Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (28 page)

He said something to the king. The nobles around the table laughed uneasily and leaned forward in their seats. His eyes met Joanna’s again and he said, “I’ll tell him that you love him.”

Before Joanna could wail in protest Ethan lifted the
broth
to his lips and drank several long draughts. “No!” she shouted. She lunged for
the bowl
, ready to drink the rest.
Her aim missed and the bowl spilled from Ethan’s hands, splashing into the tureen and knocking it over. The tainted soup seeped across the table.

A guard grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. Her cry of protest died on her lips as she watched Ethan. Every set of eyes in the room went wide.
The silence of the nobles waiting for something to happen was so thick that the calls of the Tower servants going about their morning business could be heard through the hall’s open windows.

Joanna’s agony was too overwhelming for tears. She gaped, stomach churning, a guard holding her upright, watching for the first signs of the poison’s action.

Nothing happened.

Ethan took a breath.

He set the bowl calmly back on the table. His hand trembled just enough to be noticeable. He took another breath. Whispers filled the void. A few of the nobles shifted in their seats, frowning or leaning in to get a better look. Still nothing happened.

A grin spread across Ethan’s lips. He glanced across the table of expectant nobles. “What?” he asked them. “I told you it was just a bit of spice from the Holy Land. You’re all acting like you expect me to fall down dead at any moment.” He laughed.

Slowly, hesitantly, the nobles around the table began to chuckle to themselves and one another. Ethan repeated something to the king. Richard’s brow twitched to furrow for a moment then relaxed into a broad smile
. He joined in the laughter, s
haking a finger at
Ethan.
H
e spoke something that sounded very much like a jab to a man who had just caught him as the brunt of a joke.

Ethan’s smile widened. He turned to the guard holding Joanna. “I would appreciate it
if you’d let
the girl
go now.
She probably thinks you’re going to add her head to the collection on the walls. We wouldn’t want that, now would we.
”

The guard was too confused to act until King Richard turned to him and gestured for him to let Joanna go.

Joanna sagged as the guard took away her only support. She caught herself, curtsying low to the king to hide her weakness. When she rose she glanced up to Ethan. He stared back at her, the smile on his face
unable to hide
panic that had
burst
into fury.
He had every right to be angry.

She
swallowed
and stumbled
backwards. The noble who still held the shards of the vial wrinkled his nose at her and backed away as though she might still be dangerous in spite of everything. Joanna ignored him, smoothing her sweating hands over her skirt before turning and walking the length of the room to the stairwell as calmly as she could.

As she descended to the ground floor she took great gulping breaths. She had to clench her fists to
stop herself from sobbing
. The effort mad
e
her chest ache and her eyes sting. She couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. As she burst through the door and out onto the wooden stairs,
swiftly descending
to the
yard
,
they streamed down her face. The guards at the top of the stairs and the nobles scattered throughout the yard in front of the White Tower stared at her as she pressed a hand to her mouth and fled toward the gate.

She could hardly see where she was going and was stunned as she stumbled into someone.

“Well, my dear, it looks as though you’ve had a fright.”

She skittered back, eyes popping wide as Pennington grinned at her. Hatred deeper than anything she’d ever known, a thousand times deeper than the rage she’d felt for Ethan, stabbed her. “He drank it!” she sput
tered, tripping over her words.

“Did he?” Pennington misunderstood her. “And how is our good king faring now?”

Joanna
grunted
low in her throat, words refusing to form. She shifted on her spot, unable to do anything but glare at the supercilious man in front of her.

Pennington continued to smile. “I take it that our beloved monarch is still laughing and smiling with his friends, is he not?”

Joanna stopped swaying, letting out a breath on a sharp, “What?”

Pennington’s smile flashed into a smirk. “You didn’t think I would actually give you true poison without knowing whether or not
you
could
be
trust
ed
to go through with it
, did you?”

The only thing that kept the pounding in Joanna’s head from causing her to swoon was undiluted loathing. “It wasn’t poison?” she gasped.

“No.” Pennington chuckled, his whole body shaking.

“You sent me to put poison….” She pressed a hand to her spinning head. “And it wasn’t even poison?”

“Surprise!” Pennington laughed.
“Now I have full confidence in your abilities.”

She wanted to hit him. Every sinew in her body wanted to smack the smug grin off of his slippery little face.

“A bit put out over the whole thing, are we?” Pennington tilted his head to the side and put on a fake pout.

“He drank the broth.” Joanna’s fists clenched and unclenched. “He drank it in my place. He was willing to die to spare me.” Her voice shook as wave after wave of realization struck her.
With it came a well of emotion that took her breath away.

