I hear noises behind me and my body jerks. It’s Malcolm. And he’s on his own. I see the opportunity in my mind. Quickly I slide into Ebony Prince’s stall, climb on to his bare back, crooning sweet calming words into his ear, probing his mind gently to keep his thoughts disorganised. I have never tried to mind probe an animal, it’s a strange experience. At least he lets me climb on, shaking his head in an oddly bewildered way, and I sense my probe is working.
I hear the gates swing on their hinges. Without a second thought for the way I’m straddling the horse, or how my skirts have ridden halfway up my bare thighs, I dig my knees into Ebony Prince’s thickly muscled stomach. He bolts through the outer stable doors, and with a little further probing, heads straight for the open gates.
Malcolm hears the pounding hooves and jumps out of the way. What I don’t count on though is Malcolm’s quick recovery. He is, I realise a short distance out of Blacklands, a trained knight. He jumps on to his own waiting horse and starts chasing me through the woods.
Low branches, sharp twigs, overgrown berry bushes catch at my clothing, my hair, my arms. I ride low to the horse’s back, my arms tight around his thick neck, urging it to go faster and faster. The hooves pounding behind me grow too close for comfort. Malcolm is catching up fast.
Even though it is still daylight I find it more and more difficult to see where I’m going. I try to convince Ebony Prince to head in the direction of Thorntyne Keep, but the woods are thick around me, and I can’t tell if my probe is working any more.
Malcolm is so close now, I can feel his horse’s grunts near my back.
I see the fallen tree only seconds before Ebony Prince leaps. Having nothing but the horse’s neck to cling to, I’m not surprised to find myself flying through the air. I land on my back in a small patch of green meadow.
Momentarily stunned, all I can do is watch as Malcolm rides his horse right up to my face. ‘Well, well, such an interesting riding style you have, my Lady.’
Not ready to accept defeat, I struggle quickly on to all fours, with the intention of making a run for it. But Malcolm is with me in a flash, his superior knight’s training undoubtedly the reason his reflexes are so sharp. He drags me back, tossing me to the grass. I land on my rear, looking up at him.
‘He’s going to kill you too!’ I scream at him, hoping to make him see the reality here.
‘Don’t worry about me, Lady Katherine. I know what I’m doing.’
‘No, you don’t know him like I do. He lies, he makes promises he has no intention of keeping. He’s using you just as he used me. He tricked me into staying with him, and now he’s tricking you. Only when he has complete control of Thorntyne Keep will his lust for revenge be satisfied.’ I lunge for breath. ‘He has no reward in mind for you, Malcolm, except your own death. And in a way that would be a reward. Far better dead than spend the rest of your life as Rhauk’s mind slave. Believe me.’
He stares at me, his green eyes narrow, thinking. An awkward silence stretches between us, then Malcolm glances quickly over his shoulders. With his attention back to me he reaches out a hand to help me up. I feel a fleeting moment of hope, and put my hand in his.
‘You found her. Good work!’
Oh, no. It’s Rhauk, riding one of the mares from his stable. This one an elegant grey. He’s even taken the time to saddle her. His arrogance has me seething.
Malcolm yanks me up harder than is warranted, twisting my hand behind my back. I force myself not to cry out. Just as suddenly he pushes me towards Rhauk. I fall against the grey mare who bucks in protest. ‘Irons, I think Rhauk, to keep this wench inside your castle walls.’
Rhauk leans down and drags me up into the saddle in front of him. The feel of him at my back has bile jumping into my throat.
Rhauk nods at Malcolm, whistles to Ebony Prince, who trots faithfully, looking a bit disoriented, beside us. Then we are riding back to Blacklands. I swing my head around for one more look. Malcolm hasn’t moved. He just stands there staring, the strangest expression on his face.
Strange that is, for a traitor.
Kate
The challenge is delivered by a white dove just before sunset. I’m with Rhauk in the tower, my hands shackled together with irons as Malcolm suggested, watching with a sickening dread, as Rhauk finishes his cursed wine. He searched out the final ingredient, a winter-flowering herb, and in his laboratory extracted the oil he needed from the herb’s own roots. As he blends this oil into the wine, his facial expression is one of complacency. It’s as he glances across at me with a sickening, self-satisfied grin, that the white dove makes itself known.