Lion’s Bride

Chapter Four

THE FIRE BURNED brIGHTLY on the third mountain.

Vaden was back.

Ware’s hands closed on the stone wall of the battlement. He should not feel this relief. Vaden was always a threat.

But it was a threat to which he had grown accustomed. Vaden was as much as part of the fabric of his life now as in the past. He had grown almost comfortable with the knowledge that Vaden would be there, watching, waiting.

Until the time he decided to attack.

Well, that time was not now. After three days’ absence Vaden had returned to the mountain.

Laughter.

He turned to look down into the courtyard. He had noticed that Thea and Kadar had made a habit of taking a stroll in the courtyard in the cool of the evening. They were now standing talking to the young boy whose task was to light the torches. The boy…He remembered he had intended to send the lad home but had been distracted. He called, “Abdul.”

His sergeant broke off his conversation with one of the guards and hurried forward from the other end of the battlement.

Ware gestured to the boy. “He’s too young. Send him home.”

“Haroun is a good lad. I thought—His father is dead. He needs the money to support his mother.”

Ware scowled. “I can’t be expected to support the entire village. Am I now to take babies away from their mothers? Send him home.”

Abdul nodded and turned away.

“Tell him he can come back in a few years’ time.”

Abdul nodded again.

“And see that his mother doesn’t want until he reaches the proper age.”

A broad grin lit Abdul’s face. “Yes, my lord.”

“And don’t do this again. No younger than ten and six.”

“Yes, my lord.” Abdul hurried back to the soldier on the battlements.

Laughter again.

He glanced down at the courtyard. She was smiling at Haroun, and he was looking at her as if she burned as bright as that torch in his hand.

He might well be right. She exuded a fire and strength he had never seen in another woman. Even in her most vulnerable moments she had shown a courage he would have applauded in any of his soldiers.

She and Kadar were walking with Haroun to light the torches by the front door.

Even her walk was different from that of other women. Her stride was graceful but purposeful, with a touch of almost militant boldness. What life had shaped that boldness?

He frowned as he realized where his thoughts had led him. Let Kadar wonder about her, he would not. He would keep her at the same distance as he did everyone else.

She threw back her head and laughed again. The sound carried full-bodied and rich on the evening air. She never laughed when in his presence. She was always wary and tense, as if she were afraid he’d spring at her. Perhaps she should be wary. He wanted to spring on her. He wanted to loosen her braid and cover his naked body with that fair, silky hair. He wanted to cup her breasts in his hands and spread her thighs and go deep within her.

Christ, he was hardening just thinking about it.

So he would not think about it. She was only a woman, like any other. He would call for a woman to sooth his lust and dismiss the Greek from his mind.

“Today I only light the torches, but someday I shall be a great soldier,” Haroun boasted. “Just like Lord Ware.”

Thea smiled indulgently. The boy was truly irresistible, with those burning dark eyes and endearing smile. “I’m sure you’re a very great lighter of torches. There’s time for the rest.”

His smile vanished and he shook his head. “I must do it right away. I have responsibilities.”

“And one of them is lighting the torches,” Kadar said. “Abdul will not be pleased if they’re not lit by the time darkness has fallen.”

Haroun gave him a stricken glance. “At once, Lord Kadar.”

A smile still lingered on Thea’s lips as she watched the young boy dash away to the ladder leading to the battlement. She enjoyed the few minutes’ chat with Haroun every evening. He was so proud of his place in this grim fortress.

“We should go in,” Kadar said. “It grows cool.”

“In a moment.” Her gaze followed Haroun as he went from torch to torch, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Children always left brightness where they passed. She murmured, “He reminds me of Selene.”

“Who is Selene?”

The question brought her abruptly back to the present. She turned and started up the steps. “You’re right, it’s growing cool.”

“Do you think I’m going to ride off and capture this Selene if you tell me who she is?” Kadar asked as he followed her. “What must I say to prove I wish only what is best for you? Am I not the most charming and kindhearted of men?”

He was both of those things, but he was also the most persistent man she had ever met. During the past three days he had found a way to insinuate at least one subtle inquiry into every conversation. “If you were as kindhearted as you claim, you wouldn’t plague me with questions I don’t wish to answer.”

