If Corin wouldn’t agree to that term, Niel’s only option would be to sneak into the war camp with his cloak on. But invisibility wouldn’t stop him from leaving sounds or footprints; from doors and tent flaps appearing to open invisibly as he passed. He was no assassin. Searching a camp of thousands without arousing any suspicion, when his brother knew about Niel’s cloak, was not an appealing task. And Niel could not afford to fail, and leave Blackfell alive.
Corin barked a single laugh.
“You can’t be serious. He’ll never agree to that,” Corin said.
“I saw the bruises. She wasn’t lying about what he’s done.”
His brother sighed, and looked away for a moment. When he turned back his face was grim.
“I don’t doubt it,” Corin said, nearly growling. “I’ve already written to the Queen for permission to arrest him, and…”
“Permission?” Niel scoffed.
Corin gave him an irritated look.
“We’re on Blackfell soil. He’s sovereign on his own land. Some of us respect the law.” Niel snorted, and Corin continued. “I'll make sure he faces justice, but he knows your reputation, Niel. He won’t agree to a duel.”
“He’s a knight. I’ve got a right to challenge him.”
“Not since you broke your oath, you don’t,” Corin said flatly. “That won’t work. Let justice happen in its own time.”
“If the Queen didn’t care about Hannes, I doubt she’ll care about protecting a merchant-born woman,” Niel said, his voice practically a growl.
Corin frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. His stallion shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortably by his rider’s sudden rigidity.
“What the fuck has Hannes got to do with that?” Corin asked.
“She’ll say there’s more important matters to focus on. That she can’t risk angering any noble on her side just now. There’s no justice to be found at court.”
“What are you saying?” Corin pressed, the look in his dark eyes intense and disbelieving. “You disliking your squire training has nothing to do with—”
“I’ve given my terms,” Niel interrupted. “If you agree to them, you can have the Ashbrin back. Elsewise I’ll execute him.”
He knew the captive knight was a good friend of his brother’s.
Corin’s mouth fell open, then snapped flatly shut.
“Bradhan’s alive?” Corin asked, his voice harsh and his eyes hollow.
“He lost a leg in the battle. But he’s alive and his condition is stable.”
“There was no ransom,” Corin practically growled. “You—Mercy, you fucking didn’t—I’d arightto know.”
“Thisisthe ransom,” Niel said. “I duel Blackfell to the death. My men aren’t mistreated. Lady Ayla walks free. You get the castle and an Ashbrin back. If you say no, I put Bradhan’s head on a pike and I slaughter as many of your men as I can before you gut me—and youknowthat will be no small number. Do you want their deaths on your hands?”
His brother stared at him in silence, seething, Corin’s jaw locked tight. Niel smiled, knowing his own expression was hidden by his helmet.
“A hundred-odd soldier’s lives and your Sir Bradhan, against one pathetic excuse for a lord. Don’t tell me that’s a hard decision, even for you,” Niel said.
“I need time to make it happen,” Corin snapped.
He couldn’t let his brother delay long enough to build the siege tower.
“You have until dawn tomorrow,” Niel said. He lifted his hand in a gesture to tell his men he was ready to return inside. Pulling lightly on the reins, Niel coaxed Anchor to take a few slow steps back away from Corin. His brother stared down at him in open anger and disbelief.
“What happened to make you hate the Ashbrins so much?” his brother asked abruptly, as Niel started to pivot his horse.
“Oh, do you finally care enough to ask?”
