“Are you all right?” Edouard’s voice seemed unnaturally loud, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.
His blue eyes blazed, a look that reminded her of the fiery torches. “Aye,” she whispered. “I am . . . fine.”
Edouard’s brows rose before he tipped his head toward his chains. “As well as we can be, strung up like puppets on strings.”
Kaine snorted, a dismayed sound.
“Edouard,” Juliana whispered, “I am sorry.”
A sad, wry smile tipped up his mouth. “Do not blame yourself.” Metal clinked as he tried to stretch sideways and catch her hand, but the bindings wouldn’t allow their limbs to touch. As he shifted back to his original position, his chains grated against the stone.
Do not blame yourself, he’d said in a kind voice. How could she not? Edouard was once again a captive; ’twas her fault they were imprisoned. Moreover, if Edouard hadn’t found her lying in the river and resolved to help her, he wouldn’t have ended up in the tower. He’d be free and far away from Waddesford’s danger.
“I do blame myself. I should have run for the postern the moment we stepped into the bailey.”
“Juliana,” Edouard said, more firmly.
“You know I am right.”
He shook his head. “If you had run, the men on the wall walk would have noticed you right away. You would have had little chance of escape.”
His defense of her actions heightened her sense of torment. “I still might have got through the postern.”
“The garrison, alerted to your escape attempt, would have sent riders to catch you.” Edouard’s eyes closed, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Nay, Juliana, the fault is mine. I should have been able to defeat Tye and rally the castle folk to my side. My father would have managed to do so.”
“Edouard!” Tears slipped from her eyes.
“I failed in my duties as my father’s heir. I failed . . . my sire.”
“Edouard,” Kaine cut in. “Do not say such.”
“You were fighting too many enemies at once,” she insisted. “Your father is a great warrior, but I doubt even he—”
“He would have succeeded.”
How she wanted to rail against that statement. Yet as she stared at Edouard’s taut profile, she sensed her words would go unheeded. His loyalty and sense of responsibility to his sire were too thoroughly ingrained.
In truth, though, she’d want no less than absolute allegiance from her lord’s son.
How gallant Edouard looked, emboldened by his belief in his father—a faith that stemmed from his noble family’s honorable right to rule these lands on behalf of the king.
Edouard might be chained once again, but he wasn’t broken or defeated. His conviction was a weapon all its own. It strengthened Edouard’s determination not to fail again. It fueled his hatred for those who stood in his way, and it inspired Juliana to stand with him.
When dawn came, she wouldn’t yield to Veronique. She’d fight back, with words, strength of will, and what she knew Veronique would want: the location of the bag of bones.
As though sensing her stare, Edouard glanced at her. Remorse filled his gaze. “Do not be afraid, Juliana. I promise you, I will get us out of here.”
In hushed tones, Kaine said, “Do you have an idea, Edouard, how to escape?”
“We shall ask for Azarel; she will help us. She can check Juliana’s wound and tend the slash on your leg,” Edouard said quietly. “Then—”
Kaine shook his head. “One of the guards already examined my injury. He told me I did not need to see the healer.”
“Cruel bastard,” Edouard muttered.
Juliana looked over at the guards, still engrossed in whatever they were discussing. “We could distract those men,” she suggested in a low voice. “Offer them a bribe, if they set us free.”
Edouard’s stare sharpened. “You are offering naught to those thugs. Not even the promise of a kiss.”
A flush heated her face. “I never intended to offer myself, but a reward, mayhap a share of the jewels when they are recovered.”
“Ah,” Edouard murmured. “The ones Mayda hid along with Landon’s ring?”
“Aye.” Thinking of Mayda brought a fresh tug of distress. Mayda had intended those riches to support Rosemary and Juliana for years. But if she were alive, she’d readily agree some should be bartered to win Juliana, Edouard, and Kaine’s freedom. Otherwise, Rosemary would never be found and raised as Mayda had asked of Juliana.