“But that’s only an example of my kindness. If you were as old and experienced as me, you’d realize that you should rely on my judgment in this.”

She snorted. “You’re perhaps two years older than I am.”

“Ah, Thea, I was older than you when I was in the cradle.”

She opened her lips to argue with him and then shut them again. In spite of his flippant remarks and smiling face, she still sometimes caught a glimpse of the Kadar she had seen when he had shown her his falcons.

Kadar chuckled. “If I’d had a cradle. We were too poor. I slept on the floor of our cottage, wrapped in a blanket. I think that was why I walked so soon. I was afraid the rats would eat me if I didn’t run away from them.”

She shivered. “That is not funny.”

“No, but it’s better to laugh at such things than dwell on them.” He paused. “Did you worry about the rats when you were a child, Thea?”

“No.” Nicholas would have been enraged if there had been any rats near his beautiful silks. She suddenly realized he had done it again—slipped another question into the conversation. She asked in exasperation, “When will you take me to Damascus? I’m well now.”

“Soon. There is no hurry.”

He might not be in a hurry, but Selene was still in Constantinople. The longer Thea took to establish herself, the longer Selene would have to bear the life at Nicholas’s house.

“I wish to leave tomorrow.”

“We will see. Would you like to start a game of chess before you go to bed?”

“No.” She cast a glance at Haroun, who had just finished lighting the last torch on the battlements. He smiled and waved at her. She felt another pang as she lifted her hand in response. She wanted Selene here now. She wanted to see her smile and know she was well and happy.

No, she was lying to herself. She was also being selfish. Selene was the only person she loved, and she needed someone to love in this alien land.

“You look sad.” Kadar urged softly, “Tell me your thoughts.”

The man would not stop.

“I will not tell you my thoughts.” She strode into the castle. “I’m going to bed.”

Two nights later she noticed it was not Haroun who was lighting the torches but one of the soldiers.

“He is gone,” Kadar answered when she asked about it. “He went back to his village last night. Ware wasn’t pleased with him. He was too young.”

“But he was so proud….” Anger flared through her. “How old would he have to be to light the torches and run errands?”

“He was too young,” Kadar repeated. “This is not a place for children.”

No, she thought bitterly, it was a place where women were kept only to couple and serve and men were taught to wage war. “He should not have sent him away.”

Kadar shrugged. “He thought it best.”

Her gaze lifted to the shadowy figure on the battlements. Ware was always there this time of evening, looking out at the mountains.

Ware had thought it best, and a boy’s life had been changed. Ware felt lust, and a woman rushed to his bed. Ware refused permission, and the gates would not be opened for her.

By the saints, she could do nothing about altering his power over the others, but she would not let him hold her there.

She turned and ran across the courtyard.

“Where are you going?” Kadar called, startled.

She didn’t answer as she flew through the hall, then up the steps and finally the long, twisting stairway.

She threw open the door and strode out onto the battlements. She stopped for a moment before approaching him, catching her breath and gathering her arguments.

Sweet Jesus, he looked alone. She could almost touch the wall of terrible isolation that surrounded him.

Well, if he was alone, it was his own doing. A man could expect nothing else if he pushed everyone away from him. She would not feel sorry for him. She had her own worries and he was one of them.

She strode forward until she stood beside him.

“I must talk to you,” Thea said.

Ware’s gaze never left the mountains. “It’s late. Go to your bed.”

“It’s not late. It’s been five days. Why are you keeping me here?”

He still didn’t look at her. “Kadar says you’re not healed.”

She snorted. “Even my burn is gone.” She moved closer to him. “I cannot linger here any longer. I must start my work.”

He didn’t answer.

She wanted to shake him. “Why not let me go? You don’t want me here. I’ve scarcely seen you since you brought me my mulberry leaves.”

He glanced at her. “Did you wish me to amuse you?”

She spoke through clenched teeth. “No, I don’t wish you to amuse me. You wouldn’t know how. All you know is war and coupling.”

“War is not amusing, but coupling can be—” He shook his head. “No, that’s not amusing either. When the need is upon me, it’s too intense to smile about.”

