Shana Abe (36 page)

In the bailey she found her maid, Meg, and asked her if she knew where Marla might be. Meg scrunched her eyebrows together and thought about it heavily, then replied that most likely the lady was in the meadow next to the creek with the bog.

Kyla looked at her blankly.

“I’ll take you there,” offered the girl shyly.

Kyla glanced around the bailey, at the bustle of people newly intent on their work, at the shielded looks being thrown to her.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied.

Meg led Kyla to the gate of the keep, casting her eyes down to the ground. Kyla followed her with her own eyes fixed ahead of them, scanning the horizon for what, she couldn’t say. She remembered she had neglected to instruct anyone to locate Thomas and Berthold, but then gave a mental shrug. She would ask Meg to do it after they had found Marla.

They followed a stone path that faded off into the green darkness of the woods, away from the meadow where they had been this afternoon. Meg looked up finally, threw Kyla a tremulous smile.

“My lady! My lady!”

Both women turned around at the voice, coming from behind them. A man was running toward them, waving.

“My lady!” he called again as he approached. He slowed when he saw them waiting for him, then bowed low when he was close enough.

He was tall and balding, familiar enough to tease the corners of her memory but Kyla couldn’t quite place him. He was not, however, the brown-haired man, and so she faced him with polite inquiry.

“Yes?”

“My lady,” said the man, breathing hard. “I have a message for you from my lord.”

“A message?” Her heart began to pound.

“He bids you to join him at the shore, and sent me to fetch you.”

“Only you?” she asked, looking around him.

“Your men await us there,” said the man. “I am Titus, my lady, a lieutenant in Duncan’s guard.”

Again came that teasing familiarity. She had seen this man before, but she could not capture an actual memory of him. He seemed harmless enough, with warm, dark eyes and a reserved smile. If he was Duncan’s man, she might have noticed
him at the meals, or in the bailey. Perhaps even at the ceremony today.

Beside her the young maid was clasping her hands together, staring up at her mistress.

Titus was waiting. Kyla was moving before she was aware that she had made up her mind, back down the path.

“This way, my lady,” said the man, taking them in a new direction, down a different set of stones, opposite of the way she had expected to go.

“Isn’t the pier the other way?” Kyla asked.

“We have two piers, my lady,” replied Titus. “We are going to the smaller one.”

Kyla looked at Meg, who frowned but nodded.

They walked briskly over a field of green grass and tiny golden flowers, the low thunder of the ocean growing stronger and stronger, the wind picking up and pressing her skirts back.

Kyla could see no pier, but now she did see a cliff ahead, and then she could make out a narrow strip of wood stretching over the water. A single boat bobbed on the waves. A man sat in the boat, waving at them. Titus waved back. There were no other people that Kyla could see.

Beside her Meg’s footsteps grew slower.

“This way,” said Titus, sounding impatient.

“Where is my husband?” Kyla demanded.

“On the shore, as I said, my lady.”

“He is not there.” Kyla came to a halt, pulling Meg back to stay with her.

“Oh, not this shore, my lady. I beg your pardon. I meant to say your husband is on the mainland shore, awaiting us.”

“On the mainland shore?” Meg’s words were tinged with disbelief. “This is not the pier to go to the mainland. If you try to row there from this pier, the currents …”

Meg’s voice trailed off as both women saw the anger slash across Titus’s face, a broken instant before his blandness resumed.

Kyla looked at Meg and took her hand, as if to lead her forward.

“Run,” she ordered, picking up her skirts and taking off the way they had come, dragging the startled girl behind her.

For a moment it seemed to work. Her feet ate up the distance, she could see her maid from the corner of her eye, almost keeping up with her as they kept their hands tight together. The wind was an aid now, pushing them forward, also pushing forward the sound of their pursuer, his grunts and heavy steps.

Then she felt a hard tug that pulled her off-balance, their hands ripped apart. She saw Meg go tumbling down, a tangle of skirts and a shrill scream.

“Lady Kyla!” yelled the man, loud and forceful. “Come back or she dies!”

Kyla regained her balance, still moving. A look over her shoulder showed Titus on top of the girl in the field, holding her head up by her hair, a knife to her throat. Kyla slowed and stopped. She turned around and began to walk back to them through the grass and flowers.

