She dropped it with a clatter to the floor and took off running. The walls were so thick inside the cell that her footsteps were muffled the instant she was out of the short hallway. He stroked the damp hair off Fay’s brow, horrified she’d been in this cold, dirty place for so long. Finally, her eyes opened and she managed to grip his tunic.
“You found me,” she said, licking futilely at her cracked lips.
He had to get her back upstairs at once. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, not wanting to jostle a broken bone.
“Not hurt,” she whispered. “Hungry. Thirsty. Where am I?”
He carefully gathered her close to his chest and stood. “Grancourt Castle,” he said worriedly. “You’re home.”
She shook her head, wincing with the effort. “But why would I be held here?”
“What do you mean, my love? Didn’t you wander in here on your own?”
That perked her up and she pulled at his tunic, wanting to be set down. He feared she was too weak to stand so held on tighter.
“Someone hit me over the head and I woke up in there. Really, Tristan, put me down. I feel better now.”
She struggled in his arms and when he set her down, she stood with no trouble, not even a slight waver. It was a complete turnaround from the half-dead girl he saw lying on the cell floor only moments before. He looked around him, then at her, surprised to see the look of despair on her face. He had a queasy sensation and put his hand to his head to stop a bout of dizziness, something he’d never experienced before.
“What is this place?” he asked, taking in the rank odor and darkness.
She reached out and he looked down at the small hand that clutched his wrist in a desperate grasp. “Tristan,” she said, voice shrill. “Oh my God, do you know who I am?”
Chapter 33
Fay felt something happen. A shift, as if the earth moved, much the same as when she arrived and met Anne, saw Sir Walter for the first time. And only moments before she’d been so weak from hunger and dehydration she could barely draw breath to speak, but now she felt fine. Scared out of her wits, but fine.
She could tell Tristan felt something, too. He faltered after he put her down, grabbed his head as if he had a pain there. The blank look in his eyes made her grab his shoulders and try to shake him. He blinked down at her.
“Lady Fay,” he said, her heart sinking. “Of course I know who you are.”
“No,” she shrieked, falling to her knees. How had it happened? How had the curse possibly won?
He dropped to the ground beside her, taking her hands. “Fay,” he said, kissing her fingertips. “My Fay, you’re alive. We found you.”
She shook with relief and wrapped her arms around his neck. “It didn’t get you. The curse didn’t get you.” She stood, pulling him back up with her. “I thought for a second it was all over, but I guess I was wrong.”
He nodded, still looking slightly dazed. “There was a jabbing at my skull,” he told her. “I think it’s the smell of this place. But you must tell me what happened to you.”
“I thought I was kidnapped. I never dreamed I was here at Grancourt all along.” She gasped. “The wedding?”
“It was supposed to be yesterday,” he said gravely. He retrieved the candle that sat on the floor and put his hand under her elbow as they made their way up the dark stairs. “No matter, though. We’ll have it today instead.” His words were light and reassuring, but when she looked at him, his face was drawn with worry.
“How did you find me?” she asked, counting off the days in her head. “Why did it take five days?”
“We were searching outside, in the village and surrounding lands. We waited for a ransom demand that never came. You say someone hit you over the head?”
“Yes, and left me in there. No one brought me anything to eat or drink. I don’t know why I’m not dead.” Her voice broke, recalling those dark, cold hours she’d spent alone, all her hope slowly draining away.
“Because I wouldn’t allow such a thing,” he told her, pausing to hug her tightly to him. They’d reached the door back into the main level of the castle and he pulled it open wide for her to go through. She’d never been so happy to see a hallway as she was just then. “And Batty thought you might have gotten lost somewhere inside. It was Batty who saved you, really. And your reputation for being addlepated.”
She sighed, guessing she should be grateful. “And you believed her.”
“Only because I know the truth that you haven’t lived here all your life.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s find your father, if Marjorie hasn’t already. He’s been at his wit’s end these last days.”
“Oh, no,” she cried, pulling him toward Sir Walter’s throne room. “I don’t want him to worry another second.”
Tristan easily tugged her in the opposite direction. “They’ll be readying to continue the search for you outside,” he said. “Out front.”
As they hurried toward the bailey, she noticed right away that the air was warmer than when she’d first been thrown into the dungeon. In the doorway, she stopped dead, making Tristan turn and look at her questioningly.