He seldom smiled at anything but Kadar’s quips. Yet he had smiled that night she had come upon him with Tasza. Did only drunkenness rid him of grimness? No, even that night she had been aware of bitterness surrounding him like a dark cloud.

“If you want amusement, go to Kadar,” he said. “Stay away from me.”

“I’ll not stay away from you. Not until you tell Kadar to take me to Damascus.”

“He wants you here. He thinks you’ll not be safe until he knows everything about you. Tell him what he wants to know and you’ll go to Damascus the next day.” He met her stare. “As for me, I don’t care where you came from or what dangers you face. You don’t belong here. You’re right, I know only war and coupling. You cannot fight for me, and that only leaves one use.” His gaze went to her breasts, and he said without inflection, “I grow hard when I look at you. If you stay here much longer, I’ll probably take you to my bed.”

The crude boldness shocked her, but no more than her own physical response. Her breasts were swelling beneath his gaze as if he were stroking her. She could feel her nipples hardening, pressing against the soft cotton of her gown. Could he see that betraying response in the bright flare of the torches? she wondered. Probably. His gaze was narrowing, his mouth curving with that same heavy sensuality she had seen in the hall that night.

“Every time I take a woman now, I want it to be you. At first I thought it because I was growing bored with Tasza, but I’ve tried two others and it’s the same.” He said thickly, “I want them all to be you. I want you to open your thighs and let me stroke you. I remember how soft your woman’s fleece looked. I want to feel it against me as I move in and out of—”

“Stop.” Her voice was strangled. “This is not…decent.”

“Look at yourself. You want it.”

“No, I don’t.” She tried to steady her voice. “I’ll not be one of your women. I won’t be any man’s property. I’m going to have my own embroidery house and be free to live life as I please.”

His gaze at last lifted from her breasts to her face. “Then stay away from me.” He turned back to the mountains. “And tell Kadar what he wants to know. I’ve let Kadar have his way in this, but I’ve little patience. If you stay much longer, I will have my way.”

“It’s none of your concern what life I left behind me. If you don’t let me go, I’ll find a way of leaving anyway. I’ll not let you—What is that glow?”

His gaze never left the third mountain. “Just a campfire.”

The answer barely registered as she leaned over the battlement to see better. “No, not there. To the south.”

He stiffened. “My God.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door leading off the battlement.

She hurried after him. “What is it?”

“Jedha. The village is burning.”

“The village…”

The families of all the soldiers who guarded this fortress lived in the village.

He had sent Haroun back to Jedha.

She flew down the steps after him. “I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I’m going .”

He turned to look at her. “I’ve no time for this. Do what you wish. God knows, you may be as safe there as here.”

“I’ll get salves and linens.” She ran down the corridor to the scullery. “Jasmine!”

The courtyard was filled with armored soldiers and milling horses when Thea rushed out the door a short time later.

Her gaze searched the courtyard until she found Kadar.

“Kadar!”

He walked his horse up to her.

“May I ride with you?”

He glanced at Ware, who was now mounting his horse across the courtyard. “I think you should stay here. We don’t know what we’ll encounter at Jedha.”

“Don’t be foolish. We’ll encounter people who are hurt. Jasmine is following with a wagon full of bandages, salves, and food.” She held up her arms for him to lift her onto his horse. When he made no motion to help her, she added, “And Lord Ware said I could go.”

“He did?” Kadar’s expression became thoughtful. “I wonder…” He bent down and lifted her onto his horse. “You are sure?” He galloped across the courtyard and reined in when he reached Ware. “Is this wise?”

“It may not make any difference. I’m leaving a force here, but it may be too small….” He shrugged. “She maybe safer outside the gates.”

“But if it’s a trap?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to go anyway. That’s my village that’s burning.” He waved his hand and galloped over the drawbridge with the column of soldiers thundering after him.

“What did he mean?” Thea asked as Kadar followed the soldiers. “A trap?”

“I don’t think it’s a trap,” Kadar said reassuringly. “Ware has made sure his army is stronger than the Knights Templars’. That’s why they haven’t attacked him yet. They’re waiting for an opportunity.”

He had mentioned the Knights Templars’ pursuit of Ware before, but it seemed impossible they would burn a village to draw him out. After all, they were monks, servants of God. “Fires start all the time. A careless mistake with a cooking flame…” He did not seem to be listening. “How far is it?”

