Chained (Chained Trilogy) (30 page)

He was grateful when they finally arrived at Ir’os on the morning of the seventh day. They’d taken the time for a light meal—the last of their provisions from Seahaven—before embarking on the long walk to the keep. It took them hours to reach it, but Gwen never once complained or asked to stop and rest. In fact, she’d been remarkably resilient throughout the entire journey
. Though they were mostly silent as they traveled, Caden found he enjoyed the ease of quiet between them. While it had been strained the day after their kiss, it had eventually eased into a companionable stillness. Caden had always abhorred it when women sought to fill silence with inane chatter. Luckily, Gwen did nothing of the sort.

Ir’os was a small farming v
illage surrounding a motte and bailey keep. A spiked palisade surrounded the bailey, a small gatehouse the only entrance. The large bailey completely surrounded the motte, an earthen mound built centuries ago, with the square keep at its summit. When his grandfather, King Terrowin II, had gifted Ir’os to Sir Hadrian Arundel the keep had been a timber structure. Sir Hadrian had ordered the wooden castle reinforced with stone. The banners of House Arundel fluttered from the four corner towers.

The gatekeeper allowed them entrance when he learned that he stood in the presence of Lord Theodric’s fi
rstborn son. Within minutes, he and Gwen had been ushered through the gatehouse and safely into the bailey. Caden frowned as he observed Sir Hadrian’s household. The servants, knights, and men-at-arms were somber and silent, all shrouded in black.

“Something is wrong,” he said, sensing the tension clogging the air around him.

Gwen nodded silently as they neared a second palisade, this one ringing the bottom of the motte. Two men-at-arms allowed then through the gate, which led them to a towering staircase ambling up the side of the motte.

“They are in mourning,” she observed, glancing down at the bailey over her shoulder as they ascended. “Someone has died.”

He was inclined to agree with her, especially once they were ushered through yet another gatehouse, this one leading them through a barbican built into the stone wall ringing the keep. The inner bailey was smaller than the one below, but was just as full of bodies in black. They were peasants mostly, all seemingly waiting for some news from within the castle. Caden took Gwen’s arm to keep her close as he shouldered his way through the crowd. They were greeted at the doors by Sir Frendrel himself, Hadrian Arundel’s eldest son. Like most of the Arundels, he was possessed of skin the color of sand, eyes a bright green, and hair a sandy mop of curls. His eyes widened at the sight of Caden.

“By the gods,” he murmured. “When I was told that you’d arrived, I could hardly believe it.” He took Caden’s hand and held it tightly, clapping his shoulder with the other. “Word spread quickly of Sir Asher’s death and your capture. There
have even been rumors of your death.”

“As you can see, I am alive and have managed to escape,” he said elusively. Now that Caden knew someone had duplicated
Asher’s helm with the intent to implicate him in the attack on Heywick, he trusted no one. Sir Hadrian, who was a loyal friend of his father, Caden could confide in; his son, Caden did not know so well. “Where is your father? I must speak with him, it is urgent.”

Frendrel’s
frown deepened, lines appearing around his eyes and mouth. “Then you did not hear the whispers as you entered Ir’os. Sir, my lord father is dead.”

“Dead? How, w
hen?” Caden could not understand it. Sir Hadrian was not a young man, but unlike his brother, King Merek, had never been ill a day in his life.

“Perhaps we should speak of this inside,” Frendrel said, lowering his voice. “Besides, there is someone here who would want to see you.” He seemed to notice Gwen for the first time, his brow creasing as he stared at her. “
I am sorry, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

“
I am Lynet, milord,” Gwen said quickly, curtsying elegantly despite her breeches. They had agreed that until they reached Minas Bothe, she would not reveal her identity to anyone. Anger was sure to still be red hot over Asher’s death, and many in Daleraia would have gladly slit her throat for the sake of vengeance. It was dangerous enough for her to be here; it would not help matters for others to know her name. Frendrel, who had no cause to hate any Dinasdalian, merely inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“Lynet was my guide out of Dinasdale,” Caden told Frendrel. “She helped me escape. I would be most grateful if your servants would see to her comfort. We have traveled a long way.”