Meg’s breath was coming in gasping whimpers; Kyla understood the feeling, wanted to cry for her—for them both.

“A wise decision.” Titus smiled, warm again, and Kyla saw him in her mind somewhere else, not dressed in the plain garb of a soldier. He had on a hat, some fancy thing, velvet and plumes. She scowled at the memory and then it was gone, and she saw only the knife pressed to the white skin of Meg’s neck.

“Let her go,” she said into the wind.

“Come closer,” he replied.

She did so, close enough so that both of them knew she would not be able to run again.

“Now release her. You don’t need her, only me,” Kyla said.

Titus moved the knife swiftly, prompting a sob from Meg as Kyla raised her hands in protest, but he turned the hilt around and slammed it into the temple of the girl, letting her slump to the dirt.

“You’re right.” He seized Kyla’s arm, twisted it up behind her back exactly as the black-haired man had done. “I don’t need her.”

He took her over to the cliff, down the carved steps that curved to the pier, to the other man, waiting in the boat. Kyla wanted to shield her eyes from the brightness of the sunlight on the water but couldn’t. And anyway, she knew who was in the boat.

The brown-haired man stood up and took her by the waist as Titus lowered her down. She didn’t dare fight them, not yet, since he had not released her arm but rather twisted it back farther, creating a screaming pain in her shoulder that she would not allow to show on her face.

She was shoved to the bottom of the boat, pressed down by Titus’s foot.

“Row,” he said to the other man, and she felt the boat begin to move across the waves.

For a long time all Kyla heard was the labored breathing of both men, Titus presumably from the chase, and the other man from his efforts at the oars. The ocean water slapped and splashed up the sides of the boat, sprinkling her with drops. A slant of sunlight blinded the eye she had facing up, leaving her to stare at the bottom of the craft, at the cold water sloshing back and forth inches from her face.

Her right arm was pinned beneath her, and next to it she could feel the hard metal of her dagger, pressed up against her hip. Titus must not have seen it, lost in the folds of her skirts. She began to slowly move her hand toward it.

“Quite a chase you have led me on, my lady,” said Titus in a mellow voice.

Her hand stilled.

“Across England and up to Scotland and back again. If only you hadn’t gotten yourself captured by Strathmore, we might have come to know each other so much sooner.” Titus shifted above her, then pulled her upright, still sitting on the bottom of the boat. She closed her eyes against the sudden sunlight, turned her head away but Titus took her chin and pulled it back to face him. She opened her eyes.

“If only …” he sighed, and his touch on her chin became something different, a mockery of a caress.

She yanked her head back, freeing her chin. “You are a fool if you think these islands won’t be crawling with soldiers searching for me.”

Titus beamed down at her. “How lucky for me I am no fool, then. Of course I know that. But since I took the liberty of intercepting your husband’s message to your guard, it’s going to take them much longer to realize you’re missing than we need to escape. And we may also thank Strathmore for his little surprise wedding this afternoon, as well. The suddenness of it has sadly thrown off the castle staff, I fear. They probably won’t notice you’re gone for quite a while.”

The boat took an especially hard hit into the dip of a wave, knocking Kyla into the planking behind her, making Titus look at her with pretended concern.

“I do hope you forgive my methods of seeking an audience with you, Countess,” he said. “I simply had to get you alone, away from your bothersome husband. My rendezvous point is not far at all. In fact, you almost discovered it at the cove. That day you came across my friend here”—he indicated the rowing man, who refused to meet her gaze—“signaling to our accomplice on the other isle. I really think we must blame Strathmore for separating my men, assigning one to the wrong island. But still, I am sure Victor is very sorry he hit you so hard, aren’t you, Victor?”

The brown-haired man ignored them both. He seemed to be struggling somewhat with the oars.

“I chastised him, of course. He wasn’t meant to drown you, merely to hit you hard enough to daze you, so that you could be searched, perhaps questioned. But then the watch came, such a mess.… And Ivan was so distraught over the whole thing. Ivan was your creature all along, I think.”

“The black-haired man,” she said.

Titus rolled his eyes. “A softhearted weakling, sorry to say. He didn’t want to hurt you, he said. Couldn’t stand the thought of even harming a hair on your head. And I’m not after your head at all, as it turns out.”

