Midnight Warrior

The light blazed across the dark heavens like a banner unfurled for battle.

Brynn stared up at the midnight sky in fascination and delight. It was like watching a mysterious flower blossom in the shadowy depths of the forest. She had prayed it would still be there tonight.

“Did you do it?”

She stiffened but did not turn around. She had come to this tiny room in the back of the stable hoping to steal this time for herself, but she should have known she would not be permitted to enjoy this wonder alone. At least, it was only Delmas. Perhaps she could rid herself of him quickly. “Did I do what? I don’t know what you mean.”

She heard his steps behind her and then felt his heavy hand on her shoulder. She felt a surge of revulsion but didn’t move.

“Look at me.”

She reluctantly turned her back on the glory in the heavens and gazed boldly at him.

He immediately looked away as he usually did when she directly confronted him. “Be quick, I’m weary and would seek my bed,” she said.

“Not too weary to do
that
,” he snarled as he gestured at the sky. “I want it stopped. Do you hear? I want it gone.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t pretend innocence.” His eyes glittered wildly in the moonlight. “It’s your doing. I know it. You brought it to destroy me so that you could return to your precious Gwynthal.”

She wanted to laugh She had not dreamed even Delmas could believe something so outrageous. “I waved my hand and a comet streaked through the sky? Don’t be foolish.”

Pain streaked through her jaw as his palm made contact.

“Send it away!”

She shook her head to clear it of pain and darkness. It had been a long time since Delmas had struck her, and she cursed herself for miscalculating the depth of his fear and panic. She could not afford to make such mistakes. He might offer her little protection, but it was all she had in this foreign land. “I didn’t bring the comet.”

“I watched your face when you saw it last night. Everyone else in the manor was filled with fear but you … you were triumphant.”

He had mistaken her wonder for triumph. She supposed she should have pretended to share their fear, but it had not occurred to her. In truth, she had been amazed at their terror. Miracles occurred every day and this was only another. Wasn’t a rainbow a miracle? Why did they not marvel at the changing seasons? And surely the birth of a child was the most glorious of mysteries. “You were mistaken. I only—”

He struck her again, harder. “I want it gone from here.”

She reached out and grasped the wall to keep herself upright as the room swam around her. She had
given up trying to convince Delmas she had no magical powers and now used his fear and superstition to protect herself. The ploy had worked very well for the past three years, but now his belief was a danger in itself. She must find a way to soothe his fear. “All right. I did it.”

Satisfaction lit his face. “I knew it. Now send it away.”

“I cannot send it away.” She took a hurried step back to avoid the blow she knew would come. “Not at once. The magic is too great and must run its course, but I will make sure it harms no one.”

He frowned uncertainly.

“It is all I can do,” she said firmly.

“It will go away?”

“Yes.” She breathed a prayer she was not lying.

“When?”

“Soon.” She added quickly, “It takes time to break a spell as strong as this one.” She closed the shutters of the window to block out the sky from him. “Now may I go to my bed?”

“No.” He gazed at the shutters and then evidently decided to accept the partial victory. “Lady Adwen needs you. She woke in great distress and sent her servant to rouse me. It was then I discovered you had left your bed.”

“Why did you not tell me at once?” She moved quickly toward the door. “Have you summoned Lord Richard?”

“He knows. He was occupied.” Delmas followed her into the hall. “He said to call you and he would be there shortly.”

Occupied with his latest leman, Joan of Danworth, no doubt, Brynn thought bitterly. Adwen could die and he would not care. Indeed, she was sure he would prefer it. He had not been pleased when Lord Kells, Adwen’s father, had sent Brynn to Redfern to care for his daughter. A wife unable to bear children was an intolerable
inconvenience to a man as hungry for power as Lord Richard. To be free of that wife and retain her fat dowry would be very tempting. God knows, it would not take much to rid himself of such a frail burden: a little neglect, a window left open to induce a chill …

Well, she would not let him do it, she thought fiercely. Adwen would live. Brynn would not let her die.

