He would go to Marnis, knowing full well the risk.
“And what now, Amaury de Montvieux?” the count asked quietly.
“We ride to Marnis, of course,” Amaury said. “To retrieve my lady wife, at any price.”
The count nodded. “And to claim the second holding that is rightfully your own.” He lifted the ring of Montvieux and offered it to Amaury, who took a breath then slid it onto his own finger.
His legacy and birthright.
He would readily surrender his all for Isabella.
“Naught will be readily won,” Thierry noted as Roland returned to listen again.
“Nay,” Amaury said, holding the count’s gaze. “We ride to war.”
“For a woman?” Roland asked. “Father almost did as much once, it was said…”
“And now I understand his choice all too well,” Amaury said. “It will be war.”
The Count nodded approval. “I am glad to be at Montvieux on this day. You will see that I anticipated such a situation, though I hoped I might be wrong.” He slapped his gloves against his palm, before raising his voice to his men and ordering the preparations to be made.
Isabella awakenedto the steady beat of drums.
She raised a hand to her throbbing head and found a tender bump on the back of it. That was not the source of the sound, though. The beating was so loud that the walls and floor vibrated with it.
It was growing louder.
Isabella sat up, feeling less than her best. She was in her old chamber and alone. She wore the same garb as she had chosen to ride to Marnis with Thierry, and her kirtle was mired where she had fallen. Her veil and circlet were cast down beside her, and she had been lying on the floor, as if someone had flung her bodily through the door. The chamber was filled with shadows, as if evening was falling. Had she been here one day or two?
She guessed the portal would be locked against her, but rose slowly to confirm as much. All spun around her when she stood up, but she steadied after a moment and crossed the chamber. The portalwassecured. She leaned back against it for a moment, listening.
Drums. Why should there be drums?
She took a breath and ventured to the window, opening the shutters and looking out. There was naught to be seen from this vantage point, just the land stretching away to the south. She turned toward the door again, just as it was flung open.
“This is your fault,” Faydide snarled. “Come and see what you have wrought.”
Isabella crossed the chamber unsteadily, hating that she had to approach her step-mother at all. She eased past her to find a company gathered in the corridor, staring out over the gates of Marnis. When she joined them and looked, she could not believe her eyes. A dark line emerged from the road that passed through the forest, a seemingly endless number of men and horses. They spilled forth from the forest, moving off the road so that their forces spread in a large arc between the copse of trees andMarnis’ gates. Pennants flew above the company, and her heart leapt at the insignia of Montvieux.
Aye, the lead knight rode a dark horse and her heart fluttered in surety of his identity. Of course, he had come for her, but she hoped he did not pay the price for his loyalty.
Where had Amaury found such forces, though? There was another insignia flying over the company, one she knew she had seen before but could not name. The sky was dark over the company, the last light of the setting sun glinting on their armor.
They halted beyond the range of any bow, and she saw tents being raised. They meant to make camp on the edge of the forest and within moments, a bonfire was lit on the road between the company and the keep. They must have brought the wood with them. Isabella was fascinated but also fearful. The drums neither slowed nor halted.
Amaury rode alone toward the gates, halting a distance away. “Lady Faydide and those within Château Marnis,” he roared, his voice carrying to Isabella’s ears. “I am Amaury de Montvieux. I hold the seals of both Marnis and Montvieux. I come to retrieve my lady wife and I demand safe admission to the keep.”
Someone loosed an arrow from the walls, one that had been set afire. It landed in the ground before Amaury but his destrier did not move, despite the flame so close before it.
“I will cede naught to you!” a man shouted and Isabella knew it was Mallory. “Marnis is mine, my rightful due through my sister, and possession is more potent than any claim.”
“And so we are disagreed,” Amaury said, no surprise in his manner. “For you do not hold the seal of Marnis. You have until dawn to surrender what is mine.”
“Never!” Mallory roared and another burning arrow was loosed.
“Injure my lady wife,” Amaury shouted. “And you will beg me to dispatch you to Hell.”
“We will not surrender to fiends from Montvieux!” Mallory replied, and a volley of arrows were loosed upon Amaury. None came within a dozen footfalls of him and he sat calmly until the assault was done.