning.”

He smiled at her, but she couldn’t return the mirthful gleam in his eye. A heavy weight pressed into her chest. The jubilation of being freed from her father’s will felt hollow now in the wake of his outburst. Her family, despite how she’d thought them burdensome, had always cared for her. Now they were gone and she faced a world filled with dangers she couldn’t imagine.

“No daughter of mine will become a witch.”

Father Michael seemed a good man, but if the work of Conatus was kept secret from the Church, did that mean it was somehow wicked?

Weariness settled over her like a winter cloak. Barrow, whose hand still rested on her shoulder, must have felt her sigh.

“You should rest,” he said. The pressure of his touch stirred something deep inside her. She wanted to take his hand in hers and feel its warmth.

Alistair stood up. “I can show you to your room.”