Claire Delacroix (37 page)

A guard paced past Odo’s chamber with heavy footsteps and glanced in their direction.

Niall’s heart stopped when that man halted, and he was certain ’twas all gone awry before he had even begun.

“All well, Paul?”

Niall said the first thing that came to mind. “Having a piss in the corner, ’tis all,” he retorted gruffly.

The other guard chuckled. “I leave you in peace, then.” He saluted mockingly. “Enjoy.”

He turned and strode away. Niall did not dare to breathe until his footsteps faded from earshot. And then, he was not inclined to take his hand from Viviane’s mouth.

Not until he had had his say. “You are not coming with me,” he said, his tone low and savage. “’Tis neither your place nor your task.”

Viviane protested beneath the weight of his hand and Niall gave her an impatient shake.

Time was wasting!

“Viviane! ’Tis
dangerous
! I will not risk your welfare in this!” He dropped his voice to a growl. “The best deed you can do is return to the cell and ensure that all remain calm.”

“Never!” the lady uttered beneath his hand. Before Niall could swear, she squirmed and pulled his hand to her chin. “I’m going with you, to make sure your welfare isn’t risked,” she said with that stubborn tone he had begun to recognize.

“I forbid it!”

“Then I will follow you,” Viviane insisted.

The worst of it was that Niall knew she would do it.

“What manner of woman are you to show such disregard for your own welfare?” he demanded with no small measure of annoyance.

To his astonishment, Viviane smiled. “I’m a writer,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And you were the one who assured me that I should do my research.”

“What nonsense is this?”

She tapped him in the middle of his chest, that admiration dawning in her eyes yet again and seriously affecting Niall’s determination to leave her behind. “I want to see a hero in action. You’re going to get my moonstone, aren’t you?”

And Niall smiled despite himself. He shook his head but she smiled up at him, so certain of his course that he had to challenge her. “What makes you think as much?”

“It’s the only way out.” Viviane smiled. “We can all wish upon it and be gone. But there’s no way that all of us could retrieve it without being caught. And I know that if anyone can get us out of this, it is you, so you must be planning to fetch the stone and return it here.”

Niall studied her, the light in Viviane’s eyes bolstering his conviction that he truly could repair all that had gone awry. Indeed, ’twas hard to resist the temptation of spending a little longer in Viviane’s company before they were parted for all time.

“You will do as I bid you,” he insisted gruffly, knowing full well that she would not. He gripped her shoulders and stared down into her marvelous eyes even as her smile broadened. Indeed, he suspected that he had not fooled her a whit - she seemed just as persuaded as ever that he was her knight.

And Niall could not honestly say that he was disappointed. Still he had to guard his tongue and not give her a reason to be unhappy once their paths parted as indeed they must.

He did not trouble to correct the false assumptions in her summary of his plan. ’Twas true he meant to retrieve the stone, ’twas true that he intended to bring it back here.

But that was so Viviane and Monty could leave as one. Niall briefly considered the wisdom of fetching Monty now, but discarded it immediately. The man could not keep silent and he was too odd in appearance. He would attract attention, the last thing they needed.

To be sure, so might Viviane, but Niall could not deny himself this last indulgence of her company.

“You will heed me, you will do
naught
that is reckless. And you will be silent.”

The lady threw her arms around Niall’s neck and kissed the tip of his nose through the front of the helm, nearly bouncing in her anticipation.

“I knew you would let me come,” she declared gleefully. “Just as I know that I’ll get the truth out of you. You must have some feelings for me, regardless of what you say, and I’m not leaving your side until I know the truth of it.”

Niall’s blood froze that she should be able to read his thoughts so readily as that. He glowered at her, to no visible effect.

But Viviane appeared jubilant and Niall knew there was only one matter that made her so happy as this.

Zounds, but she was going to talk of love again!

’Twas only a matter of time. And Niall knew himself well enough to know that he was a poor liar, certainly poor enough that Viviane would not be deceived.

He had no time to waste.