“Over the next hill. We’ll be there soon.”

But would it be soon enough to help the villagers? she wondered desperately, her gaze on the red glare lighting the night sky.

The village was ablaze, every house an inferno.

Thea stared in horror at the flaming chaos before them.

Bodies…everywhere.

Men, women…Dear God, children…little children.

“I have to help them. I have to—” She slipped from the saddle.

“Thea!” Kadar called.

She ignored him and ran toward a little girl lying beside a burning hut. She carefully turned the body over. Blood. Dark eyes staring at the sky. Dead.

“You can’t help here.” Ware’s voice came from beside her. “Wait outside the village with Kadar. If there’s anyone alive, I’ll have them brought to you.”

She dazedly stared up at him, still mounted on his horse. “She’s dead.”

“It was a clean sword thrust,” he said quietly. “She didn’t suffer.”

“Sword…” She glanced at the other bodies. She had noticed only the death and devastation, not the means. An arrow protruded from the back of a man across the path. A woman was crumpled against a wall, clutching a wound in her stomach. She could not believe it. “They murdered them?”

“Wait outside the village.”

She shook her head. “Someone may be alive. I have to—”

“I gave my soldiers orders for all bodies to be checked for signs of life. This is their village, their people. They won’t make mistakes.”

Ignoring him, she stood up and moved to a man lying a few feet away. He was dead also. She moved to another lying next to the well in the center of the square. Dead.

Frozen expressions of fear and horror.

Blood.

A woman swollen with child with an arrow in her back.

The smoke from the burning cottages was now so thick, she could barely see.

Kadar was on his knees beside her. “Ware says you must leave this place.”

“I will not,” she said fiercely. “Someone must be alive. I have to—” Was that a movement? She leaped to her feet and ran toward the slumped figure on the other side of the well. “Haroun?”

The child opened his eyes. “Mama…”

“Shh…it’s all right.”

He shook his head and his lids closed again.

But he was still alive. She turned to Kadar. “Take him out of here.”

She found only one other survivor of the massacre. An old man who had hidden beneath a wagon. It didn’t seem possible that there could be no one else left alive. Perhaps the soldiers had discovered others…. She had to keep searching.

Ware jerked her to her feet. “Will you stay here until you burn to death with the corpses?” He lifted her in his arms and strode down the street.

“Let me go.” She started to struggle. “I found two alive. There may be more.”

“There are no more.” His face was completely without expression. “And if there were, we couldn’t reach them. The entire village is engulfed.” He set her down on her feet. “Take care of her, Jasmine.” He was gone again.

Jasmine. She hadn’t seen the wagon arrive. She had seen nothing but death and blood and fire.

“You are weeping,” Jasmine said. “Are you hurt?”

She hadn’t realized she was weeping. She reached up a hand and touched her wet cheek. There didn’t seem to be enough tears in the world for what she had just seen. “No, I’m not hurt.”

She turned back to the village.

There was no village, only a solid sheet of flame.

“May Allah be merciful,” Jasmine’s voice was unsteady. “I was not treated with kindness here, but I would not have had this happen. I grew up in this village.”

Thea saw several of the soldiers standing with tears running down their cheeks. This was their home, the place of their birth, the people they had loved in that bonfire. She couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. She turned back to the wagon. “Did you look at Haroun?”

“He may not live. He’s had a sharp blow on the head. The old man, Malik ben Karrah, has only a few burns.”

“Did they find anyone else?”

“One man. Amal, the cobbler. He died before I could look at his wounds.”

Two alive out of an entire village. She suppressed the wave of sickness that washed over her. She couldn’t help anyone if she was ill. She climbed onto the bed of the wagon. “Then let’s get back to Dundragon so that we can care for the boy.”

“Are you all right?” Kadar was beside the wagon.

She nodded. “But we have to get Haroun back to the castle.”

“Not now. Ware has taken some men and gone on ahead to make sure the road is safe. I’m to wait a quarter hour and then escort you back.”

She nodded wearily. She couldn’t comprehend what had happened here, but she accepted that it would be foolish to place Haroun in a position of danger. “I’ll need water to wash the boy’s wound.”

