Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

H e didn't want to go to bed.

His sister was off with her new husband, a man who had spanked him no less, and Aeron wasn't haven't a good day. Things had changed so drastically for him, in truth, that he was feeling increasingly disoriented. His father was gone, his home was destroyed, and his sister had been married, all within days, and the events were enough to bewilder him. Though Aeron was young, his life had always been planned out for him. He knew what was expected of him and had always been determined to be the best Earl of Ashford that he could be. But now…

Now he didn't know what he was going to be.

After a priest came and blessed his sister's new marriage, reading prayer after dull prayer, Andia had sent Aeron with Emile and the cook to the kitchens, where the cook proceeded to feed him rabbit stew. It had chunks of carrots in it, and celery, and he liked it a great deal, but there he was, sitting in a kitchen with people he hardly knew, in a house he didn't know, while his sister went with her husband. It was the cook who had told him to go to bed, but he hadn't. He'd stayed up, watching the courtyard below before leaving his chamber and going across the landing to the other chamber where he could see the river meander by.

It gave him time to think about his future, which had seemed so certain once.

Not anymore.

Restless, Aeron wandered outside, shuffling around in the dark, looking for Emile and hoping he was in the stable. But the stable was dark and quiet at this hour and he'd been forced to hide when a man wearing a red tunic with gold lions entered to water his horse. Aeron had remained tucked back in the shadows, watching, wondering who the man was. He couldn't leave until the man did, so he settled down to wait him out, hoping the dusty hay wouldn't cause him to sneeze.

Then Stefan appeared.

Aeron didn't know what was going on, exactly, but Stefan told the man to return to London with another message. The man headed out, as did Stefan, and Aeron was able to come out of his hiding place. Slipping out of the stable unseen, he climbed onto a wet pile of hay, onto an outbuilding's stone roof, and then onto the wall walk.

He could see everything from here.

Overhead, the sky was starting to clear a little and he found himself starting skyward, watching the stars, wondering if his father was looking down upon him. He'd always been told that when people went to heaven, they went up in the sky. Maybe his mother was up there, too, a woman he'd never even met. He felt like he knew her because his father had told him about her often, but he heard his father say once that Andia looked just like her mother. That was why his father had never paid his sister much attention.

Because she looked like Genevieve and it was just too painful.

One thing Aeron knew was that there were a lot of mysteries in this world, things he was trying to figure out. Down below, he saw Stefan near the armory and his thoughts turned to the big, brawny knight who seemed determined to be cruel to him. Stefan said he was trying to teach Aeron a lesson, but Aeron wasn't sure why he needed lessons. He already knew everything his father taught him. But secretly, Aeron was curious about Stefan because he was a real knight. He was big and strong and brave, much like Torran was, but the difference was that Stefan hadn't threatened him. Yet, anyway.

There was still time.

Stefan ducked into the armory and Aeron was left bored again, looking up at the sky, wondering if he should just run away and go back home, only there wasn't much of a home to go to. He remembered getting a good look at it as they left Kennington. The walls were smashed and there were piles of debris and bodies everywhere. That had been his first taste of battle, and he had to admit he didn't like it. Dropping pots on the heads of knights aside, it had been a frightening experience.

Perhaps he couldn't go back after all.

Then what would become of him?

Aeron was pondering that very idea when he saw Stefan emerge from the armory again. Pressing himself back against the wall, he could see Stefan plainly as the man moved in the dim light of the courtyard. There were a few lit torches placed strategically by Emile, designed to illuminate the courtyard just enough to see by. They were burning fat, so the greasy smell was heavy in the air. As Aeron continued to watch, he heard a voice from the gates. Stefan continued walking, but a second, louder call caught his attention. He seemed to pause as if confused, but then he charged up the steps leading to the wall walk just above the gates and looked down. After some reciprocal shouting, Stefan went back down to the gate and threw the bolts.

Curious as to who would be coming in so late at night, Aeron came away from his position on the wall to see who had arrived.

