Ember lurched back into the hall, heart ramming against her ribs.
She’d known Kael had a lover; Barrow told her as much. But the commander? She wondered if Barrow knew of or even suspected this relationship.
But Barrow hadn’t jumped into her mind only because of what he’d said about Kael and the Guards taking lovers of their choosing. The sight of that kiss, tender but edged with pain, made her own lips burn—remembering the touch of Barrow’s mouth on hers.
She had to find him.
Ember hurried to the stairs, making her way to the barracks hall. Most of the Guard had gathered there. The majority of the knights were clustered around Cian and Father Michael, some weeping openly, others silent and grim-faced. A few had broken away from the larger group to grieve on their own.
Though she took care to search the faces of the assembled, the one she sought proved absent. She turned around, walking as quickly as she could without breaking into a run. Once back in the courtyard, Ember did begin to run. Splashing through puddles, she rushed to the stables. She slowed once she was inside. In the damp, dark night the sweetness of the grain seemed stronger. She hesitated at the edge of the long, dark corridor that ran between the stalls. Within the shadows she could hear the horses breathing, the swish of their tails, the occasional snort or soft whicker.
Taking a few steps forward, she peered into the darkness but found no evidence that anyone other than the horses was passing the night there. Even so, she pressed on, walking carefully and listening for any signs that she wasn’t alone.
A lantern would have been helpful, but Ember was compelled to move forward without the security of a light for her path. She’d come in search of raw truth, the kind perhaps only revealed beneath the cover of darkness.
She was grateful that she’d come to know the stables well. If it had been otherwise, she might have fled from the massive shapes that rustled behind stall doors. A few of the horses stirred, watching as she passed.
Ember walked on, and darkness cocooned her with each step. She paused only when she caught the murmur of a man’s voice. Turning in the direction of the sound, she stole forward, treading lightly so as to approach without notice. Even after several minutes in the stables, her eyes could make little out in the darkness, but she could tell as she approached one of the last stalls in the corridor that it was occupied by two distinct shapes instead of only one—the shadow of a horse, and that of a man. Her heart felt like a stone, much too heavy in her chest.
“Barrow,” she whispered.
One of the shapes behind the stall door moved, coming toward her. Behind him, Toshach whickered quietly.
“Ember?” Barrow unlatched the door, letting it swing open. “What are you doing here?”
His question stung, but she said, “Looking for you.”
He didn’t answer her but stood silently, only a shadow that rose before her.
“Please.” Ember’s voice broke. “I don’t know what to do.”
Barrow stepped out of the stall and closed the door. She didn’t know what else to say. Even if she’d had words to speak, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get them out. Her breath was ragged.
“I’m sorry to have left the barracks without finding you first,” he said slowly. “I didn’t know . . . I thought it might be best if we spent time alone.”
Ember’s stomach clenched. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No.” Barrow moved closer, reaching out to take her hand. “It was wrong of me to leave you . . . but after . . .”
His fingers closed over hers, squeezing them so tight it was painful. Ember didn’t know if he was speaking of Sorcha or of their kiss, but she took a step toward him. He lifted her hand to his face. Her fingertips touched his cheek and jaw, becoming wet with what remained of his tears.
“I should have stayed behind.” His voice was rough.
“Eira ordered us to leave, and even Lukasz defers to her authority,” she told him. “We followed the commander as we were bidden. How could we have known?”
“I’ve lost companions in battle,” he whispered. “Such is our lot, our calling. But not like this. Never like this.”
Ember nodded, letting her hand move from his jaw to his neck. She rested her head against his chest and let her tears come quietly, but freely.
“I fear what it means,” he said.
Closing her eyes, Ember could hear Alistair’s whisper. Our world is changing and you must be ready.
Barrow wove his fingers through her damp hair, cradling her head. “I will not ask anything of you, Ember.”
Ember lifted her face, trying to make out his familiar features in the dark.
“What do you want to ask of me?”
“Too much.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I thought myself strong, but discover I am weak as the next man. Perhaps weaker.”
“And if I wish to give what you ask,” she whispered. “What then?”
He bent down, brushing his lips over her forehead, the bridge of her nose. He kissed her cheek and she felt his breath on her lips, his mouth close to hers but not touching. Sensing his hesitation, Ember gripped his shirt and pulled him to her.
When her mouth opened against his, he groaned. His tongue slipped between her lips to lightly caress hers. Her body pressed into him, the damp chill of the night fleeing before the sudden heat of her skin.
Barrow’s arms came around her back. He lifted her up, turning her so she was pinned against the stall door. His mouth left hers to trail down her jaw and neck. Her breath caught when his kiss followed the line of her bodice.
When he pulled away, she tried to bring him close again. He gently kept her apart, saying, “We shouldn’t linger here, Ember. Anyone could come upon us.”
“Where?” she asked, only caring to find a place quickly so she could feel his body against hers once more.
Barrow took her hand and began to lead her toward the stable entrance. “Are the Guard assembled in the barracks?”
“Most of them,” Ember said, feeling her chest hollow out at his question’s implication. “Must we join their vigil?”