It was a somber, grim Dundragon to which they returned. A pall hovered over the castle and the soldiers who guarded it.

“Take him to my chamber,” Thea told the soldiers who lifted Haroun out of the wagon. The boy had not awakened during the journey. Perhaps he would never wake again.

No, she would not think that. She slipped out of the wagon and started up the steps.

“Send word to me when he wakes.”

The command had issued from Ware standing a few feet away. He was still in full armor, and his expression was the same impassive mask he had worn at the village. Did nothing move him? Thea wondered.

His hardness suddenly enraged her. “Why? So you can send him back to his village to die again?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, and his expression never changed. “Send me word.”

She turned on her heel and went into the castle.

Haroun did not wake until near dawn the next day.

“Mama…”

Thea’s hand tightened around his. She would not lie to him. The pain would just be harder to bear later. “There were only two survivors of the fire. You and an old man…” She tried to remember the name Jasmine had mentioned. “Malik ben Karrah.”

“Fire?”

He had evidently been struck down before the fires had been set. “There was a fire.” She dabbed at his head with a wet cloth. “Try to go back to sleep.”

His lids slowly closed. “Yes.” Two tears rolled down his cheeks. “Mama…”

He was a child again, no longer the little proud soldier who had streaked about the courtyard carrying his torch like a bright banner. She wanted to gather him close as she had Selene on the morning their mother had died, but he was not her own. He belonged to no one now. She swallowed. “I promise it will be better soon.”

She stayed there, holding his hand, until he went back to sleep.

“You should go to your own bed,” Jasmine said as she set a fresh bowl of water on the table by the bed. “I’ll stay with the boy.”

Thea shook her head. With his hand still clasped in her own, she felt that leaving him would be a betrayal. “You sleep. You’ve not rested either.”

Jasmine hesitated and then finally nodded. “One of us must show some sense.” She moved brusquely toward the door. “I’ll tell Tasza to come to you in a few hours and see if you wish to rest. Tasza is good with children.”

But not as good as she is with men, Thea thought dryly, then felt a sudden rush of shame. The girl had become a whore when she was a mere child herself. Who was Thea to condemn her for trying to find security in a world that could orphan children like Haroun in one night of horror? “That won’t be necessary. Perhaps she could come to see him in a few days when he’s better.”

“Today.”

Thea wearily shook her head as the door closed behind Jasmine. Why had she bothered to argue? The woman would do as she pleased. She supposed she should be grateful that Jasmine had decided it pleased her to help Thea. Heaven knew she had needed support this night.

“The boy will live?”

Thea stiffened when she saw Ware standing in the doorway. He was no longer in armor, but he might as well have been. His face was as hard as a shield.

“I think so.”

He came into the chamber. “Jasmine said he woke and spoke to you. I told you to send for me when he woke.”

“Why should I? It seems Jasmine runs to you with every bit of news.”

His gaze searched Haroun’s face. “I want to speak to the boy.”

“No.” She moved protectively closer. “He’s sleeping again. I won’t have him disturbed.”

“I have no intention of shaking him awake.” He sat down in the chair. “I’ll wait.”

She did not want him there. His calm indifference grated on her control like salt on a wound. The world had ended for so many tonight and he did not care. “It may be hours.”

“I’ll wait.”

He was master there; she could not banish him. But she could ignore him.

It was not necessary. He did not appear to know she was in the chamber. He stared straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

Haroun opened his eyes three hours later. His gaze immediately fastened on Ware. “My lord?” he whispered.

Ware bent forward. “I need something from you, lad. Are you well enough to help me?”

Haroun nodded and then flinched. “But I cannot fight them…yet.”

“No, I have soldiers aplenty. I need you to tell me something. I need you to think back to when the village was attacked.”

“No!” Thea said.

He didn’t look at her. “Can you do that for me, Haroun?”

He nodded and closed his eyes. “They came at sundown. I was at the well drawing water for our evening meal. Mama was standing in the doorway.” He stopped. “When they rode into the village, she tried to get to me. They…the arrow—”

“Stop this.” Thea glared at Ware. “There’s no need for this cruelty.”

