Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

corners. Every now and then Robert recognized a face of someone who had been if not a friend, then at least an ally, but whenever he tried to meet their eyes they slid their gaze away quickly, as if he no longer existed.

Robert didn’t take it personally. Judging by the level of fear that was trapped in the stone walls of the castle, they were probably wishing themselves out of existence at the same time.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that there was something wrong here, very wrong.

Robert felt himself preparing for battle as they waited outside the throne room, to be announced to a monarch who had always waved aside such formalities. The apprehension lodged like a solid block of ice in his stomach as the realization dawned that he would be very lucky to ever leave this place alive.

Robert closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Unbidden an image of Shadowsend filled his mind, its dark rooms and unsteady stairs suddenly a comfort. Thoughts of the Keep were swiftly followed by thoughts of its lady. In his imaginings she smiled at him and, strangely, the tightening in his gut started to ease.

Slowly he opened his eyes and straightened his shoulders. He was ready. William might be a dangerous opponent but, for the first time in his life, Robert had something worth fighting for.

He walked with quiet confidence into the throne room behind the guard, his gaze sweeping over the scene carefully, all the while assessing the situation.

He was startled to see the blond, almost feminine beauty of Roger Colebrook lounging comfortably against the throne and then for a moment Robert was almost blinded by the cold rage that boiled to life at the sight of the other man’s triumphant smile. The urge to go and forcibly remove that smile was almost overpowering. For an instant Robert’s mind came alive with images of the kinds of death that he had witnessed, all the deaths he himself had inflicted, but now, every half forgotten face was replaced with Roger’s.

There were really so many very messy ways that a man could die but none of them quite messy enough to suit Robert’s mood. He couldn’t help but feel that Imogen’s life of pain deserved a spectacular justice, and he itched to give her just that.

It was an enormous act of will that kept him from striding over to the man and strangling him with his bare hands and he mastered his dark desires only by reminding himself that it would be a futile attempt. The guards protecting the king protected Roger by default. They would stop him long before justice had extracted its due.

Robert gritted his teeth in frustration and promised himself silently that justice would still happen soon. Roger couldn’t hide behind the king forever, and the second he was alone and unprotected Robert would make him pay for every drop of pain he had brought into Imogen’s life.

Robert dragged his gaze away from Roger; he had to if he was to stay in control. He couldn’t afford to let the murderous rage consume him. He shifted his concentration to the man who sat slouched on the throne and was taken aback by the changes that six months had brought about in William. If it hadn’t been for the red flame of his hair and face Robert doubted he would have recognized him at all.

William’s eyes, once expressive and, often as not, angry, were now empty and cold, sunken into a face pulled taut by unseen stresses and marked by new lines. The man appeared to have aged twenty years in mere months.

Even more surprising was the way that he visibly carried arms and even wore a heavy hauberk, despite the fact that he had an ample supply of guards to protect him. William looked like a man in mortal fear for his own life and Robert didn’t think he was going to enjoy finding out exactly what this had to do with him. He fell on one knee slowly and lowered his head. “Your Majesty,” he said formally, and awaited permission to arise.

It was a permission that didn’t come. Keeping his head down, he heard William get heavily to his feet.

“So the bastard returns at last,” the king said slowly, coming to stand directly in front of him.

“As Your Majesty ordered,” Robert said quietly.

William gave a hollow shout of laughter. “Oh, Robert, you almost sound like a loyal subject when you talk like that.” He paused before adding tightly, “Almost.”

Robert didn’t flinch when he felt the cold edge of a sword touch the back of his neck, but the chill spread through him.

“You see, Robert, you sound loyal only to those not privy to your machinations and, unfortunately for you, I am all too aware of what you’ve been getting up to.” Robert felt the sword blade move slowly over his skin, and the sharp flair of pain as it drew blood. It trickled slowly down his neck and was absorbed into the weave of his tunic.

“My loyalty is not feigned,” Robert said with a deliberately bored voice. “I have no plans other than to live in peace and quiet on the lands you have graciously given me.”

The blade was suddenly gone and Robert quickly lifted his head. There was no point in fawning any longer, he decided, refusing to grimace at the pain the gesture cost him. William leaned on the hilt of the sword with the point pressed into the rushes. His eyes glared narrowly out of his red face as he shook his head wearily.

“Now, now, Robert, I don’t like being lied to. Your plans have come to naught because I now know everything. I know all about your bargaining with my brother, Henry. I know you plan to assassinate me so that he can claim my throne as his own. I know it all, and it is all treason!” He lifted the sword and slammed it hard against the stonework of the throne