Demon Angel

you hear the songs of the troubadour, the tales of the beautiful maidens and their loyal knights? Don't you think she spun you into her dreams? What is that popular one? About the knight in the cart who abases himself for love of a married lady? Who saves her by crossing a bridge of swords? Who bleeds when he breaks through the bars of her bedchamber to have her?"
    "Nay," he managed. "She knows her duty."
    "Aye, duty. Her mind does, but does her heart?" Her gaze pierced him. "And what of yours? If a tournament were held tomorrow, and she asked you to do your worst and to wear her favor, would you?" Her voice lowered further, and he strained to hear her, though part of him rebelled against her words. "No one would think anything of it; her husband would not fight, for he is too aged, and it would seem natural for her to pick you in his stead. But the two of you would know the significance behind such a choice. If she asked, would you lower yourself before her to prove your devotion, like the knight in the cart? Would you give your life, your good name, and your soul for the adoration of a woman who will never be yours, and who, within ten years, will have lost the innocence you so cherish in her?"
    "My life, my good name—aye," he breathed, and it was as if she had pulled that exhalation from him. "But not my soul. She would not ask for it."
    "She asks for it with each longing glance she fails to hide," Lilith said.
    "And what do you ask? With your wicked words and your suggestions? What is it you want from me?"
    She held his eyes over the rim of her cup. "The same as Isabel."
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CHAPTER 3
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    Even in the dead of night, the castle never quieted; always a noise intruded, from human and animal. Lilith lay between the daughter of the Chelmsford sheriff and Colchester's youngest sister, staring at the ceiling and counting lines of wood grain until she thought she might go mad from it. She could hear Isabel's snores, and she grinned into the darkness, thinking of Hugh. The baron's breathing was low and deep, though an hour ago he had been straining and grunting over Isabel, punctuating his groans with murmurs of love and devotion.
    Love . A human weakness, easily confused with lust. And when it was true and fierce, as Robert's love for his wife was fierce, its strength was the perfect tool for destruction.
    She should have been taking this opportunity to enter his dreams, as she had the past few weeks, planting suggestions of Isabel's betrayal. Should have been sending erotic images of the young knight to the countess. Should have sought out Hugh's mind, suggested ambition and adultery.
    But she did not.
    The Chelmsford girl rolled in her sleep, pressing against Lilith's breasts. With a shove, Lilith pushed her off the pallet, biting her lips against a laugh when she heard the thump. She regretted it when she was forced to close her eyes and feign sleep as the girl crawled back into the bed and snuggled against her side, shivering, and she waited interminably for her to fall back into slumber.
    It was intolerable, having to live among them, pretending to sleep and eat when the food was tasteless, sleep impossible, and dreams far from her. She ached with boredom, reduced to staving it off with petty pleasures. Certainly, it had been relieved for a few moments during supper with Hugh, but now it fell upon her again like a hair shirt, itching and scratching until she thought she might scream from inactivity.
    Finally, unable to bear it a moment longer, she slipped from the bed.
    The floor was freezing beneath her bare feet, but she paid no attention, focusing on the sounds outside the castle. Mandeville had assigned Hugh to castle guard, and she doubted the seneschal would have given him a cozy spot within the keep or the newly built garrison at the front gate.
    She stepped silently through the hall, avoiding the benches topped with sleeping knights and servants. A couple rutted in the shadows of the spiral stairwell, and she gave them barely a glance as she passed them.
    The curtain wall surrounding the inner bailey still held evidence of John's siege; though d'Aulnoy had begun repairs and added fortifications, the masonry was patterned with jagged holes and uneven pilings. A half-moon shed pale light across the scene, though she did not need it to illuminate her way. She waited a moment, sniffing the air, until a thread of scent led her to the tower that joined the south and west walls. She climbed the