Lord Of Danger Stuart, Anne (classic fiction .TXT) 📖

let anyone know you’re afraid—not horses, not the nuns, not the demons that haunted the night and sent thunderstorms to plague her.

She wasn’t about to let this man know she was afraid. Even though she suspected he was well aware of it. Well aware of everything that surrounded him.

She couldn’t let her sister be sacrificed to him. He would choose Claire, any man would, and Alys had no idea how she would stop him. But stop him she would. When it came to her sister, to those she loved, she could be fearless.

And it appeared that time had come.

She wouldn’t seem much of an opponent. A small, quiet, plain little woman. But she could be absolutely fierce if need be. And the need had obviously arisen.

It was late when they were finally allowed to leave the table. Richard had decreed an endless feast to welcome his long-lost sisters back to the bosom of their family, blithely ignoring the fact that he was the one who’d decreed they be lost. Course had followed course of rich, savory food that tasted like dust in Alys’s mouth. The wine was sweet, and she drank too much of it, and when Richard finally let them escape Claire was almost fainting with panic. By the time they reached the tower room they were to share, she was in tears.

Claire flung herself on the bed and howled. “I can’t bear it!” she cried. “If he touches me I know I shall die, I just know it.”

“Hush, now, love,” Alys murmured, sitting beside her and stroking her tear-streaked face. “You won’t have to, I promise.”

“I saw the way he looked at me,” she continued, unmindful of Alys’s attempts at comfort. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off me. God curse this beauty of mine, if it brings me the attentions of a monster like him.”

Alys bit her lip, unexpectedly amused. They both took Claire’s loveliness in stride, but there were times when her sister’s matter-of-fact attention to her beauty grew a bit tedious. “Go to sleep, love,” she said gently, brushing Claire’s golden hair away from her face and removing the ribboned circlet.

Claire must have imbibed more than her share of the sweet wine as well. She was asleep almost immediately, breathing deeply, and it was all Alys could do to pull herself away.

But there were certain things that couldn’t wait. It might already be too late; the demon wizard might have already informed Richard of his choice. If he had, Alys would simply have to make certain she changed his mind. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she would do such a thing, she only knew she had to try.

The halls of the castle were deserted. She crept down the long flight of stairs leading toward the Great Hall, passing no one as she went, silent as a ghost. She half-expected to see her brother and his sorcerer still carousing at the table, but they were long gone, the scarred wooden surface swept clean.

Bodies lay strewn among the rushes, servants and men-at-arms curled up in drunken sleep amidst the dogs and the fleas. She stepped over them, but no one moved. In the corner she could see two people clamped together, moving back and forth in an agitated manner, emitting low, guttural noises, and she quickly averted her eyes. She wasn’t about to ask them where she would find Simon of Navarre.

She hadn’t been in Summersedge Keep since she was four years old. It was an older castle, built along Norman lines, consisting of a central stone keep with four towers, one on each side, surrounded by a stone curtain of defense. The chapel lay along the inside of one of the stone walls. She wondered if the resident demon also lived outside the main keep.

She leaned against the cold stone wall, suddenly dizzy. It was late, she’d been travelling for days, cooped up in that miserable little carriage, and she’d had far too much wine. But there was no way she could sleep knowing the fate that awaited her sister. She had to find the wizard and make him change his mind.

Failing that, she could, of course, kill him.

She found she could laugh at herself, even through her dizzy, faintly drunken confusion. She couldn’t bring herself to kill a spider—she would hardly be a match for a man such as Simon of Navarre. Besides, if he had even half the powers he was vaunted to have, he would already know her plans.

Pushing away from the wall, she wandered farther, ending up at the base of one of the towers. Richard and the absent Lady Hedwiga resided in one of them, but she doubted this was it. Richard insisted on pomp and majesty, on rich tapestries and precious gems. This dark, almost bleak curve of staircase wouldn’t lead to his sumptuous quarters.

She knew where these stairs would lead, knew without asking. The pale, nervous-looking serving woman who scuttled down them stopped and stared at her, clutching an armload of linens against her thin chest. “You don’t want to go up there, my lady,” she said hoarsely.

“Why not?”

“Grendel’s up there. Them’s his quarters. You don’t want to go anywhere near that demon unless you have to. Go back to your room, lady. As fast you can. Before he can smell you coming.”

“Smell me… ?” Alys began, suitably annoyed. She bathed far more frequently than most people considered necessary.

“He’s a monster. Eats people. Can sniff ‘em out like a hunting dog.”

“Then why hasn’t he eaten you?” she responded, somewhat mollified.

The woman looked confused. “Maybe I’m too lean for him.”

Alys’s temporary goodwill vanished. “Well, I’ll provide him a tasty morsel if he’s in need of a snack,” she snapped. “Away with you, woman. Or I’ll tell Simon of Navarre you’re spreading foul rumors.”

The woman blanched, but stood firm. “They are no rumors,” she muttered. “You’ll see.”

Alys had already turned her back on the foolish creature. She wasn’t in the mood to climb the narrow, winding stairs of the north tower,