Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) by Grace Brannigan Page B

beside
her. "Dark curls that I have seen splayed across your shoulders as you
slept." His eyes looked deeply into hers and for an instant of time, she
felt mesmerized.
    "No!" she shook her head. "No -- I --"
Something in his eyes pulled at her. She wanted to fall deeply into them and
the emotion she glimpsed hidden inside. She drew back.
    "I hope that one day you will remember," he said
solemnly. He nodded at Sorenta, opened the door and left, closing it behind
him.
    Iliana stared in front of her, her breath at an uneven pace,
her mind unsettled.
    She looked at Sorenta. "You have told me that he
--" she stumbled to a halt, "-- that Camdork, carries the secret of
the green gem."
    "He has the ability to help you retrieve it or lose it
forever."
    "I saw him on my life tapestry, and a shadow lurks
behind him. Surely it is an indication he shows the world two faces."
    Sorenta seemed to shrug. "There are twins of emotion
involved, one so different than the other. I agree he is not as he seems."
    "Nothing is as it seems," muttered Iliana.
"We have a murderer in our midst, perhaps in this very keep."
Distressed, she beseeched the old woman. "What am I to do? This man who
would be my husband is capable of foul deeds, all in the name of his queen. And
yet at times..." She shook her head. "What am I thinking?"
    "It was not that long ago you were determined to kill
him."
    "I admit I am conflicted."
    "It is wise to trust yourself, whatever your judgment
might be, but make no final decision in haste lest you regret it once
done."
    Iliana stared at her son. "For a moment," she
murmured, "I fell deeply into a memory. Is he too, a sorcerer? How is it
that I almost believed him? How would he know my hair is dark when all others
see light gold hair?"
    ¤¤
    Iliana pushed the great wooden door closed, thankful she had
thought to spread goose's grease along the iron hinges earlier that morning.
Ever since the arrival of Camdork and his men, she had not had a moment's
respite. Despite the provisions and work the presence of fifty extra men
entailed, Iliana was more inclined to worry about their proximity. She was
truly saddened by the murder of her maid. Agnes had never harmed anyone. What
if it was not Camdork? Could it have been the sorcerer who crept into the
village at night?
    Camdork meanwhile had taken over Sir William's empty
chambers. It still irked Iliana that he had shunned the small cell-like chamber
she had had Edward take him to. She had been as ungracious to him as she was
capable, and still the man took no hint. He remained polite and courteous.
Iliana knew she should be ashamed of her conduct, yet she could conjure no
feeling of remorse.
    It had been reported back to her that Camdork had laughingly
told Edward he could not torture his six foot three frame in such a puny bed.
He had then proceeded to enter each of the private rooms until he found what
suited his needs. He had taken possession of Sir William's empty chamber with
its enormous bed, and Iliana supposed the knave would have taken over her
chambers had he not first found another suitable to his needs.
    Iliana pulled her hood up and looked quickly about. Lightly,
she ran toward the second courtyard, her slippers silent on the dirt underfoot.
The sky was overcast and moonless, the air warm. Knowing her way from long
practice, Iliana did not falter in the darkness. When she reached the twisted
double tree, she stopped, willing her body to relax and her heart to still. She
had learned it was not safe to enter the sacred circle with her mind in
turmoil. She must discover the truth of Agnes' death, for it troubled her
greatly, not knowing who had been responsible.
    Rowenna swore Agnes spoke of meeting Camdork, yet he denied
any involvement. It had been he who called in her constable to investigate the
death.
    Constantly playing in her mind was Camdork's scurrilous
reputation. His actions of years' past did nothing to encourage her to think he
would ever speak the truth. Yet what