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CHAPTER TWELVE

T hose foolish boys weren’t going to keep her contained forever.

Melusine had managed to sneak away from the sons of Peter de Lohr as they slept around her in a circle. It was before dawn, and she had been awoken by the sounds of the army around her mobilizing. When she tiptoed around the sleeping boys and stuck her head out of the tent, she could see that the army was packing up to leave. At least, some men were. There was a good deal of commotion going around them that should have woken up those spoiled English lads, but they slept through it.

And that was Melusine’s cue to depart.

She had only seen Elle twice since the English won the victory at Brython Castle. Both times, her cousin seemed to become irate with her, and both times, they had been separated. She’d hoped to stay with Elle and help her in this strange new world that she found herself part of, but that didn’t seem to be possible.

And now, there was a marriage involved. That wasn’t something either Melusine or Elle had ever considered. Marriage to an Englishman was like a death sentence to women like them, women who made the resistance of the Welsh their life’s blood. In fact, it was a particular problem for Melusine because she was used to having Elle’s ear. She, too, was related to Llywelyn because she came from the matriarchal side of the family. Elle’s bitter, old grandmother had been Melusine’s grandmother, as well. She and Elle had both been raised by that rebellious, vindictive woman, and they had both spent their lives advocating for an independently ruled Wales.

Ruled by Llywelyn.

Gruffydd had long wondered why his sister had been so resistant to any English alliance, and the truth was that Melusine had a big part in that opinion. She was the one who whispered in Elle’s ear, telling her how horrible and greedy the English were while fostering a rabid devotion to the Welsh cause. She was also the one who convinced Elle that Gruffydd and Gwenwynwyn were weak in their alliance with the English. Because Elle had been listening to it for so long, she didn’t really realize that Melusine had been stoking the fires of hatred started by their grandmother. But now, Elle had been forced to marry an English Lord, and Melusine was concerned that her days of controlling her cousin were over.

Curtis would figure her out fairly quickly if she remained.

It was therefore imperative that she escape captivity. She wasn’t entirely sure where she would go, except that perhaps she would escape to Tywyl Castle, where Gruffydd was in residence. The English had shown him significant mercy in allowing him to return home, and since Melusine had nowhere to go, she thought she would go to Gruffydd first and then figure out where to go from there. She couldn’t stay in the household of a man who was loyal to England.

So, she fled the tent just as the sun began to rise, leaving the lazy English boys behind. They had been charged with guarding her, and she smiled at the thought of the punishment they would receive when it was discovered they had failed at their task. Fortunately, no one was paying much attention to her as she quickly moved through the encampment, heading for the east end so she could continue her trek into the heart of Wales. The smell of smoke was heavy, held to the ground by the mist that had developed in the early-morning hours. Cooking fires had been started, and the smell of food filled the air as she approached the outskirts of the encampment.

The western wall, the one so badly damaged by the war machines, was immediately to her right as she came through the cluster of tents. The dead, mostly Welsh dead, had been moved to this area, and the smell of death mingled with the smoke gave the entire area the feeling of hell’s back acre. Because the trees and the land in general were stripped, the sense of desolation was heavy here.

Melusine was eager to get through it.

It was like walking through purgatory.

Just as she started to head toward the deforested area to the west, someone grabbed her hair from behind.

“So you think to escape, do you?” A Spanish accent was heavy in her ear. “You little cow, you belong to me now.”

Melusine shrieked as Amaro pulled her back into the encampment with him. He wasn’t gentle on her in the least, and continued to hold on to her hair to force her into obedience.

She knew she was caught.

Amaro had been up before dawn, separating some of the men from the de Lohr army to remain at Brython, when he saw Melusine sneaking through the encampment. Curtis had been back for about an hour after a night spent away from the encampment, and he was in Christopher’s tent hammering out the details of Hereford’s departure back to Lioncross Abbey Castle. Amaro didn’t know why Curtis and his wife had left the night before, but he’d heard through the rumor mill that all was not well with the newlyweds. Frankly, Amaro didn’t know what Curtis expected, having married a Welsh chit as he had.