“Where are we going?” the lady demanded. “And what are we going to do? How are we going to save the others? I just knew you would have a plan, because that’s what real heroes do - they have a plan and they take a chance and they put themselves at risk to see the people they care about safe, and you know...”

Niall enforced his dictate for silence in the only way that he knew for certain would work. He caught Viviane’s jaw in his hand, bent down and kissed her soundly.

As ’twas likely to be his last taste of the lady, he made it a kiss to remember.

Indeed, when he was done, Viviane clutched his shoulders as though she could not trust her legs to keep her upright. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips so slowly that he nearly kissed her again. Niall’s heart thundered as Viviane stared up at him with wonder, as though he had hung the stars in the firmament.

That sense of invincibility redoubled in a most intoxicating way. Niall grinned down at Viviane and tapped the tip of her nose with one fingertip. Truly, he could not resist teasing her.

“Finally,” he said, heaving the sigh of a man sorely tested. “Silence!”

And before Viviane could comment or even gasp, Niall pivoted. He seized her hand and led her down the empty hall at a hasty pace. Truly, they had already lingered overlong.

For Niall knew there would be no second chances this night.

* * *

Viviane realized very quickly that her impulsiveness could cost them both dearly. Niall, after all, looked just like any of the other guards in the keep and could have passed undetected without her presence beside him. But even with Odo’s cloak over her shoulders and the hood over her hair, Viviane was an oddity whose presence prompted questions from all they encountered.

After the second intervention, Niall clearly got tired of making up tales, then having to knock out the questioner anyway. He cut right to the chase - as Monty would have said - and took the third sentry down before that man could even open his mouth. Niall had harvested a sword from the first sentry and a dagger from the second, now entrusted Viviane with the dagger of the third.

“Hide it,” he instructed tersely, gripped her hand and moved on.

The corridors of the keep were filled with shadows, only lit periodically with flickering torches. The keep was silent, that silence only periodically interrupted with the distant sound of footfalls or snores. The corridors twisted and turned, branching over and over again, and Viviane was glad that Niall knew the way.

And that he certainly did. He moved quickly through the labyrinth, deftly dodging from shadow to shadow, his boots making no sound on the stone floors. Viviane tried to follow suit, though she was sure anyone would be able to hear the frightened pounding of her heart.

But after that third guard, they encountered no others.

In fact, the keep was almost too quiet.

They reached the hall and traversed its brooding breadth, the act of stepping out of the shadows making Viviane understand how wild things felt when they left the underbrush. She was certain that a thousand eyes followed their course from the half-hidden doorways circling the room and knew she saw the gleam of eyes more than once.

But Niall cut a brisk pace to the stairs, then shoved her up them. The sentry at the first floor made a soft cry when he fell, Niall and Viviane freezing for a breathless moment until ’twas clear none would come to his aid.

A pair of servants slept along the corridor here, the very sight troubling Viviane. Niall strode on, his step silent, and just as they passed the second sleeping servant, Viviane tripped. She caught herself and snatched at Niall’s back to keep from falling, her inadvertent move prompting him to glance back.

His eyes flashed emerald fire and his arm flew out. Viviane jumped at the close proximity of the clang of steel on steel.

That last servant had leapt to his feet and had meant to strike them down. Viviane gasped and got out of the way, her eyes widening in horror as the men battled.

The fight was swift, that servant equipped with only a small blade. Niall dispatched him with a trio of blows, each harder than the last, and the man slumped to the floor. Viviane eyed his fallen body in shock as she understood fully the danger of their course, but Niall seized her arm, his expression grim.

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the next staircase and urged her onward once more. This time, he kept his blade unsheathed and Viviane knew he expected a challenge.

She remembered that these stairs led to the archbishop’s chamber. Niall must be assuming that the moonstone was still where he had thrown it, though how he imagined they would snatch it from under the archbishop’s nose, Viviane couldn’t guess.

Maybe that man slept heavily.

Maybe he slept elsewhere.

