“I came back to the area then, disguised as a mere clerk. No one looks truly at those they deem to be beneath them.” Edmund sneered at this. “And I sought a post at Montvieux, where I could watch Gaultier and monitor his schemes. For years, it worked well.” His expression turned bitter. “But then he recognizedme that night, the night of the celebration to which he invited himself, the fête to mark the young lord’s earning of his spurs. He had no right to attend. He had no cause to surprise and unveil me! He demanded that I spy for him then, that I pay him for his silence, that I do his bidding lest he reveal my truth to Lucien de Montvieux. You might imagine that I grew to hate him even more than I had before.”
Isabella retreated another step, watching as Edmund bent to retrieve the signet ring from Mallory’s hand. He placed it on his own, smiling down at it. “An excellent fit, do you not think?”
“And Denis?” she asked.
“An unworthy heir to Marnis. He was weak, thanks to his mother’s lineage.” He cast Faydide a disparaging glance. “His ambition and impatience were readily used against him. Mallory was fool enough to believe that I aidedhisambitions.” Edmund chuckled. “Another fool who did not look beyond my supposed occupation. Only I would survive. That was always the plan.”
“And what of me?”
“You were more of a challenge than anticipated, but then, I knew little of you until recent days. A cripple. A plain girl. A maiden too old to wed.” He shook his head. “But those of Montvieux are possessed of impractical and chivalrous notions. He will come for you, just as his father risked all for his lady wife when I suggested that Gaultier could gain a great ransom in capturing her.” Edmund’s smile was cold. “I do not think I will ransom you, though, Lady Isabella. I am too determined to ensure that there are no other contenders for the sole prize I desire.”
There was a cry from the outside and a roar from the walls as the battle for Marnis began.
Edmund glanced toward the doors to the bailey and chuckled. “Your lord husband arrives, no doubt, but he will be too late to be of aid to you.”
“He will not come,” Isabella insisted. “I bade him not do as much.”
“He will come,” Edmund insisted. “He will come and he will die, and you will watch.” He smiled. “Then you will die and my triumph will be complete.”
“He will not come,” Isabella said again, wishing she could make it so.
“Nay, he will not for he is already here,” a familiar voice declared said with authority.
Edmund opened his mouth to shout for a guard, pointing his finger at the base of the stairs. Whatever call he might have made was never emitted. Isabella heard the whistle of some weapon through the air, and glanced back to find that valet had returned to the great hall.
But he was no valet of Marnis. It was Amaury, wearing that tabard once again.
And he had cast his dagger at Edmund. The weapon nicked Edmund’s ear, for that man moved in the last moment. Edmund howled as if he had lost a limb even as the blade fell to the floor. “Guards!” he roared, but no one answered his summons. Isabella could hear shouts from the bailey and knew the keep was besieged.
No one heeded Edmund’s call.
Edmund snatched for Isabella, who cast herself toward Amaury. Amaury pulled a blade from his boot and advanced upon Edmund, but Edmund seized Isabella, catching a fistful of her hair. He dragged her before himself like a shield, then gripped at her throat to choke her.
“You cannot save her this time,” he declared.
Amaury shrugged, but Isabella knew he was not indifferent to her fate. He was tense and she watched him closely, guessing he would grant her some signal. She strove to pry Edmund’sfingers from her neck. “I shall have to satisfy myself with bringing justice to you.”
Edmund laughed. “Do you not see? The ranks of Marnis will close upon you. My only choice is which of you shall die first. Who will be most troubled to watch the demise of the other? I think you must be first, Amaury de Montvieux. I shall cast your carcass out the gates and your forces will retreat.”
“Not without my lady they will not.”
“Trust me.”
“Alas, Edmund, I do not.” Amaury’s gaze flicked and Isabella knew she was warned. He then kicked at the rushes so that they flew into the air. In that same moment, Isabella drove her heel hard against Edmund. She heard him moan, and hauled her hair from his grasp when his grip slackened. She leapt toward Amaury who cast her behind himself.
The older man retreated a few steps, then suddenly spun to face Amaury with Mallory’s knife held high. They circled each other, thrusting and parrying, each so focussed on the other that they might have been alone.
Isabella realized that Faydide’s eyes were opening.
“So, you used Mallory’s ambitions against him, ensuring that he killed Denis so you did not have to do as much?” Isabella said, watching Faydide’s eyes fly open.
“Of course, I did,” Edmund snapped. “He was readily turned to my will. Ambitious fools always are.” He kicked at Amaury who seized his ankle and twisted it. Edmund fell and Faydide roused herself abruptly, flinging herself upon him. She pummelled Edmund and punched him, venting her fury upon the older man who had not anticipated her assault.
“Witch!” he screamed, as Amaury seized Isabella’s hand and they ran together into the bailey. She heard something fall and glanced back to see Faydide sprawled on the floor, Edmund staggering as he glared down at her motionless form.
Then he straightened and looked after them. Amaury did not have to urge Isabella to hasten then. They fled, hand in hand.
“You should not have come,” she told him even as they ran into the bailey.