Free The Renegade's Heart by Claire Delacroix

pledge of fealty as well as that of every knight in
your household.”
    “I shall have no need of a grant of safe
passage if I can rid our forest of bandits,” Alexander said with a
smile. “On the morrow, we shall ride out and rout this renegade
from our forests, to ensure the safe passage of all at Kinfairlie.”
The company cheered, but Isabella bit her lip.
    She could not think of a way to see Murdoch
warned.
    Alexander spoke to the messenger. “I thank
you for your tidings and apologize for what you have endured in my
holding. I beg of you to take refreshment with us. Anthony, please
find some garb for this loyal servant of the king.”
    The company began to chatter again and the
musicians began once more to play their lutes. Isabella watched
Alexander as he called for more wine, seeing the worry that
darkened his brow. As much as Isabella admired her brother’s
administration of justice, she could not bear to think of Murdoch
being maimed for his attempt to defend his family’s honor.
    She excused herself from the board, feigning
illness, determined to make each moment count.
     
    * * *
     
    Elizabeth could not believe her eyes.
    The messenger came into Alexander’s hall, and
all eyes turned upon him. No one, it appeared, noticed the man on
the charcoal stallion who rode directly into the hall behind the
man. His horse was large and majestic, and there were silver bells
tied into his dark mane. The steed tossed his head as he pranced
into the hall, seemingly enjoying the musical sound made by his
gesture. His nostrils flared and his eyes glowed with a light that
was not natural.
    The man who rode that beast could have been a
king. There were rings on his fingers and a golden crown upon his
head. His beard was as dark as ebony and flowed down his chest like
a river; his eyes were darker still. He wore a robe of sapphire
blue, trimmed with golden embroidery, the like of which Elizabeth
had never seen. His boots were made of gilded leather, supple and
gleaming. His cloak was as red as blood and trimmed in white
ermine.
    His retinue were winged, which told Elizabeth
who she saw. He was the royalty of the Fae! No less than fifteen
attendants milled around his horse, holding the bridle, holding the
stirrup, holding the ends of their regent’s cloaks. Not a one of
them would have stood as tall as Elizabeth’s waist. They were
dressed in green and gold, their wings fluttering so that they
seemed to shimmer in place.
    Elizabeth knew it was folly to stare at a Fae
of such importance and she dropped her gaze to her trencher,
pretending that she could not see him.
    Far behind her, she heard a familiar hiss. “Kings and villains, rogues and thanes; all will come to thieve
again. They take the spoils not theirs to claim, they steal and
snatch, then leave again. Gold and silver, gems and jewels, do
these intruders think us fools?”
    Darg! Elizabeth had always been the only one
who could see the spriggan, but she had not caught a glimpse of
this small fairy in years. She spun now to look, but could not
discern the spriggan in the darkness.
    Darg had haunted Ravensmuir once and then
Kinfairlie, but had been absent since Rosamunde and Tynan had been
lost in the collapse of the caverns beneath Ravensmuir. Darg had
not even appeared in the hall when Rosamunde had visited Kinfairlie
and relieved the family’s fears for her survival. During that
visit, Rosamunde had confirmed Tynan’s death and revealed her
newfound love for her old friend and partner, Padraig. There had
been no sign of the spriggan and Elizabeth had feared that Darg had
been lost with Tynan.
    But Darg was back.
    And Darg did not like this fellow Fae.
    Elizabeth turned back just as the Fae king
dismounted and the messenger shared his tale. The king strode
toward the high table, taking his time and smiling slightly as he
brushed against the messenger. Half of his retinue walked with him,
most tending to his cloak, while the others stayed with the horse.
He strode