“In any case, I am relieved ye’re quit of that man.”
"What I’m relieved of is cultivating all that hensbane, of sneaking out to harvest it. Relieved of the ruses to get him to drink it. Relieved of my duty to protect the others. Let someone else step up now.”
“A sad marriage to be sure.”
“No marriage at all. Now, tell me how ye feel about our handsome rescuer. I heard ye this morn. Tell me ye don’t truly wish him roastin’ on a spit with his own longsword."
Heat rushed to Brigid's cheeks. "I didn't say?—"
"Aye, ye did. Only ye suggested he skewer himself.” Gerts winked. “A fine trick, though if anyone could manage it…” Then she laughed.
Brigid groaned and covered her face. "I was angry."
"We heard." Gerts pried Brigid's hands away from her face. "What did the poor man do?"
"He lied to me." Brigid sighed. "He promised I could go with him back to Gallabrae, then he locked me in the bedchamber while I slept."
Gerts stared at her for a long moment, then laughed again. "Oh, child. My husband planned to burn me alive, and ye're upset because Flanders wanted to keep ye safe?"
"It's not that simple," Brigid protested. "He looked me in the eye and lied."
"And saved yer life in the process." Gerts shook her head. "Some men try to prove their love with pretty words and gifts. Others show it by making sure ye live to see another sunrise."
"Love? No, it's not that. He feels responsible for me now, that's all."
"Is it?" Gerts raised an eyebrow. "I saw the way he looked at ye in the pit. That wasn't duty in his eyes."
Brigid looked away. Though she lived through the same hellish night, the woman didn’t understand, and Brigid wouldn’t try to explain. “I just need him to realize that he owes me nothing. He's done enough for me already."
"Owes ye nothing?" Gerts hummed. "Ye think a man like Flanders Leesborn does anything he doesn't want to do?"
Before Brigid could respond, they heard footsteps and looked up. Flanders himself filled the doorframe. His eyes found hers immediately, and something in her chest tightened at the delight in his gaze.
"Ladies," he greeted them with a slight bow. "I'm not interrupting?"
"Not at all," Gerts said, patting the bench on her other side. "Join us."
He settled beside them, his broad shoulders making the space suddenly small. "I came to speak with ye, Gerts. About yer husband."
"Ah." Gerts nodded. "I heard he's back to his nasty self now that Heslington's dead."
"Aye. And that's what concerns me." Flanders leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He seems certain he'll win this standoff. Do ye ken any reason he might believe The Regent would side with him?"
Gerts frowned, considering. "I can think of nothing. Hector has some friends at court, but he never speaks of them to me, and I pay little attention to his braggin’ to others."
"Could he have discovered something? Have some leverage over Thomas Randolph?"
"Nothing I’ve heard." Gerts shook her head. "But if he’s true to his old form, he won't wait for The Regent's decision. He'll strike now, before anyone can order him not to. Blame someone else for not stopping him soon enough. That's his way."
"Then nothing has changed."
"And The Regent can’t punish him for what is The Regent's own fault." Gerts' eyes narrowed. "And be prepared. He’ll have two thousand men ready to scale the walls by morning."
Flanders cursed under his breath. "That's what I feared."
"No doubt it is why he is so confident. And remember, he has ever planned to scale yer curtain wall since the moment he saw it."
Brigid was shocked the woman could speak so casually about something that might mean death for them both.
