"Perhaps." Cyprien frowned. "For whom did you make these arrows, Robin?"
Byrne answered for him. "Jayr."
The hum of a machine dragged Jayr back to consciousness. She looked up to see one of the machines Alexandra Keller had ordered hanging over her face.
"Don't move," the doctor said as Jayr lifted a hand to push it away. "I'm taking some pictures of your head."
Jayr wanted to ask why, and then she remembered what had happened in the sinkhole. Aedan had fallen asleep, but she had been too happy to do the same. She had looked up and spotted a series of stones that looked as if they could bear her weight. She had started climbing as fast as she could, and had been halfway to the top when something struck her in the face.
"You are supposed to be on vacation," Jayr said as Alexandra moved the machine's arm away from her face.
"Yeah, that worked out real well, didn't it?"
She touched her scalp where it throbbed, and winced. "I fell."
"You sure did," she said briskly. "Twice. Byrne did a nice job of fixing your dislocated shoulder, by the way. Let me put this film in the developer, and then we'll reminisce. Stay put."
Jayr probed the sore spot on the side of her head. Trie flesh had healed, and the bone felt intact. She sat up and was looking for her clothes when Alexandra returned.
"I'm sorry, what did you not understand?" the doctor asked, planting her hands on her hips. "The stay or the put?"
"I must go to my lord," Jayr said, winding the sheet around her. "He is in danger."
"And yet you're here, all banged up. Maybe you need a seneschal." The doctor shook her head and handed her some folded garments. "These are my scrubs. The pants will be way too short, but they'll do until we can get some of your stuff."
"Where are my clothes?"
"All you had on when we got you out of that hole was Byrne's shirt, which was in pieces. You looked extremely sexy in it, too." She grinned. "So? In between getting beat up all to hell, did you have a little fun?"
Jayr didn't know what to say, and then she did. "I think I have a new hobby."
As Alex laughed, Jayr dressed in the scrubs. A timer chimed, and Alex left again to return with a sheet of film, which she placed on the light box on the wall.
"You really do have a nice, thick skull," the doctor said as she studied the film. "No fractures, no bone chips, no internal bleeding. Congratulations, kid. You have a headache."
"That much I could have told you myself." Jayr turned as Byrne came in. She began to smile, and then remembered they were not alone. "My lord." After the night they had shared, it seemed ludicrous to bow. "I am glad to see you."
Byrne said nothing, but came to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her breathless. When he lifted his mouth, he looked at Alexandra. "Her head?"
"She's fine. The shoulder and arm will be stiff for a couple of days. I'd recommend bed rest, but under the circumstances I don't see that happening for a while." Amusement twinkled in her eyes. "Excuse me; I have to go do something pointless in the next room." She left them alone.
Byrne checked Jayr's head and shoulder with his hands. "What were you thinking, trying to climb out on your own? You could have broken your neck."
"The attacker could have returned at any time," she pointed out. "It is my duty to protect you." She looked over his shoulder as Harlech and Beaumaris came in. "Harlech, has there been any word from Viviana?"
"None yet." Her second avoided her gaze. "My lord, if Jayr is well enough, the seigneur wishes to speak with her in the guards' hall."
Byrne stepped in front of her. "She stays here."
"I must change, but I can go," Jayr told him. "Harlech, what is this about? The attack on our lord?"
He looked miserable. "Yes."
"Lord Locksley says the Italian is behind it," Beaumaris said, looking hopeful. "'Twas his seneschal who sent our lord into the ambush. Nottingham must have been lying in wait for him there. But Nottingham denies it, and says the evidence clearly points to…" Beau caught Byrne's eye and fell silent.
Harlech uttered a vile curse and stalked out.
"Well?" Jayr felt impatient. "Whom does Nottingham accuse of trying to kill our lord?"
Byrne put his hand over hers. "He accuses you."
Michael put two guards on Locksley, and had Nottingham and his entourage move to the opposite side of the guards' hall. The rest of the Kyn he ordered out of the room so that he could conduct the necessary interviews.
Nottingham's guards spoke only Italian and Arabic, but Michael had learned both during his years as a warrior priest. Each testified that their master had never left the compound until summoned to the sinkhole to help with the rescue. Three of Byrne's guards reluctantly supported their statements.