“Be quiet.” His gaze never left the boy’s face. “I don’t need to know about your mother, Haroun. Who were the men who attacked? Were they bandits?”

He shook his head. “I don’t…think so. They were Franks but not clean shaven like most Franks. Beards…a red cross on their mantles.” His eyes opened, brimming with moisture. “Is it enough, my lord?”

“It’s enough.” He rose to his feet. “You’ve done well. You have the makings of a soldier, lad. Now go back to sleep. We’ll talk again when you’re better.” He strode toward the door and glanced at Thea as he opened it. “Find someone to watch him and come to the Great Hall. I would have words with you.”

She wanted words with him, too. She wanted to hurl the same foul words at him she had heard the camel drivers use. She wanted to push him from the battlements.

“I’ve…done well,” Haroun said. “Did you hear him?”

“I heard him.” She tried to keep the anger from her voice. “Now go back to sleep. When you awake, I’ll get you some broth to eat.”

“I…did well….” He drifted off to sleep.

Ware was standing at the window, looking out at the mountains when she strode into the hall.

“That was cruel and unnecessary,” she burst out. “The boy has just lost his mother. Couldn’t you have waited until he healed a little?”

“No. If the attackers were bandits, we would have pursued them.”

“So that more people could die?”

He didn’t turn around. “Yes, that is war.”

“And it means nothing to you, does it? All those men and women and children…”

“Everyone dies.”

“Not like that.” She moved across the room toward him. “Those children…” She had to stop to steady her voice. “Not the children. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“No.”

“Then why did it?”

“My fault.” His voice was almost inaudible.

“What?”

“My fault. I thought it was the ones here at Dundragon who were at risk. That’s why I never let anyone but my soldiers stay too long. The villagers were no risk to them….” His fist pounded down on the windowsill. “Dammit, they were no risk .”

She drew a few steps closer. “I don’t understand. Why—” Then she saw his face.

Twisted, tormented with agony. She had never seen such pain.

“They killed them just to let me know they could reach me.”

“The Knights Templar? But they’re men of God. I can’t believe they would do that.”

“Believe what you like.” He drew a long, harsh breath, and she saw his face become a shield once more. “But I believe it, and I must make sure it doesn’t happen again. Never again. I cannot bear—I must protect—” He turned to face her. “And I’ll start with you.”

She took an involuntary step back at the sudden fierceness in his expression. “Me?”

“They know what goes on at Dundragon. They will know you’re here.”

“But I have nothing to do with you. I will leave here soon.”

“Haroun had nothing to do with me. He was here for only a few days. His mother died…the village died.” His hands fell on her shoulders. “I’ll not stand by and see anyone else die for my sake. I want to know who you are and who they can reach through you.”

“I wouldn’t tell Kadar.” She moistened her lips. “And I won’t tell you.”

“I’m not Kadar.” His grasp tightened on her shoulders. “I’m not gentle or kind. I’m selfish and angry, and I’d just as soon throw you into a dungeon rather than see you die because of me. I will know everything about you.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“You should know by now that is what I do. I hurt and kill and—” He broke off and then said haltingly, “You have a warm heart, and I think you must have people you care about. Tell me who they are so that I can protect them.”

Selene. But Selene had nothing to do with this. “She’s in Constantinople. She’s in no danger.”

“The Knights Templar are everywhere. They can walk into any palace in Christendom and demand what they like.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Even if you don’t believe, do you wish to take the chance?”

She didn’t know what to do. She could take no risk with Selene. Yet wasn’t revealing everything to him a greater risk to them both? “You’re certain it was the Knights Templar?”

“They wear a cross on their tunics, and when they enter the order, they’re commanded to grow their beards.” His lips twisted. “I assure you I had no wish for Haroun to tell me I’d murdered his village.”

“If I tell you…”

“You will tell me.”

She suddenly flared. “You won’t tell me what to do. I’ll decide what is best.” She paused. Kadar had said Ware always kept his word. Perhaps she could wrest some safety from this uncertain situation. “You must promise I will be free. You must promise that Selene will be safe and free.”

“Who is Selene?”

“You must promise.”

“I promise you will be free. Who is Selene?”

“My sister.”

“And where is she?”

