“You mean killed.”
“Spies are dealt with in such ways.”
Derica exploded. “If you kill him, I shall flee from Framlingham and you will never see me again. I will whore for every nobleman that serves King Richard and shame the name of de Rosa such as you have never dreamed.” The tears escaped and found their way onto her face. “This foolish paranoia that feeds your soul must come to an end. For all of these years I have ignored it because you were my father and I love you. But now you attack me directly, and you attack my happiness. Release Sir Garren or I swear I will make you sorry until the end of your days.”
The entire vault was deathly silent by the time she finished. Bertram was pale; he’d never seen his daughter in such a tirade. She had always maintained such control over her emotions. His natural instinct was to do whatever she wished, but at the moment, he was torn. He didn’t want her to follow through on her threats; he wasn’t sure she would, but, being a de Rosa, she was stubborn and willful and he wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t.
“Derica,” he said quietly. “You’re sick. You’re not thinking clearly. You must understand that this is a man’s matter. It does not involve you.”
“It clearly involves me if Sir Garren is to be my husband,” she countered. “You will release him immediately and I will forget this ever happened.”
As much as Bertram loved his daughter, he would not be pushed around by her.
“I cannot.”
Derica stared at him for several long, painful moments. He had been right about one thing; she was ill and not thinkingclearly. In a fit of momentary insanity, she swooped upon the brother standing nearest to her and unsheathed his sword. Before anyone could stop her, she pressed the blade against her stomach.
“Release him now or I drive this into my belly!”
Everyone shouted at her to stop, including Garren. She had a wild look to her eye and there was no one in the chamber that had any doubt she would do as she threatened.
Bertram pleaded. “Derica, no. It is not as bad as all that. Please… give the blade back to Donat.”
Her response was to grip it more tightly. “Release him. I shall not tell you again.”
Bertram looked at Garren. Strange how mortal enemies had, in a fraction of a second, suddenly became allies. Garren could feel the father’s panic; he had quite enough of his own.
“Derica,” Garren said softly. “Put the blade down, sweetheart. Please.”
Derica looked at him. “Do you not understand that they mean to kill you? I will not let them do that. I cannot.”
“So you would kill yourself instead?” Garren smiled. “Do you think that would give me pleasure to watch? As much as you do not wish my death, I do not wish yours even more. To know you died on my behalf would fill me with grief as I cannot comprehend. My life would be meaningless.”
“As mine would be were you to leave me,” her lip quivered. “I cannot let them do this to you.”
“If you thrust that blade into your belly, they are going to kill me anyway. Your death would not stop them. It would more than likely cause them to insure that my death was as painfully long and slow as possible. Did you think of that?”
She knew he spoke the truth. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at her father. She knew how her father and brothers were, that honor and service to the prince was nearlyeverything to them. She could not imagine who told them Garren was a spy, or how this wild idea took root, but one thing was for certain; if they believed Garren was a spy, for whatever reason, nothing on earth could convince them otherwise. But bargains could be struck, and for the sake of Garren’s life, she knew what she had to do.
“Release him and I will not kill myself. His life for mine, father. That is the bargain.”
Bertram eyed his daughter. He couldn’t stand the thought of her driving that cold blade into her soft belly. He weighed his choices.
“Do as she asks.”
The command came from the steps leading up into the gatehouse. Everyone turned to see Hoyt standing at the base of the stairs, without his makeup or fancy gowns. He looked as they all remembered him, a massive man who had been the best warrior of them all. Bertram hadn’t seen his brother this serious, or this normal, in some time. It was unsettling.
“He is a spy,” Bertram said to his brother. “If we let him go, the consequences could be lethal.”
“If you do not, the same could be said.” Hoyt entered the vault, slowly. His eyes were on Derica. “Look at her, Bertram. She means what she says. Let him go or we shall all be sorry.”
Bertram knew that his brother was correct; there was only one choice to make. He found himself cursing the day his only female child was born. At that moment, something between them changed.
“Then I shall release him,” he said. “But I shall also say this; there will be no marriage. I will never again hear the name Garren le Mon and if I ever see him again, I will kill him. Make no mistake. My mercy is given only once.”
Derica was not surprised. Her terms had been accepted; now her father was extending his own. It was a compromise of thegreatest proportion, but Derica considered it a small price to pay for Garren’s life.
“As you say,” she whispered.