“You wouldn’t have to create such havoc if you’d be sensible,” Delmas said as he hurried after her. “Give me your promise to lead me to the treasure, and I’ll return you to Gwynthal.”

She did not look at him. “There is no treasure.”

“You lie. I
want
it, Brynn. Give it to me.”

Demand and avarice. Dear heaven, how sickened she was of it all. At times she had been tempted to tell him what he wanted to know just to gain peace. But he would have wanted more and then more until he had it all, and she would never let anyone have Gwynthal. “There is no treasure.”

“I could buy my freedom. I could buy all of England. You hate it here. Why won’t you—”

“There is no treasure.”

His hand reached out and closed on her upper arm, biting into the flesh. “Bitch.” His voice was laden with frustration and anger. “Someday I’ll choke it out of you.”

The threat didn’t frighten her. He had tried torture in those first few weeks after they were wed, before she had learned how to protect herself. “I cannot tell you what I don’t know. Be satisfied with what I do bring you.” She paused outside Adwen’s chamber door. “It’s more than what you had when you married me.”

“But not enough. Not nearly enough.” He released her and gazed at the door with uneasiness. “Do you need me?”

He was hoping she would say no, she realized contemptuously. He had witnessed his parents perish from a
fever within a few days of each other and was deathly afraid of sickness. At these times he was almost as much afraid of Brynn’s healing skills as he was of losing his chance to become a free man. He was sure she used not her herbs or the knowledge her mother had taught her, but some magical way of banishing the demons who stole life. She should be grateful, she thought wearily; because of his belief she had been able to retain possession of her soul, if not her body. “I don’t know. Stay close. I’ll summon you if I need anything.”

Adwen’s servant, Alice, was standing by the large, curtained bed and looked up with a sigh of relief as she saw Brynn. “She’s very bad.”

“Her stomach?” The day before, Adwen had been violently ill and unable to keep anything down. Brynn strode over to the bed. Adwen’s eyes were closed and she appeared asleep.

Alice shook her head. “I don’t think so. She just suddenly woke and started to shake and weep.”

Adwen opened her eyes. “Brynn?” she whispered. She groped wildly for Brynn’s hand. “Midnight … he’s coming.”

“Shh …” She quickly took Adwen’s hand in both of hers and pressed it reassuringly. “What’s wrong? Do you have pain?”

Adwen shook her head. “I saw him. He’s coming.”

Brynn felt a chill. Who was coming? Death? She had cared for others trembling on the verge of the other side who had claimed to see visions that foretold their time. It was almost impossible to bring them back after they had gone through that experience. “You’ve been dreaming.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “And it’s no wonder you’re shaking. It’s cold in this room. Why is the window open, Alice?”

Alice’s blue eyes widened in alarm, but she did not answer.

“Richard was here earlier and said the room was overheated and I should have more air,” Adwen said wearily. “He’s always so warm.”

A window left open …

Brynn hid the flare of anger that exploded through her as she recalled that only moments before she had thought how easy it would be to destroy Adwen. “Well, Lord Richard isn’t here now.” She strode over to the window and closed the shutters. “And I’m sure he didn’t realize it would turn this chill.”

“Perhaps not,” Adwen said. “But he doesn’t like to be disobeyed. Perhaps you should—”

“They stay closed,” Brynn said flatly. She took the candlestick from the table beside the window and brought it closer to the bed. Adwen’s face appeared pale and streaked with tears, but that was not unusual. Brynn would have been more worried if she had been flushed with fever.

She was struck anew by the youthful fragility of the woman. Slight and fine-boned with long black hair, Adwen looked a mere child. She was scarcely more than that, Brynn thought angrily. Richard of Redfern had taken her to wife when she was only thirteen and had promptly set about trying to take from her what he most desired. Adwen had lost four children before she came to term and had spent almost the entire past five years in this room guarding the little health she had remaining so that it could be expended in giving her husband a child.