“A good idea,” Edouard said, his gaze shifting to the two men. “They may be too afraid of Veronique to consider a bribe, but we must try.”
As Juliana’s thoughts slipped back to Mayda’s frightened account of where she’d put the bag of jewels, she realized in her own way, she was honor-bound to the very same ideals as Edouard. She was the only one who knew where the wealth was hidden; her responsibility, to every living soul in Moydenshire, was to keep Landon’s ring from falling into the wrong hands.
If Juliana were to die before she could recover the jewels, what she knew would be lost forever. Landon’s ring might never be returned to de Lanceau. The riches would remain hidden, to be found, if not by Veronique, than mayhap by another of his lordship’s foes determined to stir up chaos. That must not come to pass.
Even as Edouard cleared his throat, likely about to address the guards, she caught his attention. “Listen,” she said softly. “In case aught should happen to me—”
“Juliana!” he growled. “Do not speak so.”
“You should know where the jewels are,” she rushed on in a whisper, “for your father’s sake. No one else must get hold of those riches. You will not find them unless you follow the steps I tell you.”
Regret flickered in Edouard’s eyes, but he said, “Go on.”
“When you enter the solar—”
The guards abruptly stopped talking.
Juliana pressed her lips together, holding back the rest of her sentence. Had the louts overheard her? Is that why they’d gone silent?
A sudden tension swept through the room. The men straightened. Hands on their sword hilts, expressions wary, they looked toward the confined passage that led down into the dungeon.
Muffled footfalls echoed, and then Veronique appeared, her silk gown rustling as it brushed the steps. Juliana’s breath caught as the older woman’s wicked gaze pinned her, then slid to Edouard and Kaine.
Her crimson lips parted on a gleeful cackle as she strolled in their direction. “Do I see concern in your eyes, stubborn, proud Edouard?” She winked. “I will. For I have the most astonishing news.”
***
Edouard smothered the bitter reply he longed to spit at Veronique. Provoking her wrath, especially when he stood shackled before her and prey to her perverse whims, would solve naught. And, if she thought he’d pose a problem for the guards, she might post more men in the dungeon, and make it even more difficult to escape.
Still, he held Veronique’s bold stare, even when she moved so near her rosewater scent brought a tickle to his throat. He indulged in a noisy cough.
She waited until he’d finished, then said, “You are not interested in what I will tell you?” Her tone resembled a smug purr. Clearly, her news benefited her, not him.
“I vow you will tell me anyway, whether I wish it or not.” He did his best to look bored.
Her painted smile widened. She reached into her cleavage to draw out a crumpled, rolled piece of parchment. Part of a broken wax seal showed beneath her thumb. He couldn’t quite see the impression in the seal, but when he tried to focus on it, she shoved the parchment in his face. “A reply from your loving father.”
Edouard scowled, hoping she sensed the full depth of his hatred for her.
“Shall I read it to you?” She shifted the parchment so it scraped against Edouard’s jaw. “I think his mighty lordship’s words will shock you. What a shame, for me to have to destroy your admirable sense of loyalty to him—”
“Stop
it!” Juliana cried, her chains rattling in protest.
Edouard jerked his face from Veronique’s touch. He wouldn’t submit to any more of her toying or heed her hateful words. Regrettably, however, Veronique didn’t move away. With a gloating laugh, she skimmed the document along the side of his neck to the front of his tunic, leaving a smarting trail across his skin.
“Take your hand,” Edouard growled, “away from my neck.”
“Tsk, tsk. If your chains were long enough,”—she fingered aside a sweaty length of his hair—“I vow you would try to strangle me, as you did Tye.”
“I would. Without hesitation.”
Veronique tittered. “How like Tye you are.”
“Never!”
“Indeed, you might come to hate your father as much as Tye does,” she said softly, “if you knew your sire’s answer.”
Edouard glared at her.
“There, now.” Her lustful gaze fell to his mouth. “Save that rage for your father. Because I fear, Edouard, you are all mine.”
“Really?” he ground out.
