Donovan's Woman

by Amanda Ashley

  Fear knotted in Gryff’s gut. He knew just what kind of persuasion the witch had in mind.

  * * *

  Marri glanced at her surroundings. Save for the chair she occupied, there was no furniture in the room. No carpets on the floor, no tapestries on the walls. No windows, only a single door. A thick iron bar hung from the ceiling. Brown stains marred the stone floor beneath it.

  She jumped when the door opened, felt her heart skip a beat when Gryff stepped into the room. Two burly guards followed close behind him. Wordlessly, they secured his hands to the iron bar, then left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Marri stared at Gryff. “What’s going on?”

  “Serepta’s going to ask you a few questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “She wants to know who you are.”

  Marri’s eyes widened.

  “Exactly. Faster than you can say ransom, she’ll be in touch with your brother.”

  Her face paled. “And he’ll kill me. But, what does that have to do with you?”

  Knowing it was useless, he tugged against his bonds. “She thinks you care for me…”

  “And that hurting you will make me tell her what she wants to know.”

  “Exactly. No matter what she does, don’t tell her the truth.”

  “But…”

  “She won’t kill me. Whatever she dishes out, I can take it.” He glanced at the door. “She’s coming.”

  Serepta entered the room, staff in hand. She smiled at Marri as she closed the door. “Well, well, here you are. I assume Gryff has told you why we’re here.”

  Marri nodded.

  “So, we can do this the easy way,” the witch purred, “or the hard way. The easy way is for you to tell me who you are. The hard way is for you to refuse, although not for you. He’ll be the one to suffer.”

  Marri looked at Gryff.

  He stared back at her, his face impassive.

  “My name is Cay. I was at Bosquetown on my way to Fennton when your guards kidnapped us.”

  Serepta sighed dramatically. Then, with a shake of her head, she murmured an incantation.

  Marri gasped as Gryff writhed in his bonds, his face contorted in agony, every muscle taut.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change your answer?” Serepta asked.

  From the corner of her eye, Marri saw Gryff shake his head, almost imperceptibly.

  Voice trembling, she repeated her former answer.

  A low groan rose from Gryff’s throat as tiny cuts opened across his chest, on his arms and legs. Bright red blood leaked from the wounds, dripping into the iron grate at his feet.

  “Last chance,” Serepta said.

  Marri bit down on her lip to keep from crying out as the cuts grew deeper, bled harder, faster, until his chest, arms and legs were covered with crimson. “I’m Marri of House Treymanne. My father is King Leonid of Brynn Tor.” She stared at Gryff. Breathing heavily, covered in blood and sweat, he sagged in his bonds, his dark eyes defiant.

  “Daughter of a king,” Serepta murmured. Eyes narrowed, she poked Gryff with her staff. “How did you come by such a prize?”

  “I met her at my place.” He drew a deep shuddering breath. “I didn’t know who she was.”

  Serepta lifted a skeptical brow. “What were you doing in Bosquetown? Where were you taking her?”

  Marri held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “A couple of thugs broke into my house looking to kill me. I figured you sent them, so I lit out.” He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t leave her behind so I brought her along. You know,” he said with a wicked leer. “For company.”

  “And you,” Serepta said, focusing her gaze on Marri. “What were you doing in Bosquetown?”

  “I was traveling to Fennton to…to visit a friend of the family who…who wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Dressed like a peasant?”

  “I often go out in disguise.”

  “Without bodyguards?” Serepta scoffed. “Without any protection at all?”

  “We were attacked on the road. My men were killed. I was lucky to get away with my life.”

  “Well, I’m sure your father will be more than happy to learn you’re alive and well. And grateful enough to offer a nice reward, I should think. Mayhap even to the half of his kingdom.” Serepta didn’t miss the frantic look the girl sent in Gryff’s direction, or the way his hands tightened on the bar overhead. Whatever the reason, it was obvious the girl wasn’t eager to return home. And just as obvious that Gryff knew it. And now, Serepta thought, so did she. “I’ll send word to your father in the morning, princess. Until then, we can’t have you languishing in the dungeon, can we? Come along, my dear.”

