Zared had no experience at soothing a melancholy man, for in her lifetime her brothers had mostly been full of rage. She had seen them overcome with grief when death struck their family, but that grief was usually tinged with anger, for most Peregrine deaths had been caused by Howards.
However Severn's anger was different this day, for his confidence seemed to be broken. She had never known her brothers when they were not utterly confident. The way Severn sat silently inside the tent, not speaking, eating alone, seeing no one but Zared, caused her more concern than anything she'd ever experienced.
When the Howard man entered at sundown she turned to look up at him, and for a moment she could not keep her hatred for him from her face. For what he had done to Severn she could easily have killed him. She looked away quickly. She would not let him see her hatred because she planned to revenge herself on him. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she was going to make him pay.
"There was an illness in my family," Tearle said, looking from one to the other. He had carefully rehearsed the excuse for his absence, but the look in Zared's eyes made him forget everything. If he'd thought he'd seen hatred from her before, that had been nothing compared to what was there now.
"You missed the final humiliation of the Peregrines," Severn said, sitting on the cot.
Tearle looked from Severn's ravaged face to the back of Zared's head and knew that something was very wrong. Did Severn take one defeat so hard? he wondered. Tearle had thought more of the man than that.
Tearle filled a plate with food, then sat on a stool to eat. Zared didn't look at him. "I hear there was some excitement today," he said, his mouth full. "Something about a mystery knight."
Severn, after one angry gl
ance at Tearle, left the tent. Zared, glad she had not identified Tearle as the Black Knight to her brother, left quickly to follow Severn.
"Return to our camp," Severn said to her when they reached the edge of the forest.
"People should be told," she said. "They should know that that man did not knock you from your horse. Had not the cinch been loosened, you would have beaten him."
Severn turned on her. "I am to cry foul play? That will cause more laughter." He turned away. "You do not understand. I have failed."
"You have not failed! You have an enemy at this tournament, and he has taken the victory from you."
"Aye, we Peregrines have an enemy, but Oliver Howard is not here. Do you not see that this is the end of our hope to regain what we have lost?"
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"I had hoped to show myself well at this tournament and catch Hugh Marshall's eye. And after the humiliation of this day no man would give his daughter to a Peregrine. The word of this tourney will spread from one end of England to the other. If I do not get a rich wife, we will never be able to afford what is needed to beat the Howards. We will never get back what they have stolen from us."
Zared could not bear to hear the words, for all of this was her fault. If she had told Severn from the first that the man he trusted was actually a Howard, this would not be happening. She remembered all too well seeing the Howard man with the Lady Anne.
"You shall marry her," Zared said softly. "If it is possible, you shall marry the Lady Anne."
She turned away and left her brother. She had some serious thinking to do.
As Zared walked back through the crowd to the Peregrine tent many people stopped to look at her and smile. Everyone was once again laughing at the Peregrines.
Once inside the tent she saw the Howard man asleep on his cot. She did not hesitate as she picked up Severn's sword in both hands and prepared to bring it down over the man's neck.
Tearle rolled away as the sword swung downward. He hit the floor and came to his feet in one movement, then leaped across the cot to land heavily on Zared, throwing her to the ground and pinning her under him.
"You could have killed me," he said into her face.
"I meant to," she spat at him. "Even if I die for ridding the world of you, it would be an honor."
He looked down at her. She had always looked at him with anger, but there had also always been an underlying softness. Now there was no softness. Had he been fully asleep when she attacked, he would not be alive, for she would have severed his head from his neck.
"What has happened?" he asked softly, easing his weight off of her but still pinning her with his arm, a leg thrown across hers.
"What your brother could not do, you have done. Yet he uses a man's weapons, while you use treachery and deceit. My brother thinks you are a… a friend." She nearly choked on the word.
He didn't dare release her, for the look in her eyes told him she'd attack again. "What do you know?"
"I know all. You want the Lady Anne for yourself. You—"
"Anne? I want Anne?"