‘Yes,’ I agree, struggling to explain before Malcolm stirs up trouble for me. ‘But I didn’t understand my powers then. I do now. Please, I need your help. I want to destroy Rhauk. I have to destroy him.’
‘And destroy us in the process!’ Malcolm’s voice now has the attention of others still lingering in the Hall.
‘No! I only want Rhauk.’
Malcolm’s hand flies to his sword. Only Richard’s quick action stops him from withdrawing it. ‘Stop, Malcolm. As your father and Lord, I command it!’
Malcolm seethes, his eyes emerald daggers.
Richard looks thoughtful. ‘What are you capable of?’ he asks me.
I shrug. ‘I’m not sure, that’s the problem. I need to find out. But I don’t want to frighten anyone. If you understand that what I do is not meant to harm, then I can go ahead and train myself.’
‘I may be able to help.’
‘What! Father are you mad?’
‘Be quiet, Malcolm! I’ve lived in Rhauk’s shadow all my life, and one day, as Lord of this manor, you will too. Only another adept in the black arts has a fighting chance with that devil.’
My pulse is racing, but Richard’s support is encouraging.
‘What say you, my dear?’ he asks his wife.
She is thoughtful for a long time, looking at me with a frown. ‘I have come to trust in Jarrod’s good manner and loyalty. I think you should give him all the support he needs.’
I smile a relieved thanks.
‘My Lady, this is an outrage!’ Malcolm yells at his mother. ‘You are giving this heretic my inheritance on a platter! If we help this scoundrel, and he becomes powerful, more so perhaps than Rhauk, what’s to stop him taking Thorntyne Keep for himself?’
Both Lady Isabel and Lord Richard anxiously await my counter-reply. I try to keep my voice calm and confident. ‘You have my word,’ I say. ‘As a Thorntyne.’
I hope it is enough.
Kate
I start out for Thorntyne Keep at dawn the following morning on the back of Rhauk’s black stallion – Ebony Prince. He is a massive animal, but, incredibly, easy to ride. He has a broad powerful back, yet is surprisingly calm and steady. As if programmed, he knows exactly where he’s going, and leads me straight to Thorntyne Keep’s gatehouse.
Malcolm is on guard, with several other soldiers including Thomas, who can’t hide his relief, assuring himself I’m unharmed. A very tense Malcolm announces he will take me to Jarrod. I follow him into the bailey to a private courtyard where Jarrod, bare to the waist, stands quietly staring at the drifting petals of a purple rose.
I gasp softly at the wounds on his back, one especially long row of stitches on the side of his neck. They look angry and I have to stop myself from running to him. I tell myself the wounds are freshly made and probably normal-looking considering. At least someone with healing skills has sewn him up, and for that I should be grateful. My fingers automatically slip to my chest; feeling the amulet of late gives me comfort. I’ll be sorry to part with it.
Malcolm clears his throat and Jarrod spins around, Jillian’s amulet reflecting the morning sun. ‘Kate!’
It’s only one word but it’s filled with so much – surprise, relief, passion. I have to work hard at schooling my features into something that resembles calm control, even disinterest. ‘Jarrod, I hope your wounds are healing all right.’
‘Morgana’s a gifted healer. Your grandmother would enjoy a conversation with her.’
It’s my expression that stops him from running at me and spinning me around in his arms. I can see – feel – it’s what he wants to do. I keep my shoulders stiff, my chin tilted high in a superior, stand-offish manner. It’s hard, but if I’m going to pull this off, Jarrod has to believe every word. Malcolm nods and leaves us.
‘Did he hurt you?’ he asks, taking one step closer now that we’re alone.
‘Not at all, he’s really quite the charmer,’ I lie and lie and lie.
‘Really? Well, your face is all scratched.’
I stop my fingers from racing over the scratches I know are there. ‘It was the crow.’
‘It was Rhauk!’
With difficulty, I try ignoring his hostile tone. ‘He is a very clever man.’
‘He is evil.’
I agree, but let none of it show. ‘Actually, Jarrod, his magic intrigues me.’
One eyebrow shoots straight up. ‘What! How much?’
This is my cue. ‘So much that I’ve decided to stay with him.’
He stares, motionless. And finally, just when I think I’m about to crack under his glare, he says, ‘You’re lying.’