“Are you too weak to continue? Let me carry you.” He stepped toward her but she held out her hand, gaping all around her.
“The snow,” she said, despair starting to take hold. “The snow is all gone.” There had been such high piles of it, there was no way it had all melted clean away in five days, no matter how the temperature may have risen.
“It hasn’t snowed in ages,” he said, then shook his head, the same befuddled look on his face once more. “I don’t think.”
The words from the book came back to taunt her. The weather cleared up, just like that. Everything was the same. She wordlessly pointed to the front gate. Several squires were hurrying to open it, and a group of men rode up. Tristan’s men.
“Why are they riding up?” she asked, an uncontrollable shaking coming over her when Tristan only looked blankly at them.
He didn’t answer. Perhaps he couldn’t answer right away, but he finally shook his head and said, “Brom is returning, that’s all. I sent him away to make sure everything was all right and now he’s returning.”
She took his hand and leaned against him in her relief. “I thought maybe …” she stopped, the words drying up in her throat, and she sank to the ground at the sight of Catherine at the far side of the bailey.
She couldn’t draw breath or tear her eyes away from Catherine’s huge belly. Darkness started to seize her, but the grip of Tristan’s hand on her arm brought her back. He crouched beside her, eyes full of worry.
“Catherine’s pregnant,” she managed to gasp.
He nodded his agreement and she could see he didn’t remember. Tears rolled down her cheeks. He looked at Catherine as if he didn’t know her at all, but she’d seen him speak to her many times. He’d held one of the babies once. Any moment, he was going to turn those oblivious eyes on her and she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
“Something’s wrong, really wrong. Catherine already had her babies.”
Tristan frowned. “That woman over there? Clearly she has not.”
“Why do you act like you’ve never seen her before?” Fay pleaded, barely able to speak through the tears. “And the babies. You held Robert once. I saw it. I thought it was sweet.”
He touched his head again, eyes clouded with pain. “Yes, I—I think so. I think I recall it now.”
“Do you know who I am?” she asked weakly, her voice barely a whimper. Her tears dried up, the despair was so great. Was this it? The beginning of the end? She stared at the men trotting up to the gates. Was this the day Sir Tristan first arrived? Was it to be the day she lost him?
He took her hands and whirled her to face him. “I know you,” he said forcefully. “You’re my Fay, my life. I love you. That much I’m sure of.”
She collapsed against him, full of grateful relief. He helped pull her to her feet and back into the castle, where he s
ettled her on the nearest bench. She gripped her hands tightly together to stop the shaking and concentrated on not throwing up. It was the only thing she was capable of concentrating on. Nothing made sense.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Everything’s wrong, but—”
“I still love you,” he said, tempering the harsh tone with a gentle smile. “I don’t understand either. But Fay, this—this curse. It must be evil to wreak such havoc. Please, let us leave here at once. We can send a message to your father when we’re sure we’re safe.”
She’d never seen such fear in his eyes before. If she’d had a scrap of courage left in her, it shriveled up at the look he now gave her. She stood and he jumped up as well, pulling her toward the stables.
“Let me get some things first,” she said, rubbing her hands over her filthy clothes. “I’ll only be a moment.” She wanted to grab the book and the gown as well, to make certain no one else got pulled in after she was gone. The curse was clearly a sore loser or things wouldn’t be so haywire. “You love me, I love you. That’s all that matters. I’m not going to be afraid anymore.”
“Are you forgetting someone tried to kill you?” he asked.
She had completely forgotten that. With the curse turning over to a fresh, nasty start, her weakness from being nearly starved to death in the dungeon had evaporated as if it had never happened. But that didn’t mean the person who’d done it had evaporated. Someone in the castle had wanted her out of the picture for some reason. It seemed awfully convenient that it had taken place so close to her wedding, the very thing that would have truly broken the curse once and for all. It made her head spin that someone in the castle might be protecting it. Did they know what they were doing or were they under some dark enchantment? Would they recall it now that everything was back to the beginning again? Whoever it was and whatever the circumstances, she wasn’t safe here.
Still, she had to at least get the dress to prevent it from ever getting placed back in its chest. She couldn’t allow anyone else to be brought here, even if she hadn’t been able to release the castle inhabitants from the curse. It broke her heart to think she was running out on them, but she couldn’t see any other way.