  With a last frantic glance at Gryff, Marri followed Serepta out of the room.

  Alone, Gryff gave voice to the pain lancing through him in a long, low groan. His body ached, inside and out, from head to foot.

  He lost track of how long he hung there, couldn’t stand on his own two feet when Serepta’s guards came to take him back to his cell. After dumping him inside, they locked the door. Swamped in pain and misery, he closed his eyes and let the darkness carry him away.

  * * *

  Marri hadn’t known what to expect when Serepta ushered her up the stairs and down a long, winding corridor lined with doors of different hues, all of which were closed.

  The witch paused at the last room on the left. “Make yourself at home,” she said, opening the door. “I’ll send one of the maids up with towels and a change of clothes.”

  With a nod, Marri stepped into the room. It was large and square, with a canopy bed, a white dresser, and a rocking chair. A large screen hid a bathtub that filled with hot water while she watched.

  Minutes later, one of the kitchen maids entered the room carrying several towels, a robe, and a number of dresses. She smiled uncertainly, obviously wondering what Marri had done to be promoted from maid to pampered guest as she placed the towels on the table and laid the dresses out on the bed.

  Marri nodded her thanks.

  “Will there be anything else?” the maid asked.

  “That will be all, thank you.”

  Dropping a proper curtsey, the maid left the room, closing the door behind her.

  After a moment’s indecision, Marri undressed and stepped into the tub. She couldn’t help feeling guilty as she sank down into the fragrant water. What right did she have to be surrounded by such luxury when Gryff was hurt, bleeding, all because of her?

  But it had been so long since she bathed, and the water felt so good…she consoled herself with the thought that refusing to enjoy the bath wouldn’t do anything to ease Gryff’s pain. If the situation were reversed, she would want him to enjoy whatever comforts the witch offered while he could. Rationalizing didn’t ease her guilt and she washed quickly, then stepped out of the tub.

  After drying her hair, she donned the robe. Too nervous to sit, she paced the floor. What would her father do when he learned his daughter was being held prisoner? Would he pay a ransom for her return? Was her father even alive, or, in his haste to secure the throne, had Artur killed their father as he had so callously killed their brothers?

  What would her life expectancy be if she returned to Brynn Tor?

  Worry as she might for her own life, she couldn’t stop thinking about Gryff. Had he been returned to his cell, or had Serepta left him in that dreadful room to bleed to death?

  She didn’t know how long she’d been pacing when the door opened and the same kitchen maid came in carrying a covered tray. She placed it on the table, scooped up Marri’s discarded clothing and left the room.

  Marri sat on the bed, her stomach growling as she lifted the cover, revealing a whole roast chicken, half a loaf of bread and several slices of cheese.

  Suddenly ravenous, she devoured half the chicken, most of the bread, and two slices of cheese. And then, again feeling guilty, she wrapped the leftovers in her napkin. She sat the
re a moment, gathering her courage, and then she tiptoed out of the room, hoping Serepta had returned Gryff to his cell. Hoping she could find her way there and back before the witch came looking for her.

  * * *

  Gryff stared at the ceiling, wondering how long he’d been out of it. Groaning, he turned onto his side. It took him a minute to realize that the guards had neglected to refasten the chain to his collar. His hands and feet were free. He grunted softly. If Serepta discovered their negligence, they would undoubtedly pay a heavy price.

  Serepta. He sat, cradling his head in his hands. His whole body ached, but he could live with the pain. Right now, he had to think of Marri. He had to get out of here, had to get Marri out of here. Once Serepta had collected whatever reward the king was willing to pay, Serepta would send her home. To her death.

  He tensed when he heard someone at the door; a moment later, Marri was standing outside his cell. “Damn, girl, what are you doing here?”