He shook his head. “Tonight Lukasz informs our brethren of Sorcha’s death and of the disruption of the ritual of Fidelitas. A ceremony to honor her will take place in a few days after the appropriate preparations have been made.”
When they reached the courtyard, Barrow paused, drawing them into the stable’s shadow. His lips found hers, lingering, tasting before he broke away to ask, “What do you want, Ember? I won’t go any further until I know your mind.”
She was afraid to speak. To be honest was to lay bare her heart. “I don’t want to pass this night without you.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “And I do not think I could bear this grief if not for you.”
Ember laid her hands over his. “Will you stay with me?”
“I will.” He kissed her softly. “Go to your cell and I will come to you . . . if that is truly what you desire.”
“Not only what I desire, but what I need,” she whispered, and he kissed her again.
“Go now,” he told her. “I’ll follow shortly.”
She hurried across the courtyard to the barracks, shivering in the absence of Barrow’s warmth. The Guard’s quarters were subdued, wrapped in silence. Ember didn’t know if her companions had sought their beds or were still gathered in the hall, mourning Sorcha. She climbed the stairs, passing Kael’s cell on the way to her own, and wondered if Lukasz would spend the night with Kael—the two of them finding solace in each other’s arms behind closed doors. The same solace she longed to share with Barrow.
Taking a candle from the hall lantern, Ember stole into her cell, keeping her movements quiet for fear of stirring any of the Guard. What lay ahead for Barrow and her remained a mystery she wasn’t compelled to solve . . . at least not yet. Should anyone witness Barrow coming to her room at this late hour, it could raise questions she didn’t want to answer. She lit the candle that sat on the smal
l table and restored the hall light.
In the soft glow of candlelight Ember unbuttoned her dress. She half wondered if she should wait for Barrow before disrobing. But her dress was mud-covered and still damp through to her kirtle. The fabric of the two garments seemed almost melded together, lying heavy on her chilled skin. As she was pushing her loosened gown and kirtle off her shoulders, Ember heard the door open behind her. Her pulse jumped but she continued to let the dress drop. It skimmed over her breasts, baring them, as she turned.
Alistair stared at her, eyes wide.
Ember gave a small cry and jerked her kirtle back up, pressing the fabric to her collarbone.
“Ember.” He breathed her name, taking a step toward her. “Oh, Ember.”
She backed into her pallet. “Wait, Alistair. What are you doing here?”
“Eira asked me to find you. She’s unable to come herself tonight, but what she wants to tell you is urgent. I’m here on her behalf,” he said. His eyes had fixed on the place that she’d just covered with the still-damp kirtle. “We need to talk.”
“But . . .” Ember groped for a way to get Alistair out of her cell before Barrow arrived. “It’s so late and I’m tired. Can you come in the morning?”
He shook his head. “It can’t wait.”
“Then let me dress again,” she said. “I can’t speak to you like this.”
Alistair came to her before she could object. His hands gripped her bare shoulders.
“Listen to me,” he whispered. “Hear what I have to say, please.”
He hurried on without waiting for her assent. “I understand now, Ember. I’m so sorry. I should have seen it before.”
“Seen what?” Ember glanced toward the cell door. When would Barrow arrive? What would he think when he found Alistair here?
“Why you felt you had to reject me,” Alistair told her.
His words drove thoughts of Barrow from her mind as her blood went cold.
“You came to be with me,” he continued. “Like we’d always spoken of since we were children. But of course you could never take me as a lover. And as a husband I have nothing to offer. No lands. No fortune.”
“Alistair.”
He pressed his fingers onto her lips.
“Let me finish. There’s another way.”
Ember couldn’t breathe. What was he talking about? Her pulse had become a steady drumbeat, low and hard, that echoed in her ears.
“Lady Eira is a great warrior and a leader like no other,” he said. His eyes had grown bright with excitement. “She is sympathetic to our plight. The life of the Guard is brutal. We give up so much and for what?”
His fingers dug into her shoulders. “We protect the world without acknowledgment. We give up wealth, happiness . . . love.” He lifted his hand to cup her face. “It doesn’t have to be so.”
“What are you talking about, Alistair?” Ember’s voice was shaking.
“A new order,” he murmured. “A world where we are honored as we should be. Where we are not subject to the avarice of men like Abbot Crichton or the dumb bloodlust of a peasant mob.”
Her skin prickled. “Tell me more.”
He smiled, encouraged. “Eira wished to speak to you of these matters herself. But things have progressed too quickly. Just know that when the time comes, you must ally yourself with her. To do otherwise would be the greatest folly.”
She didn’t understand, but the sharp, knife-like twist in her belly told her that something was horribly amiss.
A soft knock came at the door and Alistair turned around. “Who is that?”
Ember felt as though an invisible hand was strangling her. She opened her mouth, but only a croak came out.
“Ember?” Barrow’s murmur reached them.
Alistair’s face darkened as he strode to the door.
“Alistair, no.” Ember choked the words from her throat, but it didn’t stop him. He opened the door, glaring at Barrow.
“How dare you come to Lady Morrow in the middle of the night, you cur.” Alistair spat at his feet.
With a drawn face Barrow gazed at him and then at Ember, who still clung to her loose kirtle.