“Really.” She smiled in a way that left a cold knot in his chest. “My demands were simple. He was to grant all rights to his estates and riches to Tye, and recognize Tye as his heir, in exchange for your life. Your father, however, made it very clear in his missive. He does not intend to save you.”
Juliana’s chains clanked again. “Edouard, do not listen to her. She is trying to mislead you with her lies.”
“Am I, Juliana? You know what the missive says, then?”
“Read it to me,” Edouard said.
“How bluntly you ask.” Veronique ran her fingernail down the parchment. “I do understand, though, being the mother of an equally ambitious son. The anguish of your father’s abandonment is what renders your voice so . . . stark.”
“Juliana is right. You are lying. My father would never abandon me.”
“But he has cast you aside.” She shook her head. “Just as he abandoned Tye long ago, and all the years since then.”
Foreboding mingled with the hot fury churning inside Edouard. What did Veronique mean? No doubt she was trying to undermine his confidence, but he must hold on to his trust and faith in his sire; these would get him through this crisis.
“Read the missive to me.” Edouard couldn’t stop his tone from roughening.
Veronique laughed. “Beg me.”
The guards by the doorway chuckled.
“What?” Edouard choked out.
“You heard me.” Cruelty tightened Veronique’s features. “Beg me. Like the lost, rejected son you are.”
“Merciful God!” Juliana gasped.
Edouard ground his teeth. Veronique obviously wanted him to suffer, in all the ways in her control. To suffer, though, he had to acknowledge she’d conquered him. Hellfire. He wasn’t finished fighting her; he’d resist until the moment he died.
He met her gaze, focused all of his hatred into his stare. “I will not beg.”
“Is that so? Because—”
“Either read me the missive, or leave me be.”
A flash of anger, followed by grudging admiration, brightened Veronique’s eyes.
“If my father has indeed abandoned me, and I am to die your prisoner,” Edouard added with a snarl, “you might as well read me the letter. A last request, if you will.”
Veronique chuckled with genuine pleasure. “All right.” She unfurled the parchment, revealing several sparse lines scribed in black ink. “Veronique,” she read out in a mocking tone. “If the darkest hours of night never gave way to the light of dawn, my answer to your demands would remain the same: never.”
Shock coursed through Edouard. There was no doubt as to his sire’s refusal.
The answer, however, was oddly phrased. He almost didn’t dare to hope . . .
“Show me ’tis what it says,” Edouard said.
Veronique sighed as though losing patience with him. “You do not believe I can read?” She held the parchment up at an angle, close to his face. “Years ago, I could not read one word, but I learned. Lovers are good for a great many things.” She raised her brows. “Well, Edouard?”
He managed a terse nod. “It does, indeed, say such. ’Tis my father’s signature.”
“So, you see, I never lied to you this day. I spoke the truth.”
Edouard fought the eerie coldness washing through him. He sensed Juliana and Kaine’s concerned gazes upon him, but kept his attention firmly fixed upon Veronique. He couldn’t betray his suspicions about the missive. He didn’t dare.
Stepping away, Veronique rolled up the parchment with her misshapen hands. “I have given you much to think about. Thinking, by the way, is all I allow of you tonight. If you try and talk to one another in even the tiniest whisper, or speak to the guards”—she waved a hand at the two men—“they will silence you. I will not have you planning an escape.”
“You are a heartless bitch,” Edouard ground out.
Smirking, Veronique tapped the parchment against her palm. “Beware, Edouard. I no longer have any reason to keep you alive. Another reason why Juliana will give me all the details I want at dawn.”
A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
At the distant sound of a wooden door crashing against stone, Juliana’s head snapped up. She winced at the answering pain lancing down the back of her neck and through her shoulders, stiff from being held immobile by her chains. She could barely feel her hands. When she flexed her numb feet, a sleepy, pained groan welled in her throat.
“Easy,” Edouard whispered, beside her.
Juliana forced her weary eyes open. “I cannot believe I slept.”