Pennington lost his grin. “Who was willing to die?”

Too furious to check herself, she answered, “Ethan!
I dropped the vial. Ethan came to my defense. King Richard told me to drink the broth, but Ethan drank it instead!”

All trace of mirth disappeared from Pennington’s eyes. “What was Ethan doing at breakfast with the king?”

“I don’t know, but if that was poison he would have died!”

Her comment bounced right off of Pennington. He stared at the White Tower, stroking a hand over his goatee, a
s if she weren’t there at all.

“
I won’t do that again,
” Joanna
told him
. She was still shaking from the ordeal, only now it was with rage.

Pennington blinked as he remembered she was there. He hissed a breath of annoyance. “Do as you’re told, girl, and don’t ask questions.”

“No!” she shouted, drawing the eyes of a group of passing nobles.
“I don’t want any pa
rt of this anymore! I’m done!”

Pennington rounded on her and grabbed her arms so fast that she gasped and lost her balance. “You are done when I say you’re done!” His fingers dug into her arms with bruising strength. “Do you want to see your beloved master and that peasant dog hang? Because I can make it happen much sooner than you could imagine. Or would you rather see their heads
on spikes along one of these walls
?”

Joanna shook her head.

“How about your lovely mistress Aubrey, hmm? Would you like to see her freed from the Tower? Because
in spite of what Ethan thinks,
I can arrange for her to be given over to my care
today if I need to
. Do you want her to take up residence in my bedchamber? I have some lovely leather thongs I could lash her to my bed with, although I suspect it might take some getting used to for her to warm to my
vein of bed-sports.”

Joanna gaped in horror. “You can’t! You couldn’t!”

“Oh yes I could,” Pennington replied with dark finality. “The only thing that has kept me from whisking your beautiful mistress away is this petty little thing called the law. But laws can be bent if I feel as though I have enough motivation to put myself out for it. Do I have enough motivation to put myself out for it, my dear?”

“No.” Joanna swallowed and shook her head. She was numb to her toes, inside and out. Pennington let her go and she stumbled to keep her balance.

“Now I can’t decide if it is a problem or a blessing that Ethan came to your rescue this morning,” Pennington said, stroking his goatee again. “Suspicion has been raised, but it has also been alleviated. Either way, the king will be on the alert for poison now. We’ll have to find another way.” He slipped into his own thoughts as he spoke.

Joanna took a step away from him. If she got enough of a head start he might not be able to catch her. She checked the path to the gate, planning her route of escape.

“You can run all you like,” Pennington drawled without looking directly at her, “but you know I’ll catch you one way or another.”

Joanna stopped, swallowing.

Pennington sighed. “Fine. Go about your business. I’m sure the mistress of the kitchens would love to hear all about the disturbance in the king’s breakfast.” He let out a dark chuckle. Then his eyes focused directly on hers. “I will send you instructions for how to proceed. You’d better be ready.”

He held her gaze for too many terrifying heartbeats before letting it drop and strolling on with a cheerful smile.

Joanna ga
sped for breath as though Pennington had held her under water for their entire exchange. She raised a hand to her chest and felt the pounding of her heart. The tears that had been stopped by fear flowed again in full force and she sobbed. She was trapped, as much a prisoner of Pennington as
her master and mistress were.

Chapter
Sixteen

Ethan laughed along with the rest of the courtiers around the king’s table, but his cheerful act was the hardest ruse he had ever had to play. Every noble
at
the table kept peeking at him as he
forced himself to
enjoy
the efforts of the Tower kitchen. They were waiting for him to convulse into death from the poison each one had been so sure Joanna put in the king’s broth.
He’d taken a seat at the table
with a smile
and chatted with nobles he didn’t know about wars he wished he could forget to prove Joanna’s innocence.
He half expected death to catch
up with him any minute himself
.

When the king was distracted telling the noble closest to him about a battle he had fought long ago in France
,
Ethan stood. The
chatter
around the table screeched to a halt and all eyes shot to him.

“
My liege
, I humbly beg to take my leave,” Ethan said.
All thoughts of speaking against Crispin and Jack were gone.

“So soon, Windale?” The king seemed disappointed. “We haven’t even told them about the campaign in Cyprus yet.” He gestured to the courtiers around the table.

Ethan bowed low. “I am afraid,
my liege
, that I have a matter of gravest importance to attend to.” Like finding Joanna and wringing her neck. Or maybe holding her and never letting go.
Nothing else mattered.

