Ayla ran as fast as she could, and still it seemed an eternity until she reached the doors of the keep. Just as she was hastening up the stairs, Dilli stepped out, dressed in a beige nightgown and an adorable little bedcap. Part of Ayla's mind wondered how she could notice such a thing at a time like this.
“Milady!” Dilli breathed as she saw the tearstained face of her mistress. “What is the matter? Can I…”
Ayla rushed past her startled maid without even attempting a reply. Her voice was still lost somewhere in a distant scream.
She ran into the keep, up the stairs, and into the first empty room she passed. Darkness and the tears in her eyes concealed everything so well, she didn't even know where she was. She just flung herself into a corner and rolled herself up into a ball there, weeping into her gore-spattered gown.
A thousand questions whirled around in her head, a thousand images. She didn't have the strength to face any of them.
She just wanted to sit there forever and despair of a world that was capable of such atrocities. She had always known that there was war and wickedness in the world. But she had believed that, at least in death, all people would be allowed to rest and find their peace. Now, she didn't know what to believe. She only wanted to be alone.
Just then, the door opened with a squeak.
No! Isenbard had come to find her!
She couldn't face him now. She couldn't bear it! Please let him go again, she prayed. Please!
But then a voice spoke softly, gently—and it wasn't Isenbard's.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Ayla knew that voice, knew it very well. She had memorized its every tone and cadence almost as well as she had memorized the gray of his eyes or the devilish allure of his smile. Slowly, with strength she didn't know she possessed, she raised her head a few inches and saw him standing in the doorway.
He was only a dark shadow, but she'd recognize that shape anywhere. The only man to whom she could open her heart at this moment. The only man who could ease her pain. The only man she loved.
“Find me here?” she croaked. Only then did she properly look around and noticed that she was not in her chambers, nor in any random room, but in Reuben's sickroom, where she had nursed him back to health and afterwards held him captive. Was it just coincidence? Or had some instinct led her here?
It was only a moment of blessed distraction, then the questions disappeared and the images from the courtyard returned in full force. The gore, the staring eye sockets…
Ayla shivered, staring up at the immovable, dark figure of Reuben above her.
“Why did they do that?” she wailed. “Why would they do that to people who were already dead?”
She hadn't actually expected an answer to her words. They were not really a question. They were a cry to the sky, to the wicked world.
So, when an answer came, it quite surprised her.
“To vent their rage, since they could not reach living people,” Reuben said, his voice still gentle, but with an edge of steel in it. “And, most of all, to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.”
So that was it? Well, the latter part had certainly worked.
“H-how do you know this?” she sniffled. “Have you seen this kind of thing before?”
“Yes. From quite up close, in fact.”
And from the way he said it, she knew. He hadn't just seen it. He had done it himself. Or rather, ordered it to be done. For a moment, her heart shrank away from its own feelings. How could she ever let herself feel like this for such a man?
Yet when she opened her mouth, no rebukes, no plea for him to leave her alone passed her lips. Instead, she stretched out her arms.
“Hold me?” she whispered.
The dark shadow from the door moved closer. Wordlessly, she let herself fall forward, and then she was in Reuben's arms and the world, which just a minute ago had seemed to have descended into the madness of eternal night, was making a little bit of sense again.
“Oh Reuben,” she whimpered, pressing herself so hard against him that she felt sure she would give him a bruise or two. Well, he probably wouldn't even notice if she did.
Reuben returned her embrace and pressed his lips against her cheek—a gesture any passing observer might see as nothing more than simple comfort. But Ayla knew better. And she was proved right just a moment later when his lips wandered down from her cheek, over her jawline, down to her exposed throat.
“Ayla…”
His voice was like molten steel—hot and deadly.
Ayla felt a shiver run through her. Grief? Pleasure? Both, so tightly entwined as to be indistinguishable?
“Do you know what I want to do right now, Milady?” Reuben murmured against her skin.
She managed a shake of the head.
“I want to take advantage of your grief and vulnerability to seduce you.”
A small “Oh!” escaped her. That was all she said. All she could say.
“But I can’t!” he growled, not sounding very pleased at the fact. “Because I lo— care about you, and I can’t just use you like that. Damn!”
By the Apostles! Was he going to say that he loved me?
But then…why hadn’t he? She had been waiting to hear those words again ever since she had found out his secret, had been waiting for him to tell her that it hadn’t been all just lies to ensnare her, that his feelings were real. Why couldn’t he come right out and say it?
She almost asked him. But instead, she pressed her face into his oh-so-soft, messy black hair and pulled him closer, the hint of a smile playing on her face.
“I care about you, too, Reuben.”
“Now you’ve just made it worse! God’s teeth! You little vixen!” He pressed another lingering kiss on her throat. “Feelings are about as convenient as a fork in the ass, sometimes!”
She gave a half-sob, half-chuckle. “Feels nice, though, doesn’t it? Having someone to hold you?”
His grip around her tightened. “Yes, damn you! It does.”
Those words were like a brightly blazing torch to her, driving the cold out of her heart. Yet even though she didn’t feel empty and cold anymore, even though Reuben was holding her, she suddenly started to cry again.