“Of course,” Frendrel replied, stepping aside and sweeping his arm toward the entrance. “Come, we will adjourn to Father’s solar. There, you will eat and rest while I fetch our guest. She will be most pleased to see you. Then, we will talk.”

Caden followed Frendrel into the
great hall, where a somber bunch dressed all in black ate lunch silently. The only sound to be heard was knife upon plate as they skirted the hall, heading toward a staircase leading up into one of the castle’s towers. Caden caught a quick glimpse of Lady Esme Arundel, Sir Hadrian’s widow, as well as his secondborn son, Sir Wendel, at the high table, before they began to ascend.

Frendrel was silent as he led them into the lord’s private chambers, taking them through the bedchamber and into the solar. The shutters were closed against the sun, but candles lit the room with a soft glow. Gwen and Caden were offered water and linen with which to wash while Frendrel sent for food and wine. He left them then, going to seek out the guest he’d spoken of. Caden
speculated idly who it was, and wondered if it could be Esa. There wasn’t a soul in Daleraia that didn’t know Esa was his mistress. While Caden had certainly missed her, he found himself oddly uncomfortable at the thought of her in the same room with Gwen.

Noticing
Gwen pacing near the lit hearth, he moved toward her purposefully. His hands found her shoulders and he stilled her, forcing her to look at him.

“Do not despair,” he said gently. “We have come this far, and if we are safe anywhere, it is here.”

“I am not afraid,” she answered. “Only worried that I may have made the wrong decision.”

Caden chuckled. “You mean, by freeing me?”

She nodded. “Do not misunderstand me, Caden, I bear you no ill will. I think only of my brothers and what I might have done differently.”

“If I promised to do what I could to find and free your brothers, would you believe me?”

She was silent for so long, Caden almost feared she was say no. Finally spoke. “I believe that I would,” she said, studying him pensively.

“Then it shall be done. My father will listen to reason once we have explained to him the things that have happened in Dinasdale. He will understand why you acted
as you did.”

“I have heard the stories about Lord Theodric,” she said. “He is not known for his patience, or for his mercy.”

Caden laughed again. “Nonsense, he’s as gentle as a lamb.”

“There is no need to lie to the girl, Caden.”

The voice chastising him was so achingly familiar that Caden almost felt as if he were in Minas Bothe, standing in his own father’s solar instead of Sir Hadrian’s. Tears came to his eyes as he turned to find her standing there. Her grief and pain had aged her, though there was joy in her honeyed eyes as she came forward, arms outstretched.

“Mother,” he whispered, crushing her against him and inhaling her familiar scent. He was not too much of a man to admit that he’d missed her, that he’d feared he might never see her again and cause her even more grief.

“My son,” she answered, clinging to him tightly. “The sight of you brings me so much joy. I journeyed here to pay my respects to Sir Hadrian and comfort his widow, yet fate would bring you here as well so that we might be reunited.” She stood back and took his face between her hands, studying him closely. “What have they done to you? Are you hurt?”

Caden knew his bruises were still fading. Thankfully, the swelling was gone and his lip was mended. It was only the injury above his eye that still plagued him, as well as a bit of
tenderness in his ribs. “I am fine, Mother,” he said, removing her hands gently. “There are matters we must discuss. Where is Sir Frendrel?”

“I aske
d him for a private moment alone with you, and he obliged.” She turned and speared Gwen with her knowing stare. “Your face,” she said, leaving Caden and striding toward Gwen. “I know you.”

Caden frowned. “You do?”

Victoria scoffed. “Of course I do, do you think I’m daft? I would know the blood of Lady Enid Toustain anywhere.” She smiled at Gwen’s shocked expression. “You have her face, child,” she replied. “I met your lady mother once, at the peace tourney. We celebrated the end of the war that day, and the dawning of Alemere. She was newly married to your father, and one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Aye, you have much of her in you.” Her expression turned sad as she reached for Gwen’s hand and patted it affectionately. “You must believe me when I tell you that I am so sorry for your loss. I warned my son that he acted foolishly. No good can come of this, I said. Oh, but he would not listen and now our families may never know peace.”

