The two men turned toward the younger knight, wondering what the rush was about, Nicolas did not give them a chance to ask.
“Trouble, my lord,” Nicolas came to an unsteady halt. “Your wife has stabbed Lady Remington and….”
Gaston did not even realize he had reached out and grabbed his cousin.“What?”
Nicolas met his eyes steadily, although he was quaking out of fear. “You’d better go, Gaston. Rory says she’s dead. I have not seen for myself yet.”
Gaston’s mind went blank. He was aware he was running, passing through the darkened baileys with Arik beside him, but little else. Even the innards of the castle passed by him in a flash, his mind neither thinking nor feeling nor hearing anything else but Remington.
He took the stairs like a man possessed. With each fall of his boot he could hear the death chant…Dead. Dead. Dead. When he finally burst into the upper floor hallway, he was running faster than he ever had in his life.
He heard the crying, the moaning, and he burst into the room from which it emitted. Rory and Skye were standing around the bed while Jasmine and old Eudora were tending the body on the mattress.
He rushed up on the bed so fast he almost lost his balance and pitched forward. Yet, he could see that his fear had been for naught as she twitched and cried, testimony to the life still flowing within her.
Slammed with indescribable relief to see that Remington was not dead, it was rapidly dampened by the sight of a knife hilt protruding from her shoulder. Blood was everywhere.
“She won’t let us remove it.” Jasmine was crying softly, not turning to look at him. She had felt him behind her, hearing his panic.
Remington’s eyes opened, a sea of color in a pasty face. She focused directly on Gaston.
“No!” she screamed at him. “Do not hurt me!”
His heart broke into a millions pieces and he took Jasmine by the arms to move her aside so that he could be close to Remington.
“Remi, angel, it has to come out,” he said tenderly, motioning Arik to the other side of the bed.
“No,” she breathed, a cry of panic, of pain. Her eyes rolled closed. “Leave me alone.”
Arik moved the women back and gave them all quiet, concise orders before moving to the other side of Remington.
“She’s not thinking straight,” he whispered to his second. “Hold her while I remove it.”
“Nay,” Arik returned quickly. “You hold her. She shall want you to hold her.”
Gaston looked at him a moment before nodding curtly. Arik was astonished at the pain he read in his lord’s eyes. It was as if this Gaston was someone entirely different from the Dark Knight he knew. The Dark One knew no pain.
Gaston felt ill at all of the blood he was seeing on her slim body as he braced himself against the side of the bed. Gently, his huge hands came down on her arms and her eyes opened again, looking at him with panic.
“Gaston?” she whispered urgently, looking for some sort of reassurance that he wasn’t going to hurt her anymore.
“It’s all right, angel, I am here,” he said softly, smiling at her encouragingly. “I shall not leave you.”
Arik moved toward the hilt of the blade as Gaston kept her attention. “It was Mari-Elle,” she told him weakly. “She came into your room and stabbed me. Gaston, she was insane. Her eyes were wild.”
His jaw clenched but he maintained his outward calm. “Do not worry yourself over her, angel.”
Remington swallowed hard and he felt her relaxing under his grip. Her eyes closed lethargically. “I am… tired. I want to go to sleep.”
“Then sleep, my sweet angel,” he whispered, touching his cheek to hers. “Go to sleep and forget about this for a while.”
Arik suddenly gripped the blade and yanked it free in one clean stroke. Remington went stiff with the shock and the agony, spewing forth an anguished scream, but Gaston continued to hold her tightly.
“It’s all over, Remi, I promise,” he said hoarsely.
“It hurts,” she cried softly.
He smiled sadly, kissing her cheek tenderly, wishing to God he could take the pain upon himself. “I know, sweetness, I know. Believe me, I know. But it’s all over now.”