“Still at the House of Nicholas. It was too dangerous to take her with me, not until I could find a place for us.”

“There is no one else?”

“No one I care about.”

“Then I’ll have her brought here.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“You heard me.” He released her and stepped back. “I can’t be worrying about someone so far away. She’ll have to come here.”

Her heart leaped with hope. To see Selene again…

He turned away. “I’ll tell Kadar to go fetch her.”

“Wait.” She moistened her lips. “He may not want to let her go.”

He turned, waiting.

She hesitated and then said in a rush, “Selene is a slave.”

He did not change expression. “And you?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “No. Not now. I’m a free woman.”

“But this Nicholas would disagree with you. You ran away?”

“It was not fair. I worked all my life in the House of Nicholas. My mother died in his service. I deserve to be free.”

“But he will want you back?”

“I have great value for him. He would be foolish not to want me back.”

“What of your sister?”

“She has skill but she is young. Her value is not as great.”

“How young?”

“Ten years.”

He frowned. “Will he sell her?”

“You would buy her?”

“It’s the safest way to get her away from him. Is it possible?”

“If the price is high enough.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Nicholas is a merchant, and all things have a price.”

“The price will be high enough.”

She hesitated. “There is something he may use to drive up the price. You should expect it.” She paused. “Selene is his daughter.”

He went still. “Yes, I’d say that would drive up the price. Is he your father, too?”

“Yes, my mother bore him three children. My brother died when he was born.”

“And he still kept you as a slave?”

“It was not unusual for Nicholas to use his slaves for pleasure…if they were comely. At least two other women bore him children. But they were boys, and Nicholas took them away and made them servants in his house.”

He said slowly, “I don’t think I like this Nicholas.”

She waved an impatient hand. “You don’t have to like or dislike him. You must just realize he’ll use her birth to ask a higher price. You must not act too eager or he’ll cheat you.” She was afraid to believe this was happening. Her dream of bringing Selene to freedom would come true not in a few years but in a matter of months. “You can really do this?”

“Kadar can bargain with anyone over anything. Why not a child?”

Simple words. Why not a child? Why not Selene? Yet they were words that meant everything. “How soon?”

“I’ll send him tonight…if it’s safe.”

“This is a miracle,” she said unsteadily. “I cannot thank—I will repay you. I vow it.”

“Miracles are not wrought by men like me. I’m not doing this for you or her. I’m doing it for me.” He moved over to the table and poured wine into a goblet. “I’ll have no more Jedhas.”

“No one could know that such an evil would be committed.”

“No?” He drank deep. “I’d wager the Grand Master de Ridfort didn’t consider what he ordered evil. He’s decreed any means are just if they bring me down.”

She stared at him in bewilderment. “Why are they so angry with you? What did you do?” she whispered.

“What did I do?” He poured more wine into his goblet. “They say I stole a wagonload of gold from the Temple storehouse. I’m sure you’ll not find that surprising. You called me a thief on our first meeting.”

“I didn’t know you.”

“But now you’re impressed with my honesty and gentle demeanor.”

“You have no gentleness, but I believe you to be honest. You’re too impatient to indulge in deceit.”

He smiled crookedly. “So even that attribute is tainted.”

“You do have one virtue. You keep your promises.” She met his gaze. “And that’s the only virtue I care about. You said you’d bring me Selene, and I believe you.”

He was silent for a moment, staring into her eyes. Then he turned abruptly away and said harshly, “Go back to the boy.”

She started for the door and then stopped. She did not want to leave him alone. Beneath that hard, rough exterior she sensed a pain so great it was almost incomprehensible. “What can—Is there—Can I help you?”

“Help?” He smiled mockingly. “Are you offering me your body as distraction?”

She flushed with annoyance. She should have known better than to try to comfort him. Only fools tried to stroke a wounded animal. “No.” She turned on her heel.

“Wait.” He was suddenly beside her. “My tongue is clumsy. I did not mean—I strike out when—” He muttered a curse and turned away. “Never mind.”

He had been trying to say he was sorry, she realized. She was probably foolish, but she had to try again. “May I help you?”

“I need no help.” He moved heavily across the room. “Yes, I do. One thing. Send someone with another bottle of wine.”