Cold Magics (33 page)

A pair of young lords stepped in front of Thomas, blades out. He disarmed the first with a flick of the wrist, parried an attack from the second, then stepped forward and drove his boot into the man’s groin.

Then George was there, knocking them aside with a single stroke of his stick and charging on Eileen’s attackers. He swung at them with a brutal force that took away any chance for finesse. The first blow landed on Cormac’s wrist with a loud crack, making him scream and drop his sword. The second blow knocked the sword from Anthony’s hand, and the fist that followed it landed dead in the middle of the lord’s face, sending him flying backwards.

Thomas stepped into the opening toward Eileen. She had gone white. Her hands were shaking and her blade was dripping with blood. Charles lay stretched out on the ground at her feet, his shirt soaked with red.

“Bastards!” The shout made Thomas turn, and he saw close to a dozen young lords reaching for weapons. He stepped up beside George, his own blades out and waiting.

“Enough!” shouted Baron Goshawk, coming beside them with his own blade in his hand. “That’s enough!”

“It is not!” shouted James, who was picking himself off the ground. “That lummox flattened Anthony!”

“He broke my arm!” cried Lord Cormac from the ground.

“Charles is dead!”

The young men surged forward. Thomas and Goshawk raised their blades, and Eileen stepped up beside them, her own swords raised, her face deathly white.

“Stop!” Henry shouted, his voice carrying through the room. A crash of metal on metal followed, then another and another. Henry and the three knights, each with a battle sword in one hand and a shield in the other, stepped between the two groups, smashing the pommels of their swords against the shields. They formed a line, facing the lords.

Henry raised his blade and the knights ceased the noise. “The next one who raises a hand or weapon is banished from the court!” shouted Henry. “Or dead, if they raise it against me!” He spun to George. “And I mean anyone!”

George looked defiant, but didn’t move. Thomas held his ground. Henry turned his glare on the crowd of young men. Several glared back, but none of them moved forward. Henry waited. At last one of the young lords sheathed his blades. Others did the same. Goshawk sheathed his own blades a moment later. Thomas kept his out, staring at the crowd.

“Thomas,” said Henry, the warning clear in his voice.

Thomas stared at the lords a moment longer, then sheathed his blades and turned to Eileen. Eileen looked around the room at the lords, at George and Baron Goshawk, then down at Charles’s body.

“Eileen,” Henry’s voice was quieter, but the warning was still there. “Put the blades away.”

Eileen stared at Charles a moment longer, then turned and ran from the room, her blades pointing in front of her. The lords scattered out of the way. Lord John, still at the door, stepped aside and let her run out.

“Is Charles still breathing?” asked Henry.

Goshawk knelt down and checked. “Aye.”

“Then get him some help.” He pointed at two of the lords. “You two, go now.”

Two lords ran from the room. Thomas looked over the crowd and sought out Ethan, looking at the other’s broken nose. “Eileen did that last night, didn’t she?”

Ethan glared at him but didn’t say anything.

“I’m going after Eileen,” said Thomas. “I’m going to find out what’s been going on. And then I’m going to decide whether or not to kill you.”

Without waiting for a response, Thomas ran for the door. He could hear mutters as he went and felt the lords’ eyes on him. Thomas raced through the corridors that led to the family wing and Eileen’s room. He nearly got turned around once, but managed to find his way there and started banging on her door. There was no answer. He knocked harder, knuckles hurting from the force of the blows.

“She’s not there,” said Amelia, behind him.

Thomas banged on the door again.

“She isn’t there,” said Amelia, coming closer. “She came by just a few moments ago, looking very upset.” She shook her head. “I had heard there was some sort of commotion in the old great hall. I was on my way there when I saw Eileen running toward me, dressed as a boy and with a sword in her hand, too. I tried to ask her what was going on but she didn’t even stop. And I know I’m not supposed to be in here but I thought she might hurt herself with that sword, so I kept following. Then I saw the blood on the blade and got scared, so I stopped.” She looked bewildered, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. “Does she really know how to use that sword?”

“Yes,” said Thomas, thinking of Charles’s shallow breathing and the blood that pooled around him. “Which way did she go?”

“Through the hall, there,” said Amelia, pointing. “I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t,” said Thomas, moving in the direction of her pointing finger.

