Beneath a Midnight Moon

Chapter 50


Alone and unarmed, Hardane made his way down the narrow dirt path that led to the inlet where Renick’s ship was anchored.

With every step he took, he became more aware of Kylene’s presence, her nearness. Again and again, he spoke to her mind, assuring her that all would be well.

As he neared the Interrogator’s ship, the gangplank was lowered and a dozen men brandishing swords and crossbows surged toward him.

One, a tall seaman wearing a bright red eye patch, jabbed the point of his blade into Hardane’s back. “Get aboard!” he said curtly. “The Lord High Interrogator doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

A muscle worked in Hardane’s jaw as he climbed the gangplank, his feet quickly adjusting to the gentle roll of the ship.

“That way,” Eye Patch ordered, shoving Hardane forward.

Hardane’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Kylene. She was tied to the main mast, her long red hair blowing gently in the evening breeze.

Renick stood beside her, a long-bladed dagger in his hand.

“I’m here,” Hardane said. “Let her go.”

Renick’s laugh was filled with disdain. “Let her go? I think not.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you dead.”

“I’m here,” Hardane repeated, his hands curling into tight fists. “Only let Kylene go free, as you promised.”

Slowly, the Interrogator shook his head. “You’re a threat, Hardane. The throne of Mouldour will never be secure as long as you’re alive.”

“Then kill me and be done with it. But let Kylene go.”

“You’re a fool,” Renick said with a sneer. “You know the prophesy.”

Renick laid the flat of the dagger on Kylene’s swollen belly, and Hardane took a step forward, murder in his eye. But before he could reach the Interrogator, two men grabbed his arms.

“She’s obviously pregnant,” Renick said. “I might have let her live if you hadn’t planted your seed in her, but now . . .” He shook his head. “Both of you must die. The only question is, who’ll go first?” Renick frowned. “I wonder, which of you will suffer the most by watching the other die?”

“Renick, for the love of heaven, let her go! You’ve got the throne of Mouldour. I’ll abdicate the throne of Argone, I’ll have my mother and brothers swear allegiance to you so long as they live. I’ll do whatever else you ask, only let her go.”

“Hardane, no.” Kylene strained against the ropes that bound her, her heart aching with pain and love for the man who was pleading for her life, and for the lives of their sons.

Hardane struggled to free himself from the two men who were still holding him. He grunted as a third man struck him across the side of the head.

“Enough!” Renick roared. “We’ll make no bargains, Hardane. I’m not fool enough to believe that your mother or your brothers would do as you say. I’ve waited too long for the throne of Mouldour to risk losing it now. The woman dies, and you with her.”

“I beg of you, let her go!” Hardane cried.

“Do it and be done with it!” Selene exclaimed.

Kylene gasped as her sister moved out of the shadows to stand beside the Interrogator.

“You’re in such a hurry, perhaps you’d like to do it, my love,” Renick said, handing the dagger to Selene.

Selene’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I won’t?”

Renick shook his head. “I don’t doubt for a minute that you will. I’m only curious as to which one you’ll choose to die first, the sister you hate, or the man who spurned you.”

Selene’s head jerked up. “You know about that?”

“I know everything that transpires in the Fortress, my dear.” Renick stroked her cheek, his eyes mere slits of ice blue. “Never forget that. Now, which will it be? The lady or the wolf?”

“The lady,” Selene said without hesitation. “I want to watch him suffer as she dies.”

“Again, we think alike,” Renick said with a pleased grin.

Hardane began to struggle fiercely as Selene raised the dagger and took a step toward Kylene.

All the color drained from Kylene’s face as she watched her sister cross the deck toward her. Cold, implacable hatred radiated from the depths of Selene’s eyes, and Kylene’s heart began to pound a frantic tattoo. She was going to die, here and now, by her own sister’s hand.

Trembling violently, she turned toward Hardane, wanting to imprint his face on her mind so that she might carry the memory of it with her into eternity.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a narrow shaft of moonlight glint on the blade clutched in Selene’s hand.

“Wait!” Renick’s voice broke the ominous stillness. “I’ll give you one last chance to save her, Hardane. Only tell me the secret of Wolffan shape shifting, and I’ll let the woman live.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I give you my word.”

Hardane snorted disdainfully. “What good will your word be when I’m dead?”

“None, perhaps. On the other hand, it’s the only chance the woman has. Are you willing to take it, or will you let her die when you might have saved her?”

Hardane’s gaze swept over the ship as though he were considering the Interrogator’s offer. Renick’s crew was on deck, gathered in a loose half-circle behind him. Selene stood beside Kylene, her knuckles white around the haft of the knife, her eyes filled with impatience.