He might as well have married an animal.

Amaro went about his duties as the de Lohr men gathered in Christopher’s tent. Hugo was off supervising the rebuild of the western wall, which had begun in earnest yesterday, along with Asa, leaving Amaro to handle the army along with several sergeants. But when he saw Melusine trying to make her escape, he left the men to the sergeants and pursued the Welsh bitch.

Spy .

She had to be a spy.

“Where were you going, woman?” he demanded.

Melusine was in a great deal of pain from the way he was holding her. “I was leaving,” she said. “Let me go!”

Amaro ignored her as he continued to drag her through the encampment. “I think you were running off to tell your Welsh rebels that Hereford is leaving today,” he said. “Isn’t that where you were going?”

Melusine yelped as he yanked on her. “Nay!” she said. “I was going home!”

“Home to your den of Welsh animals?” Amaro said. “Filthy, barbaric, mindless fools. And what else do you do for them, Miasma? Do you warm their beds with your skinny body?”

She gasped in outrage, trying to pull away. “Who is Miasma?” she said. “Release me. You’re hurting me!”

“Good,” Amaro said, yanking on her so hard that she ended up falling into him. His severe face was inches from her own. “Now you’ll have to face Hereford’s justice, and you know what the man will do to spies. He will torture you and then he will kill you. And I will have the pleasure of watching.”

Terrified, Melusine tried to push away but ended up hitting him in the throat as she did. His response was to slap her, as hard as he could, on the side of the head.

Dazed, Melusine gave up the fight as he towed her all the way back to Christopher’s tent.

*

She knew she had a stupid smile on her face.

Elle knew and she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop smiling as she organized the chest in Curtis’ tent, the one she’d taken the tunic and hose from. She’d jumbled everything the night before in her haste to find clothing, so as he went to see his father, she carefully organized the trunk.

This is what it’s like to be happy.

That thought kept rolling over and over in her mind. Happiness she’d never thought she would feel. She didn’t recognize it at all. Ever since last night, and on the return home this morning, she’d had this feeling of lightness in her heart, the same lightness that was reflected on Curtis’ face every time he looked at her. That was when it occurred to her that what she was feeling was joy.

Evidently, they were both feeling it.

But it was a very new sensation, so new that neither one of them could put it into words. Perhaps they didn’t want to because happiness, like anything else, could be fleeting in their world. They’d had such a difficult introduction and, up until last night, a marriage that was destined to end, so no one wanted to jinx this newfound sense of bliss.

All Elle wanted to do was enjoy it.

But she felt like an idiot because she couldn’t get the smile off her face. Perhaps she really didn’t care in the long run, because it was a smile that was only meant for Curtis, and he wasn’t here. He was with his father, who would undoubtedly be ecstatic that they had been able to hash out their differences. Perhaps she’d have the same stupid smile on her face when she spoke to Christopher, because undoubtedly, he would want to talk to her, too.

Just to make sure the joy wasn’t one-sided.

Before they left the village, Curtis had procured bread and cheese from the inn’s kitchen as it began to prepare food for the morning meal. Elle had ridden behind him all the way back to Brython, bread in one hand and cheese in the other, wolfing it down as she told him about the nearest town to Brython on the Wales side of the border. Because that village was relatively close to her brother’s castle, she had spent a lot of time there. She knew the people and they knew her. She and Curtis had a good discussion about the town and its functions and the people in general. It had been the first real conversation they had that didn’t involve angst or torment or terrible reflections.

It had been… normal .

Once they reached the encampment, Curtis told her that he was sorry their journey had ended and thanked her for a pleasant ride. Unused to any kind of flattery, Elle turned bright red, and he had simply laughed. But he also took her hand and kissed her, leading her back to his tent, which was now technically a tent that belonged to both of them. But he had only returned for a short while before he went off in search of his father to inform the man of his return. And quite possibly to let him know that the marriage was finally agreeable.