He was just in time to catch sight of the visitor ramming a dagger into Stefan's torso.

*

When Torran didn't make it down to the yard in a reasonable amount of time, Stefan guessed what had happened. He probably had a worried bride up in that chamber and had remained to soothe her. Not that Stefan blamed him, because he would have done the exact same thing.

And he would have done it gladly.

After sending the messenger back to London with a verbal message for Jareth, Stefan went to the armory, where Aeron's dusty spears were lined up against the wall, because that was where he kept his armor. He'd spent all of his time on the walls, or even patrolling outside the walls, on that tiny sliver of land before it sloped down into the moat, so it was simply a matter of convenience to keep his armor close. Donning almost everything but his broadsword, he exited the armory and looked to the troop house, noticing that the door was shut, meaning the men had gone to bed. Since Torran hadn't come down yet, Stefan was wondering if that was where he belonged, too.

In bed.

Not out here in the night, alone.

But he remained by the gate, dutifully intending to rouse the troop house, when he heard shouting again. Or at least he thought he did. It might have been the weather as the rain started to ease up and the clouds blew west, revealing patches of sky and a big silver moon. Curious, he paused because he wasn't sure what he'd heard, so he rushed up the steps that led to the wall walk over the gate. In the darkness, he caught a glimpse of a man on a horse wearing the royal scarlet and gold tunic.

The messenger had returned.

"What is it?" he called down. "Why have you returned?"

The messenger was coughing, almost violently. "May I enter, m'lord?"

The voice was raspy as the man continued to cough. Since Stefan had already seen the man a short time ago, he didn't think anything about going down to the gate and throwing the big bolts. He threw the final bolt and opened the gate, stepping back as the man, now on foot, entered leading his horse. But the moment he came within close proximity of Stefan, he plunged a dagger into Stefan's torso.

Grunting with pain and shock, Stefan stumbled back. A thousand things rolled through his mind at that moment, not the least of which was the fact that he wasn't armed yet. His sword was still in the armory. He'd come out half dressed, with the intention of summoning some of the soldiers for the wall, when the messenger had come.

But it wasn't the messenger.

It was someone else.

Self-preservation kicked in.

When the messenger withdrew the dagger and kicked him, hard, in the gut, he fell backward and feigned unconsciousness. He wasn't sure how bad his wound was and wasn't sure how much of a fight he could put up if the man was armed and he was losing blood, so he kept his eyes closed and prayed the messenger didn't try to stab him again. As he lay there on his left side, he could hear faint footsteps. He thought he might have heard another shout. Hissing, perhaps? He wasn't sure. But after a minute or two, he began to hear whispering.

There's more than one of them.

Stefan peeped an eye open. There were three that he could see. Robbers? Bandits? Assassins? God only knew who they were, but they wanted in and they'd gotten what they had wanted. The problem was that Stefan couldn't fight off three of them, not in his present condition. He suspected he was bleeding fairly heavily because he was starting to feel some tingling in his extremities as his blood drained away. If he made a move, they would probably kill him, so he had to lie still. At least at the moment. But once they started to move away from him, he intended to act.

That was his plan, anyway.

But he passed out before he could take charge.

*

They were in.

"What about the knight?" Donnel asked, pointing to the bleeding man on the ground. "Did he put up a fight?"

"Nay," Gaubert said, looking around nervously. "But he is dying, if not dead already. We must move swiftly before we're seen."

"Then we go to the house," Donnel said, pointing to the big, gloomy manse. "If Andia and Aeron are here, surely they are in the house."

"Then we move," Gaubert said, but not before he turned to Styx. "Secure the horses outside of the gate. We will have to leave swiftly."

Styx nodded, watching the pair of them rush for the house. He waited until they were halfway across the muddy yard before he turned for the gate, glancing at the big knight on the ground. He was going to walk past him until he realized that the knight was wearing the colors of the Earl of Canterbury.

Daniel de Lohr.

