The Knight's Prisoner (13 page)

Chapter Seven

Holding and comforting Dani that night, Ferrum felt guilty he'd pushed her so hard, though it had been his intention to spank her to tears. But the following morning she was as happy and chirpy as a little bird, seemingly cleansed of it, and she stayed close by his side all day, as if she craved his nearness and touch. That night she even perched on his knee in front of all the men, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his scarred ear. She leaned the side of her head against his and stared into the fire, and he felt her mood subtly shift to a quiet listening. He had come to recognize when she was visited by the Sight.

“Your home is in danger,” she said gravely.

“My home?”

“Aye, the place where you and Prince Phillip were raised. King Benton is there. Or will be there.”

Umbria.
They were headed there already, but this was bad news. He stood up, regretfully sliding his beautiful wife off his lap, to tell Phillip.

“We'll leave before first light at full speed,” Phillip ordered.

He nodded and walked the camp, ordering the men to pack and ready the camp for a quick departure in the morning. They rode out before dawn and stopped only when it was clear the horses needed rest. When they reached the crest of the hilltop overlooking Umbria, Phillip cursed. A battle was underway, with hundreds of soldiers swarming outside the castle walls. “May the devil take Benton!” Phillip hissed. The curtain wall had already been breached, and the soldiers were pouring into the bailey.

Ferrum pulled his horse quickly to the edge of the woods, making a sharp gesture for Dani to follow. “You stay here and wait for me. Don't leave unless you've been seen and must flee. If that happens, go back to the place we rested the horses last. Understand?”

“Aye. Godspeed, Ferrum,” she choked. He shook his head. “No fears for me, little flower. I'll be back for you,” he promised.

Phillip was already making a keening war cry, and he spun his destrier to join the men, kicking him into a gallop as they charged down the hill. They took Benton's soldiers by surprise, dividing their focus between their men and Umbria's, who were shooting arrows from the castle towers. It was not long before they'd cut down most of the forces still outside the walls and routed them inside where the greater battle was being waged.

They plunged inside, Phillip at the lead. There was mass confusion within—it was hard to tell which soldiers were Benton's and which were Umbria's. Ferrum rode his horse in as far as possible, cutting down men only when he was sure they were Benton's. It seemed at first the Duke's men were fighting against them, but then William, their foster brother and the Duke's natural son saw him from across the Great Hall. He lifted his sword in fierce greeting.

“The Red Fox has arrived!” William roared. A shout of approval went up from the Umbrian men, their battle cries growing fiercer with triumph. That seemed to clear up some of the confusion, and they began to press forward with the battle in the courtyard.

“Benton!” Phillip bellowed, turning his destrier in a circle. “Show your face to me!”

Ferrum fought his way forward and caught glimpses of the Duke, his beloved foster father. He saw some of the King's soldiers breaching the castle doors, and he kicked his horse forward, riding it inside with the surge of invaders. He struck down men with a sword in one hand and an ax in the other, aiming for the kill with every swing. It was a rhythm—a zone. Time slowed, all moves were perfectly precise. The truth was, he loved battle—it was what he was born and raised for.

“Retreat!” The call came from the courtyard, and he swung his horse around, assuming Benton was out there and not wanting him to escape. But another surge of Benton's men surrounded him—soldiers who had heard the call for retreat and were trying to exit now. He worked steadily, blocking their blows and swinging his own, taking them down, one by one. By the time he'd cleared the Great Hall of Benton's men, the battle was over. He paused and looked over the hall. It was ruined with blood and bodies and small fires. He had a fleeting thought that if the Duchess had not died years ago, she would have probably died from the sight of the horses and the carnage in her Great Hall.

He led the horse out and dismounted, looking for Phillip.

“He got away,” Phillip said bitterly when he found him.

“Ferrum! Phillip!” William cried. They followed the sound of his voice and found him crouching over the blood-soaked Duke.

“No,” he choked.

