She saw the torches on the wall first, followed by an opening up ahead. This was it. She paused a moment, steeling her courage. It was now or never. She threw her torch on the ground and used her foot to stomp out the flame. She would need to relight the torch for her journey back, so she placed it against the wall in what she hoped was an inconspicuous place. Then, before she could change her mind, she continued walking.
Movement caught her attention, and she jumped back, pressing herself into the wall. Footsteps! Men’s voices! The guards! She looked around frantically for a place to hide and saw an offshoot of another tunnel to the left of the dungeon entrance. Not knowing what else to do, she ran for it and lunged in. Her foot got caught on the hem of her frock and she tripped, breaking the fall with the palms of her hands. She let out a slight moan.
The footsteps halted.
“Did ye hear that?” The guard sounded cautious.
“Nay. What was it?”
“Shh, listen.”
Cinderella held her breath.
“It sounded like a child … or woman.”
Deep laughter. “No women down here, my brother. Only men and vermin. Stinky, smelly men. I do not know how the vermin can stand them.” More laughter.
What if they came this way? Should she try and outrun them? But where would this tunnel lead? Footsteps again. She strained to listen. They were growing fainter. She uttered a prayer of relief when she realized the footsteps were fading away. She had to hurry! Seraphina wasn’t sure how much time she would have in between the change of guards.
Her hands were stinging from the fall. She stood and rubbed them on the coarse fabric of her plain, black frock. She’d worn plain clothes on purpose. Hoping that if anyone saw her, they would think she was a servant. Simple hair, ragged cloak, eyes downcast. For so many years, this had been who she was—a servant in Seraphina’s home. It was startling to realize how much more at ease she felt in these humble clothes than she did in the elegant silk gowns with their rich colors and intricately woven beadwork. Maybe she was destined to remain a servant. She shrugged off the thought and focused on the task at hand.
She nearly cried when she saw the closed wooden doors, blocking the entrance of the dungeon—solid and imposing with their handles made of iron. How did Seraphina miss this crucial part of the plan? If they were locked, she’d never get in, and all of the trouble they went to would be wasted. She grasped one of the handles with both hands and pulled. Nothing. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she pulled with all of her might, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried the other door next. Took both hands and pulled. It moved. She exerted all of her strength and was able to open it enough to scamper through. Once inside, she looked around the open room with the dirt floor and wooden beams at the top. There were two chairs and a table in one corner. On the other, a solitary bed made of straw. The dampness seeped through her thin frock and cloak, sending chills up her arms. Movement caught her attention, and she whirled around. A rodent was scampering up the wall. Relief flooded her, making her knees go weak, but she shuddered in disgust at the same time. There was a narrow tunnel off to one side. That had to be where they were keeping him. She started walking in that direction. The tunnel opened up to a large room. She saw him, sitting in a crouched position, his hands and feet shackled to the wall.
“Rushton!” she whispered, running to him. He looked up, and she stopped in her tracks, momentarily confused. It wasn’t Rushton but someone else near the same age. He pushed his stringy hair out of his eyes, looked up, and smiled. “Well, well as I live and breathe … Me thinks the angels have taken pity on me and sent one of their own to bind up my wounds and comfort me with food, I hope, and …” His eyes traipsed over her … “blessed company. Thou art sweeter than the plumpest berry, mi’ lady, and I welcome ye to my humble abode.”
Her eyes went wide. Any self-respecting maiden would have slapped him for his impropriety, but the ridiculousness of the situation struck her as funny. Here he was, filthy and chained to a wall, and he was going on about angels and her sweetness. She chuckled despite herself. “Who are you?”
“Why, I thought ye would have heard. The whole kingdom knows who I am.”
She took a closer look.
“Jack,” he announced, straightening himself up. “Humble Jack Swift of Landerburg Township.”
From the way he said it, he obviously thought that would explain everything. “Sorry, I am not acquainted with thee.”
He looked disappointed. “I am the cuckold who trusted the old hag. ‘Plant the beans,’ she told me. ‘Plant the beans, and ye will be a hero—rich beyond thy wildest dreams.’” He let out a humorless laugh and held up a shackled wrist for her to see. “She neglected to tell me about the giant.”
Realization dawned. “Oh, you are he who loosed the giant. Jack the Coward.”
He beat his fist on his leg, causing his chains to rattle. “Those liver-bellied, snake-eyed, dogs cannot get their story straight. I was not afraid!” He looked her in the eye. “I am not a coward.”
Time was trickling away. “Jack,” she said urgently. “I am looking for someone. His name is Rushton, and he was brought here a week ago. I don’t have much time before the guards return. I need to speak with him.”
He laughed. “Alas, you are not an angel, sent here to keep me company.” His eyes met hers. “Pity.”
“Please, I need thy help.”
“What did ye say his name was?”
“Rushton.”
He paused, his eyebrows knitted in concentration. “Sorry, I do not know him.”
“But you must! He was brought here!”
He eyed her slyly. “Got any ale?”
“Nay, but I have gold coins.”
