The Ward Ch. 09

"Stephan!"

He turned to find Garmon upon him, eyes round with urgency.

"Stephan, the-"

"Yes, Garmon, I recognise the King's military," Stephan irritably cut him short. "I was not aware we were expecting a visit."

"That's because we weren't," Garmon replied. "Their lead is Lord Dacre."

Stephan pulled up short. "A-Alexander Dacre?" he said incredulously. "The Knight?"

"Aye, the matter must be of great importance," Garmon nodded. "I've not laid eyes on the man, but I've heard enough. Now I wonder..."

"You thought the slaughter of a long-standing family of aristocrats would not interest the Royal Court?" Stephan snapped, entering the courtyard where the highest-ranked generals waited to greet the horsemen.

Alexander dismounted and removed his silver helmet, made of a light metal for show more than battle. He was tall and strong, with mussed dark hair and sharp black eyes. His face was elegant, with the smooth, pale skin of an aristocrat. Born to a noble family, once Alexander came of age, he pursued a position at the Royal Court, proving himself a very capable Knight in the King's military.

He was known for his perceptiveness, an uncanny instinct which averted disaster more than once. Having foiled two very cleverly co-ordinated assassination attempts on his Majesty, he was one of the few entrusted with the authority to act on behalf of the Royals without consult.

Everett, the overseer of the Guard compound, bowed low. He was a station above Stephan in the Guard hierarchy. Where Stephan had five or six counterparts, Everett only had one, who was currently bed-ridden with consumption.

"Lord Dacre, we are honoured," Everett declared, straightening to hold his arm out to the building behind. "If you would follow me to the offices, we have refreshment waiting for you and your men."

"I thank you," Alexander brusquely nodded, glancing behind as his men dismounted. "We are fatigued, so our visit will be of short duration; my men will remain in the courtyard. I only require a moment of your time."

"Of course," Everett's eyes darted along the line of senior generals, predicting the purpose of Alexander's visit. "Brent, Stephan, Mannering," he summoned the relevant officials, and the small group made their way into the building.

Alexander took a seat in Everett's large, austere office. Stephan and the two others waited silently along the wall as Everett sat down to address Alexander's enquiries.

The discussion was brief, and the generals answered Alexander's questions, reiterating information already known to the Royal investigator. Fifteen minutes later the Guard escorted Alexander back to his mount, a list in the latter's possession.

"Again, my Lord, all have sufficiently answered our enquiries," Everett said uneasily, watching Alexander don his helmet and briskly ascend his horse.

"I am not here to upset your noble society," Alexander replied, digging his heel. "I do not wish to remain in this town long, Everett. Once I have what I need, the investigation will close, and I will return to Therondia. Until then, you may reach me at The Tancredi."

"Of course," Everett bowed; already aware the Knight would stay at the finest hotel in the town.

The generals watched the regal group depart, as did many soldiers and underlings from hidden sections of the compound. Once the gates were closed, Everett quickly sent a messenger to the Governor.

***

That same evening Alexander and his men attended a social event; a seasonal gathering of nobility. The soldiers seemed oblivious to the scrutiny, accustomed to being rudely stared at whenever they travelled beyond the King's land.

Like Alexander, his soldiers had changed from their travel wear but were still in formal uniform; all very strong, serious, quietly observant. They mingled politely but drank very little and had no interest in flirting with the local ladies.

Alexander did the rounds, made acquaintance with one family after another. His mind was sharp and his memory sharper; if quizzed he would have been able to recall every introduction of the evening.

His men lingered by the door, keeping to themselves and ready to leave with their superior. Some approached them for conversation and eventually wandered off, understanding the men were not wanting to socialise.

Alone at last, Alexander decided to take a last stroll about the vicinity before leaving the impressive property. Striding away from the main party, he admired the building's architecture, the paintings and aged statues, encountering a servant now and then, and glimpsing the occasional noble couple in shadow; whispering, giggling and possibly more, in darker sections of the residence.

Turning to go back to his men, he stopped, hearing the faintest echo of soft music. The tune interested him, so he followed the sound to the end of the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Reaching a private room, he stood outside a few minutes, enjoying the piano play. The door was mostly closed but somewhat ajar. Normally the case when the occupant wanted privacy but did not feel entitled to claim a room to themselves.

