Her Rogue Knight (15 page)

“Strip off her bracer,” she told them. “And finish the other one,” she ordered without even looking at the man who held her sister.

“No!” Gemma screamed. A strength she did not know she possessed came over her. The hissing of the serpents on her arms was now clear to her ears and to her captors as they stared in horror. With the yell of a warrior, Gemma freed herself from the men as the serpents bodies came to life, taking on a form as real as any of the others present as they separated from her, each wrapping around the neck of one of the men, strangling each of them as they could only stare back, their faces horror-stricken.

Gemma stared, feeling the pull of the serpents, feeling her body fill with unbridled power. Once the men lay dead on the ground, the tattoos repositioned themselves on her flesh. The sensations there felt different, more a part of her now than ever. She turned to the old woman, who first stared at her and then began to back away, her hand trembling over the sacrificial blade.

“Lena,” came a voice that dripped with silver.

All three of them turned in the direction of that voice and stared. There, on the bank of the river, stood a boat. A heavy mist had fallen that Gemma had not noticed during the height of the fighting.

“Mistress,” the old woman said, her surprise obvious. Gemma turned to watch the blade slip from her trembling hand as the old woman dropped to her knees. Alys had huddled under a nearby tree, and Gemma went quickly to her, gathering her up in her arms as the younger girl stared wide-eyed at the scene before them.

But the woman wasn’t looking at them just yet.

“You betrayed me, old witch,” she said, stepping closer to the old woman. She was beautiful. She wore white robes, thick and lush, lined with purple and gold, her thick black hair laced with the same gold, the serpents that slithered along one of Gemma’s arms covering every inch of this woman’s skin, even wrapping to touch her face, their faces resting against her own.

She was as terrifying as she was beautiful.

“Please, Mistress. Take pity on me…”

Gemma and Alys watched as the old woman bent forward, her body convulsing as she fought against whatever the woman was doing to her without even having to touch her. Alys’ arms tightened around Gemma’s waist as she tried to pull her close, as if it was she now who would protect Gemma.

“Please!” the old woman cried one final time before her body fell with a thud to the ground. One final fit rocked her before she stilled, her eyes open, her mouth foaming.

When the woman turned her attention to Gemma, Alys pulled hard, but Gemma straightened, pushing Alys behind her. She looked up at the woman who was most surely not of this world. Her skin shimmered, and her hair, she saw now, held every color imaginable.  And her eyes, oh her eyes.

The woman smiled and nodded, although the smile held no warmth.

“You wear something that belongs to me, child.”

Without a word, Gemma unbound the bracer from her arm, pulled it off, and held it out to the woman.

“It was a gift meant to protect me,” she said. “It has done its work, and I thank you for the use of it.”

The lady took the bracer and nodded, acknowledging Gemma’s gesture. She then stared at her, looking so deeply into her eyes that it was difficult for Gemma to hold her gaze.

“Catalina’s blood is rich inside you,” she said. “You are powerful, even if half human. I am the Lady Morgan,” she said. “Maker of the scabbard, sender of the serpents, your protector, and your kin.”

Gemma nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“I thank you for your protection, Mistress,” she said, slowly straightening, remembering her mother’s words that Morgan was the woman to whom Galahad owed his debt.

Morgan turned the bracer over in her hands. She looked at the three stones embedded there, then at the empty space where the fourth should have been. Gemma watched as her gaze turned to Galahad before returning to her.

“The fourth stone is still missing,” she said.

“It was never there since I first laid eyes on the scabbard,” Gemma replied. She wondered if Galahad had it, but knew he could not. As surely as she knew Morgan wanted it now.

“Then his debt to me is unpaid,” she said to Gemma. “Collect him,” she ordered. Four women appeared out of nowhere, these four looking very similar to the ones who had painted the tattoo on her.

“Wait. What do you mean to do with him?” Gemma asked.

Morgan turned to her with a look in her eyes that struck terror within Gemma.

“You speak out of turn, child,” she said.

“Sister,” her mother’s voice came.

Sister?
Gemma turned to find her mother walking toward Morgan.

