White Star (33 page)

Orrin watched as she closed her eyes, and started to pray.

The glow was soft and hard to see in the firelight, but it was there. Surrounding the babe, reflecting in Evelyn’s face, the power of the Gods flowed through her hands. The babe kicked again, its little legs beating on Evie’s stomach as it started to coo and laugh.

Orrin felt something ease in his chest as his lady looked up, and smiled at him through her tears.

Archer
thought it was a damn fine party, all things considered. Of course, a couple bottles of mead put a glow on anything. He burped, and tried to remember how many bottles he’d had.

He was sprawled on one of the hay bales that had been set around the Wareington town square. The music was in full swing, with a small group banging out a tune and some others singing at the tops of their lungs. Sounded just fine to him.

He suspected the mead helped with that, too. Nice to see everyone getting along, relaxing. Been too long since he’d relaxed any. He lolled back against the hay, and took another swig.

Of course, Orrin wasn’t relaxing. Wasn’t drinking, either. One minute he was checking the watch; the next, doting on his lady. Made Archer smile to see it. He looked around, to see if he could spot them.

Most of the night, Evelyn had been surrounded, talking to the people of the town, getting to know them better. A few had asked for healing, and she’d obliged, going off to see to them. But she and Blackhart had managed a few dances.

Mage was not far off, surrounded by a group of young girls, all laughing and admiring him as he sat gesturing and talking. From the looks of a few of his admirers, the boy was going to get himself some tonight. Archer grinned, and gave him a salute with his bottle.

Sidian was trying to figure out how to dance with a partner. The big man had earlier stripped down to show them some dancing from the Plains, and just about had everyone’s eyes popping out of their heads. But he claimed he’d never danced a simple reel with a woman in his arms before. Archer suspected that he’d learned faster than he’d let on, but all the women were having great fun trying to teach him, so the big black man wasn’t letting on.

Obsidian Blade. Odd kinda name. Of course, that was the pot talking to the kettle, wasn’t it? Who was he to point a finger?

Archer burped, and scratched his stomach. Of course, there was the pardon. They could go back to their own names, couldn’t they? Except he’d been Archer so long, there was no sense changing. He’d have to think on that awhile. Once he was sober.

Reader was dancing a reel with a chubby woman in his arms, with kinda the same expression on his face as when the Baroness tortured him. Poor guy, probably too polite to run away. Archer wished Reader luck with that. The lady looked determined.

He looked around for Thomas and Timothy, before he remembered. That hurt. Those boys had been good friends. Archer lifted his bottle to the starry sky, then drained it dry.

He caught a glimpse of Dorne and Bella whirling around the dance floor, smiling and laughing. Other townsfolk were there as well, scattered around the square. People were coming and going, and there was a lot of talk and laughter in the air. He could feel the relief, and the absence of fear, in everyone. Made him smile to think he was part of the reason for it. And that Thomas and Timothy had not given their lives in vain.

Archer yawned, and scratched his extended stomach. He’d eaten too damn much, which felt good. He’d drunk too much, but that was fine. He looked at his empty bottle with regret, but it was time for him to head to bed.

It had been a good night. He’d danced with some of the young bucks in town, and flirted with them, but for some reason not one had really appealed. Archer slumped down on the hay bale. Maybe it was seeing Blackhart and Evelyn together that made him envious. Not that he had any interest in Blackhart as a mate. Gods above, the man had a foul temper.

But those two shone with more than just their physical attractions. Archer envied them that. Kinda put a man off a casual fling in the dark. Maybe it was supposed to mean more than that.

Maybe he was drunk.

Archer set his bottle down and thought about standing up, then thought better of it. He was warm, the straw was comfortable, the stars were wheeling overhead. Maybe he’d just lie here for a while and—

Blackhart’s face loomed into sight, blocking the stars. He looked grim and frowning. “Have you seen Evie?”

Archer went from drunk to cold sober in an instant as a thin thread of chill went down his spine. He sat up. “You ain’t seen her?”

Blackhart was scanning the crowd. He shook his head. “I went to release some of the watch, and came back. We were going to dance again, then go back to the inn and—” Blackhart stopped.

Archer got to his feet. “She might have missed the dance, but I doubt she’d have skipped the ‘and’ without telling you why. I’ll get the others, and we’ll find her.”