Niall must know something she didn’t know.

The stairs were more narrow here, the shadows deeper. In fact, it seemed as though a cold draught flowed down the stairs like a silvery fog. Viviane could almost see it, despite the darkness, and thought it was seeping from under the door at the summit. It glowed faintly, the light increasing as they progressed up the stairs, and reminded her unexpectedly of her moonstone.

But fog didn’t spread
within
a keep.

She and Niall exchanged a puzzled glance, their steps slowing of one accord. Niall shrugged and they continued on, their gazes flicking from one side to the other. Nothing but bare stone greeted their eyes, not a sound echoed ahead or behind. A single torch was mounted above the landing at the top of the stairs, its light dancing over the stone.

Viviane’s palms were damp, her breathing was short, her heart was pounding. They halted on the tiny landing before the door and Viviane had a very bad feeling about what was behind it.

Not just because this was the chamber where she had most recently been condemned to die.

The fog around their feet now obscured their legs below the knee. It was luminescent and so cold that Viviane shivered involuntarily.

Niall pushed the tip of his sword gently against the door.

It was unlocked.

The door opened inward without a sound, yawning wide open just from that single slight touch. The cloud of silvery fog rolled forth to engulf their legs completely, but that wasn’t why Viviane gasped in astonishment.

The archbishop stood there, his gaze fixed upon them. “Do come in,” he invited amiably, a thread of steel in his tone.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Around the perimeter of the room stood all the guards they had not encountered on the way here. Their faces were frozen, their stares distant, their bodies did not move. They stood as men enchanted and unaware of all that passed before them.

Viviane shivered anew. She might have hung back, but Niall squared his shoulders and stepped forward, and her hand was still clasped within his.

The door closed with a bang behind them, apparently of its own accord. Viviane jumped and glanced back, but Niall didn’t look away from the archbishop.

“I have been expecting you.” The archbishop stepped back with a sweep of his black robes to reveal a large mirror. But the image reflected was not that of the room - it was the dungeon far below, where Majella and Monty cradled that woman’s new child.

The scene moved. Viviane started when Monty tickled the baby’s chin and Majella laughed at his antics.

“Witchery!” Niall muttered and the archbishop smiled.

“I prefer sorcery as a term, myself, but indeed ’tis much the same thing.” He picked up Viviane’s moonstone pendant and wiggled it, much as a fisherman wiggles a baited hook before his prey. “You will have come for this, I assume.”

“It is mine,” Viviane asserted.

“Nay, ’twas never yours in truth,” the archbishop argued smoothly. “’Twas granted to you for a time, ’tis true, but such a token only ever
belongs
to its maker.”

Niall’s hand tightened around Viviane’s own. “And you know who that maker was.” There was no question in his voice.

The archbishop’s smile was as cold as the mist obscuring the floor of his chamber. It rolled from a bowl before the mirror, Viviane noted, a bowl of such peculiar hue that she could not look at it for very long.

“No less than the finest sorceror in all the land,” the archbishop declared. He turned the stone so that it caught the light and straightened with pride. “I wrought it, of mist and moonlight and adder’s breath.” He arched a brow before Viviane could ask how it had come to her. “I wrought it in honor of the birth of mine own spawn.”

Viviane was shocked that he could lie about such a thing, just to lay claim to her pendant. “But that’s impossible! My father gave this to my moth...”

Oh! Viviane gasped and took a step backward, her horror complete when the archbishop’s smile never wavered.

“Indeed,” he said with the satisfaction of a well-fed cat. “I see my intellect has passed to you.” He inclined his head slightly. “How very flattering.”

Viviane’s bile rose.
This
man was her father? It couldn’t be!

But suddenly she recalled the moment when her mother had told her the tale of the stone. It had been here, in Cantlecroft, after a procession of the archbishop passed by. That man had been waving at the crowd without truly looking at any of them. Viviane’s mother had turned pale, then later instructed Viviane to take the pendant to the archbishop if ever her fortune wavered.