Queen of Lost Stars (Dragonblade Series/House of St. Hever) (32 page)

In truth, he never thought anyone would notice what he’d done and even if they did, he didn’t think they would talk. It would be his word against rumors.

Rumors….

“Are you so foolish that you don’t realize they are telling you that to keep you in St. Hèver’s spell?” he hissed. “These are St. Hèver’s men, for God’s sake. They will tell you anything to keep you from knowing the truth!”

That was it as far as Madelayne was concerned. She lowered the stick, cracking Nicholas on the leg and belly as he grunted and rolled to his side, away from her. She was still hitting him as he rolled to his knees before tossing the stick away and yanking forth the dirk she had tucked in her skirt. Leaping onto Nicholas’ back, she grabbed him by the hair and lifted the dirk.

“You allowed Cairn to be killed,” she yanked on his hair, listening to him groan. “You allowed Ewan to be killed! And Mavia… you tortured her so that she killed herself! You did all of this, you wicked bastard, and their deaths must be avenged. You were supposed to uphold the codes of chivalry yet you upheld nothing – you abused trust. You allowed people to die and then lied about it. I will not let you do it again, do you hear? Not again!”

He had no idea she had the dirk so when she brought it down, it was a stabbing pain near his shoulder blade. No longer willing to stand by and allow the lady to abuse him, which evidently meant she intended to kill him, Nicholas threw her off his back and lurched to his feet, knowing he’d been stabbed but not knowing how badly he was hurt. He could feel the warm, sticky blood trickling down his back as he whirled on Madelayne.

“What have you done to me?” he hissed. “You’re mad!”

Madelayne had fallen awkwardly on her wrist and now she couldn’t move it without a good deal of pain. But she managed to get to her feet, putting the dirk in her other hand, and moving away from Nicholas. Her biggest fear came to light when she realized that she hadn’t disabled him on her first strike or even her second. They were starting to gather a crowd in the bailey and she wondered if anyone would help her. She wasn’t sure she could kill Nicholas now that he was on his feet but her determination to punish him had not lessened. It was something she had to do.

“You allowed Cairn to die,” she said, pointing the dirk at him. “Why would you do such a thing? You were supposed to be his ally yet you did not help him when he needed it. Why did you not help him?”

Nicholas, too, could see that they were gathering a crowd. Of course, people would sympathize with the lady who had lost her husband in battle and he began to feel just the slightest bit nervous. It was clear that she had been told what had happened but there was no way he was going to show weakness in the face of her accusations.

“You are quite mad,” he said, his jaw ticking. Gone was the pleasant attitude he so often put forward. Now, there was a battle going on and he meant to win it. “You are mad with grief and guilt, that is obvious. You should feel guilty, too, for allowing St. Hèver into your bed so soon after your husband’s death. But I told you… you know what I told you. He has you under his spell and if you do not break free, he will kill you, too!”

Madelayne’s composure was slipping, her fear starting to gain the upper hand. “It is not true,” she said. “Why do you lie so? Why would you harm people you are supposed to be allied with?”

Nicholas simply looked at her, a calculated stare. It was obvious that his contention that St. Hèver had allowed Cairn to be killed wasn’t registering with her. She was past the point of him being able to convince her. Therefore, he had to silence her. The more she talked, the more people would believe her and turn against him. He could fight the soldiers’ rumors but he could not fight against the widow of a man he had allowed to be killed. She would tell St. Hèver what she knew and then, Nicholas knew, everything would turn against him. All that he had worked for, the careful plans he had laid, would be wasted. All because soldiers couldn’t keep their mouths shut. Infuriated, his jaw began to tick dangerously as he rushed Madelayne.

She saw him coming and held up the dirk in front of her, as if that would be enough to ward him off, but he slapped at it, knocking it out of her hand and sending it flying. Terrified, Madelayne dodged him as he swiped at her and she ran for the big stick she had tossed away. She could see it several feet away and she dashed in that direction, reaching down to pick it up but Nicholas was right behind her. He grabbed her from behind and she screamed.

Nicholas had her tightly, pinning her arms, but she was still holding the stick. He kept trying to kick it out of her hands although from the angle he was holding her, it was awkward if not impossible. Madelayne held on to it with a death grip, unwilling to release it, all the while trying to twist from his arms.