Elle certainly thought it was.

The whole morning had been like a dream.

In fact, it was difficult to keep her mind on her task. Her head was in the clouds. She was only half finished repacking Curtis’ trunk when she wandered to the tent flap, folding a pair of breeches, looking out over the encampment in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her new husband. There was no husband, but she could see Christopher’s tent. It was quite close, in truth, so it was easily in her field of vision. That big blue tent with the blue and gold standards flying above it. There were several soldiers milling about in front of the tent, and knights wandered in and out.

And that was when she saw it.

A knight dragging Melusine by the hair.

Shocked, Elle dropped the breeches in her hands and rushed out of the tent just as the knight and Melusine entered Hereford’s tent. But instinct ran strong with her, the instinct to protect those she loved and the instinct to protect herself against the English, so she grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, which happened to be a piece of wood meant for Hereford’s fire. There was a pile of it near his tent. She rushed toward the opening, only to hear someone shouting about capturing a spy. She could hear Melusine weeping.

When she burst in through the tent flap, Elle’s gaze fell on the man who had dragged Melusine by the hair as her cousin cowered on the ground at his feet. Just as the man turned to look at her, startled that someone had come up behind him, Elle swung the wood at his head and bashed him in the face. The knight, lashing out with his hands to defend himself, caught Elle in the jaw and sent her tumbling backward.

After that, it was chaos.

Elle was dazed as someone picked her up off the ground and took her out of the tent. Someone else had grabbed Melusine. As Elle shook off the stars, she could see that it had been Hereford himself who took her out of the tent, but now he was rushing back into the shelter to prevent Curtis from killing the knight who had dragged Melusine by the hair. There was shouting going on, and some pleading, and suddenly, the entire side of Hereford’s tent blew open as Curtis threw the half-conscious knight out of the tent. Quite literally, the man had been flying through the air. The tent stakes were still in the ground, but the fabric had torn as the knight hit the ground heavily. As Elle watched in shock, Curtis went charging after the knight as his father jumped in to prevent any more damage from being done.

“No more,” Christopher commanded, holding Curtis back with help from Peter. “No more, Curt. Take your wife and cousin and get out of here. Go back to your tent. Please.”

Curtis was like a raging bull. Peter had him from behind, holding him back, but he wasn’t moving. He was like a rock, hard and immovable. Roi, who had been bent over the knight on the ground, came over as well, and between Peter and Roi, they managed to push Curtis back in the direction of Elle, who was clutching Melusine. One look at her husband’s face and she very nearly burst into tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so very sorry. But he was hurting Melusine, and I had to stop him!”

When Curtis saw her face, something changed. He’d been rigid and flushed, but the moment he saw her, his expression loosened and he pulled away from his brothers. He went to her and put a gentle hand under her chin, tipping her face up to look at him.

“Did he hurt you?” he said, trying to get a look at any marks or bruises. “His strike was hard.”

She shook her head, but the tears were beginning to pool. “Please do not be angry with me,” she said. “I could not let him hurt Melly. He had her by the hair!”

Curtis was oddly calm for having been thoroughly enraged only moments earlier. “I know,” he said patiently, putting an arm around her and pulling her against him. “You are not to blame. He deserved it. But are you sure he did not injure you?”

It took Elle a few moments to realize that he wasn’t angry with her. He was angry with the knight. She was positive his fury was directed at her, and to realize it wasn’t brought a significant amount of shock.

She stared up at him.

“Nay, he did not injure me,” she said, rubbing the spot where he’d struck her. “You… you are not angry with me?”

He shook his head. “Of course not,” he said, but then he looked over to his father as Alexander and Roi were pulling the knight to his feet. “Get him out of my sight. If I see him again, I will kill him.”

Christopher put up a hand to ease his son, muttering something to Roi and Alexander. They half dragged, half walked the knight away, disappearing into the encampment. When he was gone, Christopher came over to Elle and looked her over.

“Did he hurt you, my lady?” he asked.

