Kiss of the Moon (Medieval Trilogy 2)

Leah shuddered. “Nay.”

“Then come on.” They kept close to the wall surrounding the bailey, walking quickly in the shadows until they reached the stables. Their plan was simple. At the crack of dawn, Bjorn would talk to the porter, who would open the gate as he did sometimes to let the horses graze on the grass on the other side of the bridge. Often Roy or Bjorn would exercise the horses outside the castle walls early in the morning, and it was then that Sorcha hoped to leave, when the darkness and dawn had not yet split and they could disappear into the forest.

Sorcha knew that Leah was worried about riding the horses without saddles, but she was willing to chance escape rather than stay any longer in a castle with Darton. Sorcha suspected that Leah had not told her all of the evils Darton had forced upon her, preferring to keep those dark secrets to herself. Sorcha knew enough of the horrors that Darton had inflicted. Leah’s torment had been no less than walking through the ghastly gates of hell. For his sins, Darton would be forced to pay. Once they were back at Prydd and Leah was assured

of her safety, Sorcha would find a way to make Darton atone for Leah’s torment and the deaths of Keane, Henry, and Gwendolyn, if indeed it had been his men who had killed them.

But what of Hagan? Surely if Darton was made to pay for his sins, his brother would be involved. Mayhaps Hagan had been right when he suggested that there would be war between the two castles.

As they sat in the stables waiting for dawn, Leah prayed silently and Bjorn stood at the window, studying the night sky, waiting for the right moment, while Sorcha thought of Prydd and returning home.

Hagan would be furious, but by the time he discovered her missing, she would be far ahead of him. She wondered if he would follow after her and decided it didn’t matter. If he chased her, ’twould be because of his great pride and nothing more. He felt naught for her but simple, ugly lust.

“ ’Tis time,” Bjorn said suddenly, though Sorcha could see no difference in the dark, star-studded sky. “The guards have changed and Sir Nolan is at the gate.”

Sorcha peered through the window. Though darkness still prevailed, somewhere in the distance a cock crowed loudly, anticipating the dawn. A few candles offered light in two of the huts, and the kitchen fires were being rekindled. Young boys ran through the darkened bailey carrying kindling and firewood, and a girl was out early gathering eggs.

“Wait.” He rummaged in his pouch. “Here.” He pressed a fine dagger with a sharp, curved blade into Sorcha’s palm.

“How…?”

Bjorn’s smile flashed white in the darkness. “A gift from the tanner.”

“You stole this—”

“ ’Tis nothing compared to the horses.”

“I know, but—”

“You needs protect yourself. You, too …” He tried to give a knife to Leah, but she recoiled.

“I would not,” she whispered.

“No? What if Darton comes searching for you? Would you not like a weapon?” Sorcha asked, irritated a bit at her sister’s disapproval.

Swallowing hard, Leah took the knife.

“Come. We waste time.” Bjorn handed each woman the reins of two horses. “Just follow me.” One after the other they walked into the bailey, heading slowly toward the main gate.

“Halt!” a young voice called from the tower.

“ ’Tis only me, Nolan,” Bjorn replied. “With Tom and Jack and Lady Anne’s jennet and a few other animals that need grazing.”

“You usually go alone.”

“But there are outlaws about, and Roy thought it best to have more men to protect the animals, just as there are more guards in the ramparts.”

“I was not told—”

“I’m telling you now.” Bjorn’s voice rang with annoyance. “Would you like me to wake Baron Hagan or Anne or maybe the stable master …?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and Sorcha felt a drizzle of sweat slide down her spine. Though it was cold enough for mist to rise from the ground, she was nervous, her fingers slick around the leather reins.

“As you wish,” Bjorn said, his voice filled with misgiving as he clucked his tongue and, to Sorcha’s horror, turned his two horses back to the stables. “But Hagan does not like to be disturbed, nor does Darton. If they be with women, they will want to take their wrath out on someone, and I assure you, Nolan, ’twill not be my hide that will be strung from the towers. Hagan, he fancies the Lady Sorcha, the one who calls up the storms and furies and some say is a witch—”

Sorcha drew in her breath.

“Enough!” Nolan said quickly, his voice faltering a little. “Do not disturb him. Gatekeeper—let the stableboys pass.” With a shriek of metal on metal, the portcullis slowly opened. Leah and Sorcha kept their horses between themselves and the guards as they began to move. Sorcha’s heart was galloping as she kept her eyes downcast and her fingers tight over the reins.