De Luci’s face was suffused with rage, then slowly, very slowly, even as his eyes became utterly black, his face paled to white. “Oh yes, Marjorie said you were a bitch,” he said slowly. “I told her that I could control you. It was just a matter of knowing what to do and the exact moment to do it.” He raised his hand and slapped her hard across her cheek, nearly knocking her off Marella. Trist mewled loudly, barely hanging on.
He saw it in her eyes and yelled at his man, “Ibac, hold her!”
She was lurching out of her saddle, ready to throw herself on de Luci, when a huge hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She moaned with the pain of it, then shut her mouth, furious with herself that she had made a sound. She was panting hard. “I will get you, you miserable whoreson.”
He didn’t hit her again. She saw from the corner of her eye that he was stroking his short beard with his gloved hand.
The rest of de Luci’s men were silent. Finally, the man Ibac said low to Hastings, “You would have thrown yourself upon him had I not stopped you. You have no weapon, you are naught but a woman. Lord Richard is a man of violent and unpredictable actions. He could smile at you one moment and stick a knife in your ribs in the next. He is as calm as a monk, then strikes out like a wild man. I do not understand you.”
Hastings smiled at the man Ibac. “I see that you speak in a near whisper. You fear this madman?”
“I did not say he was mad,” Ibac said, his tongue flicking over his dry mouth. “Nay, never mad. It is simply not wise to anger him. Take care, lady.”
De Luci called a halt just as twilight was darkening to night. The men moved quickly about their tasks.
“Untie him,” Hastings said, as she moved to stand beside Severin.
De Luci nodded. “He is sly. Do not let him out of your sight. It matters not that he is bound. Tie him to the tree yon and two of you remain close to watch him.”
Severin thought his stomach would heave out his guts. He stood very still for a moment, regaining his balance and a calm belly. He drew in deep breaths.
“You are all right, my lord?”
He couldn’t yet speak. He merely nodded.
Trist jumped from her shoulder to Severin’s. He eased himself down into Severin’s tunic.
It was dark, the only light coming from the fire, when one of the men handed Hastings a piece of roasted rabbit. Hastings thanked him and offered it to Severin.
“Nay,” he said. “You carry my babe. Feed him.”
“I will feed the father first. Open your mouth.”
After she’d fed him his fill, she simply looked at the man Ibac and then at the flaming pieces of rabbit still roasting over the fire.
She fed Trist, who looked distinctly unhappy, then ate two pieces, each burned black, each tasting delicious. “I’m sorry, Trist. I know you do not care for rabbit, but it is not such a bad taste, is it?”
The marten was cleaning his face. He merely looked at her a moment and went back to his bath. Hastings couldn’t help it. She laughed. “He is insulted,” she said to Severin. “Insulted.”
Severin laughed as well. He didn’t know there could possibly be any laughter anywhere in his body, but there was. De Luci looked over at them, frowning. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He resumed eating and speaking to several of his men, one of them Ibac.
Hastings told Severin what the man had said to her. He didn’t seem to hear her, just stared at her a moment, then said in a low, utterly enraged voice, “How dare you, Hastings. By Saint Peter’s staff, you could have killed yourself, he could have struck you—”
“I didn’t think,” she said, splaying her hands in front of her. “He is mad, at least he is uncontrolled, and surely that must play to our advantage.”
He looked at her oddly, wishing he could touch her, wishing he could pull her against him and press her face against his heart. He swallowed, looking away. De Luci could not allow him to live. He must think of something, and yet here was Hastings, speaking of their advantage. “You are right,” he said quietly. “We must determine how to exploit this weakness of his.”
“I will control myself,” she said with such utter conviction that once again Severin laughed.
De Luci yelled, “Get her away from the whoreson. Bring her to me.”
Hastings slowly rose when one of the men came to her. “It is all right, Severin. I will control myself and I will learn what he is planning.”
But she didn’t learn a thing. He gave her a cup of ale and she was thirsty. She didn’t think, just drank from the cup. In moments, she sagged to the ground.
She didn’t know that Severin, drinking from the same cup before her, was also unconscious, Trist patting his face, staying close to warm him.
Hastings awoke to see Eloise staring down at her, her thin face as blank as a death mask, her eyes opaque and dull.