“What else was there to do?” Kaine grumbled, rolling his shoulders as best as he could.
Juliana sighed, for Kaine was right. After Veronique had left the dungeon yesterday, Edouard had dared to address the guards. He’d tried to bribe them with a share of the hidden jewels, but without answering, they’d walked over to him and plowed their fists into his stomach. He’d collapsed in his chains, head bowed, gasping for breath, while she’d silently wept.
A draft of fresh air swirled down into the dungeon. Juliana watched the entrance stairs across from her. Dread brought a sickly sweat to her brow. Footsteps carried and, with the rattle of weapons and leather armor, the guards straightened. They stood tall, looking to where faint light touched the upper stairs: the light of dawn.
“Try to stay calm.” Edouard’s soothing tone reminded her of when they’d lain together to stay warm, before she’d recalled his and Nara’s betrothal. “Do not give in to your fear, Juliana. Veronique cannot know for certain that your memories have come back. She will try, though, to make you betray yourself and thus confirm her suspicions. You must keep pretending you do not remember. You must keep a clear mind.”
Juliana shuddered. “I . . . will.” She must stay focused. Good folk, mayhap even Edouard, would die this morning, unless she could successfully bargain with Veronique for the return of her ghastly bones.
“When the guards come to take you,” Edouard added, “do not fight them. Let them take us outside. We have a better chance of defeating them in the bailey, when we are not as well restrained.”
“All right.”
Veronique glided down into the dungeon. Tye and six armed mercenaries followed, but kept back a few steps.
Stay calm. Keep a clear mind, Juliana told herself.
Veronique’s merciless stare settled upon her. “Well? Will you tell me where the ring is hidden?”
“I do not remember.” Juliana trembled, hoping she revealed naught in her gaze.
Veronique’s lips twisted. “You are a poor liar, Juliana.”
“Nay!” Juliana choked. “I promise you.”
Veronique signaled to the mercenaries. A hard grin curved her mouth as she glanced at the approaching thugs, several carrying lengths of rope. “Bind them and take them up to the bailey.”
“What will happen there?�
� Juliana asked, unable to stop the words racing past her lips.
“What I told you would take place.” Veronique smiled. “The killing shall begin.”
“Until I yield?” Juliana said.
“Until I have the jewels, including Landon’s ring. How many lives will that be, Juliana?” Her cruel gaze raked over Edouard’s body. “Will I have to take his life?”
“Nay.” Juliana’s mind whirled. The bag of bones. She must try to barter with Veronique. “Wait!” she cried, but her plea was lost as the mercenaries closed in.
Men reached for her manacles, their groping hands running over her limbs. Panic made her head swim, threatening to cause her legs to fold, but she focused on the rhythm of her breathing. That she could control. As her wrists fell free of the bindings, her upper body sagged, weakened from the strain of being held upright so long. Slumping forward, she groaned.
More mercenaries hauled her up by her numb arms and then tied her hands in front of her, heedless of the welts on her wrists caused by the manacles. For the barest moment, her gaze locked with Edouard’s. The heat in his stare roused within her a tangled mix of sadness and hope, but then men stepped between them to bind his wrists, blocking her view.
As she concentrated on her breathing, she welcomed the roughness of the rope against her tender skin and the pinpricks of pain shooting through her arms. The sensations reminded her she was alive, and she’d fight to survive.
When the commotion began to clear, she searched for Veronique, but she was no longer in the dungeon; she’d left with the two dungeon guards. Edouard and Kaine, bound and escorted on either side by mercenaries, were hauled up the stairs to the bailey. Then the men at Juliana’s side pulled her toward the stairwell.
“You really will not yield?” Tye said, falling in behind her. “Why not, Juliana? You can save yourself much torment.”
“I do not remember,” Juliana cried, even as she was forced toward the daylight.
Watery sunlight touched her face. When she reached the bailey, she dragged in a grounding breath of clean air. Veronique couldn’t win. She mustn’t.
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