“Let me go!” she demanded. “
Let me go
!”

Nicholas had his face next to the left side of her head. “I will not let you go,” he hissed in her ear. “You tried to kill me. Are you so foolish as to think I would not retaliate? Drop the stick or this will go very badly for you.”

She tried to head-butt him. “I will not drop it!” she screeched. “Let me go or you will be sorry!”

He laughed rudely in her ear. “Lady, I have had enough of your idiocy,” he said. “You and I are going someplace private where I will talk and you will listen.”

He started to walk, carrying her along awkwardly, but she would not make easy prey. She kicked at his knees, squealing and twisting, noticing that the soldiers on the wall were starting to come down from the parapet into the bailey. They were Lavister men; she recognized them. They were pointing at her and discussing the situation between them, obviously very concerned for the lady, and Madelayne held out some hope that they might try to help her. At this point, she would willingly take it. Perhaps they would even hold Nicholas down while she beat him to death with the stick. A pair of the men broke off and headed in her direction, obviously intending to help, but Nicholas saw them.

Quickly, he dropped her to her feet and put an arm across her throat, holding her threateningly. “Come no closer,” he commanded the Lavister men. “I will kill her if you do.”

Nicholas’ release on her arms gave Madelayne the freedom to start swinging the stick again and she did, aiming for his head. He was able to grab the stick with his free hand and yank it away from her, tossing it well away.

Panicked, Madelayne grabbed at his arm, trying to scratch him, fighting him every step of the way as he tried to drag her off. She was terrified of what would happen if he got her alone so she threw her body weight down, trying to dislodge his grip on her, but he ended up releasing his arm around her neck and grabbed her arms instead.

He pulled, she dragged, and the Lavister soldiers followed at a distance, fearful of intervening because they were afraid de Dalyn would follow through on his threat and try to kill Lady St. Hèver if they did. No one wanted to explain that to Sir Kaspian.

Meanwhile, Madelayne was in the fight for her life. It had been reduced to this, a brutal struggle she knew she couldn’t win. It was strength against strength and she knew she couldn’t match him. Nicholas was dragging her towards the stables where there were nooks and crevices to be hidden from view, places where he could do terrible things to her if he wanted to. But Madelayne just couldn’t believe the soldiers of Lavister would let it come to that. This was her fight but, in a sense, it was everyone’s fight. What Nicholas had done affected them all. Throwing herself to the ground to try and stop his momentum, she finally turned towards the soldiers who were following at a distance.

“Help me!” she cried.

That prompted the men into action. The lady’s request could not be denied. Nicholas, seeing the soldiers advancing, and several with weapons, tried to grab Madelayne around the neck again but she wouldn’t let him. She put her hand on his face, pushing him away, digging her dirty fingers into his eyes. When she did that, he abruptly lost his grip because she had nearly blinded him. He growled angrily as she yanked herself free from his grip.

As she backed away, and a few Lavister soldiers put themselves between her and her attacker, Nicholas suddenly lurched forward with a yelp of pain and ended up on his knees. Standing behind him with a sword in his hand, to everyone’s shock, was a sight none of the Lavister people ever thought to see. Out of the bottle and into the light, an avenging angel had appeared.

“Thomas!” Madelayne cried.

Thomas looked like hell. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and even from where he stood, the alcohol could be smelled. He stood there unsteadily, his gaze on Nicholas as he spoke to Madelayne.

“Someone said you might need help,” he said, his voice hoarse and harsh. “What did he do to you, Madelayne? Why is he dragging you across the bailey?”

Madelayne had never felt so much relief in her life. She opened her mouth to reply when there was a shout from the gatehouse and everyone turned to see men bearing tunics of Edward charging in on familiar mounts.

Dust kicked up, dogs barked, and men stepped aside so they would not be trampled. The incoming party was very familiar and Madelayne recognized the man in the lead in particular. Her heart leapt into her throat and tears filled her eyes at the realization that her husband had unexpectedly arrived. Kaspian had returned, just in the nick of time.

“
Kaspian
!” she cried.