Interest flashed in his sharp eyes, and she could tell that she had finally caught his attention. “Is this Rushton about my age with dark hair?”
“Aye,” she said eagerly. “Aye!”
“Now that I think of it, I do seem to remember seeing someone who looks like that …” He paused. “How many gold coins did ye say ye have?”
She reached into her frock and pulled out the bag of coins.
“Cinderella!”
“Rushton!” She turned and saw him, standing in a separate room and craning his head to look through a small square opening. In that one word, she heard the heart-wrenching mixture of hope and anguish in the timbre of his voice. She moved to get to him.
“Nay, mi lady, do not flee, for we were only just now getting acquainted.” Jack caught hold of her frock and pulled her toward him. The sudden movement caught her off guard, and she fell directly on top of him.
She twisted free from his grasp, stood, and jumped back, beating him. “Remove thy hand, filthy knave! You knew Rushton was in the other room. You tricked me!”
Her outburst seemed to amuse him. He flashed a quick smile. “Can’t blame a lad for trying.”
“I will kill you,” Rushton yelled. “If you touch her again, so help me, I swear before the almighty king and the throne that I will shred thee to pieces and make thee food for wolves!” He beat the wall with the palm of his hand.
Jack started laughing, a loud, raucous sound that echoed off the stone. “The noble squire comes to the aid of the princess. Forgive me, sire, if I am not shaking in my boots, but seeing as how ye are shackled to the wall, I don’t see how ye are in a position to be handing out threats.”
Cinderella gasped. He had called her princess. “How do you know who I am?”
He gave her a shrewd look. “I may be chained to a wall, but I am neither deaf nor dumb.”
“The latter part is debatable,” Rushton piped in.
“What do you mean?” Cinderella said.
“What I mean, plum tart, is that the entire kingdom is ablaze, talking about how the peasant princess stole the heart of the crown prince. Hair like the sun, eyes like the sky. Even the moon is envious of you, they say.” Jack made a point of looking her up and down. “I suppose ye are passably attractive in an
ordinary fashion … if ye are into that sort of thing.”
Her face flamed. It was bad enough that she was standing here, having a conversation with this slovenly fool but to think … the people were calling her the peasant princess when she did not want to marry the prince to begin with. She had a primal urge to grab the knave by his skinny neck and squeeze until his head popped off. The urge left as quickly as it came. Enough of her time had been wasted on this scoundrel already. She gave him a hateful scowl, hoping it would convey that she considered him lower than the rodents scrambling up the wall, before dismissing him altogether. Cinderella turned and went to the small opening where Rushton was holding out his arms to her. She clasped her hands around his, shackles and all.
“You are,” he said, wonderment in his voice. “I cannot believe it, for I feared that I would never lay eyes on thee again.” Moisture formed in his eyes. “‘Tis what I prayed for, my love, to look upon thy face once more.” He touched a strand of her hair.
His face was gaunt and bruised, and there were dark circles under his eyes, fathomless caves reflected in a deep pool of water. She looked into those vivid blue eyes, searching for the fierceness she knew so well—the essence of who Rushton was. The man that, on the night they were captured, would have single-handedly waged war on the king’s guards had she not asked him to surrender. Panic fluttered in her breast. Had they beaten the fight out of him? Had they finally won? No one, perhaps not even Rushton, could remain strong in this dark, dank dungeon.
Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Rushton, what have they done to thee?”
She saw it then. The heartache. The pain. The torture he must have endured. He looked away, not wanting her to see more. But she reached and gently turned his head so that it was facing hers. “I am so very sorry.” She rested her forehead against his.
He nodded. “Me too. ‘Tis my fault. I should have never sent you that letter asking you to meet me.” His voice broke. “If only I had possessed the strength to let thee go.”
“I know,” she murmured, “I know.”
He pulled back, studying her as if he were trying to memorize her face. “We haven’t much time, the guards will be returning soon.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, halfway expecting the guards to be standing behind her. She had gotten so caught up in seeing Rushton that she had momentarily forgotten why she was here. Her carefully prepared words were stone on her tongue, too heavy to speak. She looked into his eyes, drinking in the memories—everything they had together. A part of her was dying in this dungeon. Dying here with Rushton. She saw her life stretching on without him, empty and cold.
“What is it?” he said gently. “I prithee. Tell me.”
“Seraphina and Queen Loreena found the vial. They are saying that you cast a love spell over me. That the spell was so powerful I was compelled to leave the castle that night and meet thee in the forest.”
He looked stunned. “What? That is ridiculous!”
She paused, knowing how deeply the next part would cut. “They are saying that Wisteria masterminded the plan and concocted the spell.”
A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “They do not want to involve my mother in this! Heaven help the fools that are ignorant enough to tangle with her.”
“I know, this whole thing is absurd, but ‘tis like I tried to explain to thee in the forest. Seraphina’s debts are being called in, and she fears that if I do not marry Edward then she will lose the manor, the land, everything my father worked and died for.” She detested how the words sounded in her ears. Detested how she felt. Detested that she was even considering going along with this foolish plan in order to save herself and what semblance of a family she had left. What must Rushton think of her?
