Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(120)

Della froze in mid-stride. She hadn’t forgotten her mother, but it was time to stop the hatred. The men she sought would never be punished for what they had done. Revenge and justice were not hers to have. And yet Stuart’s words still plucked at her heart, causing it to ache dully with longing. “It was too many years past. The men who did that will never be found. It’s time to let the pain die. I need the pain to die. I cannot live with it any longer. I need peace. If you love me, cousin, you will leave me be. You will let me make my own happiness here, and if happiness is not mine to have, then at least I will have some peace in my time.”

“Nay!” Stuart disagreed with a mighty growl. He pointed his finger at her in both accusation and absolution. Della watched him from the corner of her eye. “I bring you the peace you so seek. It is revenge I have come to offer you. Justice! That and your freedom.”

“Freedom?” Della said the one word in wonder. Her eyes swept over the yard. She heard him take a step toward her and could not move. Trembling, she remembered her mother’s face. The memory was as clear as it had ever been. Time hadn’t faded a single line or a single tortured scream.

“Yea, freedom from the tyranny of the Viking barbarian. Freedom from those endless nights filled with demons. Freedom from Lord Blackwell, black-hearted knight.” Stuart’s words grew softer by degrees until they were a gentle whisper. “True freedom, as only revenge can bring you.”

His breath fell hot against her neck. Her limbs would not move and her mind forced her to listen to what he had to say. Revenge. It was what she’d prayed for since that night long ago. Was it possible after all the years of waiting and praying? Could she avenge her mother?

“Come with me, Della. Remember what they did to her.” His breath fanned her cheek. He smelled of stale liquor and sweat. She barely noticed. “Remember her cries. The same cries you have heard every night since, at least before that heathen wove his spell about you.”

“I have not forgotten,” she whimpered. She wanted to move, but couldn’t. It was like that night, when she was a child—helpless, scared, weak. His hand hovered just above her hair to land hesitantly on her shoulder. She stiffened. Stuart frowned.

“Close your eyes. Remember,” he urged her. Della obeyed. “Remember the acrid smell of burning flesh, how they cut her nether hair. Remember how they raped her, one after another, until she bled their heathen seed from her body. Remember what they did to your brother. He was alive when they cut him out, was he not? Did he cry for you to save him? Does he cry still?”

“Enough,” she begged, opening her eyes.

Della didn’t want to hear anymore, as air filled her lungs in great heaves. Her eyes blurred and her vision swarmed until blackness threatened to overtake her. The images were too close to her heart and she began to weep. Stuart grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake to force her mind back to reality.

“You are too cruel,” she whispered.

“Nay, not me. The cruelty you speak of belongs to another. Avenge your mother. Avenge your slaughtered brother. Remember them. Honor them. Remember how the babe cried as they sliced his throat.” Stuart had her undivided attention. He smiled as he loosened his hold on her shoulder. Della didn’t move. “How long did he live, Della? How many hell-filled moments?”

Della did remember, all too clearly. Her hand fluttered to her stomach, protectively covering her own baby. She felt her mother’s pain—more real to her now that she was to bear her own child. She didn’t remember telling Stuart of her brother’s death, but she had been young when they were together. Who knew the details she’d confessed all those nights they sat alone, whispering in the moonlight? Her limbs were numb with the pain of the past and a detached fear came over her. Her tears dried on her cheeks and she absently wiped her runny nose on her sleeve.

“I offer revenge for what they did to your mother and to your brother. I offer revenge for what they did to you, for what they took from you.” His voice was harsh.

“You…know who?” Her throat tightened in horrible anticipation and her heart squeezed in her chest, until it felt as if it caved in on itself. Gooseflesh covered her arms. She was unsure if to believe his claim, but part of her wanted it to be true so badly. “How?”

Della could not ignore him. She wanted revenge. She wanted their blood to spill as her mother’s and brother’s had.

“I have been looking for them since our childhood. I have not told you for fear you would get your hopes up, but it has been my life’s mission to make you happy and to avenge your mother. Finally, after all these years, I have discovered the truth.” Stuart nuzzled his stubbly cheek against hers. Della flinched at the sudden, intimate touch, but didn’t pull away, not really feeling him. “Where do you think I was all those years? Working for the king? Nay! I was working for you. My life’s work has been to make you happy.”