Devil eyes, were the whispers.
Jax’s sons had all inherited it to a certain degree, including Cole. He had his mother’s golden-brown eyes, but they were encircled with a bright green ring. His brother, Julian, had their father’s eyes almost exactly, and Cassian, their youngest brother, had it also but it was far less pronounced. Two of the three girls had avoided that trait, but the youngest one, Addington, had a fascinating mix of the muddy-brown and the green, evenly patterned in both eyes.
They were eyes that defined the de Velt family.
And it was the eyes of Jax himself that were pondering the distant encampment and his son’s question.
“I will be with our captive,” he said after a moment. “Find me there.”
Cole and Addax nodded, heading off towards the smoking fortress, leaving Atreus to oversee the dissolution of the Scots army as Jax headed back to the encampment. It was tucked back in the same small forest that gave up its small, younger trees so Jax’s army could make pikes. As he approached, he could see one corner of the forest that had been stripped, with the foliage mashed. Men were still pulling saplings out of the undergrowth and several of them were turning the ends into sharp points with great axes.
Just like old times.
Several tents had already been erected in the encampment, including a tent that housed the wounded. Though the battle hadn’t been particularly fierce, there were the inevitable wounded in the tent, men being tended to by a surgeon who had come to Jax through his liege, de Vesci. Piers Michelson used to be a knight for de Vesci many years ago, but he’d found his calling in tending the wounded and healing the sick. He could see Piers, his gray hair pulled back to the nape of his neck, bent over a man who had damaged an eye. But that glimpse was fleeting as he entered his own tent.
The first thing he saw was Essien.
Tall and broad-shouldered, Essien immediately bolted to his feet when Jax entered.
“My lord,” he said. “Your prisoner is secure.”
Jax’s gaze lingered on the young man. “Thanks to you, I am told,” he said. “Excellent work, Essien.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Jax genuinely liked the young knight who had seen so much, and suffered through so much, even at his young age. It had only made him stronger. Jax wasn’t usually sympathetic to younger knights, mostly because they looked at him as something either to be feared or challenged, but Essien showed him nothing but respect.
He received that in return.
“It was most fortunate when my old friend d’Acoz sent you to my service,” he said. “Of course, he mentioned something about a compromised young woman and an irate father, and sending you to safety in England, but it was nonetheless a fortuitous happening for me. I do not regret it.”
Essien struggled not to grin, a faint blush coming to his smooth cheeks. “Nor I, my lord.”
Jax fought off a grin at the randy young knight and the real reason he and his brother had come to England, but he was all business as he turned to Alpin, still trussed up on a pole. His expression darkened as he went to stand in front of the man, looking him over.
The tension in the air bloomed, becoming heavy and uncomfortable. Fear was there as well because when dealing with The Dark Lord, there was no telling what the man would do. More than any knight in England, Jax de Velt was a man to be feared because of his past deeds, deeds he was more than willing to resurrect should the need arise.
“You are Alpin Canmore?” he finally asked.
Alpin jumped at the sound of his voice, filled with fear that the enormous warrior with two-colored eyes was addressing him.
“I am,” he said, his voice quivering. “Who are ye?”
Jax was looking at him with intense scrutiny. “I am de Velt,” he said. “Fountainhall Castle has been destroyed and, by all rights, belongs to me. You are now my prisoner. Do you understand this?”
Alpin swallowed hard. He’d just heard the confirmation of his worst nightmare. “I do,” he said. “The man I knew as MacEacharn now tells me his name is de Velt.”
Jax nodded. “He is,” he said. “He is my son. He infiltrated your royal court. If you do not understand what that means, it means that he was spying on you and your king. Do you understand that I have the power of life and death over you, Canmore?”
Alpin was struggling not to give in to his utter terror. “What do ye want with me?” he demanded. “I’ve no’ done anything tae ye. I’ve never attacked yer lands or yer kin. Why did ye do this tae me?”
Jax glanced at Essien, tilting his head towards the tent entry and silently inviting the man to leave. Essien took the hint and quickly vacated. When he was gone, Jax pulled up a sturdy three-legged stool and planted his bulk on it. He focused on Alpin, who was shivering and bound.
“Because you are part of a plot against me,” he said after a moment. “Do not deny it, for I know it to be true. You are part of your king’s plot with the Earls of Orkney to try and regain Northumberland. Now, I do not fault you your greed or ambition. If anyone understands that, it is I. However, your greed and ambition put my land and my family at risk. This, I cannot allow. Do you understand me so far?”
Alpin was staring at him. More like glaring at him. “I’ve no’ plotted against ye, de Velt.”
Jax’s dark eyebrows lifted. “But you were part of those gatherings,” he said. “The gatherings where the scheme to control Northumberland was planned in secret. You were witnessed there, so you cannot deny it. It would be a lie and I do not tolerate liars.”
Alpin’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before looking away. “Ye do what ye must tae keep yer country safe and strong,” he said. “So do I.”
“That is reasonable,” Jax said. “But I was told that your plans included sweeping east to Coldstream and the bridge. ’Tis the easiest way into England unless you choose to go through Gretna. Now, there are a dozen other smaller bridges across the River Tweed, but in order for your armies to flood into England from Coldstream, you would have to pass through my lands. Would you bypass my castles when you did so?”
Alpin knew the answer to that question. He still wouldn’t look at Jax.
“Ye’re Sassenach upon Scot lands,” he said. “Ye dinna belong here.”
“Mayhap not, but they are mine nonetheless,” Jax said. “It would be much easier if we knew the details of William the Lion’s invasion plans, Canmore. We would be better able to protect ourselves. When does he expect to execute his intentions?”
The conversation, in truth, was a little strange. Jax was speaking almost pleasantly, as if this were nothing more than a light discourse. But Alpin wasn’t fooled.
“I canna help ye,” he muttered.
“That’s odd,” Jax said. “Because you are the one who has been sending missives to Alastor de Bourne, asking him to join the Scots rebellion. As descendants from the Kings of Northumbria, I believe you told him that it was his duty to rebel against the Normans who took his kingdom away. Do not look so surprised; I know everything. As do many other people. Your missives are no secret.”
Alpin did look surprised because he was. He’d been sending them for months now, but he hadn’t received any reply. Now, he evidently had that reply.