Morgan raised her hand and halted Catalina’s progress. Her eyes remained on Gemma the entire time, even while a small grin formed on her lips.

“Gemma,” came Galahad’s voice as he tried to rise.

She turned to him, wanting to help him.

“I owe the debt to the lady. Do not challenge her,” he said.

“Your knight advises you wisely,” Morgan cut in, reaching out a hand, her curling fingernail brushing a hair from Gemma’s face, causing a shiver to run through her. “Someone must pay the debt, and I am not unreasonable. I can make use of you, if you choose to take his place.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “We’ve returned the scabbard.”

“Gemma,” his voice commanded her to stop, but she refused to look at him.

Morgan’s smile grew wider, showing her teeth.

Alys walked out from behind Gemma and came to stand beside her sister, taking her hand in one of hers.

Morgan looked at the two. “Brave daughters,” she said to Catalina before turning her attention to Alys and taking an intimidating step toward the girl.

Gemma tried to push her sister behind her, but Alys would not budge.

“He still keeps something which belongs to me,” she said to all who were present. “The fourth jewel. Bring him to the altar,” Morgan commanded.

The women who had appeared somehow lifted Galahad and laid him on the altar.

Morgan moved to pick up the knife the old woman had dropped, nudging her with the toe of her shoe as she did. The act was cold, utterly unfeeling, and Gemma watched in horror. She tried to move, to pull her feet from the ground where they seemed to have grown roots, but all she could do was watch as Morgan walked around Galahad who lay, wounded, unable to defend himself. Blood poured from the wound on his back and dripped over the edge of the altar, onto the forest floor.

“Take me! Leave him,” Gemma called out, desperate.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, just glancing at her before retuning her attention to Galahad.

“Brave girl,” she said, her voice a hiss. She circled the altar, playing with him like a cat plays with her kill. “Shall I grant your lover’s wish? Shall I take her and free you?” She came to stand over his head and put her hands on his temples. Galahad closed his eyes as if in pain.

“Please,” Gemma couldn’t help but plead.

Morgan did not waste a breath. “You love her. Perhaps the greatest punishment to you would be to take her away from you and force you to live out your years.”

At least he would live, Gemma thought.

Galahad opened his eyes. “She is but a child herself,” he said. “Punish me as you will. Let her return to her home. You have no right over her. She is half human. She belongs in whichever world she chooses.”

She made a small movement, and Galahad’s body tensed, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Stop! What are you doing to him?” Gemma cried.

“Morgan,” came the gentle voice of her mother. “Sister. I have returned home. Let my daughter be. Give her to her knight. Forgive him. There is no power in your revenge. The stone remains lost; he did not steal that, and you know it.”

Morgan turned to face Catalina. Gemma watched as her mother cupped the other woman’s face, smiling the gentle smile she still remembered.

“Please, sister. Let them go.”

For one brief moment, Gemma thought she would. She foolishly thought Morgan would let him live.

“The human world has softened your heart, sister,” Morgan said, the snakes on her body shifting with a hiss. “But a debt is a debt. I shall take his life unless he is able to return the jewel.”

Catalina took in the words, dropped her gaze and stepped back. Morgan returned her attention to Galahad and lifted the dagger.

“Is this what you want, lady?” came Alys’ voice. “This stone for his life?”

Everyone turned to look at Alys, who now stood a few feet away, holding in her palm a jewel more brilliant than the rest.

Gemma tried to move but found she still could not. She turned to Alys, who suddenly looked so much older than her twelve years. Her features were somehow different, her skin and eyes glowed bright, and her hair seeming longer, thicker, more lustrous.

“How?” Morgan hissed, taking a menacing step toward Alys, the dagger still in her hand.

“His life for the stone, lady. Then his debt is paid, and you will leave him be.”

Morgan stood inches from Alys, and Gemma watched as Alys stood her ground even as Morgan towered over her.

“You promised it. The stone for his life,” Alys said firmly.

Morgan’s gaze went to Alys’ unflinching eyes. “I have underestimated the child, Catalina,” she said.

“Decide, lady,” Alys said, closing her fist around the stone.

