“When I was eleven, Miles and I were mock-fighting with our wooden swords. I could beat him, and he hated me all the more for it. And the more he showed his hate for me, the better it felt to beat him. The old soldier who watched over us at such times took sick, and in the confusion we were left alone. That was when Miles thought it would be a good idea to use real swords.
“I was not afraid of him when it came to swordplay—I was bigger and stronger than him already. So I agreed, and we found our swords, and we began to fight. But it was no longer a game, Briar. It was no longer practice. Miles was fighting me in earnest, and I realized I was not as good at defending myself as I had thought. He beat me back, and when I held up my sword to block him, he sliced not at the blade but at my hand upon the hilt. I lost three fingers.”
“Jesu, Ivo…”
“I was half fainting
with the pain of it, sure he would kill me now. But instead he lifted me up from the ground, and called for help, as if it had been an accident. I was in agony, swooning, blood soaking into my clothes and dripping onto the ground. I looked up into his face and he was smiling. Now, he said, there can be only one knight in the de Vessey family.
Briar, face pressed to his chest, was trembling violently. “He was a monster.”
“Aye, he was. But he was content afterward, he left me alone. He thought he had won, at last.”
“But he had not?” She asked the question eagerly, and despite himself, Ivo smiled.
“No, he had not. I healed. Everyone doubted I would ever wield a sword again, but that only made me all the more determined to do so. I practiced and my mother had a glove made, of steel and leather, that helped me to grip the hilt of my sword without it slipping. And in time I could fight just as well as any man, and better than most. When Miles understood he had failed, he was furious. And he became even more determined to best me, to hurt me, to wound my mind and my heart, as well as my body.”
“Because you conquered him, Ivo. You were too strong for him, and he hated you for it.”
Ivo felt her tears on his skin, warm and wet, like a benediction.
He could stop now, he thought, and she would never know the worst part. But he would know, and suddenly he could not bear it. He wanted her to hear all, he wanted to rid himself of the taint of his brother. More than anything, he just wanted to be free.
“I had a sister. She was my sister, the child of my mother and not Miles’s mother. She was older than me but younger than Miles, and he seemed fond of her, or perhaps he was just indifferent. Whatever he felt, he had never tried to hurt her as he did me. Her name was Matilda, and she was sweet and gentle and serious. A little like your sister Mary.
“When my mother died, Miles decided Matilda should wed. She was fifteen years, and old enough. He took me aside and told me what he had planned for her, and when I wept and begged him nay, he laughed. He had discovered my weakness, you see. He had known that he could threaten and hurt me all he wanted, but I would always survive and grow stronger. He had realized it was more painful for me if he turned his evil attentions to those I loved. And I loved my sister.”
Ivo’s voice was bleak, as though he stood on the brink of an abyss. His chest ached, and even the feel of Briar in his arms could not stanch the agony of his memories.
Get it over with. Say it, and then you will know if she loves you enough to stay…
“He had found a man who was rich and powerful, someone whose suitability no one could object to on those grounds. Indeed, it was a good match for Matilda. But this rich and powerful man was brutal. He was a man who knew only how to kill and had lost the ability to love, if he had ever known it. Matilda was too young and gentle to deal with a man like that, and she begged him to change his mind. But Miles was now the head of the family, and he insisted. She fought him with tears and pleadings, but he stood firm. He probably enjoyed that.”
Briar had gone still in dread, and yet still she hoped the outcome of his story would be different. He heard it in her voice when she asked, “Could you not have stopped this marriage, Ivo?”
“I tried. We ran away. We got several leagues before Miles caught us and took us home. He ordered his men to hold me and he beat me until I was unconscious, and while I was helpless, he forced Matilda to marry her brutal husband. He told me, when I woke and she was gone, that he had threatened her with my death if she did not comply. So he used our love against each other.”
“She sent me messages,” he went on, absently stroking Briar’s long hair. “She said it was not so bad. But I heard from others that her husband treated her like an animal, worse, for he believed his animals to be of some use and so he kept them in good health. Matilda was nothing to him, once he had her. He saw her gentleness as weakness and tried to beat it out of her. When she could stand it no more, she ran away and came home, seeking sanctuary.”
“Thank God…”
“Miles wouldn’t allow it. He was angry, and he sent word to her husband to come and fetch her. Matilda was frantic. She begged me to help her. And I tried, Briar. I tried. I made plans for her to go into hiding, and I had horses ready. But her husband came too soon. When we heard him at the gate, I saw the look in Miles’s eyes and I knew if we fought he would kill one of us. I told Matilda she should give herself up. I thought, as long as we lived, I could save her. But she screamed that I had forsaken her, and ran and locked herself in her bedchamber and refused to come out.”
Ivo’s gaze blurred, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat to continue. After all these years, the anguish, the guilt, were as fresh as ever.
“Miles laughed and said that would not save her. So then I fought with him, Briar. I did my best. But there were too many of them. Miles always had his loyal followers—the dregs of the district, those willing to do anything for coin. He laughed again when they held me, so I could see when Matilda’s husband came for her. Miles set him onto her, urging him to do his worst. He didn’t need any urging, he was like a maddened bull. He smashed at the door with his fists and his sword, roaring, while Matilda screamed out her terror. When he finally broke down the door, he was so full of rage and bloodlust, that he couldn’t stop. He killed her in front of us.”
“Oh, Ivo, oh, Ivo,” Briar whispered brokenly into the warm skin of his throat. Her hands clung to him, but he didn’t take comfort from that. She would soon be pushing him away.
“Miles explained it to me, when I could listen again. It was simply bad luck, he said. A husband had a right to take his wife home, and if Matilda had not refused, then she would be alive now. So, he told me, it was her fault, really. And mine, for making her believe I could save her when…when I could not. When I was just too weak to help my only sister. And she had seen it, at the end, and hated me for it.”
Briar wiped her eyes and shook her head.
“If I’d been able to get her away sooner, perhaps I could have saved her,” Ivo whispered, speaking the words that had been with him for so many years. “If only I hadn’t forsaken her at the end, if I hadn’t told her to go with her brute of a husband. She looked at me in such a way, with such betrayal in her eyes. And I did betray her. I know it now, but at the time I thought only of saving her life. But now I know that there are worse things than dying.”
Her eyes flew to his. He saw the very moment the doubt appeared in them. As he turned away, Ivo felt as if his heart had quietly broken in two.
“I am not fit to be a brother or a husband or anything else. Think twice before you promise to wed me, for though I might swear to protect you, I cannot know what I will do when it comes to the point. Miles might come and I might fail you. Fail you, as I failed Matilda.”