Ambrose repeated his demand. “Give it to me, Louvaen.”
“No. Since his all-mightiness has gone deaf and chosen to starve, I’m opening this door even if I have to hack my way through it.”
“Hand the axe to me right now or you and I will have anotherprofounddiscussion on the merits of toads. Do you take my meaning?”
The silence that followed seethed through the slivered cracks between door and walls. Ballard eavesdropped, captivated by the exchange between his quarrelsome lover and his equally contentious sorcerer.
“I’m going down to get his dinner,” she warned. “If the door is still barred by the time I return, I will drag Plowfoot up here and tear the thing out of the wall.”
Ballard listened to the furious snap of her skirts as she marched away.
“I know you heard that argument,dominus,” Ambrose said. “You might as well give up and open the door. If anyone can shove a harnessed draught horse up a flight of stairs, it’s that stubborn fishwife you had the odd notion to take to your bed.”
Ballard slid the bar free to let Ambrose in. He eyed the damage Louvaen had inflicted, noting the gouges she’d cleaved into the wood with the axe blade and the sharp splinters littering the floor. He closed the door but left the bar raised.
Ambrose handed him the axe. “I suggest you hide this. I wouldn’t put it past her to try and split your skull if you refuse to eat.”
Ballard limped to a shadowed corner of the room and set the axe against the wall. The flux’s residual agony coursed through his body, pooling in his joints so that his shoulders cracked every time he raised his arms. His pelvis throbbed as if Magnus had trampled him not once but several times.
Ambrose nudged one of the chairs toward him. “Are you still in much pain?”
He sat down gingerly, feeling every one of the four hundred and ten years he had lived. “Aye. The flux did a good job of crippling me this time.”
“I can brew you a simple. It might help.”
Nothing would help, not even Ambrose’s strongest concoctions. He’d only end up sleepy or worse, delirious. “No. I’ve just recovered my wits. I’ll gladly suffer an ache or two to keep them intact.”
“I’d say you’re suffering from more than an ache or bruise.”
Ballard waved him off. “Stop hovering. How’s Gavin?”
Ambrose clasped his hands behind his back and took up a short run of pacing. “Worried about you.”
A cold lump of dread settled in Ballard’s gut. After so many years his son had once again fallen to the curse’s full effect, only now he was a man grown and made demonically strong by his mother’s bane. And he’d turned on Louvaen. Were it not for Ambrose wrenching the curse out of Gavin and slamming it into Ballard with all the magic he could muster, she’d be dead—ripped apart by claws and teeth.
“Forget me,” he said. “Has he recovered?”
Ambrose ceased his pacing and took the chair opposite Ballard. “Except for his eyes, he’s once more the Gavin we know. You should talk to him,dominus.” He indicated the solar door with a thrust of his chin. “I doubt he’ll turn the door into kindling like some people, but he needs to see you. You’re his father, and he has news.”
Ballard stiffened and bit back a pained groan. “What news?”
“He’s marrying Cinnia. Today.”
Ballard dragged his hand over his face. “I didn’t think I’d raised a stupid child. What was he thinking to pledge his troth? Especially after what happened?”
Ambrose smiled wryly. “He didn’t pledge. Cinnia did, and he accepted.”
Even knowing he’d pay for it with more pain, Ballard chuckled. “Boldness must skip generations in the Hallis line. Mercer Hallis’s daughters inherited all that he lacks.
“The elder sister certainly got more than her fair share.”
Ballard lifted himself stiffly out of the chair. “Today you say?”
Ambrose nodded. “I’ll marry them this afternoon. Gavin wants you there, as does Cinnia. And I’m certain I don’t need to remark on Mistress Duenda’s wishes where you’re concerned.” He stared at Ballard for a moment. “I can always marry two couples...”
Ballard held up a hand to interrupt him. He wouldn’t dwell on the impossible. “Bad enough that Gavin will make a widow of his new bride within a week. I won’t widow Louvaen a second time, nor will I tie her to Ketach Tor. Even with no heir to inherit and no army to defend that inheritance, she’ll try to hold onto the thing she considers my legacy. When we die, Ketach Tor must die with us.” He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting despair. “Tell Gavin I’ll be there, but I want to speak with him first.”
Ambrose bowed and strode to the door. He paused to stare at a point beyond Ballard’s shoulder, expression severe. “I ask your forgiveness,dominus. I could think of no other way to stop Gavin from killing Louvaen. I almost killed you in the process.”
