Page 15 of A Constant Blaze

“Please, rise and sit, lady,” the king invited.

“Thank you. May I present my attendant to you? Alys de Fauvoir. I believe she was fortunate enough to meet you once before.”

The king accepted Alys’s curtsy with civility and a faint frown as he tried to remember. When he did, it was obvious because his skin actually colored. “Of course,” he said hurriedly with another glance at Christian. “Your friends are welcome, too.”

Alys’s face was a picture. Even at court, where she had been such a success before, she was forced to stand now in Christian’s disfigured shadow.

The king swept himself into the chair close to the window seat where Christian had been sitting and barely waited until she resumed her seat before he said, “I am anxious to hear your news. How does Sir William? Did my message reach him?”

Christian licked her dry lips, using the brief seconds it took Ferchar of Strathearn to take his seat next to the king, to order her reply.

“Your message did not reach him, Your Grace,” she said sadly. “Though I did receive it. Sire, events in Ross have moved on apace, so let me tell you at once that Sir William is dead.”

The king’s jaw dropped. “Dead?”

Did he imagine William invincible? It wasn’t so rare a thing to die in Ross, not for the king’s men sent to subdue it.

“In battle with the MacHeths,” Christian said. “Who then overran Tirebeck, taking back all of the estate, including me.”

The Earl of Strathearn scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Adam MacHeth took me as his wife in order to keep Tirebeck from his enemies. And also, because he discovered I share an ancestor with Your Grace.”

The king’s eyes widened. “Indeed? How is that?”

“Your Grace,” the Earl of Strathearn said heavily. “There will be time for such discussion later. May we keep to the point? Lady, what is now the situation in Ross? If you received our message, did you act upon it?”

“I couldn’t,” Christian said. She glanced at the earl. “The men you found me with in the street are all that is left. We lost several back in March before we even reached Tirebeck; a few more were picked off in subsequent skirmishes, and the rest died in the last battle, leaving nowhere near enough to take advantage of Adam’s absence. Which is why I came south with all haste to warn Your Grace that Adam MacHeth has a huge force with him.”

“We know,” the earl said wryly.

Christian leaned forward. “It’s bluster,” she said, low.

Alys, from her isolated stool, lifted her head and gazed at Christian.

“Bluster?” the king repeated.

“He won’t fight,” Christian said simply. “Not this time. Unless the royal army divides, he knows he can’t win. He just wants to make sure his father is released, and when he is, that he makes it safely to Ross. In effect, he’s come to escort his father home. And to show Your Grace the risks of reneging.”

“Meaning he’d fight anyway,” the earl suggested, “whatever the cost, if we changed our minds and kept Malcolm MacHeth?”

“Oh yes,” Christian said.

“Then this has nothing to do with the son, Donald?” the king asked. “Heseemed certain his brother would come for him, which is surely ridiculous…”

“Not entirely, Your Grace,” Christian said heavily. “In a way, it has everything to do with Donald. Adam is hoping the double threat of his army heading for Fife and the Lord of the Isles’ approaching ships on the west will compel you to release Donald, too.”

The king and the earl exchanged glances. “Will he fight if we keep Donald?”

Christian shook her head. “Not this time. Not until his father is safe.”

“After that, it will all begin again,” the king said ruefully.

The earl leaned forward in his chair. “How do you know this? How sure are you of Adam MacHeth’s intentions?”

“They speak in front of me all the time. Their plans are quite fixed.”

Unexpectedly, the earl swung around to Alys. “And you, mistress? In your lady’s service, did you hear the same things?”

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