“I won’t take long,” she told him. “I have to, Tristan. You go out and see what’s going on with Brom, then get the horses ready. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead pulled her close for a kiss. It was full of reassurance and strength, and when he finally let her go, he looked deep into her eyes. She drank up the crystal clear blue and the obvious love she saw there.
“I love you, Fay Driscoll,” he said.
Before she could burst into tears all over again, albeit this time happy ones, she pressed another quick kiss to his cheek and tore off toward her chamber.
He loves me, he loves me, she kept repeating to herself.
No matter what was happening around her, that was the important thing. The curse hadn’t taken him from her. They were going to get out of there and get their happily ever after, and she was going to ensure no one else ever had to do this again by burning that dress the moment she was safely at Dernier Keep.
At the top of the stairs, Batty flew into her, stopping to look positively aghast at her appearance and probably her odor as well. She made flapping motions around Fay’s hair, shaking her head and tutting. It was clear Batty was upset with the way she looked, but didn’t seem relieved to see her after she’d been missing for five days. Which meant that Batty had also been affected.
“There you are,” Batty said, looking nervously behind her. Fay perked up, thinking perhaps she was wrong, but then Batty continued, “Your sister is beside herself. You’re supposed to be downstairs…”
Fay stopped hearing what Batty said when Anne appeared in the doorway, dressed in one of her finest gowns, her hair a mass of intricate braids and covered with a lace veil. Her hands went numb, goosebumps crawling up and down her arms like ants at the sight of her sister standing there scowling at her.
“Oh, Fay, look at you. Whatever did you get yourself into? You’re nowhere near ready to be seen by our guests.”
Fay burst into great heaving sobs of joy. She could only stand there and weep while Anne and Batty stared at her. Marjorie poked her head out at the commotion and grimaced at how awful Fay looked.
“Did you fall in the sewage pit?” she asked.
Anne shushed her and hurried forward, putting her arm around Fay. “It’s nothing to cry over, dear. Just get yourself cleaned up as quickly as you can. Batty, run downstairs and see if they’re even in the courtyard yet, will you? Then you can help Fay.”
Fay continued bawling, thinking she’d never hear Anne efficiently ordering everyone about again. She wiped at her tears, wanting to get a good look at her. She was alive and seemed as well as she ever was. Thin and pale as usual, but up and about. Fay started laughing like a madwoman and threw her arms around Anne, nearly toppling her over in her excitement. The curse hadn’t won at all, even though it had tried to unfairly reset itself. She had Tristan and Anne both.
She remembered that she was supposed to be grabbing a few things so she and Tristan could get away, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to flee, not if Anne was back. She saw Tristan’s concerned face and heard his rumbling voice reminding her someone had tried to kill her. Fay squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what to do. Anne shoved her toward her chamber, telling her to get washed as best she could as quickly as possible.
No matter what she decided, she had to destroy that dress. No one else would be its victim, though it seemed the people of the castle would have to continue on under the curse. Fay couldn’t for the life of her figure out why that was. Even though they hadn’t gotten married in time, their love was true, or else Tristan wouldn’t have remembered her. And Tristan did remember her, was waiting for her right now. She gave Anne a trembling smile and decided she had to choose Tristan. It would always be Tristan.
“I’ll get ready, Anne,” she lied, meaning to grab up the book and gown and hightail it out of the castle as soon as Tristan saddled their horses.
“Very well,” she said, and Fay tried to soak in every last moment with her, in case she wasn’t able to return. “Batty should be back to help you in a bit.”
She’d be long gone by the time Batty returned and that caused an ache in her heart as well. She wondered if Batty would ever get her chance with Brom. She hoped so and hoped she’d get to find out. With a last look through Anne’s door at Marjorie helping her on with her slippers, she turned away, shoving open her own door and slipping inside her chamber for the last time.
A young woman stood there, the book in her hand, the scroll unrolled on the desk next to her. Her hair was pulled back simply with a neon pink band and she was decked out in the richly-embroidered, jade wedding dress, the fine ivory sleeves slightly too long for her. Fay faltered in her steps, closing her eyes and reopening them, but the girl still stood there, her own terrified eyes about to pop out of her head.
“Oh no,” Fay said.
“Are you Fay Driscoll?” the girl asked, taking a tentative step forward.
Fay’s vision wavered and she tried desperately to stay on her feet. “How do you know that?” she demanded. “And how in the hell did you get here?”
The end.
Endearing (Knight Everlasting Book 1) Page 29