That puzzled him. It also concerned him. Glancing over his shoulder to see where Gaubert and Donnel were, he swiftly knelt beside the knight, rolling the man onto his back. A quick examination showed that he'd been stabbed on the left side of his torso, underneath the ribcage as far as he could tell. Not low enough to puncture his guts, or high enough to hit his lungs, but it was in an area that could bleed a lot. The knight stirred a little, and Styx leaned over him, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"You," he said. "Wake up. Open your eyes."

The knight did. He blinked. When he realized there was a man hovering over him, an enormous fist came up and Styx barely managed to duck it. He put his hands on the knight to ease him and also to prevent him from trying to strike him again.

"I am not here to harm you, I swear it," he whispered sternly. "You serve de Lohr?"

The knight grunted. "What did you say?"

Styx raised his voice. "I asked if you served de Lohr."

"I am a de Lohr," the knight said, trying to pull away. "If you're going to kill me, I'll not make it easy for you."

Styx looked behind him to make sure Gaubert and Donnel were still heading for the house before he continued.

"I am not going to kill you," he muttered. "Come on—we must get you to safety before they come back."

Stefan was struggling, trying to roll away from him. "Who are they?" he demanded. "And who in the hell are you?"

Styx was trying to help the man up, but Stefan didn't want his help. It became like a wrestling match.

"There's no time for explanations," Styx said. "I am an ally, I swear it. De Dere is the name. My father is a friend of your father and grandfather."

Somehow, Stefan miraculously made it to a sitting position, but that was all he could do at the moment. "You… you're what? " he said, confused and in pain. "Who in the hell is your father?"

"Achilles de Dere."

"Who?"

"Achilles de Dere."

He said it louder, and Stefan heard him that time. Strangely, that seemed to calm him down. He was pale and trembling as he faced off against the intruder. "Achilles de…" he muttered. " He is your father?"

"He is."

"But I do not know you."

"Nor I you," Styx said. "But we must trust one another or there will be serious trouble tonight. Can you walk?"

Stefan seemed uncertain. "I think so," he said. "But—"

He was cut off when there was a loud thump and the man who identified himself as a de Dere suddenly fell forward, face first into the dirt. Shocked, Stefan looked up to see Aeron standing behind the man with a hammer in his hand.

And he'd used it.

"I'm going to kill him!" Aeron declared. "He tried to kill you, but I am going to kill him!"

Stefan had never been so glad to see that annoying pest in his life. He had no idea where the boy had come from, but he didn't care. When Aeron lifted the hammer to hit Styx in the head again, Stefan wrenched it out of his hands and pointed to the troop house.

"Go," he commanded. "Sound the alarm. Tell the soldiers we have intruders and they tried to kill me. Tell most of them to spread out on the perimeter and make sure no one else enters, but send a couple to me. Hurry! "

Disappointed he wasn't going to get to kill yet another knight, Aeron ran for the troop house as ordered. As Stefan sat there, trying find the strength to stand and head to the keep to help Torran, he caught sight of a figure coming in through the gate. He was preparing to use the hammer he'd just taken off the boy when the figure came into view.

"Jesus, Stefan!" Kent exclaimed. "What in the hell is going on here?"

Yet another shock to Stefan. He didn't know why Kent had suddenly appeared, but he didn't question it. He jabbed a finger toward the keep.

"Intruders," he said. "Help Torran, Kent. Hurry!"

Kent could see the blood all over Stefan's torso. "You're bleeding," he said, greatly concerned. "Let me help you."

"Nay!" Stefan said. "Go—the lady needs help. Torran is going to have his hands full, so go on. Help him!"

Kent hesitated. "Are you sure?

"I am."

"How many of them?"

"Two, as far as I know," Stefan said. "Hurry, Kent. Time is wasting."

Leaving his horse standing near Stefan, Kent unsheathed his weapon—Insurrection—and charged toward the keep.

And Insurrection was hungry for blood.