They searched for an hour before they found the note on the Great Bed.

“Should’ve looked here first,” Archer said. He glanced at the silent man next to him. Blackhart’s face was a mask as he stared at the note. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Exactly what they tell me to.”

Outside
the slaughter house, Orrin removed his boots, feeling the cool stones of the street beneath his feet. He tossed them in the pile with the rest of his gear.

“Don’t like this,” Archer growled from behind him. Orrin turned to look at his men, clustered in the street. “Once she’s clear, you get her out of here. Understood?”

Four grim faces met his eye; none looked away. “Any reason we don’t just rush in and take her back?” Reader asked, testing the edge of his dagger with his thumb.

“I won’t risk her. We do it their way.” Orrin stripped off his tunic. “It’s a fair trade. A life for a life.”

“Yours for hers,” Sidian observed. “I’m not sure she will agree.”

“Do I have your word? All of you?” Orrin demanded. “Or shall I just fall on my sword here and let you trade my body?”

Four grim looks, then four nods.

“Well, then.” Orrin turned, and put his hands behind his back.

Archer bound them with a length of rope.

Sidian pulled open the door, and Orrin slid into the darkness. The building felt big, echoing. Orrin took a few cautious steps, then stopped. “I’m here.”

There was a click, and a lantern flared. Orrin blinked at the light, then his heart stopped in his breast.

Evelyn was tied to a chair in the center of the room, gagged and blindfolded. He could see spell chains binding her wrists, and cursed himself for not having all of those things destroyed. “Evie?”

She cried out through the gag, but her words were indistinct. Orrin scanned the darkness beyond, sensing the presence of someone else. He moved forward into the light. “I’m here; no weapons, no armor. Let her go.”

A man stepped forward then, directly behind Evelyn, a dagger in his hand. It took a minute, but Orrin recognized him. “Torren, isn’t it? You served in the kitchen at the inn.”

“Torren of Farentell,” the man said. “I toted your water, and chopped your wood, and waited for my chance.” His hand tightened on the handle of the dagger.

“Did you hurt her?” Orrin asked, staring at Evie.

Evelyn shook her head, and struggled against the ropes.

“No,” Torren said. “Got no complaint against her. It’s you I’ll see dead.”

“I’m yours,” Orrin said. “Release her.”

“You bring any men? Any weapons?”

“My men are outside,” Orrin said. “But only to see her safe. I give you my word.”

“Like that’s any good,” Torren scoffed. “Kneel.”

Orrin got down on his knees.

Torren watched him for a moment, then pulled the blindfold off Evelyn. Her hair was in her eyes, and she had to toss her head back to see. Orrin watched as the anger in her eyes faded to fear at the sight of him, helpless, on his knees.

Torren loosened the gag, and pulled it gently away from her mouth. “I’m going to cut you loose, Priestess. You need to leave.”

“No, no.” Evelyn staggered forward as the ropes fell away, throwing herself at Orrin, on her knees beside him. “Orrin, you can’t let him—”

Orrin leaned into her arms, breathing in the scent of her hair for what he was sure was the last time. “Archer’s just outside,” he whispered. “He’ll know what to do.”

Evelyn cast a terrified glance at Torren, then ran for the door, her wrists still bound in the spell chains. She banged through the door, calling Archer’s name. The door swung shut behind her.

“So much for your word.” Torren stepped forward, his hand clenching on the hilt of the dagger.

From outside, Evelyn screamed in anger and disbelief. “Let me go, let me go!”

“I kept my word,” Orrin said. “They won’t interfere. They won’t let her interfere, either.”

Torren just looked at him.

“Kill me,” Orrin said.

Torren hesitated. “I don’t—”

“Do it,” Orrin said. “I may not be so lucky next time.” He sat back on his heels and shook his head. “I love that woman, but all it takes is the mention of a fevered child or, Gods help me, a plague, and off she goes with no care for her own skin. The next man to take revenge on me might just kill her outright.”

Evelyn was crying now, calling out, begging Torren not to kill him. Orrin’s heart clutched in his chest. “Thank you for not harming her.”

“I couldn’t. She’s done nothing to—” Torren took a step toward Orrin. “You, on the other hand— you I can kill.”

“Not easy to kill a man in cold blood.”