  Before she could answer, other footsteps sounded on the stairs. Eyes wide, she ducked out of sight around the corner moments before one of the guards came into view.

  “Seems like I forgot something.” The man shoved the key into lock, then opened the door.

  Gryff kept his expression blank as Marri tiptoed up behind the guard and hit him over the head with a length of wood she must have found in the corridor. He grinned as the guard dropped to the floor, face down. Grabbing the guard’s coat, he shrugged it on. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” Marri frowned at him. “Go where?”

  “Just follow me.”

  He led her away from the main entrance to a trapdoor that opened onto a wooden stairway that descended into a narrow, winding, pitch black corridor. She wrinkled her nose against the stink, clung to his hand as he guided them unerringly through the darkness.

  Just when she thought it would go on endlessly, she saw a ray of light. Minutes later, they were standing in what had once been a catch basin for the castle’s garderobes.

  She followed him up a set of stone steps, then around several buildings, each one further away from the castle, until they reached a tall, iron gate secured with a heavy lock.

  “Now what?” she asked, nervously glancing from side to side.

  “If luck is with us, we’re getting the hell out of here.”

  “And if it isn’t?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

  “We’ll be no worse off than we were before.” It all depended on the collar at his neck. Had the witch activated it so he couldn’t change shape?

  Marri stared at him, her brow creased with worry. Well, he couldn’t blame her. A lot was riding on what happened in the next few seconds.

  Muttering, “Here we go,” he willed himself to change into a giant.

  Marri stared at him as he grew taller, broader, until he stood higher than the top of the wall.

  Sending her a grin, he tore the gate from the wall and tossed it aside; then, to her further amazement, he transformed into a black stallion with a flowing mane and tail. When the animal went down on its knees, Marri scrambled onto its back.

  With a toss of its head, the horse gained its feet. Luck was with them.

  Clinging to the horse’s mane, Marri let out a whoop of exhilaration as they left the castle far behind.

  Chapter 15

  “Gone?” Serepta’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

  Avoiding the witch’s malevolent gaze, the guard knelt on the floor, trembling from head to foot.

  “Answer me!”

  “I…I forgot to attach the chain to his collar, majesty. As soon as I remembered, I hastened back to the dungeon…” He paused to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. “Someone hit me from behind. When I came to, he was gone.”

  “Someone. Hit. You.”

  “Yes, majesty.”

  “And you know not who that was?” Her voice dripped with venom.

  He shook his head, unable to force the words past the fear clogging his throat.

  “Could it have been the princess?”

  With a wordless cry, the guard prostrated himself on the floor at her feet. “I don’t know.”

  “I know!” She roared the words as she drove the tip of her staff into his back. Flames erupted on contact.

  The man screamed as green fire engulfed him, eating him alive until there was nothing left but a bit of ash on the floor.

  Awash with fury, Serepta paced the room. Where would they go? Not to Brynn Tor. So where?

  Hurrying to her room, she filled a bowl with water, added a few drops of his blood, taken from a small vial, then whispered an incantation as she waved her hand over the black water. She cursed when nothing appeared.

  “Where is he?” She shrieked the words, but the water remained black, opaque.

  How was it possible for him to block her magic? She should have been able to locate him, yet, once again, she had failed. Was it because he was a shape-shifter? If so, why did that give him the power to shield his whereabouts?

  Furious, she grabbed the bowl and hurled the contents against the wall.

  Returning to the Great Hall, she summoned her knights.

  “Find them,” she commanded. “Fail me, and your lives will be forfeit!”

  * * *

  Artur leaned forward, hands braced on his knees as he glared at Dunnin. “She wasn’t there? You’re certain?”

  “Yes, majesty.”

  “You spoke to Mother Superior?”

  “Yes, majesty. She swore to me that Marri has not been there.”

  “And you believed her?”

