Free Champion of the Heart by Laurel O'Donnell Page A

boy she had so admired? What had happened to the young man she had almost believed herself to be falling in love with? What had frozen his heart and turned his soul to ice?
    “What if he came to defeat you?” she mused. “His old friend?”
    Evan stiffened.
    But Jordan continued, not noticing the insult she had delivered. She waved her hand wildly about in the air. “It makes no difference why he came.” She scowled darkly. “The only thing that matters is that because of him, Maggie is dead.”
    Evan slouched slightly in the chair. “Well, we have him now. He will cause us no more misery. He will pay for his crimes, and pay dearly. He’ll be doing no more stealing.”
    “Yes,” Jordan said quietly. But her mind refused to stop thinking about those eyes that had stared at her from the battlefield. They were not the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. They were not the eyes of a man who would take the life of a child to extract some sort of twisted revenge. Then why had he done it? Why had he stolen the herbs? Was it truly to get back at her? And if it was, did that then, in some macabre twist of fate, make Maggie’s death her fault? Guilt churned in her heart, even though she knew she could not realistically blame herself for the little girl’s death.
    Suddenly, the door opened and her father entered like a storm cloud. His fierce scowl warned Jordan of his temper. “Jordan,” he rumbled.
    Jordan knew better than to let her own temper show when he was so enraged. “Yes, Father.”
    He held out a dagger to her. “I believe this is yours.”
    Jordan took the dagger from his hands. She studied it for a moment. “Thank you, Father.”
    “Do not thank me yet, child,” he warned. “Your interference in the tournament was a disgrace.”
    “He was going to kill Evan!” she objected.
    A frown marred Evan’s brow, and he straightened in his chair. “I can defend myself.”
    “Imagine, my own daughter throwing a dagger in the midst of a battle,” her father said, pacing. “And because of it, a man is wounded.”
    “A criminal is wounded!” Jordan corrected.
    “Still, it is man’s work, not woman’s, to wield weapons.” Lord Ruvane puffed out his chest. “You will go and mend his wound.”
    “What?” Jordan gasped.
    Evan rose. “I’ll go with Jordan.”
    Lord Ruvane held out a hand to him, stopping him. “No. Jordan must learn the consequences of her actions. She will go alone down into the dungeon, amidst the robbers and thieves.”
    “Mend his wound?” Jordan objected. “But Father...”
    “He is a criminal!” Evan joined her defense. “To send her unprotected...”
    Lord Ruvane waved his hand in dismissal. “Mercer is chained to the wall. What can he do to her? Besides, there is a man guarding the dungeon. She will be in no danger.”
    Jordan glared at her father for a long moment, disbelief etched in her brow. “Father, you can’t –”
    “Your behavior was unacceptable. You will do as I say.”
    Jordan turned from her father to Evan, beseeching him with her eyes. Grudgingly, he dropped his gaze, his jaw tight.
    Aghast, Jordan whirled from the room. Mend Fox’s wound! The man who was the cause of Maggie’s death. Maybe I can put poison in his wound. Or mayhap I can tie the bindings so tight that his arm will fall off.
    Mend Fox’s wound, indeed!
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Jordan stood at the top of the spiraling stairs and looked down into the darkness. She held a basin of water and some cloth. It wasn’t tainted with poison, as she would have liked, but the bitterness in her mouth might as well have been poison.
    A sudden memory flashed into her mind. She remembered standing at the top of the stairs, terrified by the patch of blackness that seemed to descend into eternity below her. “Don’t be afraid, Jordan,” Fox had whispered to her. He had grabbed her hand, holding her fingers tight. “You never have to be afraid when I’m with you.”
    Strange she should remember that now.
    She