Smiling wryly at his boldness, Alexander peeked through the crack in the door, and surprised by the sight, edged the door wider.

An elegant lady sat with her back mostly to him, completely absorbed in her play and unaware of being watched. Her gown was a beautiful green muslin with gold embroidering that stood out against her dark hair in a picturesque contrast.

Obviously well-taught, the woman's fingers navigated the instrument with a superior aptitude, confusing Alexander, for she was alone, and it was unusual for a lady to perform without an appreciative audience.

Drawing nearer, the Knight found himself more interested in the woman than the music; her pale, lovely face and lush, full mouth. Admiring the lady's classic profile, in the poignant moment Alexander found himself intrigued by her talent, and most of all, the graceful sadness of her demeanour.

Stepping closer, he emerged in Lucille's periphery vision and she jumped with fright, the melody abruptly ending in an off-key clang.

"I-I am sorry, I did not see you, my Lord," she stammered, looking nervously to the open doorway.

Alexander was mildly captivated by the expressiveness of Lucille's black eyes. Practiced in socialising with the ladies at court, he immediately recognised the lady was genuinely startled and not playing coy.

"It is my fault for lacking the manners to make my presence known," he pleasantly replied. "I thought I'd met all attendees, but I see the most engaging had evaded me till this moment."

Lucille turned from his flirtatious praise to arrange the piano as she'd found it, struggling in her flustered mind to recall where to place the parchment scores. The sight of the tall knight in uniform was very startling after a substantial time lost in her music.

Lucille had arrived at the property with every intention of seeking a husband, but quickly realised her heart was not in the endeavour. Instead, she sought musical solace for her troubled mind, deciding it was too early to pursue romance. She felt particularly tainted since commencing her affair with Stephan.

Alexander curiously observed Lucille's inner disquiet. "Forgive my insolence, I am Lord Alexander Dacre," he bowed.

"Lucille Amelie," she said hastily, rearranging her skirts to rise. "I am aware of who you are, of course," she added, her eyes on the regal red and blue uniform before lifting to his handsome face.

"I am exceedingly flattered, and delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Amelie," Alexander beamed, struck by a sudden craving quite out of character. "May I be so bold to invite you to dance?"

Lucille curtsied prettily, her eyes on the doorway. "I thank you my Lord, but I have an engagement that I had entirely forgotten. It is fortunate that you interrupted my dallying. I bid you a pleasant evening, Lord Dacre."

Accustomed to women throwing themselves at him for his powerful rank and good-looks, Alexander was rather surprised by Lucille's failure to even feign an interest to know him better. Even if she weren't attracted to him, Alexander's friendship was difficult to obtain and a highly prized connection. Bemused, the knight watched the intriguing lady slip from the room and his presence.

Approaching the piano, he pressed some of the keys, which were quite sensitive to the norm, and brashly loud under his heavy touch. No, it was not an easy instrument to master. He'd be pleased to hear Lucille play again.

Thoughtfully, he left the room and returned to his men, who he knew were impatient to leave the event.

"Did you gather much of interest, Dacre?" one dryly greeted him.

Alexander chuckled, accepting his cloak from a servant. "Not all of the names I'd hoped to encounter, but certainly not a wasted evening."

The men departed for The Tancredi, Alexander striving the entire journey to recall the last time a lady declined to dance with him.

***

Idly arranging her long, damp hair down her shoulder, Sage stared at her reflection, satisfied with her decision to pursue Edmund. A knock at the door startled her, as she was ready to sleep. Habern had left immediately after dinner for a card party likely to run into the early hours of the new day.

Earlier that evening, dinner passed tranquilly. Habern was pleasantly conversational and ceased disputing Sage's recent claim to be engaged to Edmund, though he was clearly against it. Sage enjoyed dining with her uncle and plied him with many questions about her late parents.

Warily opening the door, she was informed Habern requested her presence and was waiting in the library saloon; a tabled area sectioned off from the books where party guests, usually gentlemen, would drink in the quieter atmosphere whilst discussing more educated topics of interest.

Glancing at her reflection and rather sheer bed-gown, Sage shrugged and left her chamber to find her uncle.

The servant waited to escort her through the quiet manor and into the library. At the late hour the room would have been pitch black but for the cluster of candles on one of the larger tables, sending flickering shadows through the area.

