She couldn't get the words out. She kept seeing Jithelle Skolotti's face, kept imagining that that must have been how Denrick had tried to woo her, too. What had he said that would have made the woman get into his bed?
'Em,' Denrick said, taking another step closer, close enough to reach out to her, and he started to. 'Quit pretending you don't want me to do it,' he said, taking her by the waist and drawing close to her. 'I promise you, I'll make you feel so good. Trust me.'
Suddenly, Emriana couldn't maintain the pretense anymore. She shoved Denrick backward from herself, hard. Then she darted to the side, out of the corner in which he had apparently been trying to trap her.
'Is that what you told Jithelle before you had her killed? To trust you?' she spat as she maneuvered herself around to the opposite side of the cistern pool from the older boy.
'Jithelle? What?' Denrick said, shaking his head and trying to guess which way to circle the pool to reach Emriana.
Every time he stepped in one direction or the other, she would counter it, keeping the pool between them.
'Stop this, Em,' he demanded, taking a firm couple of strides to his left.
'No,' the girl replied, moving in concert with the older boy. 'I'm not letting you near me. I know about Jithelle, Denrick. I know about all of it.'
Denrick stopped then, staring hard at Emriana in the gloom.
'Well, I guess that proves it, then,' he said quietly.
'What do you mean?' Emriana asked, watching the boy for some sign of attack, some indication that he was going to come after her.
Where is Vambran? she wondered desperately, berating herself for letting slip her suspicions before he had arrived.
'What I mean is, you're not the innocent little girl you've been pretending to be,' Denrick replied. 'Yesterday, at the picnic, you knew already, didn't you? All those questions. You were setting me up, weren't you?'
Emriana was already shaking her head before Denrick even finished his accusation.
'No,' she said. 'Not when I first arrived. I only figured it out later, when we went to get the picnic basket. And even then, I didn't know you were bedding her, you lecherous bastard.'
Even in the darkness, Emriana could see Denrick wince at her revelation and scathing words.
'Em, you don't understand,' he began. 'I didn't know, then. I only heard it later, last night.'
'Liar,' came a voice from overhead, on the roof of the entryway into the house. Vambran crouched there, looking down at both of them. Emriana sighed in relief, nearly collapsing against the railing. Denrick whirled around in shock, backing away from the edge of the house several steps to get clear of any attack. 'Em and I think there's more to your story that you're not telling, Denrick Pharaboldi.'
'Vambran,' Denrick began, regaining his composure somewhat. 'What are you doing here?' He looked again at Emriana. 'You set this up,' he growled, folding his arms across his chest. 'You two are working together.'
'That's right,' Vambran said as he swung himself over the edge of the roof and dropped down to the tiles of the patio, landing softly. 'We planned the whole thing.'
He began to walk around the perimeter of the pool, like Denrick had done before, and the younger man would have been forced to move in the same circular direction to keep the lieutenant away from him. But Vambran simply stopped when he stood next to his sister. Emriana reached out for her brother's hand and gave it a squeeze, just a silent way to thank him for showing up when he did.
'So, go ahead,' Vambran said. 'Tell us again how you didn't know about Jithelle's death beforehand. Tell us how you're just as distressed as everyone else about her death.'
'That's right,' Denrick replied 'That's what I was trying to tell Em. I didn't have her killed. She was slain by the city watch, running from them after trying to impersonate a mage. I had nothing to do with it,' he insisted. 'If you were there, as you claimed yesterday, Em, then you know this already.'
'That's pretty convincing,' Vambran said, 'but I'm not buying it. Those weren't city watchmen that night. They were hired killers dressed up like thugs, sent to kill your mistress.'
'What? No,' Denrick said, practically whining. 'The watchmen said she was a criminal. I couldn't believe it. She'd never done anything like that before,' he babbled, and Emriana felt sick to her stomach. Whether he was telling the truth or not, the thought of him wanting her, to have her in his bed with him, was making her sick.
'Liar,' Vambran said again. 'You had to get her out of the way so you wouldn't have an illegitimate heir running around.'
'What?' Denrick said quietly, stiffening in the faint moonlight. 'What are you talking about?'
'She was with child, Denrick,' Emriana said. 'Your child. You killed your own child!'
'No,' Denrick said, crumpling down to the tiles, his voice cracking. 'I didn't-she was pregnant? I was going to be a father? Oh, gods!' he whimpered.
Vambran crossed the distance between them and loomed over Denrick as the younger man drew his knees up under his chin and wrapped his arms around them. Emriana watched from where she was, still safely on the opposite side of the cistern from both of them. Despite his crumbling demeanor, Emriana found no sympathy in her heart for him. She simply looked on him as a pathetic, despicable person. There had never been a time when she was truly enamored of him, despite his obvious interest in her, but knowing what she more recently did, she regarded him with loathing. He may very well have been innocent of the crimes against Jithelle, but she doubted he had as much regard for the servant as he was pretending. He had been far too eager to become intimate with Emriana that night for her to believe that.
'I'm not convinced of your innocence,' Vambran said, towering over the huddled Denrick. 'You're going to have to try a little harder to prove it to me.'
Denrick craned his neck, looking up at his tormentor.
'I told you,' he mumbled, 'I had no idea of any of the things you're-'
There was a scream from the other side of the house, a loud, piercing sound of terror and anguish. Vambran jerked upright, cocking his head. Emriana felt her heart leap into her throat.
'Who was that?' the girl asked, trembling.
'I don't know, but I'm going to go find out. Come on,' he said, turning and taking the stairs two at a time back down to the garden.
Emriana was right behind her brother, leaving Denrick and all thoughts of his transgressions behind. Together, they sprinted in the direction of the sound, which seemed to have come right at the edge of the party. Emriana was a fair runner, but it was impossible for her to match Vambran stride for stride, and the lieutenant very quickly left her behind. Still, she hoisted the dress she wore high enough to keep it from tripping her up and kept going, terrified to think of what might have befallen one of her guests.
When she finally caught up to the scene, Vambran was already kneeling down, a crowd gathered around him. Ladara was right next to her son, sobbing, and Emriana knew that it had been her who had screamed before. Someone else was shouting for everyone to move back, to give them some room. As Emriana drew closer, she nearly sat down in the grass right there, horrified. It was Hetta.
Em watched helplessly as Vambran worked on their grandmother, who was lying in the grass on her back. Vambran was turned away from his sister, so she could not see what he was doing. His concentration was focused on the elderly matriarch's legs. With a sudden jerk, Vambran's arm came up, and he held half a crossbow bolt in his hand, the metal head dripping blood. At the same time, Hetta lurched in pain, issuing a feeble cry of suffering. Emriana cringed but closed the rest of the distance and knelt down next to her grandmother.
Hetta's eyes were open, but they were staring off at the darkened sky, glazed over and seeing nothing. Her breath was rapid and shallow. Her calf had been hit, and Vambran was pulling the rest of the bolt out, having already snapped off the head to avoid further pain and injury. Then, ignoring Ladara's panicked sobs for him to do something, the mercenary placed his hands on the wounds on either side of his grandmother's leg and began to chant a prayer.
Emriana squeezed her own eyes shut and prayed right alongside her brother, begging Waukeen to let Hetta live. She know that her own pleas were insignificant compared to the true divine power inherent in Vambran, but she didn't care. No amount of fervent, sincere entreaties would hurt the cause.
To the girl, the waiting seemed to go on forever. She opened one eye to look down at Hetta, still with that glazed look in her eyes, then she glanced over at her brother. He was still in the midst of his prayer, face smooth