“I see.” He paused, studying her. “What else?”
She shook her head, unwilling to say more.
“What else did she tell you?” There was a hard edge to his voice, making her wonder how she could have ever thought he was defeated. He grabbed her wrist. “I demand that you tell me!”
“She wants me to agree to her plan.” The words started spilling out like grain tumbling from a sack, and she couldn’t hold them back. “She says that you are going to die anyway and that my standing by thy side will not change anything. Except that we will both die.” Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.
“I understand,” he said, letting go of her wrist. “I suppose this is goodbye then.”
She searched his eyes, but any trace of his feelings was closed from her. Dark pools, impossible to read. He backed away. A sob tore from her throat. All of her love, everything that mattered was dying right here and now. What did it matter if Seraphina kept the manor and lands? Was she supposed to spend a life pretending that she loved Edward? Was she supposed to forget the one person that mattered? “I will not do it,” she cried. “I will not stand by and let you die without me.”
Rushton’s eyes met hers. “What are you saying?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I am saying that I love you. I am saying it out loud for everyone to hear. I have loved you since I was a child. My every thought and hope is for thee, my love.” She gave him a tender look. “I am only sorry that I did not possess the strength to say it earlier. If I had gone with thee immediately, we would be out of the kingdom and living together happily.”
“Well, I thank ye much for clarifying that,” Jack quipped.
Both Rushton and Cinderella ignored him. A single tear rolled down Rushton’s face, and he gave her a slight smile. “‘Tis all I needed to hear.”
A feeling of warmth went through her, and she knew in that moment that regardless of what happened, she had been true to her heart. She had been true to Rushton and nothing else mattered.
He stepped up to the opening and took her face in his hands. His lips came down on hers, hard and passionate, as if he were trying to roll a lifetime into one kiss. Everything seemed to slow, and she marveled at the taste of him, his tongue caressing hers, the feel of his rough hands on her face and neck. She caught a glimpse of the meadow where they had shared their first kiss. Saw the sun setting fiery and red in the afternoon sky. Perhaps the moments they had already shared together were enough to make up for the lifetime of ones they would not have. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You must go.”
“Nay! I told thee, I will stand by thy side—no matter what the consequences.”
He gave her an odd smile. “My mother’s spell was better than I thought.”
“What?”
“I did not realize it would last this long.”
She was hearing the words, but her mind refused to process the meaning. “Nay.” She shook her head. “Nay! I do not believe thee.”
He shrugged. “You said it yourself in the forest, that I have this unexplainable pull over you. I compelled you to meet me that evening.”
Doubt clouded over her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Maybe I never thought it would go this far. When I returned and found that you were engaged, I lost all reason. I resented that you would rush off to get engaged to my closest friend.” His expression became calculating. “When you received the letter, did you not feel an irresistible urge to comply with my request—despite the consequences?”
“Aye, but—”
“You were powerless to resist. I was angry, Cinderella. I wanted thee for myself, and I was using every means at my disposal to win thee back.”
Bewilderment covered her. “Are you saying that everything I am feeling—this confusion, this heartache—is because of a spell?”
“I am sorry, I never meant for it to go this far.”
Her hands began to shake, and she clasped them together to make them stop. “Why are you saying such cruel things? I opened my heart to thee! I am willing to die with thee!” Tears began streaming down her face. She looked at him, willing him to tell her the truth. “Tell me you love me!”
His expression was hard as flint. “I am sorry.”
&
nbsp; She thought of when they had first met, all of the time they spent together. It was real—more real than anything else she had known. She jutted out her chin. “Nay! You are lying! You never cast a spell on me! What we have is real! I know it as surely as I know that I am standing before thee.”
His head shot up, and she thought she caught a glimpse of something—anguish, despair? It was gone in a flash, replaced by a hard exterior that she could never break through. “I demand that you leave. Now!”
“Nay!”
“I said, get out of my sight!” he yelled through gritted teeth.
She rocked back, not sure what to do.
His eyes met hers, and she was shocked at the hatred burning in them. “Do you actually believe that I would want you after you chose Edward? I am the one that helped you first get to the castle. ‘Twas me to whom you owed thine allegiance. ‘Twas my heart you held in thy hand. And the moment you caught Edward’s eye, you tossed me to the side like a heap of smelly refuse. You are an opportunist, just as my mother said. She warned me, but I would not hearken unto her words. I was a fool! A silly naïve fool who fell in love with the wrong maiden. When I think of the two of you together, hands interlocked, his lips on yours. It makes me ill! You disgust me!”
She put a shaky hand to her mouth to stay the gasp. “Rushton, I prithee. Cease this false talk. Do not do this, Rushton. Do not do this to us! Thy mother tricked me into getting engaged to Edward. You admitted as much in the forest. Why are you denying it now?”
He picked up a wooden bowl from the ground and threw it against the wall where it splintered in two. “GET OUT! Get out, or so help me, I’ll wrap these chains around thy treacherous neck! I hope to never lay eyes on thy foul face again!”
Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws Page 13