It was too much, simply too much for her not to cry. Too many brave men had died, too many souls had been violated.
“Shh, Ayla, shh, don’t cry!” Quickly, he came up from the level of her jaw and pressed her face into his shoulder, sheltering her. His hand started to lightly stroke her hair. “Everything is going to be all right. Just wait. Everything is going to be all right.”
“It is, is it?” she asked, with a tearful little chuckle. “So you have found a plan to get rid of the army in front of my gates, have you, Sir Knight?”
“Well,” he sighed. “I wasn't going to talk about it, but since you ask…promise you won't tell anybody. It's a secret plan—my last resort.”
“I promise.”
“Well, if they don't simply vanish or turn into robins and fly away, I'm going to go have to go out there and kill every last one of them myself.”
Ayla couldn’t help it, she had to smile again. “What a brilliant plan, Sir Knight.”
“I know. I’m a genius, aren’t I?” He gave an exaggerated sigh again. “Of course, it's going to take some time, and I'll probably need to come back for fresh swords when I've hacked my own to pieces once or twice. But I think I should manage it in about three or four days. Then I'm going to ride to the Margrave's castle, kill everybody there, too, so you can be safe forever, and I'll bring you the Margrave's head on a spike. Would you like that?”
“I should very much like to be safe,” Ayla murmured into his shoulders. “But you can forget about the head on a spike. I've seen enough heads to last me a lifetime.”
“Oh?” He was grinning. She could hear it in his voice. “Am I to infer that the sight of my own nut is displeasing to you, Milady? Should I cover my head with a cloth from now on?”
Ayla couldn't help it. She giggled. It was unbelievable! She had just lived through what probably were the five worst minutes of her life, and he managed to make her giggle!
“I meant dead ones, silly!” she sniggered.
“Well, that's a relief.” She looked up and saw that she had been right. Reuben was indeed grinning. A full-blown I'm evil, know it, and enjoy it grin. It made her melt inside. “There are certain things you cannot do with your head covered. Particularly your mouth.”
At those words, Ayla felt her heart speed up. Damn him! He was so good at distracting her!
Abruptly, she realized how close she was to him. Very, very close in fact. He was clutching her in his arms, and she felt every hard line of his body pressed against hers in a way that probably wasn’t very decent.
It felt good all the same.
“What sort of things?” she asked, breathless.
Reuben's smile turned even more devilish, and he leaned closer until their faces were only inches apart. Ayla could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks.
“Well…” he began.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps approached down the corridor outside. Before Ayla could move or do anything, a guard pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Milady, there you are! Sir Isenbard sent me to look for you! He…”
Then the guard's eyes caught up with his mouth. His gaze traveled from his mistress, to Reuben, and back to his mistress. They didn't have to travel far between the two.
“Um…err…um…”
“Got something to say, soldier?” Reuben asked, fixing his eyes on the man and not letting go of Ayla in spite of her furious attempts at freedom.
“Err…yes, Sir. That is…no, Sir. I'll, um…wait outside. Shall I, Milady?”
“I think that would be a good idea,” said Reuben before Ayla had even opened her mouth. The guard nodded hurriedly and fled from the room.
“Reuben!” Ayla hissed. Anger was boiling in her hotter than the Devil's tea pot.
“Yes?”
“Why didn't you let me say something? He thinks…thinks that we…”
“What?” Reuben asked, trying to look innocent. He didn't manage it very well.
“You know!”
“Just suppose for a moment that I am very stupid and enlighten me.”
She smacked him on the chest. “Let go of me, you lecher!”
“Do you really want me to, Milady?” he asked, giving her a look that almost made her change her mind.
“Yes! The guard said Isenbard sent him to look for me. It must be something important.”
“Maybe he is just concerned for you.” The humor that had been there until just a moment ago drained from Reuben's face. “I certainly was.”
He was? He had been concerned for her? Ayla’s heart brimmed over with a joy so fierce it almost banished the horrors of the night from her mind. Her face softened.
“I know,” she whispered. “But even if he is only concerned for me, I should go. You see…” Quickly, before her courage could desert her, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek, once. “…I don't like the people I care about to be concerned or troubled. I like to make them happy. Whenever and wherever I can.”
Under the touch of her lips, she felt him stiffen, and, for a moment, she feared he would pull away. But then he crushed her against his chest tighter than ever and breathed into her ear, “A nice sentiment. But I hope very much you aren't thinking of making anyone else happy with your soft lips?”
“No,” she murmured, spellbound by the intensity of his words.
“That is very good to hear. Then I won't have to beat anyone senseless.”
She waited, her heart pounding. Was he going to tell her that he loved her again? Now would be the perfect moment. Like this, so close to the mesmerizing power of his eyes and his seducing devilish smile, she would have believed him instantly.
She longed to hear the words again, hear them from the lips of the true man: Reuben the robber knight, not Reuben the merchant, who had never really existed. She needed to hear them, soon, or she didn’t know whether she could go on any longer.
He opened his mouth. “Ayla…I…”