Otto had been hoping to escape into the morning room, where he fancied Ariana may be found, complete with a crackling fire and mayhap even a tray of pastries. He shifted with impatience.
“I believe every man but us has taken shelter,” he observed. “We can be sure of privacy out here in this deluge.”
Althalos cleared his throat self-importantly. “My news concerns Lady Ariana, the Countess of Darkmoor.”
That caught Otto’s attention. Suddenly he cared little for the rain or the discomfort it caused him. “What about her?” he asked sharply.
Gaius looked down, but the cold eyes of Sir Althalos remained fixed on Otto’s face. “We have reason to believe she is working in league with our enemies.”
“Never,” Otto retorted, quelling a flare of protective anger. “What reason have you for making such an allegation?”
Gaius leaned towards him. “It is not conclusive, my lord.”
“You can read her words for yourself.” Althalos flung out a piece of parchment. “Here.”
Within seconds the parchment would be drenched, rendering any words of Ariana’s illegible, for better or worse. Otto snatched the parchment from Althalos, clumsy in his gauntlets. He sheltered the message as best he could with one hand, while straining to read it through the rivulets of falling rain. The message was short and made little sense to him.
He fixed Althalos with a stare. “What is this she refers to? The Rose of Kenmar?”
“’Tis a jewel of high value,” Gaius spoke up. “A ruby, I believe.”
“Taken from Kenmar?” Otto clenched his jaw, frustrated with the narrative.
“From the druids, after the battle of Branfeld,” Althalos told him smoothly.
“And where is this jewel now?” Otto didn’t know whether to rip the parchment to shreds or shield it from the rain. Part of him railed in anguish at the possibility that his bride had betrayed him, while another cautioned that a missive to her father was hardly a crime.
“It is safe in our vaults,” Gaius said. “I had the guards make certain this morning.” He ducked his head. “That is why I was absent from training.”
Otto acknowledged his explanation with a brief nod. “If the jewel is safe, what case do you make against Lady Ariana?” He brandished the increasingly sodden parchment at Althalos.
His reedy uncle did not so much as flinch under Otto’s steely gaze. “I intercepted this letter some days ago. At the time, like yourself, I thought little of it. But now, with the druid witch escaped and one of our own men killed, it is time to act.”
Otto’s scar began to ache. He fought against an urge to stride away across the courtyard, forcing his legs to remain still. “And what action do you suggest?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Althalos smiled slightly. “That is for you to say, my lord.”
Otto would have liked nothing better than to strike the impertinent smirk from his face.
“It is no crime to write to her father,” he voiced his thoughts out loud. “I have not forbidden it.” He shrugged, eager to bring the conversation to a close.
“It is a crime to express intent to steal from our vaults,” Althalos corrected him, his voice as smooth as honey.
“But she has not stolen anything,” Gaius interjected, saving Otto the trouble.
Otto cast a quick glance at the older knight. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable, though whether that was due to the inclement weather or the difficult subject, or both, Otto could not tell.
“Not yet,” Althalos said.
Otto could not contain a grimace of impatience. “I shall question her.” He turned to leave, his chainmail suddenly grown heavy against him.
“She deserves more than mere questioning,” Althalos spoke up, his voice dangerously loud. “It is not wise to leave a would-be traitor unpunished.”
Otto restrained himself from grasping the man by his scrawny neck. “I shall be the one to decide if my wife deserves to be punished.”
“It is widely known that one of our guards was killed when the druid witch was set free,” Althalos pointed out with infuriating calmness. “Rumor is already rife among the knights. We must expect word to spread about the jewel soon enough. After all, Gaius here does not usually enquire as to the security of the vaults.” He treated them to a thin-lipped smile which Otto was in no mood to return. “Mark my words.” He dared to point a thin finger in his nephew’s direction. “Your people will turn against you if they have the slightest reason to suspect you favor the girl from Kenmar over the safety of their own families.”
Otto took a deep breath, damping down the tiny flame of self-doubt that Althalos had so cunningly ignited. “You are being ridiculous, uncle. The people of Darkmoor surely expect me to protect the interests of my own bride.”