Elle was becoming perplexed that they were so concerned about her health. “Nay,” she said. “Melly hits harder than he does. Truly, I am well, but I suspect I’ll have a bruise.”

Christopher did the same thing Curtis had done—grasping her chin and tilting her head to get a look at the welt on the left side of her jaw and neck. He inspected the area before grunting unhappily.

“I will take Amaro back with me to Lioncross,” he said to Curtis. “I do not want him around your wife or her cousin, and, most importantly, I do not want him around you.”

Curtis barely nodded because the sight of the rising welt on Elle’s jaw was beginning to feed his anger again. “That is wise,” he said. “The man is fortunate he could walk away from this. If I had my way about it, he would not have.”

“I know,” Christopher said, holding up a hand to stop Curtis from saying anything further. “He will go with me. Meanwhile, you will need to select men to remain behind with you. Amaro was doing it. Or he was supposed to be doing it.”

“Let Myles do it,” Curtis said. “Where is he, anyway?”

Christopher looked off toward the south. “Mustering my army,” he said. “He and Andrew are seeing to it.”

“You are leaving Myles with me, are you not?”

“Aye, if you want him.”

“I do.”

“Are you leaving today, my lord?” Elle asked.

Christopher looked at her. “I am,” he said. “But I leave you, and Brython, in the capable hands of my son. But I’m sure you are already confident of that.”

He was smiling faintly, and something told Elle that Curtis had told his father that they had smoothed everything over last night. Christopher could guess what that meant. Flushing a deep shade of red, she simply bobbed her head and grasped Melusine before fleeing in the direction of Curtis’ tent. When Curtis looked at his father, surprised by his wife’s swift departure, they both started laughing.

“She is a paradox, lad,” Christopher said. “She took that kindling after Amaro, but speak of something romantic and she runs away.”

Curtis was grinning. “Hopefully, not for long,” he said. “I hope that she will be comfortable with our marriage. I hope I will be, too.”

“From what you told me about last night, it seems that the rough edges have been smoothed a little,” Christopher said, studying Curtis’ face for any hint of what he might be thinking. “What I did not tell you is that before Peter took her to find you, she came to speak with me. Peter and Sherry were here, so they heard it, too. She expressed her great regret at how she behaved with you and how she viewed things. I believe she wants to do better, Curt. I truly do.”

“As do I,” Curtis said. “I only told you that everything was well between us again, but I did not tell you that she apologized to me last night. She is caught between two worlds, Papa. I can see that. But I want to pull her into mine.”

Christopher nodded. “A noble goal, but take care not to completely discount her world,” he said. “She will be happier if she keeps her world but understands yours. Just be patient, lad. That is all I can really tell you.”

Curtis smiled. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. But that warmth soon faded. “And keep Amaro out of my sight. If I see him again, I will kill him. And I am sorry for your alliance with his father, but no man strikes my wife and lives to tell the tale.”

Christopher nodded. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I think, mayhap, that it is time to send Amaro back to his father. I have taught him everything I intend to, and I am certain he has learned everything he has wanted to and no more. I am not particularly anxious to have him around your mother and sisters, to be perfectly honest.”

“Then send him back,” Curtis urged quietly. “Send him home and let us say no more about it.”

Off to the south, the wagons were beginning to roll into formation and the army was moving in their direction, except for the thousand men that had been set aside to remain with Curtis. They could both see Roi moving through the ranks, sending men toward Brython. The duty had been Amaro’s, but with the man out of commission, Roi was taking the duty.

It was time for the de Lohr army to go home.

“I will consider sending him home,” Christopher replied belatedly to Curtis’ encouragement. He turned to his son, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Meanwhile, I have my own duties to attend to. We will be leaving by midday.”

“I will find you before you go to bid you farewell.”

Christopher put his hand on Curtis’ cheek in an affectionate gesture before going about his business. The men parted ways, each going to attend to his duties, each one looking forward to what life was to bring them. For Christopher, it was returning home, but for Curtis…

He had a wife now.

And he was rather looking forward to it.