"It means nothing, seigneur," Locksley said after the men were heard. "He could have sent an assassin to do the work for him."
"All of my men were here with me," Nottingham said smoothly. "Unless you have assassins for hire here at the tournament, I could not have sent anyone to kill the suzerain. Have you asked Lord Byrne's seneschal where she was? For she was not here."
"The men have already said she was in the city," Locksley said.
"She told them she was going to the city, and they saw her leave the Realm alone. That is all." Nottingham sat back in his chair. "No one can say for certain where she went."
"I find it highly unlikely that Jayr would try to kill her master," Michael said, "and then nearly die trying to save him."
"Why do you assume that she went into the sinkhole to save him?" Nottingham asked. "She must have heard him call out, and knew her first attack had failed."
Locksley gave him a filthy look. "You are pathetic."
"You have been very friendly with the girl," Nottingham observed sourly. "You made the arrows she used to shoot Lord Byrne. Does she serve as your assassin?"
Robin's eyes turned black, and the guards flanking him grabbed his arms. "I will cut your tongue out of your head for that."
Michael saw Jayr and Byrne enter the hall with two of their men. "Enough."
"Seigneur, I demand an apology." Nottingham shoved Skald forward. "My man has testified that the girl was the one who gave him the false message. We have the arrows she used to shoot the suzerain in the back. The outlaw has admitted that he made them for her. She was found in the pit with Lord Byrne. What other proof do you need?"
Jayr strode quickly forward. "I did not attack my lord, and I gave no message to your seneschal. If he claims that I did, he lies."
"You see, master?" Skald shook his head sadly. "I told you she would put the blame on my head. She thinks me a fool."
"You are a fool," Locksley said.
"No, my lord, I was made one. By her." The small man straightened his shoulders and assumed an air of dignity. "Do you know, when we came here, she did not even tell me that she was a woman? Small wonder everyone laughed when I called her brother. My lord, she used me because she knew no one would believe me."
"Stop this." Jayr looked stricken and furious. "You are lying. I never gave you any message. Tell them the truth."
Skald cringed and retreated behind Nottingham. "Protect me, my lord. Either she will kill me to silence me or the outlaw will. He followed me from the stables when I rode out to find the seigneur." The seneschal's eyes widened dramatically. "Why, I think he meant to do me harm."
Locksley began to clap his hands and laugh. "An inspired performance. Bravo."
"Was there another reason you rode out there tonight?" Nottingham asked Locksley. "To see that she had finished the job, perhaps? With the suzerain dead, and me framed for the murder, you would could have her and the Realm all to yourself." Nottingham's black eyes drifted over him. "Or did you mean to kill her before she could bare your sins to the world?"
Locksley wrenched his arms in, smashing together the heads of the guards holding on to him and shoving them away. He snatched the sword from the wall and started across the hall for Nottingham.
"Locksley."
Byrne got to the furious suzerain before Cyprien could, and locked an arm through his from behind. Michael knocked the sword out of his hand, caught it, and tossed it to Phillipe.
"Aedan," Locksley said, his voice a growl, his gaze fixed on Nottingham. "He is mine."
"Not yet, Rob." Byrne held on and looked over his head at Michael. "Lord Nottingham is no longer welcome in my territory, seigneur. If you wish him to live much longer, send him back to Italy."
Michael looked over at the Italian, who had drawn his sword, as had every one of his guards. "All of you will stand down now. I have promised to find out the truth behind this attack. Until I do, no one will be held responsible or made accountable for imagined crimes. Anyone who disobeys my orders will be immediately exiled from this country."
"I will not leave," Nottingham said. "My honor has been questioned, and I have the right to challenge the one responsible. Let this matter of guilt be decided in the old way, on the jousting field, with copper lances. Tonight."
"Yes. A fight to the death. Oh, sweet Christ, yes." Locksley gave him a beautiful, terrible smile. "I accept."
"I would not soil my lance with you." The Italian walked past him and stopped in front of Jayr. "I challenge you, seneschal."
Chapter 18
Byrne answered Nottingham before anyone could speak. "Your challenge is refused," he said flatly. "Pack your bags, take your heathens, and get off my land."
"I have done nothing wrong," the dark lord said, "and until honor is satisfied, I am not leaving."
"Now will you let me deal with him?" Locksley demanded as Byrne released him.