The king lowered his shoulders, glancing to the nobleman on his right. “Very well.” He shrugged. “But you must come back as soon as y
our business is taken care of or we will worry about your health
.”

Ethan laid his hand on his heart and bowed low to hide the flush of suspicion Rich
ard’s words brought with them.

“But hear this, Ethan of Windale.” Richard’s voice took a decidedly more sinister turn. Still bowing, Ethan dragged his eyes to meet the king’s. “You will say nothing of what has happened here this morning.” The king glanced around the table, drawing absolute attention from each courtier present. “The same goes for all of you. Nothing happened here this morning that was in any way out of the ordinary. If we hear so much as a rumor that our person was in danger it will mean your head.”

“Yes, my liege.” Ethan
rose
. Echoes of “Yes, your majesty,” hummed around the table. The king’s stony stare flashed back to a smile. The nobles at the table let out a collective sigh of relief.

Ethan
said a few quick goodbyes to the nobles he’d been dining with. They
were
disappointed to see him go, cheated of a show they still thought they might get to see. By the time
he
reached the stairwell and began to descend he had forgotten about them entirely. Every ounce of the fear and the anger Joanna’s actions had welled up in him slammed back to him full force.

The line of nobles waiting to be allowed into the White Tower was as big as a crowd on a faire day. He pushed past them, not caring who he jostled or offended.
The sun was already well overhead. The king’s breakfast had run late. As Ethan barged down to the kitchen he could smell the savor
y
scent of the midday meal.

“Joanna!” he shouted, stopping just short of the kitchen door. He had half a mind to invade, fierce head cook or no fierce head cook. “Joanna! Come out here at once!”

A scrawny maid popped her head out of the kitchen door to stare at him, wide-eyed. She was yanked back into the steaming, bustling kitchen. The head cook filled the door in her place.

“You again?” she scowled and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. “At least you had the good sense to know your place this time.”

“Where is Joanna?” Ethan demanded, in no mood to have a verbal joust with the woman.

“I told you, she’s serving the king at the White Tower today.”

“She’s not-” He stopped before his frazzled emotions could get the better of him. The cook had no idea anything had happened during the king’s breakfast. That piece of gossip hadn’t reached the kitchens yet
, and if the king’s orders were obeyed it wouldn’t
.
Joanna could still be safe.

“If you see her, tell her Ethan Dunkirke is looking for her,” he said instead.

The cook eyed him up and down. “Oh, I will, sir, I will.” She winked and went back to her work with a laugh.

Ethan spun back toward the yard and cursed under his breath. He scanned the expanse of the Tower, looking for a flash of golden hair, a glimpse of pale skin. It was too crowded now to tell servant from traveler. He rubbed a hand through his hair. Desperation
slithered up to replace the anger in his core.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

His gaze stopped at the building where Aubrey was being held prisoner.
His heart leapt to his throat and he bolted for the building’s door. If Joanna was in trouble the first person she would seek out was Aubrey.

“Let me in,” he demanded of the gua
rds as he threw the door open.

Two of the guards on duty jumped to their feet, swords at the ready. The third was one of the men who had been there the other day. “It’s alright,” he told his fellows. “He’s
with Pennington
.”

Ethan writhed at the words. They hung off of him like bloody rags after a siege.
The other two
guards
backed down
, letting him pass as if he carried the plague
. The guard who has spoken trailed
him
as he charged up the stairs.

As Ethan rounded the corner to the second floor hallway his heart thundered against his ribs, making him dizzy. The door to Aubrey’s room stood open. A guard slouched against the opposite wall. Aubrey had a visitor. But as he approached the door he stopped dead.

“Come now, my dear,” Pennington’s voice sounded from the room. “You play a lovely game, but my patience is growing thin.”

“
Your
patience?” Aubrey snapped. “I have been
called a guest but
locked in this
bloody
room for
what feels like a lifetime!
I have no idea what has become of my husband or my friend
.
Y
ou have allowed me no contact with the outside world
in spite of King Richard’s dictates
.
And
you
are losing patience?”

Ethan slipped to stand against the wall that held Aubrey’s door, inching closer so that he
could hear without being seen.

“I have the decree to have you released into my care drafted and ready for King Richard to sign,” Pennington told Aubrey. “Your imprisonment could be over in a matter of hours.”

“Check,” Aubrey growled. Ethan heard the smack of a chess piece being slammed into place.
“The king wouldn’t go against his word and release me to you.”

Pennington grunted. “
Think that if you want, my dear, but also think this
. Within hours you could hold your dear son in your arms. You could stroke his tiny head and dry his
tiny
tears and tell him you love him.”

