Lord of Falcon Ridge (Viking Era 4)

“Aye, and now,” the man shouted, whirling back toward Cleve again with renewed fury.

Cleve calmly released the knife. It gleamed in the dim light. It embedded itself in the man’s throat, the tip of the knife coming out the back of his dirty neck.

At the very same moment, he heard Chessa call out, “There, you miserable creature, how does that feel? Go away and leave us alone.”

The man stared at Cleve, disbelieving, then he opened his mouth to speak, but only blood gushed out. He fell forward heavily onto his face. It was then that Cleve saw the knife sticking out of the man’s back.

She’d stabbed him. She’d actually stuck a knife in the man’s back.

“Are you all right, Cleve?” She was running to him, her hands out to touch him.

He stopped her in her tracks. “Why in the name of the gods are you here in this dark place?”

“How odd. You sound angry. I saved your life and you’re angry about it. Men—all of you are conceited oafs, none of you is worth a blade of grass.” She bent over and pulled the knife from the man’s shoulder. It was then she saw the point of another knife protruding from his neck. She straightened slowly, eyeing him. “You killed him.”

“Yes, damn you, and I didn’t want to, at least not yet. He hadn’t yet told me who’d hired him to murder me. And you had to come along and play the dragon slayer. Next time, keep to your own affairs.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought I was helping you. I was afraid he would hurt you and I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Why not? I’m only a diplomat who never says anything in a straightforward manner. You loathe who and what I am. The dinner with your father was so strained I’m surprised that anyone ate anything at all. Even the servants felt it, one of them nearly dumping some stewed cabbage on my lap. Then you brought it to a dramatic end. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to speak to you. I saw my stepmother eyeing you like a succulent piece of honeyed almond bread during our dinner, and I knew she’d get you into her bed and so that’s why I said what I did. It wasn’t all that dramatic.”

“You wanted the dinner to be over with quickly so your stepmother wouldn’t seduce me?”

She nodded. “You needn’t act so surprised. I truly didn’t mean to insult you so terribly. It was expedient.”

“You called all diplomats mangy curs whose fleas jumped on all those who came too close. A man could find himself dead for saying such a thing.”

“Actually, I said they were your master’s fleas, and they defiled anyone they touched.”

“Forgive me for not rendering your insult perfectly. Your stepmother had no intention of seducing me. No, she was looking at me for another reason, one that’s right in front of your damned nose. She felt nothing for me save distaste. By all the gods, you’re blind.”

“No, you’re the blind one. Of course she was eyeing you with lust. You’re beautiful. No matter what else Sira is, she enjoys a handsome man when she sees one. You’re very unlike my father. He’s black haired and dark skinned, just like me, and you’re golden and beautiful. Aye, she enjoys looking at handsome men, she—”

“Be quiet and go away. You’re wrong and your dislike of her is making you sightless and stubborn. I’m left with a mystery I don’t much like. Didn’t your father tell you to keep to your sewing? What the devil are you doing wielding a knife with such enthusiasm and talent?” He thought of Kiri, the most skilled five-year-old girl child with a knife that he knew of. By all the gods, he didn’t want her to follow in this damned girl’s footsteps.

“I thought he would crush you to death. Would you prefer that I shriek and faint?”

“In this case, aye. Go away now, Chessa, I must think about this.”

“I saw someone hiding near the edge of those trees, watching and waiting to see what happened.”

Not only had she rushed to save him, she’d perhaps even seen the man who’d hired the assassin to kill him “Who?”

“It wasn’t a man. I don’t know who she was. She wore a cloak and hood pulled up tightly around her head. But I know it wasn’t a man.”

Cleve could but stare at her. He wasn’t at all certain he believed her.

3

“MY DAUGHTER TELLS me you were very nearly killed last night. An assassin, she said.”

Cleve said in his low, smooth voice, “Just a thief, sire, or perhaps the man believed me to be someone else.”

“But what were you doing there, Cleve? Thieves and outlaws abound in that area.”

Cleve merely shrugged, saying nothing. He had no intention of telling the king that he’d received a message, telling him to come to that dank, filthy alley. Nor did he tell the king that his daughter had followed him there. He didn’t imagine that she had told her father anything, just that he, Cleve, had spoken to her about what had happened. So she trusted him not to betray her. He probably should have told the truth then. Her father should have more control over her. Still, he kept his mouth shut, his lie stark and bare for the king to chew on. The king knew it was a lie, Cleve saw it in his dark, clever eyes.