She shook her head. “Barrow, please, it’s not . . . He surprised me.”
The pale cast of Barrow’s skin became a white rage. “I told you to stay away from her. And yet you burden her still with your childish obsession.”
“I love her, you brute!” Alistair snarled.
Barrow grabbed Alistair by the shirt and towed him into the cell, kicking the door shut behind them.
“I would not bring shame on Lady Morrow by drawing our companions to witness this scene,” Barrow said. “But I will not tolerate your presence here.”
“I have far greater claims to Lady Morrow than you.” Alistair shook himself free of Barrow’s grip.
Barrow’s hands fisted. “No one has claim on her.”
“And I suppose you’re here to comfort her now that her mentor is dead . . . the mentor she gained once you abandoned her.” Alistair smiled cruelly. “Do you think to wile your way into her bed, promising to guide her to womanhood?”
Barrow lunged at Alistair, but Ember reached him first. Her fist cracked against Alistair’s jaw.
“How dare you claim to love me and speak of me so?”
Alistair stared at her, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry, my lady. This barbarian’s rudeness infects me.”
“Barrow has done nothing wrong,” Ember told him. “I asked him to come here because I don’t understand what is required of the Guard after Sorcha’s death.”
Alistair’s eyes roamed over Ember’s bare shoulders. “And you thought to receive his advice in your nightshirt?”
Ember stiffened. “I thought he had decided the hour too late to come. His appearance is a surprise to me. Just as yours was.”
Behind her, Ember could hear Barrow breathing hard, but he didn’t move toward Alistair again.
“Then perhaps the honorable thing to do is for both of us to bid you good night.” Alistair glanced at Barrow. “Ember spoke true. The hour is far too late and we needn’t keep her from sleep with our quarrel.”
Barrow was silent for a moment but then said, “Agreed.”
Ember turned, casting a pleading gaze on him. How could she object without making things worse? He gave a slight shake of his head.
“After you,” Barrow said to Alistair, gesturing to the door.
Alistair bowed to Ember and said, “Think on my words, Ember.”
Barrow lifted his brows but followed Alistair to the door without speaking.
He turned in the door frame. “Sleep well, Lady Morrow,” he said. Then he closed the door.
THIRTY-THREE
EMBER STARED AT THE ceiling, unable to sleep though she lay on her pallet in a clean, dry nightshirt. She’d listened so hard for any sign of Barrow’s return that her ears ached. But he hadn’t come back. She toyed with the idea of going to him but couldn’t help but think that his absence was a sign of anger toward her. The thought of seeking Barrow’s cell and his bed only to be turned away made her feel as if she’d be sick.
Her mind remained divided because of another matter as well. What did Alistair mean about a new order? Did Eira have a plan that only the Circle knew? But if that were the case, why would Alistair know about it and not the rest of the Guard?
In the woods, that shadow creature had manifested in front of her, but when the pendant had burned, it had vanished.
The pendant that Alistair had given her. Eira’s pendant.
And what had Eira told them about Sorcha’s death? She’d said that the villagers believed Sorcha to be a witch because the shadow creatures had vanished instead of attacking her. And they’d burned her for it.
Ember’s throat went dry. Why had the creatures vanished? Had Eira given Sorcha a pendant as well?
She climbed from her bed, groping in the darkness for the necklace, which she’d left on the table.
Her hands shook as
she lifted it, trying to make out its details despite the lack of light to see by. In the shadows she could see nothing other than a pendant dangling from a chain, but the longer she gazed at it, the faster her pulse pounded.
Could she have been taken in Sorcha’s place? Did Sorcha burn only because she’d been caught in the village where Ember had not?
The knock at her door made Ember jump. The pendant slipped from her hand, its gold edges tinkling against the table when it fell.
Ember’s throat went dry. Why had the creatures vanished? Had Eira somehow been connected to it? She’d been the only one to witness Sorcha’s demise. Could she have stopped it but didn’t?
Before she could answer, the door opened and Ember’s chest tightened. She was certain Alistair had returned. But the figure that entered her cell was much too tall to be Alistair.
“Ember, you must wake.” The sound of Lukasz’s voice startled her more than the knock at her door.
“I’m awake, Commander.”
“There is an urgent matter,” he whispered. “Dress and come to the stables. Make haste, for time works against us.”
“I’ll hurry,” she said.
Without another word he was gone and she was once again alone. Ember slid a fresh kirtle over her shoulders and pulled on chausses. After she’d belted her tabard, she hooked the leather covers for her weapons into place, haunted by the feeling she would need them. She donned her heavy cloak and drew its hood over her head.
When Ember reached the stables, she found a small group huddled around a single lantern held by Father Michael. She glanced over the half dozen men and women, seeking familiar faces. Lukasz and Kael were both there along with knights she recognized but didn’t know other than from sharing meals with them in the hall. The only person present who wasn’t one of the Guard was Thomas, the eldest member of the Circle. She continued her search, and her eyes burned when she realized she’d been expecting to see Sorcha among them.
“Ember.”
She whirled to find Barrow standing behind her. Fighting the impulse to embrace him, she let her fingers brush over his before letting her hand drop to her side.