Twilight Magic by Shari Anton

and nearly brought forth tears. Sweet mercy, she’d been married this morn and nothing about the day was worthy of celebration.
    She put her bowl on the floor and picked up her ale. “You should finish that,” he said of the stew. “You will need your strength. Tomorrow will be a long day, no matter the weather.”
    Most likely. Except she was no longer hungry, and when she finished eating, Darian would expect her to retire and she would rather not. Her gown was finally drying, and the warmth of the hearth felt good.
    If she went to bed now, she would only reflect on what a wedding day should be like. Feasting. Dancing. Well-wishers. A marriage bed.
    Her vision of Darian wouldn’t come to pass tonight. He was in far too surly a mood for a glorious smile, and she was far too irritated with him to attempt to coax him into a less churlish state of mind.
    “How far do we go tomorrow?”
    “All the way to Hadone, which should take most of the day at ox pace. Weary of traveling already?”
    She bristled at his tone. He seemed to believe her weak and fastidious when she’d made a resolute effort to be neither.
    “I shall manage. I merely wish to know so I can prepare.” A continuance of this conversation would raise her ire. A change of subject was in order. “Have you any insight into who de Salis’s murderer might be?”
    He finally looked up at her, revealing anger and frustration. “Not as yet. What irks me is that the murderer might be someone I trusted. If one of the mercenaries has turned against me, I did not see signs of betrayal. I will solve the puzzle, however, and when I do, that person is going to feel the noose he tried to put around
my
neck.”
    Emma almost shuddered at his vehement certainty, glad she wasn’t the current target of Darian’s wrath.
    She remembered Julia’s warning that Darian could be dangerous. At the moment he certainly seemed capable of taking another man’s life. He was a mercenary, after all, a soldier whose business was war.
    But she’d known many soldiers in her lifetime, including her father and brother. Both had been capable of taking other men’s lives, but both had also been honorable, at times kindhearted men.
    Was Darian capable of compassion?
    Sweet mercy, she’d meddled at court because she’d once envisioned him wearing little more than a glorious smile, and her original dilemma returned to haunt her.
    Had she been wrong to interfere? They’d done naught but snap and snarl at each other since meeting. Right now, she couldn’t imagine him softening enough toward her to become her lover.
    By acting on no more than her vision, she might be guilty of changing his life’s path for the worse—a betrayal of sorts.
    At the moment Darian of Bruges didn’t strike her as a forgiving man.

Chapter Five
    T hey’d headed out at first light, and because the day was fine and the road dry and not crowded, Darian spotted Hadone at twilight.
    He marveled at the progress made since his last visit, nigh on two months ago. The masons had finished much of the thick outer wall built of Kentish ragstone. Only a portion of eastern wall of pike-tipped timber remained of the old palisade.
    The work progressed ahead of William’s expectations. Even now, during the supper hour, the sharp ring of chisel and hammer against stone echoed over the countryside.
    Darian doubted the masons worked so diligently out of pride or duty, but because Gar drove them hard. The steward of Hadone wasn’t above taking harsh measures when his needs weren’t met or wishes unfulfilled.
    Much like his overlord, William of Ypres.
    But where Earl William could show mercy, Darian knew Gar nearly incapable of compassion. Where William gave rewards to those who served him well, Gar considered the courtesy unnecessary, except when it came to himself.
    Naturally, the drawbridge over the deep ditch surrounding the castle—not yet filled with water—had been raised for the night. For a moment Darian considered