Caden and Gwen exchanged bewildered glances, while a cold stone of dread settled deep in the pit of his stomach. Lady Victoria gasped as she witnessed the exchange.

“You do not know what has happened,” she stated.

Gwen shook her head. “Milady, we have been away from Seahaven for seven days. We traveled under cloak of darkness and away from any roads and villages. I could not risk my uncle finding us, lest he drag Caden back to Seahaven in chains. When we imprisoned him, we did not know who he was, and when I realized that we’d made a mistake, I thought it best to return him to Minas Bothe and
attempt to treat with Lord Theodric.”

Victoria shook her head sl
owly. “Oh, darling. I wish you’d come sooner. Just a fortnight sooner, and he might have been spared.”

Caden could feel distress radiating from Gwen in waves as she came forward, grasping Victoria’s shoulders tightly. “Who?” she cried, tears already filling her wide, dark eyes. “Milady, please tell me.”

“Your eldest brother, Sir Evrain.”

Gwen’s cry of anguish resounded from the high ceilings of the solar, as well as the far reaches of Caden’s soul. He did not think he would ever forget the look of raw
agony that crossed her face the moment she sank to her knees, her shoulders trembling with sobs so forceful her petite body could hardly contain them. He imagined it was much like the expression he’d worn the day he witness his brother’s execution.

Caden knelt beside her, instinctively drawing her against his body. Her tears wet the front of his tunic, and Caden knew then that there truly was no hope left. She had no reason to trust him now, when his family had dealt hers such a crushing blow.

“Jarin did this,” he declared, staring up at his mother through narrowed eyes. “You said it yourself. Where was Father? Or Uncle Destrian?”

Victoria swiped at her own tears, her hands trembling. “Your lord father journeyed to Isle of Camritte, hoping to say his good
-byes to King Merek. I do not doubt that he is journeying back to Minas Bothe even now, as word has reached us of the king’s death. He left not long after Asher’s body was brought to Minas Bothe, leaving Jarin as the lord of the keep.”

“I assured Lady Gwen that we had nothing to do with the capture of her brothers,” he hissed, his voice low. “I thought I was telling her the truth.”

“We did not!” Victoria protested. “They were brought to us, the three of them, left at the gates by riders claiming that they were ‘a gift’. Your brother did not question them and they departed immediately after delivering the prisoners. They wore no colors and flew no banners. Jarin was mad with grief over Asher’s death as well as your loss, Caden. We did not know what would be done with you, and we feared the worse. I tried to talk sense into him. I warned him that to kill Lord Clarion’s heir was to invite his fury, as well as that of the Bainards—they are the Toustain’s allies now. I told him that Sir Evrain could be used for ransom, his life for yours, but Jarin insisted you were likely already dead. He beheaded him and sent his body back to Seahaven with Sir Achart as escort. He holds Leofred, but I do not know what he means to do with him. Ransom him for you … kill him as well … I cannot know.”

“The fool!” Caden thundered, slowly helping Gwen to her feet.
“When I get my hands on him—”

“Forgive your brother, I beg you. I have already lost one son. I fear that I will lose Jarin to his anger. He acted without thinking, and I fear more of the same.”

“Then there is no time to waste. I must return to Minas Bothe immediately. Father must be told of all that has happened, and we must act quickly. When Seahaven’s heir is returned to them dead, all of Dinasdale will rise up against us. With the Bainards and their fleets on their side, we will cannot hope to survive it. Damn him, Jarin has just doomed us!”

“Yes, you must act,” Victoria said softly. “However, morning is soon enough. The lady is devastated and you both need rest.”

Caden looked down at the woman pressed against his side. She clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from sinking to the floor again. His arm anchored her against his side, his hand tight at the curve of her waist. Her sobs had ceased, but her eyes were still brimming with tears. She stared blankly into the fire, every blink bringing on a fresh downpour of tears.