“You are a masterful swordsman and you fear nothing. Is it true? Do you fear nothing?”
“I never had a reason to fear before. What is the worst that can happen?’
“You could die!”
“I was taught from a young age how to save my life and the lives of others. Because of it, I also understood that I could die. That my life could be quick. I’m not afraid of death. Not my own,” he added and stared at her between their torches’ light.
“Are you afraid of someone else’s death? Whose?” she asked and then answered before he could. “Brother Simon.”
“Aye. And ye.”
“Me?” she asked incredulously and started walking. “No, I will not be the one who weakens Lion Heart’s heart.”
He laughed and caught up with her. “What do ye mean? Ye willna weaken my heart, lass,” he tried to assure her.
“How do you know that, Elias?” she asked him, holding the torch at an angle that helped her see his face. “I sometimes think you would die for me.”
He grew serious and gazed into her eyes while they walked. “I would, my lady. Dyin’ fer ye isna the trouble. ‘Tisyerdeath that I fear.”
Her knees almost buckled right there while she was walking. She would have fallen into his arms. It was one way to get there. She wasn’t sure if she had the nerve to fall into them any other way. She didn’t know how to seduce a man. She’d never had to learn.
“Well, ‘tisyour death that I fear,” she responded honestly, keeping pace with him.
He smiled. Now she knew they were mad. What an awful thing to smile about, yet here she was smiling with him.
“Knowin’ that pleases me,” he admitted with a teasing slant of his mouth.
“It does not please me,” she told him. “I would absolutely hate it if you died because of me.”
“Would ye weep?”
She tipped her gaze to him in the firelight. So, he had noticed. “I do not weep because it serves no purpose, save to make me feel worse.”
He nodded and said nothing more until they reached the grand home of the late reeve, Osbert. Norman hadn’t moved in yet. Not while Ivett was still alive.
Lily departed from Elias’ side and watched him by his torchlight as he walked to Alan and Helen Carpenter’s cottage.
Her heart yearned to go with him, to never leave his side again.
With resolve, she pulled up from her years of training, she turned away and stepped into Ivett’s foyer and looked around. Where were the reeve’s two servants, Millie and John? Had they fallen ill since an hour ago when she saw them at the vigil? Who then had kept the candles lit and put wood on the fire? She went to her friend’s room with her tea, calling out for either of the servants. Had they abandoned Ivett because she was sick?
She stepped into Ivett’s room and almost dropped her jug of tea when she saw Bertram lying on the bed next to Ivett and holding the edge of a blade to her throat.
“Dinna scream, Lily,” he warned, “or I will speed this up.” He glanced down at her sick friend.
Lily wanted to scream. She wanted to alert Elias. Oh, why hadn’t she attached her knives to her legs? She was quickly learning how to use them but what good was it if she left her knives at home? She looked toward the window.
“Och, what the hell does it matter?” Bertram sneered. “She will be dead in a day or two anyway.” He swiped his blade across Ivett’s throat and blood flowed into the bed.
Lily screamed in her head. She screamed and screamed in silence, as she’d learned so well to do.
“Hmm.” He slipped off the bed and went to her. “I see ye are still the same frosty bitch ye have always been.”
“Not always, Bertram,” she said, looking toward the window again. No one was there, but when Bertram turned to look, Lily pulled back her arms and swung her jug upward, directly at his face.
Thick clay smashed, along with a bone or two. Her precious tea spilled everywhere, especially in Bertram’s face.
He went down like a lightning-blasted tree, and she took off, screaming for Elias as she went.