“This I cannot believe. So many strong knights—all perished?”
“ ’Tis a tragedy,” Darton said with a sad lift of his eyebrows, though he seemed bor
ed and flicked a bit of dirt from his blue tunic. “I’ve sent men looking for them, of course, but so far no one has been found. Ah, Lucy! You’re an angel.” Blushing, Lucy placed the cup of wine and bowl of soup on the table, but Sorcha ignored Darton’s offer. She was cold inside and numb all over. Hagan couldn’t be dead. She was sure of it. If he’d died, she would feel it. A part of her would have died with him. No! No! No!
She didn’t trust Darton; never had. Today he was too calm. Too … satisfied and smug, as if he knew a dark secret he would share with no one.
“What of Bjorn and Leah?”
“The traitors?” He plucked an apple from the bowl on the table and slowly slid the blade of his dagger under the fruit’s red skin.
“They were but following my plan,” she insisted. “If anyone is a traitor, ’tis I.”
“That isn’t the question.” He sliced a bit of apple and carried it to his mouth with his blade. “Bjorn and Leah are thieves and traitors, and should they be found, will be treated as such.” He chewed the slice of apple slowly.
“And me?” she asked, sensing that there was something more—something hideous that he’d left unsaid. Unspoken words hung like ghosts in the air.
“You … I can forgive.” He lifted a shoulder and sliced off another piece of apple.
“What have you to do with it? Hagan is lord of this castle, and he has forgiven me.”
Darton’s flesh tightened over his face and he pounded his knife, blade first, into the table. His eyes turned black as night. “Hagan is no longer baron. He is dead, leaving no issue, and therefore I am the rightful heir to Erbyn.”
So that was it. Her heart thudded painfully, but she would not give up. “I want to go back,” she said, shoving aside the soup and wine, sloshing broth onto the table as she leaned forward, pressing her face closer to Darton where he sat so imperiously—so self-righteously—in Hagan’s chair, as if he were truly lord.
“To Prydd?” he asked, setting the apple aside.
She was surprised at her own reaction, for the mention of her home brought back none of the bittersweet memories that had been with her since her arrival at Erbyn. She no longer dreamed of returning to Prydd, nor of escaping to her home; no, something had changed in her heart on the night, the one fateful night, that she’d spent in the forest with Hagan. Hot tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Nay, Sir Darton,” she said, “I want not to return to Prydd, but to the forest to find Hagan.”
Darton’s nostrils flared and the small lines around the edges of his mouth turned white. “He is dead, Sorcha. You must accept this.”
“Have you his body?” she asked, her voice rising as if she were a madwoman.
“Nay, but—”
“Has any one of your men seen his body?”
“Not yet, but ’tis only a matter of time.”
“He’s alive!” she screamed. “We must find him.”
“ ’Tis too late, I’m afraid.”
“Too late?” A sick feeling knotted her stomach and she hardly dared breathe. “Why?”
“There are other, more important matters to deal with.”
“More important than Hagan’s life?” she said.
Darton’s smile was pure evil. He snapped his fingers, and a page scurried up the stairs. Dread stole up Sorcha’s spine and prickled her scalp. What had he done? Within seconds she heard a shuffling of feet in the hallways above. She turned her eyes upward toward the noise, and her heart nearly stopped.
Tadd!
Dressed in a russet tunic trimmed in gold and a mantle of sleek sable, her brother appeared at the top of the stairs. He favored her with a gentle smile, and fear as dark as a moonless night entered her soul.
“Sister!”
She could barely breathe as he descended the stairs. Something was wrong, vitally wrong, and her insides churned. Why was he here, and so obviously treated like a royal guest? Her stomach curled as she saw the deceit in his eyes. Though he was smiling and reaching toward her as he walked swiftly down the steps, she didn’t trust him for a minute, and it occurred to her that he might have been behind the attack on Hagan.