He heard a faint sound near the foredeck and knew it was now or never.

“Very well, Renick,” Hardane said quietly. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The words had barely left his lips when he transformed into the wolf.

The men who had been holding him fell back, mouths agape, as Hardane sprang forward.

With a growl, he hurled himself at Renick, his jaws closing around the man’s throat.

At that moment, Jared, Carrick, and thirty of Argone’s best warriors swarmed over the rail of the foredeck, their swords cutting a wide swath through Renick’s men.

With a cry of frustration, Selene whirled around, her arm raised, the knife in her hand poised to strike.

Kylene’s eyes widened with fear as she saw the dagger plunging toward her heart. And then, as if the world had suddenly slowed, she saw Selene stagger backward, a bright crimson stain blooming around the arrow that protruded from her breast.

Selene stared in horror at the arrow that had pierced her heart. The dagger fell from her hand, a hand that no longer had the strength to hold it.

“You,” she murmured, her voice thick with accusation as her gaze fastened on the face of the man who had killed her. “I thought you were dead.”

Tears welled in Carrick’s eyes as he ran forward, his arms wrapping around Selene as the life slowly ebbed from her body.

Kylene turned away, choking back the bile that rose in her throat, hardly aware that Jared was cutting her hands free, that the fighting was over. Renick’s men had been disarmed and were being herded below to the brig.

Arms folded protectively over her stomach, she looked around for Hardane, felt a fresh wave of nausea churn through her as she saw the wolf prowling the deck.

It took all her courage to look at the Interrogator’s body. She had expected to see a great deal of blood, had feared that Hardane, in his fury, had ripped out the man’s throat. Surprisingly, there was no blood to be seen, and she wondered if the Interrogator was, indeed, dead.

“Hardane.”

The wolf turned at the sound of her voice; then, with a wave of its tail, it disappeared into the shadows.

Kylene started to follow, and then she heard the sound of her father’s tears, saw him sitting on the deck with Selene’s body cradled in his arms.

She stared after Hardane for a moment; then, knowing he didn’t want to assume his own shape in front of his men, she knelt beside her father and put her arms around his shoulders, wondering, as she did so, if he would hate her for being the cause of Selene’s death.

Jared came to stand beside them. Not knowing what to say, he patted Kylene’s shoulder, then went to see if he could help with the wounded.

A moment later, Hardane lifted Kylene to her feet and drew her into his arms. “Are you all right, lady?”

“Fine.” Her gaze searched his eyes. “Are you?”

His arms tightened around her. “Aye.”

“Did you . . . is he . . . ?”

“Dead? No.”

In spite of all the Interrogator had done, in spite of what he’d meant to do, she was relieved to learn that Hardane hadn’t killed him.

“What will happen to him now?” she asked.

“He’ll hang.”

Kylene swallowed. “When?”

Hardane glanced over his shoulder to where three of his men were pulling Renick to his feet. “Now.”

With quiet efficiency, Renick’s hands were lashed behind his back; a rope was thrown over the yardarm.

The Interrogator stood with his head high, his ice blue eyes filled with contempt as the noose was placed around his neck. There was no sign of fear on his face.

“Any last words?” Hardane asked.

Renick shook his head. A look that might have been regret flickered in the depths of his eyes as he stared at Selene’s blanket-draped body, and then he shrugged.

“Just get on with it,” he said tersely.

Hardane nodded at the four men standing behind Renick, and they took hold of the loose end of the rope and began to walk toward the stern. When Renick’s feet cleared the deck, they secured the end of the rope to one of the stern cleats.

Kylene buried her face in Hardane’s shoulder, unable to watch as the noose grew tight around Renick’s neck, slowly choking the breath, the life, from his body.

There was a long silence punctuated only by the sighing of the wind and the gentle slap of the sea against the hull of the ship.

“Shall I cut him down?”

Hardane turned to face Jared. “Aye.”

“And the body?”

“Throw it into the sea.”

With a curt nod, Jared went to do as ordered.

“What about . . . what about my sister?”

Hardane’s jaw clenched. Had it been up to him, he would have pitched Selene’s body into the sea with that of her husband.

He was about to say as much when he looked up and met Carrick’s anguished gaze. Kylene’s father looked as if he’d aged ten years since he’d come aboard the Interrogator’s ship.

“If it’s all right with you,” Carrick said, his voice ragged with pain, “I’d like to take Selene home, to Mouldour.”

“As you wish,” Hardane replied quietly. “Take the ship. Jared and my men will accompany you when you’re ready.”

Carrick nodded his thanks. “I’ll leave on the morning tide.” A deep sigh escaped his lips. “Tell Sharilyn I’m going to spend the night here, with Selene.”

