“But you said I could have her.” Wilton glanced Elliott’s way, but received no indication of support from that front. “You promised.”
“And now I’m saying you can’t. Don’t make me repeat myself. Heathscote, rein your thug in.”
“He’s not the boss of me.” Wilton, his face flushed with anger, raised his elbow, his intention clear, given the sharp point of his hook was positioned against Alia’s throat. “She’s-” They would never know what Wilton intended to say, as suddenly the man was sporting an arrow from his left eye. His body taking two seconds to realise he was dead, his knees buckling, the large man falling to the ground with a thud.
Blinking, Perri stared down at the dead man. It had all happened so fast. But who had done the deed? As far as she was aware all the evil doers were present and accounted for, dead and alive.
She noted Alia was staring off to the left, the direction from which the arrow had been fired. Silence hanging heavily in the air, interrupted only by the rush of the nearby river.
“So Gods damn dramatic.” Elliott Heathscote muttered under his breath. His bow slightly less taut now. It was difficult to hold it stretched and ready even for the most gifted of archers for long periods of time. Normally this would be when Alia, and probably Talac, would make a move to disable Elliott and at the very least remove one enemy number. But both remained still and patiently waited. Because whoever had killed Wilton, clearly was a gifted archer.
How many minutes since Wilton had drawn a breath? Two? Five? Even Regal was showing signs of restlessness, but surprisingly he made no demands on the mystery archer. Then, between one blink and the next, the fellow was standing at the edge of the tree line. Arrow casually notched, though not aiming at anyone. Dressed all in black, he made a chilling silent figure. The expression on his face hard, ruthless, deadly. There was something familiar about him. Perri knew him, didn’t she? His raven hair clubbed back in a queue. Green eyes hard, like polished unflinching jade.
“Cadell?” Alia named him, astonishment tinging her voice.
Cadell. Cadell? Perri found herself just as shocked. The bard was the mystery deadly archer? The one her sister had rejected and banished from the Lair?
Gloomenthrall women were cursed, this was the last proof Perri needed. Thankfully, historically, the cure for the curse had always proven effective… kill the men cursing them.
* * *
Why that cruddy lying little oink. The young ones back at the Lair had been of the right mind. Alia should have killed Cadell and disposed of his body in the woods when she had the opportunity.
Well, as her third cousin, once removed, the eighth Beast of Gloomenthrall had always said – never put off killing a man, you’ll generally only live to regret it.
Time to rectify her oversight.
But how? Alia could tell by the overly casual way Cadell held his bow at his side, with the arrow already notched, and the impressive bullseye that took Wilton out, that the bard was a crack shot and probably fast as lightning. And unfortunately, he was standing too far away to tackle to the ground.
Time to start chatting and see if she could edge closer. Signalling Talac discreetly with three quick hand gestures to stay put. He had Elliott Heathscote at his back to deal with. Not to mention Regal’s meandering goons. One standing over the tied and gagged boys. A big nasty fellow shadowing Regal, acting as his personal bodyguard. Whilst two others, who were supposed to be watching the tree line, kept glancing back to watch the action or see if they were required.
“Tell me, bard, was all the golden wheat fields of ponderous sunshine edged with glittering veins of diamond coloured love a ruse? Or is this the real you, archer assassin for hire?”
“Either, or, neither… keep still Lady Giant.”
“You should just kill her now.” Elliott advised. “Given her reputation, you don’t want to tangle with her.”
“Killing her would defeat my purpose. I’m not saying never, just not right now. I have to get her before a priest first, how else will I make her my bride?”
“Please.” Alia laughed. “That’ll never happen. I’ll never agree to marry you.”
“That’s the wonderful thing about the laws of this land, you can be bruised and bloodied, unable to speak because of a broken jaw, but I, as your beloved fiancée, can speak on your behalf. Even sign your name. I know just where to find an amenable priest to wed us. Unfortunately, he demands proof of life before the ceremony. Bit of a spot of bother with the cardinal a while back has made him annoyingly cautious.”
“And what would marrying me accomplish?” Half a step closer, still too much distance between them.
“Having sung and courted aristo women for over eight years now, looking for a way up into the echelons, I’ve come to the conclusion it will never happen. Even if I find a rich, infatuated furdove, her family will cut her off the moment she says I do.”
Alia shared a confused look with Perri, taking another half step closer to Cadell. “The same will happen if you marry me. My father would soon as kill you than acknowledge you.”
A smirk tilted up the edges of Cadell’s mouth. “Who would want dreary Gloomenthrall Keep when I could be Lord of the Lair? Sitting on a goldmine, with scads of underlings to obey my every command.”
“What?” Alia was genuinely confused, taking another half step, slow and steady would see this crowing cockerel dead. “Why would you think we’re exempt from the laws of the land? The inhabitants of the Lair choose to follow me. And Baron Gloomenthrall and I have an agreement. I pay a hefty monthly stipend to him for use of his land. In exchange, he allows our female kin to have some say in whom they do or do not marry, and what direction their lives will take. My position is not inherited. I fought for it. And every day I prove I’m worthy of remaining… Lady of the Lair.” Another half step. “If you turn up, claiming you married me and announce yourself Lord over them, first, the Lair inhabitants will laugh. “Another half step. “Then they’ll kill you.” Alia smirked mockingly, taking another half step, shaking her head. “Lord of the Lair.” Perhaps it was time to cause a little dissension. Looking in Regal’s direction. “You knew of his ambitions and didn’t think to correct him?”
“He was proving skilled and useful… and he can hardly place the blame on me that his plan is based upon false assumptions he’s erroneously made.”
“Hah.” Elliott laughed, amused also at the blunder by his cohort.
Cadell’s face tightening into a grimace of anger as he shot a look of loathing both at Regal and then Elliott’s way. Good, they had no love for one another.