At that Morgan reacted. “Bring the paint,” she said, her hand curling tighter around the hilt of the dagger she held, her knuckles going white.

From the boat came three women, the same ones who had painted the tattoo on Gemma. Morgan nodded to them, and they stepped to her. She held a hand up over the pot of paint and chanted words in a language Gemma had never heard. She then motioned to the women to begin. One held Galahad’s arm while the one holding the needle began.

Almost as soon as the needle first pricked his skin, the blood from his wound stopped pouring. Gemma watched as the color of life returned to his features while the women did their work. When it was finished, when twin serpents circled his wrist, he sat upright.

Morgan turned back to Alys, who now opened her palm and offered the stone. Morgan reached for it, all the while her eyes boring into Alys’.

“What debt do you now owe, child?” she asked, but with a slight move of her hand, the women walked toward the waiting boat.

“Mother,” Gemma called out.

Catalina turned to her and smiled. “I don’t belong to your world anymore, child,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Go home to your father. Care for him. Care for your sister, for your knight. Name your first born after me, and a piece of me shall carry inside her.”

Gemma could only watch and cry. She noticed Alys’ eyes were dry and realized even as her sister stared at her mother, she did not recognize her.

Catalina walked to Alys and touched her face. Alys reached up to touch her hand, and one tear slid down her cheek. Catalina smiled. “My brave daughters.”

With those final words, she was gone. The boat disappeared into the mist, and Alys crumpled to the forest floor.

Chapter Eleven

“Alys?” Gemma said, shaking her sister lightly. “Wake up, Alys. Time to wake up.”

They had traveled back to the mainland, having found a boat waiting to take them back upon their return later that night. Alys had slept throughout this part of the journey.

“She is drained,” Galahad said, putting a hand on Gemma’s back.

Just then, Alys slowly opened her eyes. Once they focused on Gemma, she smiled and reached up to hug her.

Gemma looked at her, and she looked like herself again, like her little sister.

“Oh, Alys,” Gemma said, unable to stop her tears. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“Hungry,” she managed, “I’m so hungry.” She sat upright.

Gemma smiled while Galahad collected the rest of the food. He held it out to her, and she looked at him. She then reached out to take what he offered, cupping her tiny hands around one of his big ones, holding it for a moment. “Thank you, Sir Galahad,” she said.

He nodded and closed his eyes, bowing his head just slightly. “I believe it is I who should thank you,” he said.

“How did you do it?” Gemma asked. “How did you get the stone?”

Alys ate a mouthful of berries. “I do not know. I had dreams, strange dreams, while they kept me prisoner. There was a man. He came every night. He never gave me his name, but he sat with me, playing games with me, holding my hand when I was frightened. He told me I would survive, that you were coming. That you would save me and that I would save you. I did not understand him most of the time, but when the lady said those words about the stone, I felt him there again. I felt him near me, all around me, and I know it’s strange, but he put the stone inside my hand.”

Gemma and Galahad stared at her.

“What did he look like? Do you remember?” Sir Galahad asked.

Alys began to nod but stopped. She turned her confused face up to his. “No. I can’t remember any more.”

“And what debt did Morgan mention?” Gemma asked.

Alys looked at her sister for a long time before answering, “I do not know.”

Goosebumps raised every hair on Gemma’s body. Her sister had never lied to her before.

Galahad touched her arm, and she turned to find him studying Alys. “Leave it for now,” he said. “We have a long journey home.” He pulled her to her feet, and she looked up at him. “Walk with me while your sister eats.”

“I don’t want to leave her,” she whispered.

“I’m all right,” Alys said, smiling up at them, the expression on her face too serious for Gemma’s liking.

Galahad tugged, and Gemma reluctantly left her sister.

“She knows something she’s not telling,” Gemma whispered.

“Aye, I saw that as well.”

Gemma wanted to say something, to turn and go back, question her sister, but Galahad placed a hand on her arm. “Leave it for now, Gemma. Give her some space. Some time.”

“She lied to me.”

“Leave it for now,” he repeated.

She exhaled and nodded reluctantly.