“Are you sure?” Amelia called after him. “I mean, sometimes speaking to another woman can do a world of good.”

Not if it’s you. Thomas kept moving.

The hallway led past four doors and a flight of stairs before turning into the passage that led to the great hall. Thomas looked down both sides, trying to guess. He spotted the door to the library and went there first. It was empty. He tried the other doors and found only empty rooms.

Guessing Eileen would not have gone to the great hall, he took the stairs two steps at a time, following them all the way up. The door at the top was open, and the freezing air chilled Thomas even before he stepped out onto the battlements of the inner castle. The wind immediately caught his sweat-dampened shirt and plastered it against his body. The cold was terrible; the sweat on his body turned to ice in the frigid air. He saw no one, but a look down showed fresh footprints in the snow. He followed them, walking half the length of the roof before he spotted her.

Eileen was curled tight into a ball against one of the chimneys, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face buried against them. Her sword and dagger were still in her hands. Thomas stopped a few paces away, watching as her body shook. He waited a bit, then called, “Hey, there.”

Eileen didn’t move. He called again. “Eileen.”

“Go away.”

“I can’t,” said Thomas. “Not while you’re out here.”

“I want to be alone.”

“It’s too cold. You’ll freeze.”

“I don’t care!”

“I know.” Thomas took a step closer. “But I do. I’ll leave you alone if you’ll come inside.”

“They hate me in there.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“They do!” Eileen shouted, her head coming up. Frozen and half-frozen tears streaked her face. “They hate me! They snigger at me when I go by! They come after me in the hallways and taunt me and try to touch me and that bastard, Charles—” she cut herself off and bit her lip.

“What did he do?”

Eileen swiped angrily at her face, leaving cracked lines of ice and smeared near-frozen tears across her cheeks, and looked away.

“Eileen,” Thomas asked as gently as he could, “what did he do?”

“What does it matter?” she shouted. “He’s dead!” She drove her head backwards against the chimney, hard. She winced, then did it again. “I killed him!”

“He’s not dead!”

Eileen slammed her head back a third time.

“Stop it!” Thomas went to her, catching at her shoulder. She pushed him away hard and rose to her feet, her sword coming up. “Get away from me!”

Thomas skated back four quick steps, out of the range of the blade. “Eileen!”

“Don’t touch me!” There was anger and panic and hatred in her voice. “I don’t want to be touched!” She shoved herself back against the chimney. “I’m sick of people touching me! I’m sick of fighting people and I’m sick of this place!” She slammed her head back again.

“Stop it!” Thomas shouted. “Stop it! I’ll kill him if you want! I’ll kill them all, just stop it!”

“No!” Eileen screamed. “I don’t want any more killing! Gods!” She slammed her head back once more and left it there. Tears flowed down her face. When she spoke again, she sounded as if something had broken inside of her. “I never wanted to kill anyone, Thomas.”

Thomas stayed where he was, waiting helplessly. The wind grew stronger, pulling the last warmth from Thomas’s body and plucking at Eileen’s shirt. Thomas could feel his feet starting to freeze in the snow.

“They’d stop me in the hallways,” she said at last, grief and shame in her voice. “Asking me questions about you and about what we were doing here and who my betrothed was and when they found out I wasn’t betrothed they started following me. Coming after me whenever you and George weren’t there. And I pushed them away and I threatened them and they laughed and said there wasn’t anything I could do. Then last night, Charles and Ethan forced me into a back room and wouldn’t let me leave and when Ethan suggested I could give them my favours for my passage I broke his nose and kicked him. And I cut Charles.”

“Cut him?” repeated Thomas in surprise.

“His arm.” Eileen pushed up her sleeve, showed the small knife sheathed and strapped to her forearm. “I’ve been carrying it since I ran away from home. George made it for my birthday when I was ten and I thought if something was to happen it would be good to have a secret, so…” she sniffed back tears. “I thought I’d be safe here but they started coming after me and I was scared to be alone without it and when Charles reached for me I cut him open and ran from the room…” She gulped air, hard and fast, forcing the breaths in so she could speak. “When Ethan and Charles had me in that room all I could think of was Ailbe’s porch and that bastard with his knife at my throat and his hand in my dress and…” She sank to the ground crying, her head still against the chimney, her face turned up and her eyes seeking the grey sky above. “Oh, Thomas, I killed him.”

