The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(100)

Pain flashed across his face for a second. “Yes, I did. That doesn't mean I wanted to. I fought that night, you know? I fought like all the others.”

Ayla thought she had seen him among the fighting guards but had dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Now she was sure. He had been there. And he had fought to protect her life, from the men he himself had let into the castle.

“Why?” She asked. “Why would you fight them?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I was hoping they'd kill me.”

He was not jesting, Ayla was absolutely sure. Just as sure as she was that he was telling her the truth. She didn't know why she was so sure about that—after all, this man had betrayed her. She had no reason to trust him. But for some reason, every word out of his mouth rang truer and more important than many of the things she had heard from friends, trying to reassure or encourage her, to give her hope that might very well be false.

“And the next attack? Sir Isenbard?”

He shook his head emphatically and, for the first time, a little fire entered his eyes.

“I already told you, I had nothing to do with that. I would never have done anything to hurt Sir Isenbard.”

Ayla didn't quite know what to say to that. Finally, she told him, in a voice the gentleness of which surprised herself, “You do know that if your plot had succeeded, if you had managed to give me to the enemy or open the gates for them, the castle would have been taken. You know the Margrave's reputation. Surely you know what would have happened to Sir Isenbard?”

Hans closed his eyes. “He would have been killed.”

“Yes. He would have been killed.”

“Milady?”

“Yes, Hans?”

“Why am I still alive?”

An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Still arguing for your own execution, are you?”

“Maybe you're not arguing strongly enough for it,” Hans said with a detached smile. Ayla couldn't read minds, but she was pretty sure that in this single instance, the guards on either side of him were in complete agreement with Hans.

“And the final time?” she steered the subject back to its original subject.

“Last night?”

“Yes. What did you do?”

“Well, I had heard the news about the removal of the gate guards… I suppose that was a ruse?”

“Yes, it was.”

“It was a clever one. I truly believed you would put the passage of Isenbard's soul over the well-being of your people.” Hans smiled weakly. “I should have known you better.”

“Yes,” Ayla agreed, returning his smile. “You should have. I had guards posted in the gate towers and at Isenbard's grave.”

There was a moment's pause.

“Were you really going to open the gates and let the enemy enter?” Ayla asked. She was not smiling now. Her voice was dead serious, and so was her expression. Hans raised his head a bit and looked her directly in the eye.

“Yes,” he said.

And that was all.

Now she knew the exact extent of his guilt and of his innocence. She knew of the crimes he had committed and of those he had not. There only remained one thing she had to find out. The most important thing of all.

“Leave us,” she said to the two guards. They looked startled, and then stared down at Hans.

“But Milady, the traitor…”

“He knows what awaits him if he touches me.” She fixed Hans with a determined look, though, truth be told, she herself had no idea what tortures Reuben had promised him for that eventuality. In spite of her insistent badgering, the stubborn man hadn't breathed a word about it, and it was annoying the heck out of her. “Don't you, Hans?”

“Yes, Milady.” He nodded, his face a shade paler.

“Very well. Leave us, I said.”

The guards hesitated for another moment, then strode towards the door.

“We'll be right outside if you need us,” one said, and then they closed the door behind them.

Ayla sat in her father's chair, regarding Hans for a long moment. Then she gathered her courage and asked the question that had slowly been killing her from inside.

“You think the castle is going to be taken? That our situation is hopeless?”

He didn’t ponder her question. He just nodded, slowly and gravely. “Yes.”

“How many of the other guards feel this way?”

“Many.”

“How many?”

“About a third of us, I would say.”

“And the rest?” Ayla's voice became slightly unsteady. Here, in the presence of this strange, detached traitor, her defenses broke down, her facade of strength collapsed like a house of cards. “Do they not see the giant army in front of our gates? Do they not hear the horns of war blowing and the clash of metal on metal? Why do they still hope for victory? Are they blind, deaf, and dumb? Just like me?”

“No.” Hans shook his head again. Hesitantly, he reached out and took one of her shaking hands in his. The touch of his rough, leathery hand felt oddly gentle, and Ayla relaxed a little. “No, they're not blind. They believe.”

Ayla laughed. “In what? In God? A miracle?”

“No.” Gently, Hans pressed her hand. “In you.”