“Pauly says her skull is broken, and she cannot see. But she lives, although Pauly seems to think she will not survive the day. Your mother is with her.”
Alec’s jaw ticked. “Thia was an accomplice in all of this. I do not know if I can forgive her, but I shall pray for a painless end to her suffering.”
“I tried to warn you but you would not listen,” Jubil whispered. “I tried to tell you, Alec. Several times. I tried to tell you to beware of the threat from within, to beware of Greeks bearing gifts. But you ignored me.”
For the first time in hours, Alec’s emotionless facade faltered. “You weren’t clear, Jubil. Your warnings were too vague for me to contemplate any action.”
“But I warned you!” Jubil leapt to her feet, agitated and filled with grief. “I told you I smelled danger, but you did not listen! All I could do was inform you of my suspicions, of the troubles whispered upon the winds. There was no way I could tell you for fact that your sister would be the Trojan Horse to your destruction.”
Alec swallowed hard, well remembering the mumbled warnings of a crazy woman. Christ, he should have listened to her. She had been right all along, about everything, and he hadn’t paid her the heed deserving of her skills. He continued to stare at the woman helplessly as she approached him.
“I spoke to your mother of Thia’s overture and, suddenly, all became clear to me. Thia’s gift was the promise of peace. She promised peace between Peyton and herself, and lured your wife into a trap. She was the Greek of my prophesy, Alec. ’Twas her gift you were to be wary of.”
His expression flickered with pain. “Had I but known.”
Jubil grasped him gently by the arm, her manner relaxing as she gazed deeply into sky-blue eyes. “Peyton is your Helena,” she murmured. “You would walk through fire to retrieve her, you would sanction the deaths of thousands if only for a glimpse of her sweet face. She is your Achilles Heel, Alec, the Keeper of your Soul. You have always known that.”
He closed his eyes against her earnest face, feeling the impact of her words like a thousand hammer blows. He lost his breath, caught it, and refocused on the older features.
“I have always known that,” his whisper echoed, hypnotized by her piercing stare.
“And you love her more deeply than you ever thought possible.”
He let out a choked sob, completely ignoring the room full of people watching him. Tears sprang to his eyes, glistening on his blond lashes as he looked to Jubil as if she held all the answers.
“I love her more than life,” he echoed faintly.
Jubil smiled faintly and patted the powerful knight on his stubbled cheek. Tears dripped from his lashes and onto her hand.
“Do not weep, sweet Alec,” she murmured. “You may be The Legend, but Peyton’s love had made you immortal. Go and find your wife.”
He sighed raggedly, wiping at the tears that were blinding him. “Is….can you sense if she is still alive?” He almost couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Jubil paused a moment, staring deeply into his eyes. Then, slowly, she brought her hand to her lips and licked the tears that had touched her. “Aye,” she replied softly. “She lives still.”
Alec took it as a promise from God. Without another word, he spun on his heel and quit the room, leaving an entire hall of royalty and commoners alike reeling in his wake.
*
Two hours aftersunrise, Wicken Fen came into view. A massive expanse of bogs, reed-filled swamps, and other beautiful but undesirable elements, it was teeming with wildlife and bramble.
Colin entered the parklands from the northern outskirts, intent on finding the very best spot to discard his load. Taking his leisure time about it, as his manner had been unhurried since leaving Blackstone, he picked his way deeper and deeper into the fen.
It never occurred to him that he was being pursued. Even if his escape had been discovered by now, there was no one to tell where he had gone. A trip to Wisseyham would happen uponservants who had not seen their master return; he had been very careful to keep himself concealed from the few serving wenches they employed, and he certainly had not brought Peyton into the open expanse of the bailey. The horse, and Peyton, had remained concealed in the woods.
Furthermore, it never occurred to him that his father would have betrayed him by giving Alec Summerlin suggestions as to where he might have gone. His father knew nothing of his plans; therefore, he would have been unable to provide Alec any assistance. Never in his wildest dreams would he have believed that his father had not only betrayed him, but had known his son well enough to guess his destination. It was frightening to imagine that father and son thought so very much alike, evil in every fashion. It never occurred to him that for every moment he lingered, Alec Summerlin was closing the gap.
The sun filtered in through the canopy above, increasing the humidity of the air surrounding him. The smell of his dirty horse and moldering leaves filled his nostrils and he was suddenly quite eager to be done with his deed. Far over to his left, he could see a swampy bog that extended nearly as far as the eye could see.
He made it as close to the bog as he could before his horse became stuck in the mud and could go no further. Turning the horse around, he managed to rein the animal to more solidified ground before dismounting.
Peyton was still unconscious. He pulled her off the mount like a sack of grain and deposited her under the nearest tree. Taking the time to remove the saddle from his horse and provide the animal with a bit of water, he then proceeded to dig about in his saddlebags for his dagger. She wasn’t dead yet; he had to kill her and be on his way.
The dagger was long, perfect to complete the deed in one stroke. He wiped at the blade, examining it, thinking ahead tothe meal he would ingest tonight at a fine inn and lingering on his approaching voyage. He’d never been to France and looked forward to the adventure.
The sun was rising steadily and Colin was eager to get on with what he must do. Moving to Peyton where she lay prostrate under the tree, he knelt beside her.
The dagger rested in his hand. “So sorry, love. Well, truthfully, I am not. Your family has been a thorn in the Warrington’s side for many years. ’Tis only right that the crisis come down to you and I as the surviving heirs,” he traced the red hair with the sharp tip of the dirk, watching the light play off the strands. Beautiful as it was, he still wasn’t remorseful in the least. “Have a grand time in hell, my lady.”
