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“Who stole him?” The angel shifted back on his heels as might a man who has been struck, then rolled forward to his toes, and regained his balance. “Who stole who?”
“Lord Hugh?” asked Brother Petrus, who was fingering an amulet looped at his neck. “Ought we not hurry, my lord? It will be dark soon.”
“Yes.” The angel nodded, but he looked only at Heribert, not at Brother Petrus. “Who is lost, and who is blind?” he said to himself. “Can it be? Tell me, friend, if the other one stole him, then do you want to get back this one you seek?”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“Gone utterly, I fear, if what my eyes tell me is true, and I think it must be. But I know who killed him.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that his soul is fled from Earth.”
“How do I find him?”
“Seek you his killer and get your revenge. Kill the one who killed him.”
“Will it bring him back, if I kill the one who killed him?”
The angel’s smile would brighten a hall shrouded in darkness. “Oh, yes. Certainly. Delve deep, and seek him at his heart. Drive out the soul you find there. That will kill the one who killed him. The one called Sanglant.”
“But he loved him! He trusted him!”
“Alas,” the angel said in a gentling voice, as a mother might soothe a weeping child. “So it happens among humankind, that the ones we love most are quickest to betray us.”
“How will I go?”
“Come with me now. I will set you on your way. Brother Petrus, there is an attendant who serves the princess. Find her, and place an amulet around her neck … Ah!”
Elene grunted, struggling against the spell, lips moving as she murmured an incantation.
“Petrus, the knife.”
“Your hands, my lord. Let me do it, if it must be done.”
“I’ll not let others stain their hands so mine may remain clean. This is my decision, not yours.” He took a common kitchen knife, good sharp iron, out of Petrus’ shaking hands, and went to the table. Grasping Elene by the hair, he set the knife to her pulsing throat.
Elene tried to struggle, but she could not.
Anna shrieked, but the only noise that escaped her was a moan. She staggered up, but she was too slow with that lethargy weighing her down. She was too slow, and it was already too late.
He cut.
Elene’s blood spurted over the board, spattering Berthold’s sleeve and hair, although he was too fast asleep to stir. Blood flowed. A Dragon and a Queen toppled sideways in the first gush. The rest of the pieces were soon awash, islands in a red sea.
Hugh braced her body in the chair and dropped the bloody knife onto the carpet. He walked over to Anna and grasped her. She sagged against him; she could not help herself.
“Is this another so afflicted?” He raised her hand, smoothed a finger over the three spots of blood, and teased the needle out of her fingers. She was helpless to resist. Only his strong arm held her up.
“Quickly, Brother Petrus!”
A movement, an arm sweeping past her face, and a sweet smelling fragrance wafted into her nostrils. She came alert to see a smoky mist dimming her sight through which she saw all those sleeping and heard an uncanny hush drawn over the palace grounds as though every living creature had been muzzled and shod in wool.
His eyes were so very blue that she thought she should drown in them. “I am taking Princess Blessing. You have now a choice. You may come with me, to attend her, or you may stay behind.”
Her mouth worked, but she got no words out.
He smiled sadly.
