But what sort of future could I give her? How could I be with her while carrying the knowledge that I had sworn to murder the very man she devoted her life to protecting? But if I didn’t kill Richard, would Laurel truly die?
Mother Margarite must have been bluffing. Or maybe she was testing me. Perhaps I had misunderstood her in my panic.The moment I had seen Laurel breathing easier, the moment I knew she would live, I had grabbed her and fled with no thought beyond getting her away from there. I hadn’t asked the right questions. I hadn’t clarified the terms of our bargain, that was all.
I would do that now.
The moon was a thin crescent, casting only the faintest glow over the path. I tied my horse to a tree on the outskirts of the forest and began the journey toward Mother Margarite’s derelict hut. The area had been unsettling enough in full daylight. Now, in the pitch-dark of night, every slight noise sounded ominous and threatening. Twigs cracked beneath my boots and more than once, something rustled in the bushes. When the cottage finally came into view, it looked even worse than before.
The crooked tree loomed in front of it, black and twisted against the sliver of moon. The darkness around the clearing seemed thick and unnatural, though I could still see the pale sky beyond the branches. Small bones crunched beneath my boots as I walked up the path, and a cold draft of air washed over me as I neared the door.
There was no light inside the house, but I knocked anyway. This couldn’t wait until morning. At first, nothing happened. Then a lamp flared inside, and I heard shuffling footsteps. I squared my shoulders and fixed my expression. I prepared to say that I needed to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement. I planned to offer something else. I could give her power, wealth, titles, land…whatever she wanted.
The wooden door creaked open. Mother Margarite stood on the other side, just as ancient and hunched as before. Her skin hung off her, thin and nearly translucent in the lamplight, and her wrinkles seemed to have wrinkles.
“I knew you’d come back,” she said with a wide, terrible grin. “Everyone does.”
“I need to renegotiate our agreement.”
She was already shaking her head. “Baron, Baron. We made a bargain. You can’t go back on it now. A life for a life. That’s what you promised me.”
“But you don’t understand.” Desperation roughened my voice despite my efforts to control it. “I can’t do what you asked. It’s impossible.”
“It’s not an impossible task.” Her voice lowered to a rasp. “Difficult, yes. But impossible? No.”
“I can’t kill King Richard.”
“Can’t?” She tilted her head. “Or won’t?”
“If anyone found out…”
“I never said you had to tell anyone.” A wicked smile spread across her face. “Do it discreetly, and you’ll be able to stay with the woman you love. No one ever needs to find out.”
“I won’t do it,” I said.
“Then don’t.” Mother Margarite stepped back into the cottage and shuffled toward the table at the center of the room. “But if you choose not to fulfill your oath, the girl will die.”
My hands curled into fists. “But you healed her.”
“Ipreservedher temporarily.”
Preserved her temporarily? What was that supposed to mean?
“You said she would live.”
“I said I could save her life.” Mother Margarite looked back at me. “And I did. You saw it yourself. She’s getting better, isn’t she?”
“She is. But…you’re asking my to assassinate a king.”
“I’m asking for payment. If I’m not paid, then Laurel will never be truly healed. Without my help, she’ll get ill again and eventually die.”
I took a step toward her. “Do you mean to say that you didn’t keep your end of the bargain?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Not at all. But my methods take time, and I have to ensure that you keep your promise as well. If I just healed everyone right away, no one would ever return with my payments and I can’t have that.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. Rage flared through me, hot enough to drive out some of the fear. I wanted to seize her, shake her, drag her to Nottingham Castle in chains and force every secret from her lips. But something in her expression held me back. She wasn’t afraid of me, not even a little.
“You aren’t the first man to consider violence,” she said mildly, as if commenting on the weather. “But hurting me won’t help the girl. Kill me, imprison me, burn this cottage to ash if it comforts you. But none of that will give you what she needs when the time comes.”
“You’re bluffing.”