“I’ve slaughtered many a pig,” Torren said. “That’s all you are. A pig that needs putting down.”

Orrin closed his eyes, and exposed his neck. He felt the man move closer, and then there was a long moment of silence.

“Lord of Light,” Torren breathed, “how you must love her.”

Orrin grimaced, then nodded, still keeping his eyes closed tight. “I do. I believe the Lady of Laughter now has her revenge, for now I know the loss that all suffered at my hands. That woman is my hostage to fortune, my love and my life. I’d rather die here and now than risk her further.” Orrin’s voice cracked. “And what terrifies me even more is the idea that we might have children. That they would suffer for my past sins leaves me cold and terrified.”

“You have the forgiveness of the Queen and of the Gods, and that’s not right.” Torren’s voice was the barest of whispers as he stepped next to Orrin. He could feel the heat of the man’s body against his bare arm. Fingers wound through his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat yet again. Cold steel pressed to his neck.

“I may have their pardon”— Orrin opened his eyes, and he looked up at Torren— “but I don’t know that I will ever forgive myself for what I have done.”

Evelyn was weeping now. They could hear her though the walls.

Orrin closed his eyes, and waited.

«
^

There
was a long pause. Orrin swallowed hard. “She’s in pain,” Torren whispered, as Evelyn cried out again.

She was struggling, as well. Orrin could hear the thud of flesh on flesh. She was fighting to get back to his side as she cried out his name.

Torren sighed. The cold metal of his knife fell away from Orrin’s neck. “I won’t do to her what you did to me.”

He moved away. “I thought that killing you would . . . may the Gods forgive me.”

“I’m sorry.” Orrin stayed on his knees.

Torren glared at him. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you. I can’t do that, either.”

“Don’t.” Orrin stood. “Hold me accountable. Don’t let me forget. I’m not asking for forgiveness. But . . .” Orrin looked over his shoulder. “Don’t let anyone else harm her. Because there will be others.”

Torren shook his head. “I can’t stay here. Can’t watch the two of you—” His face filled with pain. “Get up.” Orrin got to his feet, the rope cutting into his wrists as he rose. “Where will you go?”

Torren sliced through the ropes, and stepped back into the shadows. “I don’t know. I was so intent on hating you, I hadn’t given any thought to . . .” His voice trailed off. “Go. See to your lady.”

For
someone so small, she sure fought dirty. Archer had to admire when Evelyn’s foot caught Mage under the chin and sent him sprawling.

Archer was hanging onto one arm. Reader had the other. If they could just get her off her feet, they’d be able to carry—

Evelyn stomped on his foot as she cried out, “Help him, damn it. Orrin! ORRIN!”

“You could help,” Archer growled at Sidian, who stood there, his arms crossed over his chest.

“No,” Sidian said, “I promised not to attempt a rescue, but this is absurd.”

“You get her feet,” Reader said.

“Four of you, and you can’t subdue one priestess?” Orrin’s voice came from behind. “You’re losing your touch.”

Evelyn jerked her head around. “Orrin!”

Archer released her with a sigh of relief, and watched as she ran to Blackhart. “Are you all right?” Evelyn asked.

“Where’s the bastard?” Archer demanded.

“Gone,” Orrin said. He stood for a moment, as Evelyn ran frantic hands over his bare chest. He reached out, and hugged her close. “He didn’t harm me.”

“Well, that’s nice an’ all,” Reader said, “but—”

“Let him go,” Blackhart commanded. “I can’t blame him for lashing out at me.” He hugged Evelyn closer, tucking her head under his chin. “Besides, we should pardon him, as we were pardoned.”

Archer wrinkled his nose, and exchanged glances with the others. “Well, there’s pardoned, and then there’s pardoned. If you get my drift.”

Blackhart gave him a glare. “I don’t. But I’m serious. Let him go.” He drew in a bucket of air. “I just want to get back to the inn and go to bed.”

Evelyn stepped back from his arms, and for the first time Archer realized that her face was stony with rage. “Reader, get me out of these chains.”

“You’re not going to hurt us, are you?” Reader cast a frantic look at Archer, who took a prudent step back. “We was just trying to protect—”

“Evelyn”— Orrin rubbed the chafe marks on his wrists— “I understand that you’re angry.”

“How could you be such an idiot?” she snapped.