  Dunnin nodded. “I put a sword to the throat of one of the young nuns and told Mother Superior I would slit the girl’s throat unless she told me the truth.”

  Artur nodded. He had little regard for anyone but himself, but he respected those who took holy vows. It was the only reason Annis still lived.

  “Majesty?”

  Artur waved a dismissive hand. Where was she?

  Chapter 16

  Relishing the freedom, the speed and power of his horse-form, Gryff galloped tirelessly across the open desert. He could feel Serepta’s location spell pushing at the edges of his being, but, as it had the last time he escaped, his own power negated the spell. Had he been in his human form, he would have laughed aloud at the sheer pleasure of thwarting her. Hopefully, their paths would never cross again.

  He ran all that afternoon and into the night, pausing only twice to let Marri rest. She needed nourishment and soon.

  Gryff slowed as a village loomed ahead. Veering into the cover of a stand of timber, he went down on one knee. After Marri dismounted, he quickly resumed his human form.

  His gaze moved over her. “Are you all right?”

  “A little tired, that’s all. Why did we stop?” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think we should go on.”

  “In a bit.” Rising, he brushed the dirt from his trousers. “I’m going ahead to have a look around. I won’t be long.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Stay here.”

  She stared up at him, lips slightly parted. She was so beautiful, her hair like a golden nimbus around her face, her eyes as deep and clear as the rivers of Tarnn.

  “Marri.” Unable to help himself, he drew her toward him, bent his head, and claimed her lips with his. He hadn’t meant to care for her, hadn’t wanted to get involved in her life, or involve her in his. Now, he couldn’t imagine his future without her. And yet, what chance did they have? He had no security, no home, nothing to offer her except a life on the run…

  Lifting his head, he smiled down at her. She was on the run, too. Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

  “Stay out of sight,” he admonished. “And keep quiet.”

  Giving her one last kiss, he shifted into a large dog and trotted toward the village.

  * * *

  Marri watched Gryff until he was out of sight. What a strange man he was, able to turn into so many different c
reatures. What was it like, to shift at will? To be a giant one minute and a horse the next? When he was a hellhound, did he think like one? When he was the wolf, did he hunt for prey? The thought made her shudder with revulsion.

  Was Serepta looking for them, even now? Had the witch notified her father? If so, would Artur come looking for her? She shook her head. Artur or Serepta? Not a happy choice.

  She paced between two tall trees, aware of time passing, of night falling.

  Where was Gryff?

  * * *

  There were a lot of dogs in the village. No one paid any attention to another stray.

  Gryff scouted the backyards in the area until he found what he was looking for. Resuming his own shape, he stuffed the pilfered clothing into an old sack he found in one of the yards. When that was done, he wandered through the small marketplace, lifting a couple slices of dried meat which he added to his bag, along with several slices of cheese, two bottles of ale, and a loaf of bread.

  Slipping into the shadows, he shifted into a dog again, picked up the sack with his teeth, and trotted back to where he’d left Marri.

  He found her sitting under a tree, a worried expression creasing her brow.

  He dropped the sack at her feet, then resumed his own form.

  Marri frowned at him. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure?”

  “When you change from the wolf to your own form, you’re…you know…usually naked. But when you changed from the horse, you were clothed.”

  He grunted softly. “Force of habit, I guess. The wolf is who I am. I never think about clothes when I change back and forth. I generally become the wolf late at night, come home in the dark, and go to bed. Changing from the horse and the giant…with you there…” He shrugged. “Clothes seemed like a good choice under the circumstances.”

  “But how do you do it?”

  “I guess you could call it shape-shifter magic.”

  “You have magic?”

  He shrugged. “Not much.”

  She nodded, her expression thoughtful, then gestured at the sack. “What’s in there?”

  “Food. A change of clothes for you.”

  Peering into the sack, she found a man’s shirt, pants, and a hat. Lifting them out, she looked at him askance. “These are for me?”