“Help me to carry him,” William said tersely, and Ferrum picked his father up gently, careful not to jostle him. They carried him to his chamber and laid him out on the bed. They removed his leather breastplate and his helmet, and then their own iron helmets to kneel beside him. “My sons… my three sons… one by blood, and two by heart… keep fighting for Briton…” he murmured. His eyes flicked wildly for a moment, his limbs twitched, and then he was gone.

“No,” Phillip said in a choked voice. “NO!”

Ferrum stood and walked to his brothers, pulling them both up by their arms and tugging them in for a simultaneous embrace. The three men stood in solidarity of grief and love.

“This is the way he'd have wanted to go,” William said, with tears in his eyes. “He's raised us our whole lives for this fight.”

They nodded in solemn agreement.

“Benton?”

Phillip shook his head regretfully. “He can't be found.”

William's face clouded. “Mayhap we can beat him back to Camelot.”

“Aye,” Phillip said heavily. He looked at Ferrum. “Will you fetch Danewyn?”

Ferrum headed downstairs, giving post-battle orders as he made his way through the disaster. The castle gates were still standing open, and when he stepped out, he saw Dani approaching. She ran to him when she saw him.

“I told you to stay where you were until I came for you,” he barked before she'd reached him.

She stopped short and took one step backward, looking wary. He had her trained well enough to expect a spanking when she disobeyed.

“Nay, come here, flower,” he said and held open his arms. She ran into them and pressed herself against him.

“You're not hurt?”

He pulled away and looked at her quizzically. “Did you think I was?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, sir. I saw the battle had been won, that's why I left before you came for me.”

She reached up and touched his face. “What is it?”

He shook his head, grief threatening to bubble up and spill out of him. “The Duke is dead,” he told her heavily.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I'm so sorry.”

He nodded, unable to speak and held her body against his, drinking in the comfort she offered. After a moment, he pulled away and led her inside. “Phillip needs you,” he said, stepping over bodies as they made their way in. Dani's face had gone pale at the sight of the gore, but he felt her stiffen her back, showing that unique female resiliency with which she continued to stun him.

Phillip was in the Great Hall, giving orders alongside William. When he saw them, he beckoned them into the strategy room. William joined them, and Ferrum introduced Dani as his wife and the Prince's Royal Seer. Dani blushed prettily and curtsied. Phillip began his questions immediately.

“Where is Benton?”

“Riding… back to Camelot,” she answered faintly, her eyes unfocused.

“Can we beat him there?”

She paused, then shook her head.

“Can we beat him at Camelot?”

She shook her head again. “Outnumbered,” she murmured.

“We're outnumbered?” Phillip demanded. He was growing agitated.

She held up her hand as if to ward off further questions, and she closed her eyes. He watched them move from side to side beneath the lids. When they flickered open they held fear. “You will die. All of your men and you.” She rubbed her arms, and he guessed the hair was standing up there.

“I will die if I go to Camelot?” Phillip asked sharply.

She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “He will hunt you down and kill you, no matter where you go. He will not stop until you are dead.”

“How will I take the throne, Dani?” Phillip asked quietly.

She met his eye squarely and shook her head. “You will die,” she said with a look of horror. “All of you.” She turned her eyes on him, and the grief he saw there sent a chill through his body.

“But you said differently before.”

“Futures change,” she said hoarsely.

The room was deathly quiet as they all stared at each other in dismay.

* * *

Dani couldn't sleep at all that night. She kept seeing the vision she'd seen when the prince had questioned her. All his men dead. Ferrum, dead. She spent the next several days in a daze, and the men went about making reparations to the castle walls and gates, burning their dead and restoring the castle from the wreckage.

On the fourth morning, she heard Ferrum get up in the early morning, whispering he had to attend to things. She still felt exhausted. She closed her eyes and tried to find the sleep that had been eluding her. Instead, she had a new vision of a future changed.

She got up, dressed, and found the Prince in the Great Hall. “May I have a word with you? In private?” She stood at the prince's side, her heart pounding at what she was planning.

He looked at her curiously. “Aye.” He led her into a small room with a round table and chairs—the strategy room, if she guessed right.

