Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,96

of color, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“My lady,” Renick said, holding out his hand, “how would you like to share the throne of Mouldour?”

Chapter 43

For the first time in her life, Kylene felt a sense of coming home as they entered the Great Hall of Castle Argone.

Parah, Teliford, and Hadj had hurried out to meet them on their return, their smiles of welcome quickly turning to expressions of concern when Hardane’s father was lifted from a litter and carried inside.

Lord Kray’s condition had worsened during the voyage. He had drifted in and out of awareness during the first ten days; since then, he’d been unconscious. His face was as pale as moonstone, his cheeks were gaunt, there were dark shadows beneath his closed eyes.

News of their liege’s illness quickly spread throughout the castle and kingdom. Almost immediately, gifts began to arrive—dried flowers, sachets filled with healing herbs and spices, prayers and good wishes written in the ancient language of Argone.

The castle physician had been called to attend Lord Kray’s injury. Grim-faced, he had drained the wound and cut away the putrid flesh.

The Wolffan priest came, offering what comfort he could. All of Hardane’s brothers had come home, lending their strength and support to Sharilyn.

Druidia had been summoned, but for once none of the witch’s unguents or potions had any effect, and now, three days after their arrival, Lord Kray remained unconscious.

In his father’s illness, Hardane sat upon the throne of Argone. Kylene had been startled the first time she entered the Great Hall and saw her husband sitting in his father’s place.

Lord Kray’s throne was massive. It had been fashioned from the same dark wood as the doors of the Temple of Fire. The arms were carved in the likeness of wolves lying on their bellies, heads resting between their paws. The back of the throne was in the shape of a wolf’s head.

Sharilyn’s throne was the same as Kray’s, only slightly smaller.

And now it was the night of the third day and Kylene was wandering through the castle. The servants had gone to bed long since. Sharilyn was sitting beside Kray. She’d hardly left her husband’s bedside since their arrival. Hadj had to remind her to eat. Old Nan, the cook, prepared all Sharilyn’s favorite dishes in hopes of tempting her appetite, but to no avail. Sharilyn ate only a few bites at a time, never taking her eyes from Kray’s face, never leaving his room except when absolutely necessary.

Kylene’s father had been given free run of the castle with a thinly veiled warning that the dungeon awaited him should he try to escape. Kylene had spent her days with Carrick, getting to know him, listening to stories of her mother and sisters.

On one occasion, Carrick had reminisced about his childhood, about the happy times he’d had as a boy growing up in Castle Mouldour. Bourke had once been his best friend, he had confided. They had explored the castle together, from the topmost turrets to the hindermost regions of the dungeons. They had played tricks on the housemaids, learned to ride together, to fight together, shared secrets. Being twins, they had tried to fool their parents and friends, laughing with delight whenever their mother mistook Bourke for Carrick. Their closeness, the bond they had shared, had made Bourke’s treachery all the more painful for Carrick to accept.

Kylene saw little of Hardane. He was burdened with the affairs of Argone, and when he had a free moment, he sat with his father. Kylene could not help feeling guilty because her own father was here, strong and healthy, while Lord Kray hovered in the netherworld between life and death. She tried to tell herself she had no cause to feel guilty. She’d been years without a father; surely no one could begrudge her the time she spent with him now.

Kylene sighed heavily as she made her way to the Great Hall. She needed to see Hardane, to feel his arms around her, to feel his strength.

He was there, sitting on his father’s throne, a sable cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

She stared at him from the doorway, wishing there was something she could do to ease the pain in his heart.

She had been there only a few moments when Hardane looked up, his gaze finding her in the shadows. Wordlessly, he held out his arms and she hurried toward him, climbing onto his lap to pillow her head against his shoulder.

They sat that way for a long time before Hardane spoke.