Page 41 of One Knight in the Forest

“Beware.” Cyn tried to speak calmly. “Do not drop the vial. If it falls, shatters, and splashes poison on you—”

“I know.” She pulled her hand from the bag. Silver flashed in her fingers: the doe.

Her eyes hardened with resolve. Turning the deer so that its ears pointed down, she slammed it into Northcliff’s hand imprisoning her hair.

He howled.

Again, she struck him. Blood beaded on his skin.

“Bitch,” he croaked, spittle flying from his lips. His face was purple now.

“Let her go,” Cyn commanded.

She hit Northcliff again, this time smacking the doe against his cheek. Northcliff yelped. His hold on her slackened.

With a sharp cry, Magdalen broke free. She lunged for the hearth. The vial flew from her fingers. The linen-wrapped parcel was briefly illuminated in the fire’s glow before it fell into the flames and shattered.

The blaze hissed. Black smoke rose in an inky cloud, and then the fire returned to normal.

Her head drooping, Magdalen collapsed to sitting on the hearth tiles, her cloak and gown spilling around her. With a metallic clatter, the doe landed beside her. Magdalen looked exhausted, but never had Cyn seen a more beautiful woman. Pride swelled within him for what she’d done.

Still in Cyn’s grasp, Northcliff made a strangled sound. Cyn became aware that William stood beside him.

“My guard will take him now,” William said, summoning over one of his men.

Cyn held tight to Northcliff until the young lord’s hands were bound. After grudgingly releasing Northcliff into the guard’s custody, Cyn assessed the rest of the room. Five traitors, their hands tied in front of them, were sitting on the floor, being watched by William’s men-at-arms. Others were being restrained by Cyn’s lackeys. Still more men were sprawled between tables, some unconscious, others examining their bruises and bleeding wounds. Redmond stood at the bottom of the stairs, talking to his wounded guard while the other guard tended to his colleague’s injuries.

Catching Cyn’s gaze, Redmond crossed to him. “I am very grateful for your efforts tonight, Sheriff. You as well, Lord Langston.”

Cyn bowed. “I am glad all went in our favor. You did exceptionally well, milord, acting as though you had no forewarning about tonight’s plot.”

“Plot?”

William shifted his stance, clearly uneasy.

“The plot to poison you, milord, as I detailed in my missive. The one I sent you a few days ago?”

Redmond’s face creased into a worried frown. “I did not receive a missive from you, Sheriff.”

Shock plowed through Cyn. He’d sent the missive through contacts he trusted. “Are you certain?”

“I am. I will ask my clerk about it, though, the instant I return to London.” Frowning, Redmond added, “The King has suspected for months that the treachery growing throughout England has taken root in his London court like a foul weed. I will do my utmost to see it destroyed.” Spying the red-haired wench, tears streaming down her face, Redmond nodded to Cyn and William, and then hurried to comfort her.

“You sent a missive to London after all,” William said quietly.

“I did. ’Twas my duty as sheriff. I did not mention your name, though, only that I had discovered the parchment and what was written on it.”

A faint grin tilted William’s mouth. “I told you I could be trusted.”

“Indeed you did.”

One of William’s men summoned him. When he strode away, Cyn crossed to the hearth and dropped down beside Magdalen, taking care not to jostle his wounded shoulder. She raised her head, wisps of loosened hair framing her face. Tears glistened on her cheeks, and with a tender smile, he brushed them away with his fingers.

“Well done,” he murmured.

“You as well,” she said softly.

“Why are you crying?”