With a dismissive nod of thanks to the servant, Sage made her way solo through the expansive, dimly lit library, to the waiting gentleman seated at the largest table, bent over a large book.

Sage was upon him before realising it was a stranger.

The man glanced up before she could retreat, taking in Sage's scant clothing, and leaned back into the chair with amusement. Dressed in noble attire, sombre black, the young man was somewhat handsome, with short blonde hair and elegant features carrying an essence of natural coldness.

"My name is Lord John Canning," he smiled, blue eyes bright with mockery. "I'm delighted to finally meet you, Sage."

"I...I am sorry, I...I thought," she stammered. "I was informed..."

"Your uncle was called away for an urgent matter," Lord Canning smoothly explained. "He will join us as soon as he can, naturally."

Grasping the situation, Sage's eyes flashed forebodingly, her lip curled to an open sneer. "Naturally, I am not dressed appropriately to receive guests," she said acidly. Without any further acknowledgement, Sage turned to stamp back to bed, but the porter was there.

"Lord Habern would be displeased if my Lady left her guest," he said with rehearsed diplomacy.

"Would he, now?" Sage snarled, and the porter looked uncertain, before they were distracted from a burst of laughter from Lord Canning.

The gentlemen stood from the table and bowed graciously. "Sage, I apologise," he grinned. "I do not agree with your uncle's tactics, but I promise if you bear me company for the next five minutes, I will dispel any servant standing between you and the exit."

Sage eyed him, still uncomfortable with her state of undress. "Five minutes," she said sourly.

John nodded affably and drew out a chair for her. "My lady?"

"It would be nice to be dressed as one," Sage sniped, taking her seat and carefully drawing her hair down the front of her chest.

"Do you know what this is, Sage?" John gestured to the open book.

Sage shrugged.

"It is a Grimoire," he said. "It was your mother's. She was a very talented witch."

Feeling strangely overwhelmed, Sage looked away.

"Mostly ink, but sometimes a blade..." John began to describe the book's contents, the way it was made, the entries, methods of categorisation.

Sage very soon found herself struggling to process the information, battling a rush of discomfiting emotions. She gazed at the pages, trying to take it in, to keep up with John. Eventually she looked to his face, as though he might relay something to her by his expression.

John's voice began to echo as he read intently, the surrounding candlelight reflecting in his eyes, keen with fascination. Sage's heart was beating rapidly, she breathed faster to calm her panic.

Then she felt it; the heat coiling in her belly and knew the sensation for what it was. A compelling premonition that would rely on her invitation. Her mind's eye conjured a vision of herself laid back on the table, her gown bunched up her waist, John on top of her, roughly thrusting. He seized her hair and pulled it, kissed her, biting down on her lower lip until she cried out...

"Sage?" John's deep voice wafted close by. "What do you want, Sage? You must tell me."

Sage shut her eyes and covered her ears, drawing sharp, deep breaths and feeling the grip of the spell reduce. Even when John's hand slid down her thigh for attention and then up, she didn't take her hands away. There were more voices, raised in volume, and the hand quickly ceased its molestation.

Shaking, Sage carefully uncovered her ears and saw Habern was with them, the porter gone. As the mental fog eased, she realised he was yelling at Lord Canning.

"...in my own home!" Habern raged. "In her bedclothes!"

"Is it my lack of propriety that saw her come to me dressed for a tryst?" John sneered; his face flushed with guilt and anger, blood trickling from one nostril where Habern had hit him. "I barely touched her."

"An incantation of that nature... to employ any ruse at all! Touching Lydia's grimoire... And to bribe my staff, how dare you, Canning!" Habern shouted furiously.

John angrily opened his mouth but checked himself, knowing better than to defend his error. "I am sorry for the trespass," he curtly apologised, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "But this girl is an opportunity...I wanted advantage over the others, is that so difficult to forgive?"

Lord Habern pinched his brow, the other hand clenched to a fist by his side. "Get. Out."

Lord Canning began to protest, but saw it was pointless. Sweeping a low bow to Sage, he spoke nastily through his teeth. "Once you meet the others, you'll conclude I'm the best choice."

"OUT!" Habern roared, seizing the young Lord's upper arm and marching him to where two servants were waiting to throw him out.