Kaspian was already off his horse, sword in hand as he charged the group surrounding Nicholas, who was still on his knees. Kaspian was torn between his wife, who was muddy and obviously agitated, and the knight on his knees. It was a perplexing situation, made worse by Thomas standing there with a sword in his hand, the tip bloodied. Kaspian had no idea what he was looking at so his attention moved to his nearly-hysterical wife.

“What goes on here?” he demanded.

Madelayne was already in tears but she had to tell Kaspian what she knew. Tears wouldn’t stop her. His appearance was nothing short of a miracle and for a woman who had never had much use for God, she was coming to think that God, in fact, might have had some use for her. In His mercy, He had sent Kaspian just when she needed him most.

Reaching out a hand, Madelayne staggered over to him and he captured her hand, pulling her against him, as she fell into him. He could feel her tremble.

“Madelayne,” he pleaded softly, with urgency in his tone. “What has happened, dearest?”

Madelayne pointed to Nicholas, who was struggling to stand. “I discovered that Nicholas allowed Cairn to be killed,” she said, her voice quivering “I was told that he stood by and watched as Cairn was killed and then rushed in to collect the body, telling everyone he was too late to help. It simply wasn’t true. Many soldiers saw this happen, trustworthy men. I was further told that he put Ewan into an impossible situation, which allowed the knight to be killed. Of course, we all know what happened to Mavia. Kaspian, he is as guilty for their deaths as if he killed them himself. And then he tried to tell me that you were the one responsible for Cairn’s death. He said you did it because you wanted to marry me!”

By the time she was finished, Kaspian was looking at Nicholas with nothing short of hatred. Shock, to be sure, but in truth, it wasn’t so much shock as it was realization… realization that Nicholas’ character was as dark as his soul. Kaspian knew of the man’s ambitious reputation, but a murderous reputation… he felt foolish for not having realized it all along. Nothing in his life had ever made so much sense.

“Is this true, de Dalyn?” he asked, his voice rumbling like thunder. “Did you tell her I was responsible for Cairn’s death?”

Nicholas was on his feet, dealing with two puncture wounds to his back now and feeling a good deal of pain. He was cornered, caught, but he would not go down without a fight. His arrogance wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t about to let all of his ambitions, his planning, go to waste.

He had to fight!

“It is true,” he insisted. “I was at Beeston, St. Hèver;
you
were the one that sent Cairn into a situation where he was overwhelmed by the Welsh. I did not imagine that.”

Kaspian lifted an eyebrow. “We were all overwhelmed by the Welsh,” he said. “It was your task to assist Cairn while the man was still alive. Did you do that?”

“I did what I could!”

“You did not.”

The statement came not from Kaspian but from one of the Lavister soldiers who had come to Madelayne’s aid; the man was older, seasoned, and had fought with Edward for years. He had been stationed at Lavister for as long as Kaspian had commanded the outpost; therefore, Kaspian knew the man. He was loyal and brave. Kaspian pointed to the soldier.

“Tell me what you know,” he commanded quietly. “What did you see?”

The soldier didn’t hesitate. “I was fighting with Sir Cairn that day,” he said. “I saw Sir Nicholas ride to the edges of the skirmish and watch as Sir Cairn was killed. He never made a move to enter the fight or even help. He just stood there, waiting. When Sir Cairn was killed, Sir Nicholas rode in and brought the body out. That is what I saw with my own eyes.”

A distinct sense of shock settled around those who were listening and accusing eyes turned to Nicholas, who was red in the face with rage.

“That is a lie!” he said. “I did what I could for him! It is Kaspian’s fault for sending him to fend off too many Welsh!”

The soldier simply shook his head at Nicholas’ denial, looking to Kaspian. “Forgive us for not saying anything sooner, my lord,” he said. “We were afraid… we knew… that Sir Nicholas’ word would be believed over ours and Sir Nicholas has it within his power to make our lives miserable. I have a son I am responsible for. I had to think of him. But I cannot be silent any longer; with God as my witness, that is what I saw. Sir Nicholas left Sir Cairn to die.”

Nicholas simply snarled and hung his head, cursing under his breath. But he was no longer loudly denying the accusation, perhaps sensing there was no use in doing so. “Lies, lies, lies,” he muttered. “Men who would
lie
!”