“Do you know where my son is?” Aubrey’s voice shook.
Ethan’s gut turned to ice
at Pennington’s low tactics
. They were too familiar. He was playing off Aubrey’s emotions, just like he’d played off of his. Just as he’d probably played off of Joanna’s. Ethan
thanked God he had had the chance to tell Aubrey Wulfric was safe.

Pennington’s answer was the faint tap of a chess piece being placed. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure he misses his mother so very much. Don’t you want to hold him again?”

“Yes,” Aubrey answered as if the word were a call to arms. “And I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

The conversation paused. Ethan itched as he listened to several more taps of chess moves.
“Don’t do it, Aubrey,” he whispered. “Don’t fall for his tricks.”

The guard standing by arched a curious eyebrow at him.

“I understand your hesitation, my dear,” Pennington continued at last, “but you might as well face the facts. Your husband is as good as dead.
The
testimony
against him is incontrovertible.
”

Ethan’s scowl darkened. The sharp slap of a chess piece being slammed on the board served as Aubrey’s answer.

“I can give you everything,” Pennington went on in what he probably thought was a seductive voice. “I have money, position, power. Why, I have been friends with the royal family since king Henry’s time. You
would be a shining star at court. You
would lack for nothing if you came with me.”

Another chess piece slammed. “Check,” Aubrey all but shouted.

“My beneficence won’t last forever.” Pennington’s voice was harder. “I offer you the choice now because I want us to start off
as friends
.” Aubrey
sniffed
. “But the time is swiftly coming when I will take what I want whether you feel like giving it or not.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Aubrey seethed.

A mirthless grin spread across Ethan’s lips. He had never felt so proud of Aubrey.
She was smarter than the rest of them put together.

“Tell me,” Pennington sniffed and ignored her, “would you rather see your husband hang
ed
or beheaded. Beheading is quicker, of course. Unless the headsman has a very dull axe indeed. I think I have one in my storage shed that was used twenty years ago that has grown amazingly dull. I would think a headsman would have to hack at someone’s neck for hours to get the job done. It would be frightfully ugly, of course, but a fitting tribute, in a way, for the husband of a woman who was so stubborn.”

“You wouldn’t dare.
”
Ethan heard a tremor of fear under
Aubrey’s
bravado.

“Oh I would,” Pennington chuckled. “And you know it’s only a matter of time before I ferret out your darling son as well. How poetic will it be to have matching pikes on the Tower wall, father and son, heads rotting together.”

Before Ethan could form a fist
,
an almighty crash came from the room. The sound of a table being knocked over and chess pieces scattering had the guard in the hall on his toes.

“Get out!” Aubrey wailed. “Get out of my sight! I will not go anywhere with you, now or ever!”

“How quaint of you to think so,” Pennington drawled.

“Guard!” Aubrey shouted.

She stomped to the doorway. The guard stepped forward to block her, but not before she caught sight of Ethan out of the corner of her eye.
She was bedraggled and paler
than the day before
, but as she turned her head to look fully at him her face lit in shocked relief.

As fast as she reacted Ethan pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head. Aubrey caught on immediately and spun back into the room.

“You can bribe and threaten me all you want,” she railed at Pennington once more, strength renewed in her voice, “but I will never give in to you! Crispin will be found innocent, you’ll see! My family will be reunited and there’s nothing you can do to stop it!”

“Are we
here
again?” Pennington snapped.

“We never left,” Aubrey answered.

Ethan backed silently down the hall. There was nothing he could do to stop Pennington’s threats, but he left with the powerful sense that Aubrey would not
cave in to him
. The ghost of hope filled his chest. Whatever else happened, Pennington would not win that
battle
.

When he reached the stairway Ethan turned and sprinted down, through the house, and out into the Tower yard. He headed straight for the gate. Joanna hadn’t run to Aubrey after her business in the Tower. She hadn’t returned to her work. It was possible that she had found a spot to hide in the Tower, but with the crush of nobles now in full bloom it was far more likely that she had left. There was only one place she would have gone.

The Stag Hunt was already alive with locals and travelers alike stopping by for their midday meal. Ethan was used to them now, but as
he
rushed towards the inn he stopped short. A public carriage was parked outside. The driver was handing down a small sack to a disembarking passenger: Simon McFarland.

A whole different urge to run filled Ethan. The last time he had seen Simon McFarland he had been certain the man would die. The home
Simon
had lived his whole life in was burning to the ground, the people he knew were under attack
. Simon had sustained so many injuries that it was a wonder he was still alive.
A
nd it had been Ethan’s fault.