Swiftly returning to Sage's side, he grasped her hands, noting they were shaking. "It was only trickery, Sage, it will pass," he reassured her, his face still tight with anger. "You resisted it admirably."

"I thought you were trapping me," Sage said faintly, managing a sardonic smile.

Habern sighed with relief. "Of course not, Sage. I'd never leave you with a witch unchaperoned. You are my niece and I would not dishonour my sister's memory in this fashion. That man will not set foot in this house again, and the fool who brought you to him will be punished."

Sage shrugged lightly, feeling the dizziness ebb. "I made my feelings clear about associating with male witches for your purpose."

Lord Habern released her hands to fidget with the cuff of his sleeve. "It would be such a waste, Sage. You've no idea how rare it is for a noble girl of your heritage and beauty..." he sighed. "Soon enough you won't have to wait for me to introduce them, they'll announce themselves, etiquette be damned. They're not all horribly ambitious, Sage, and Canning is known to be serpentine. Do not be disheartened by him, there are very respectable Lords who would never-"

"It's no matter, for my heart is taken," Sage pointedly reminded him.

For a while there was silence between them.

"Do you really love that young man, Sage?" he asked earnestly, his voice strained. "He's a fine Lord, one could not hope for better...except he is mortal," he finished awkwardly.

"Had I such aversion to mortality, believe me, I would already be united with another," Sage muttered, staring at her palms with an odd smile.

"Who is he?" Habern asked, watching her face carefully.

The strange smile faded, and Sage shrugged off the moment. "Nobody." Shivering a little, she rubbed the sides of her arms and stood up. "I am rather tired, uncle. I wish to ride out tomorrow."

"Very well," Habern despondently agreed, kissing her hand. "Stubborn, like your mother. Sleep well, child."

Grinning, Sage spontaneously embraced her uncle and kissed his cheek.

Habern silently watched her leave the library, wondering at the burst of joy that followed the sweet gesture.

***

The next day Edmund returned from his morning ride to be informed the King's favoured knight was waiting in his parlour.

Hurrying to the room, he bowed to Lord Dacre, who shrugged off the formal greeting and approached to grasp Edmund's hand with keen familiarity.

Alexander was not in uniform, though by the colours of his casual attire it was fairly obvious he was from the King's land. His coat was tailored differently from the locals, with a more fitting design though less elaborately coloured. The plain brown was becoming, the material clearly expensive.

"Looking well as ever, Edmund," Alexander said warmly. "I was disappointed not to greet you at yesterday's soiree."

"I had business," Edmund answered, though it was clear he simply wasn't interested. "Had I known you would be visiting..."

"Did you expect me to wait long?" Alexander softly replied, observing Edmund's guilty flush as they took their seats. "Or did you think I would not realise the source of the note? I am not an easy man to reach, Edmund. Few know my direct avenues."

"I know the extent of your duties." Edmund looked away uncomfortably. "I would not make demands on your time."

"No, of course not," Alexander scoffed. "Why would I have time for the lad who deterred an axe from burying into my neck?"

"Dramatically retold," Edmund murmured, humour lighting his eyes. "I had only a saucepan to intercede."

Alexander burst out laughing. "You should have lied to me, I was well-nigh unconscious, Edmund. Though one must admire your resourcefulness. It was a sad day, when you resigned from my unit." His smile faded. "I have been reassured by the Guard overseer and the Governor himself that there was naught to the Stiles' deaths but mere human error. I have reviewed the information and it appears to be in order. What is the trouble?"

Edmund sighed harshly. Despite the benefits of his friendship with Alexander, he knew the man was tenacious and responded quickly. "I suspect corruption within the Guard," he said cautiously. "But I have no evidence of it."

"Whom do you suspect?" Alexander prompted. "I need only names, Edmund."

Edmund stood and went to the window. "You know how it plays out, Dacre. The nature of it."

"Aye, the Royal court is rife with it so I understand corruption more than most. And I would tread carefully," the Knight responded, tilting his head at Edmund's hesitancy. "You have come to me unofficially, as a friend. I approach such matters very differently. I presume the issue involves someone close to you?"

Edmund nodded, though he had no intention of disclosing Lucille's predicament or betraying her confidence. He hoped to bring an uncomfortable scrutiny to the Guard that might release Lucille from her binding obligation, but he'd never publicise her plight.