Damask & Deception (Spellbound #2)

Chapter 36: All My Life

Ambushed. Baudwin cursed himself to the darkest recesses of the Nether Realm and back. He should have seen it. They had all been too complacent. Too sure of their victory after the death of Lord Delen. When the western lords had asked to concede, it had seemed like the end was finally upon them. Unfortunately, the mage and his band of followers—all zealots of the Dark God, from what he could tell—had other ideas. They had attacked when the lords and Baudwin met, killing most of the men and capturing him. Had Aurelian made it out? He didn't know.

Sitting in the mud with his back against a wagon wheel, he glared up at the tall ginger-haired mage who seemed to be the leader.  He'd never seen him before, but considering that Rhiannon's former lady's maid, Ailla, stood next to him, he felt fairly certain the Son of Deva had sent him. What were they hoping to gain by capturing him? Why had they not killed him straight away?

He shivered. The mud was cold and wet, the dampness seeping into his clothes and chilling his bones. A cold wind swept through the camp, ruffling the hair of his captors. After the massacre of the western lords and Baudwin's party, the armies had scattered, leaving behind a trampled field with a few forgotten pieces of gear and the bodies of their former leaders. The mage hadn't even allowed them the courtesy of taking the bodies home for a proper burial with their families. His eyes wandered over the bodies on the ground, searching for well-known faces. His guards, his knights.

Fighting back a sick feeling, he took a deep breath. It was all his fault they were dead. He should have known better. Should have predicted this. In the fray, he'd not been able to see exactly what happened, who had made it out and who had fallen. The mage had thrown him off his horse, tossing him across the field and away from his group. He shook his head, refusing to succumb to the grief of losing so many good men. 

"What are you hoping to gain?" he asked, hoping to garner the attention of Ailla or the mage.

The blonde woman turned her head to grin at him, a harsh laugh escaping her lips. "Does your wife not tell you anything? We want the Godstone she has!"

Of course. Among all the other revelations of the past couple of days, the existence of the Godstone was probably the one he had cared the least about. Maybe he should have paid more attention to it if it was important enough that the Son of Deva would keep him alive after having wanted him dead. It certainly sounded ominous enough.

"And you hope to trade me for it?" he guessed.

Ailla sauntered over to him while the ginger mage stayed a few steps away, though he was observing them. "Yes. She loves you and was willing to risk her life when I told her to kill you. I expect she will hand it to us willingly, trading it for your freedom."

"No." He shook his head. "If it's as powerful as I understand it to be, she would never do that. The fate of the world is more important than my life."

"People do foolish things for the ones they love." It was the tall mage speaking. "She may care more for you than nameless people she has never met. It fits what we know about her."

"Why do you think she loves me?" She had never told him she did. At least not with her words. He frowned at the intrusive thought. Did his wife love him? He'd thought she might one day if things had continued the way they were. But that was before he found out she'd married him under the threat of her secret being revealed. Her many secrets.

"I've seen the way she looks at you. That is a woman in love." Ailla crouched before him, taking his jaw in one hand and tilting his face up towards hers. "I can see why. You're a handsome man."

Unable to push her away with his hands tied behind his back, he pulled his head back, wrenching free of her grasp. The move only made her chuckle. "Don't be like that. It's a compliment."