Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [28]
Kadar would have said Vaden’s absence was proof that the danger was lessening.
He would have been wrong. The danger never lessened, it only changed.
Where had Vaden gone?
“I’m disappointed in you.” Grand Master Gerard de Ridfort frowned. “There has been no opportunity?”
Vaden didn’t answer directly. “He keeps himself surrounded by soldiers. Wouldn’t you?”
“Every day that he lives the threat grows. He must have already told this Kadar.”
“Perhaps.”
“And what of the other members of the household?”
Vaden shrugged. “No danger. Ware’s officers fear him—they don’t love him. He keeps women at the castle for use but never longer than three months. Then they’re sent back to their village with a handsome reward. He keeps himself distant from the servants. He keeps himself distant from everyone.”
“There is danger,” he muttered. “Then you have nothing new to report?”
For a fleeting instant Vaden remembered the puzzling branches lying on the ground before he shook his head. “Everything is the same.”
The Grand Master’s fist crashed down on the table. “It must not remain the same. Do you hear me? He must be killed. It’s been two years. It should have been done by now. I chose you because I thought you his match. I didn’t know you were a fool.”
“A fool?” Vaden said softly.
“A fool and an ill-bred whoreson who—” He broke off as he met Vaden’s gaze. He took a step back. “You dare to threaten me?”
“Threaten? Have I uttered threats? I’m merely standing here.” Vaden inclined his head in mock obeisance and turned on his heel. “But now I must return to my duty. I’m sure Ware misses me when I’m gone.”
“Don’t disappoint me again, Vaden,” Gerard de Ridfort snarled. “It’s been too long.”
“Then set someone else to play cat to the mouse.”
“You know I cannot. The matter is too delicate to give to anyone else.” He paused. “Your father will be very proud of you if you succeed in this task.”
“I will succeed in time. My time.” Vaden left the tent.
He paused outside to breathe deep of the clean, cool air. He always felt suffocated when in the Grand Master’s presence. By all the saints, de Ridfort was a vainglorious fool, full of fanaticism and pride. Did he think Vaden would be swayed by that last remark? He was not doing this for the Temple or for his father. He was doing it because it had to be done. God help them all if Ware’s death was left in the hands of the Grand Master.
The Grand Master threw himself into a chair and gazed broodingly at the door through which Vaden had just passed.
Arrogant whoreson. How dare he speak to him with such a lack of respect? He was the Grand Master. Kings and princes curried Gerard de Ridfort’s favor, and this knight with no heritage or name had looked at him with contempt.
After Ware was dead, Vaden would follow.
Vaden’s father might question the death, but it would be explained as a necessary thing—that Vaden knew too much and had become careless….
But at the moment Ware of Dundragon was the problem. It was maddeningly irritating that the Grand Master himself could not touch the traitor. Ware was a thorn pricking him, and he would no longer tolerate it.
Dundragon might be too powerful to be overcome at this time, but de Ridfort must do something to show that bastard that he was not out of reach of the temple.
THE FIRE BURNED BRIGHTLY on the third mountain.
Vaden was back.
Ware’s hands closed on the stone wall of the battlement. He should not feel this relief. Vaden was always a threat.
But it was a threat to which he had grown accustomed. Vaden was as much as part of the fabric of his life now as in the past. He had grown almost comfortable with the knowledge that Vaden would be there, watching, waiting.
Until the time he decided to attack.
Well, that time was not now. After three days’ absence Vaden had returned to the mountain.
Laughter.
He turned to look down into the courtyard. He had noticed that Thea and Kadar had made a habit of taking a stroll in the courtyard in the cool of the evening. They were now standing talking to the young boy whose task was to light