“He’s not dead,” said Thomas. “Not yet.” He looked at the sword and dagger still in her hands. “Eileen, can you put away the blades?”

Eileen looked at the rapier gripped tightly in her bruised hand, then let it and the dagger slip from her fingers to the walkway. Thomas picked them up both up in one hand, then gently held out the other to Eileen. “Come on.”

“I can’t.” Eileen didn’t look at him. “I can’t go back there.”

“We don’t have to go back there,” said Thomas. “We’ll go to my tower. No one will bother you there.”

Eileen stayed where she was, tears streaming down her face.

“Eileen, we’re going to freeze.” He reached out his hand a bit further. “Please?”

Eileen looked up at his hand, but didn’t take it. Instead she slowly pushed herself to her feet on her own. She took a pair of steps forward and then stumbled, clutching at the back of her head. “Oh, ow.”

Thomas caught her arm and held her up. She tried to pull away from his touch, but she stumbled against the battlements and nearly fell over. Thomas caught her arm again and began steering her toward the door. She put a hand to the back of her head. It came away speckled with red. “I’m bleeding.”

“I see,” said Thomas. “I’m just surprised it isn’t broken.”

“Proof George isn’t the only one in the family with a thick skull,” She leaned forward again, clutching at the back of her head. “By the Four, it hurts.”

Thomas held tightly to her arm. “Do you need help standing?”

“I think I do,” said Eileen, her voice small. “I’m cold, too.”

“We’ll get warm,” Thomas promised. “We’ll get inside and get you fixed up.”

“Go slowly, all right?”

Thomas spotted a page on the way through the castle and sent word to Henry. Once they were in the tower, Thomas wrapped Eileen in a blanket, put her in a chair before the fireplace and quickly got a blaze burning. Eileen pulled the blanket tightly around her and sat, shivering and silent. Thomas gently moved the hair on the back of her head. She had scraped herself, but none of the cuts were deep. He filled the washbasin and used a cloth to clean them. “They’re not bad,” he said. “Once I clean them they should stop bleeding pretty quickly.”

Eileen didn’t answer, so Thomas bent to the work, cleaning the scrapes as gently and thoroughly as he could. When he was done, he brought the other chair up even with Eileen’s and sat beside her, not saying anything. His stomach was rumbling, and he started to think about finding someone to go to the kitchen and fetch them some breakfast when George arrived, a pitcher with a stir-stick in it in one hand, and a basket with mugs, two small pots with honey and butter, a loaf of bread, and a wedge of cheese in the other.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said. “I was with Henry.” He put the pots on Thomas’s desk, then set the loaf of bread in front of the fireplace grate to warm and the pitcher inside the fireplace on the edge of the fire itself. In a short time, the smell of mulled wine filled the room.

“Where was she?” George asked Thomas.

“Battlements,” said Thomas. “Apparently the lords have been pestering her since we got here. Last night while you were talking to that girl and Cormac was trying to interrogate me, a pair of them got her alone.”

“Oh.” George went white. “Oh, no.”

“That’s how Ethan got the broken nose,” said Thomas. “And apparently she cut open one of Charles’s arms, too.” He glanced at Eileen, huddled in the blankets; pulling them tight to her body as if she could make herself disappear in them. “How is Charles doing?”

“Still alive when I left. Not looking good, though.” George swore. “I promised Henry I’d stay here until he came, but after that I’m finding Ethan and—”

“No,” Eileen said. Both men turned to her. She was still staring at the fire, not looking at them. “You can’t. They’ll hang you if you start a fight.”

Thomas realized what had been going on. “That’s why you didn’t tell us anything. You were afraid we’d start a fight and get in trouble.”

Eileen still didn’t look at them, but nodded. George looked ready to argue the point but held his tongue. Instead, he sat by the fire until the wine had heated, then borrowed Thomas’s cloak to wrap around his hand and pull the pitcher out. He poured cups for them all, forcing one into Eileen’s hand. George cut a slice of bread, buttered and honeyed it, and passed it to Eileen, who took it without argument. He cut another slice for himself and added a piece of cheese to it. “How much longer are we going to be stuck here, Thomas?”