“Then why was Mira covered in his blood?”
“Because she got caught in the spray, my lady.”
“And she had nothing to do with it?”
“I killed him, my lady.”
Isabel knew it wasn’t the truth. She had seen the mess in the vault and she had seen the rock. She’d also seen Mira covered with blood while Douglas had very little on him. But Douglas had confessed to the killing right away, even to the point of silencing Mira when she tried to speak about it. Mira was currently upstairs, sleeping from a potion the physic had givenher because of the injuries sustained in Raymond’s attack, while Douglas freely confessed the killing not only to Isabel, but to a distraught Jerome de Honiton.
A man who immediately declared war on the de Lohr empire.
Oh, Isabel knew why Douglas had confessed. God help her, she knew. He did it to protect Mira, to protect Axminster, and to focus de Honiton on the much larger de Lohr war machine rather than the weaker Axminster. He was a man of conviction, of chivalry, of nerves of steel to lie as he had. To look Jerome de Honiton in the face and take the blame for something he did not do took a man of steel, indeed. Isabel knew all of this and she loved him for it. As a sister would love a brother, as a friend would love a friend. But it broke her heart that he’d accepted blame.
There was a pitcher of wine over near the hearth, stale wine that had flecks of dust floating on the top of it. Isabel, who was still slightly drunk from the feast only hours earlier, picked up the wine vessel and drank out of the neck. Long gulps. Licking her lips, she set it back down again and made her way over to Douglas.
She moved in very close to him.
“You may tell everyone that you killed him, but I want to know the truth,” she whispered with her wine-ladened breath. “Tell me what truly happened, Douglas, and I will take it to my grave. But this is my castle. I deserve to know the truth.”
Douglas’ gaze lingered on her. Her left shoulder was against his left shoulder. She was facing one way and he was facing the other. But she was as close to him as she could possibly be without standing on him. It was an intimate gesture of concern, of supplication, and of trust. Douglas had refused to tell anyone the truth of what happened and sworn Jonathan and Davyss to secrecy. They would never betray him, he knew.
And he knew Isabel wouldn’t either. Itwasher castle, after all.
But he had to make sure.
“Are you doubting my word?” he finally asked, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.
Isabel didn’t seem pleased that he’d evaded the question. “Look at the situation from my perspective,” she said. “Mira has clearly been battered. She was covered with blood, indicative of a fight for her life. You, on the other hand, do not have a scratch on you. And you say you killed him? With a rock smashed into his head, which would have been messy to say the least? If Mira did not do it, why is she covered in gore? And if you did it, how did you stay so clean?”
“I am highly skilled.”
“Enough that blood would not even stain you?”
“Possibly.”
“And a man fighting for his life would not touch you in any way?”
“I am a superior warrior.”
“I agree,” Isabel said. “Youarea superior warrior. But I will ask you a direct question and you will give me a truthful answer. If you do not, I will never believe anything you say ever again. Are we clear?”
“We are, my lady.”
“Did you kill Raymond?”
He didn’t reply right away. He was looking away, his jaw twitching faintly, before he made the effort to turn in her direction. Even then, he simply looked at her, hesitant to speak at all.
“Does it truly matter?” he asked.
“It does to me.”
He hesitated, but only for a moment. “If you do not keep your promise, I will cut your tongue out.”
Isabel believed him, but she looked at him with some surprise. “When have I ever broken your trust, Douglas?”
His blue-eyed gaze drilled into her for a moment as if to emphasize his threat before he finally answered. “He was dead when I arrived,” he whispered. “I was too late to do anything. He attacked Mira and she fought back the only way she could, with the only weapon she could find. But know this—had she not killed him, I most certainly would have. Therefore, I will take the blame for it. She does not deserve to.”
Isabel had known all along that would be his answer, but she was still startled by it. She nodded faintly, silently thanking him for the truth, but now she felt sick inside to realize what Mira had gone through that brought them to this very tense moment.