“Would you like me to stay the night with you?” Kylene asked.

“No, but I thank you for the offer.”

“I’m sorry,” Kylene said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“I’m not blaming you, daughter,” Carrick said. “I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again.” He swallowed hard, his mind replaying that agonizing instant when he’d had to choose one child over another. “I need this time to be alone with her, to say good-bye.”

“Do you . . . would you like me to go with you to Mouldour?”

Carrick glanced at Hardane, knowing the final decision rested with him.

“I don’t think a sea voyage is a good idea in your condition,” Hardane said.

“I’m fine,” Kylene insisted, her gaze on her father’s face.

“I’m afraid I agree with Hardane,” Carrick said, squeezing her arm affectionately. “Perhaps you might come for a visit after . . . ,” he swallowed a sob, “after your twins are born.”

Kylene nodded. Twins, she thought, pressing a hand over her womb. She and Selene had shared their mother’s body, but nothing else. Fervently, she prayed that her sons would share more than a blood bond, that they would learn to love and respect one another as equals, that there would be no jealousy between them.

Rising on tiptoe, Kylene pressed a farewell kiss to her father’s cheek.

“Let’s go home, lady,” Hardane said.

Removing his cloak, he draped it over her shoulders, slid his arm around her waist, and led her down the gangplank.

When they reached the foot of the hill, he swung Kylene into his arms and carried her up the narrow, winding path. His war-horse nickered softly as they crested the hill.

Effortlessly, Hardane lifted her into the saddle, then swung up behind her and turned the stallion toward home.

There was a flurry of activity when they reached the keep. Sharilyn, Hadj, Parah, Teliford, and Nan met them at the door, all talking at once, until they saw Kylene. Her face was devoid of color, her eyes red-rimmed and shadowed with grief.

Hadj immediately went upstairs to turn down Kylene’s bed and lay out her nightclothes, while Teliford lit a fire in the hearth. Parah went out to look after Hardane’s horse. Nan hurried into the kitchen to brew a pot of strong black tea.

“Where’s Carrick?” Sharilyn asked anxiously.

“He stayed on Renick’s ship,” Hardane replied, and after settling Kylene in one of the big chairs beside the fireplace, he took his mother aside and quickly related all that had happened.

Sharilyn looked thoughtful as she studied Kylene’s face. “Is she all right?”

Hardane shrugged. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word since we left the ship.” But maybe that wasn’t so strange, after all she’d been through.

“And Carrick?” Sharilyn asked.

“I think he needs you.”

Sharilyn glanced at Kylene again. Dared she leave the girl to go to her husband? And yet, how could she stay? She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain, the anguish, Carrick must be feeling. Taking Selene’s life must have been like destroying a part of himself.

“Go,” Hardane said. “He shouldn’t be alone. And he’ll want you there beside him when he resumes the throne.”

“He was right,” Sharilyn mused. “He was right all along.”

“About what?”

“When he asked me to marry him, he remarked that maybe it wasn’t your sons at all, but our marriage, that would forge a lasting peace between our countries.”

“It would seem he was right, mother mine. Because of your marriage to Carrick, peace will come to Argone and Mouldour far sooner than anyone expected.”

Sharilyn smiled. “And my grandsons will be able to grow up and rule in a land blessed with peace.”

“You’d best go now,” Hardane said. “Carrick sails with the dawn tide.”

“He’ll wait for me,” Sharilyn said with a knowing smile.

Hardane grinned. “So, the bond is already forming.”

Sharilyn nodded. “And you, my son, may soon have a little brother.”

Hardane stared after his mother as she left the hall, but there was no time to ponder her words. Sweeping Kylene into his arms, he carried her upstairs.

A tub filled with scented water awaited her. A cozy fire crackled in the hearth. The covers had been turned down, and a hot brick had been placed at the foot of the bed to warm it. A pot of tea and a plate of honey bread sat on a tray by the bedside.

Kylene stood quiescent as Hardane undressed her, then lifted her into the tub. Gently, he washed her, his gaze lingering on her breasts as he imagined his sons suckling there.

When he looked up, he saw that she was crying. Her tears, as silent as the night, filled him with pain.

Lifting her from the tub, he dried her off, and then, wrapping her in a blanket, he sat beside the hearth with her in his arms.

And still the tears came.

Feeling helpless, he stroked her hair while she cried, shedding bitter tears for the sister who had hated her so much that she had tried to kill her, weeping for the father who had sacrificed one daughter to save another.

Attuned as he was to her every thought, the depths of her sorrow pierced Hardane’s very soul.

He held her all through the night, until her body’s need for rest overcame her grief and she fell asleep in his arms.