“You killed him.” The wind whipped the ends of her loosened braid up and around, tossed it into Titus’s lap; he caught a strand and examined it thoughtfully.

“I had to. He was ready to go to Strathmore and beg for his mercy. I think—” Titus laughed, malevolent. “I think he fell in love with you, dear girl.”

Another memory jarred Kyla. Lady Elisabeth, who had called her the same thing not so long ago. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“I know who you are,” she said coldly.

“Do you?” He smirked at her. “Good for you. I wondered when you would recognize me.”

“Baron Caxton.” She spat the name, though it had no other meaning to her. Jared Caxton. She had seen him at court more than once, it seemed like years ago. He had not moved in her parent’s circles, and yet his name was connected with Lady Elisabeth.… Hushed rumors she had overheard, titters of conversation deemed inappropriate for young ears.…

She remembered now. Lady Elisabeth had been the mistress of Baron Caxton.

He laughed. “At your service, my lady. Well, not really. I rather think you are at mine.”

“What do you want?” She couldn’t help the question, but was proud that her voice came out steady.

“My lord,” Victor interrupted. He was now quite clearly fighting the current. Kyla noticed how the little boat was moving sideways, despite the man’s dragging on the water.

“God’s blood, you imbecile, can’t you do anything right?”

“I’m trying!”

The boat was moving swifter; a lazy spin had taken the bow. Kyla squinted and turned her head, looked past the two men who were arguing with each other and the tide. Somehow she was not surprised to see the jutting black and gold of the rocks to her left, and now her right. They were spinning closer and closer to the land. Hadn’t Meg tried to warn them …

“Shove over!” Caxton thrust the other man to the side, took over both oars. “Watch her!”

The brown-haired man clambered past Kyla to sit behind her. She ignored him, intent on the approaching shore.

“You can’t do it, you know,” she said.

“Shut up,” hissed Caxton, panting. The water was much rougher now, cresting past the rim of the boat.

“We are going to crash.” Kyla sat up taller, put both hands beside her on the edges of the craft. “Look at all those ships out there. All of them were destroyed. Yours will be no different.”

A strangled cry came from Victor. “Look!” He pointed to the rocks. “Look at them!”

Caxton turned his head, red-faced, sweat running down in rivulets, mingling with the spray. His eyes bulged.

Kyla looked and saw only rocks, tremendous black-and-gold rocks, becoming larger as they rushed toward them.

“They’re so beautiful!” said the man with brown hair. “They want us! Can’t you tell? They want us! They want
me!
” He came to his feet shakily, making the boat tilt dangerously in its spin.

Caxton had stopped rowing, was staring at what the other man pointed at with appalled fascination, mouth open.

Kyla held fast to the side of the wooden boat as it heeled up toward the sky, and just before it overturned completely she heard the same voices she had before here at Siren’s Cove: feminine laughter, sharp and clear.

She stood up and dived off the side of the boat.

As she hit the water she heard a crash, a terrible splintering sound that might have been the boat smashing into the rocks. She heard a man scream.

And then she was submerged in the turbulent ocean, torn from the boat and the men, struggling to reach the surface against the weight of her skirts. Kyla felt the soul of the water beating against her, a ripping current that grabbed her and carried her off, she didn’t know where. The water was black ice, impenetrable, and she was as helpless as the little boat had been.

She couldn’t find the surface, it was useless, she was going to die here in the water, just her and the men and the mermaids. She was going to die at Siren’s Cove on what had started out to be the happiest day of her life.

But then her head broke free of the frigid depths and she came up gasping, swallowing more water than air, thrashing her arms and legs in an attempt to stay afloat. Great, dark, hulking things flashed by her, her skirts caught and tore against the rocks, and she rushed past it all, still a part of the current with no free will. She could only struggle to keep her head up as she was moved into the heart of the deadly cove.

Kyla had no feeling left in her limbs; she had no idea if she was swimming or just being carried on the tide, but the sound of the surf was filling her ears, the reverberation pounding her body, a rhythm she could not escape, louder and louder until she knew she was going to be crushed by it at any second. The cold blackness sucked at her feet—it was a race to see if she would drown beneath the waves before she could be pulverized by them.