“I had a dream this morning—but it was not a dream.” The prince merely nodded, and she was grateful he didn't require an explanation she could not provide. “I saw myself admitted to Camelot, to, ah… pleasure the king.”

The prince raised his eyebrows.

“I had a needle hidden in my braid, and I pricked him with it.”

“And then what happened?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “That's all I saw. My sense was there was some kind of poison on the needle, though I know not what.”

The prince nodded slowly and was quiet for a long moment. “I know of a poison that could kill with even such a tiny dose,” he said at last. He looked at her, conflict flickering on his face. Finally he sighed, as if defeated. “Ferrum will not allow it.”

She felt a stab of anxiety. She had to do this—it was the only way to save Ferrum. “But you are the prince.”

He hesitated again, then shook his head sadly. “I won't go around him.”

“Won't go around him for what?” Ferrum asked in a dangerous voice.

She jumped and turned around in dismay, cursing his ability to move so stealthily he'd entered undetected. His expression was stormy.

She found she couldn't speak. She looked to the prince, who hesitated, looking back at her. He clearly didn't want to speak it either.

“Ferrum won't allow
what
?”

Her mouth was dry, and she still couldn't speak. He was going to see this as another betrayal. And what's more, he would stop her from doing what she'd seen she must do.

“Danewyn has been shown a way to defeat Benton and win the throne,” the prince said carefully.

Ferrum looked from one to the other suspiciously. “What is it?”

The prince hesitated and looked at her. She drew in a deep breath. “I saw myself killing him.”

Ferrum's eyes narrowed. “How?”

“With poison on a needle that I hid in my hair.”

Ferrum stared at her, comprehension turning his face even stonier, if that were possible. “How did you get near him?” he asked, though he looked as though he'd already guessed it.

She swallowed. “I was allowed into Camelot as a…”

Ferrum nodded grimly. “I see.” He looked from one to the other of them and then turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber. She stood up to follow, but the prince grabbed her elbow.

“Nay. If he leaves, it means he's too angry to speak. Let him go.”

“I
have
to do this,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice.

The prince nodded. “Aye.”

She looked at him, surprised he'd agreed. “So you will help me?”

He nodded slowly. “I will try to help with Ferrum.”

She blew her breath out in exasperation. “And if Ferrum will not agree?” she demanded, knowing full well he would not. “You both will die! I have seen it.”

The prince nodded slowly. “Aye. But I would rather face death than betray my brother.”

“I would rather have him alive and betrayed then dead!” she snapped.

The prince held up a placating hand and nodded. “We'll work on Ferrum—when he has cooled down. Let him burn it off for a while, then we'll try again.”

She watched Ferrum from the castle window. He spent the entire day working on repairing the stone wall. By late afternoon, the prince sent for her. “Go and talk to him now.”

She nodded silently and set off for the castle wall with grim determination.

Ferrum had his shirt off, his huge muscles rippling as he moved the big rocks. She knew he felt her approach, but he ignored her.

“Ferrum.”

He did not stop or acknowledge her in any way.

“Ferrum!” she shouted.

He continued moving the rocks.

“
Will you stop? Look at me! I haven't even done it
, yet,
” she pleaded. “You can't be angry with me for
talking
about doing something.”

“Talking with Phillip. Not me,” he gritted, still working.

The knot in her belly tightened with guilt. He was right—it was a betrayal in itself. “I'm sorry for that.”

“You wanted to do it—behind my back.”

“Aye, because I knew you wouldn't hear of it.”

He stopped his work and whirled on her. “And you wonder why I'm angry?” he snarled.

She pushed on, despite his fury. “But it must be done, Ferrum,” she said. “And I will do it—with or without your permission.”

“You will not!” he thundered.

Her body went weak with instinctive submission, and she stumbled back from him, blinking back the tears springing into her eyes. “Ferrum, I did not give my heart to you—nay, my life to you—just to watch you die.” Her voice cracked on the last words as she stood there, begging with her eyes that he understand, that he allow her to do what must be done.