by Shari Cross
“Then they’ll come, too. We’ll all leave tonight.”
My entire body aches with desire at the thought, but it would never work. His hopeful expression breaks my heart. “No. It would take too long. You would never be able to get away in time if you had all of us with you. Charles and his men would find us and we would all be punished or killed.”
He opens his mouth to respond, trying to find an argument, but he knows I’m right. His gaze falls to the bed and he pulls his hands from my grasp. “How can you ask me to leave you?” The anxiety in his voice is palpable, branding a searing pain on my heart.
“Because it’s our only option. You can still help me, Drake. You can get to the King first and tell him everything I told you about what the Berrengers have done to me and to the Hunts. By the time Charles and I arrive, King Theoderic will be ready to detain him. Then I will tell the King what I’ve witnessed. He’ll have to arrest them.”
He turns his back to me, his head dropping into his hands. I place my hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “We can’t fight against Charles here, Drake. He has too much power. We need King Theoderic on our side. It’s our only chance.” I’m not sure this plan will work, but it’s something to hope for. Besides, the only way I’m going to be able to convince him to leave me is if he honestly believes that it’s the only way to save me.
“I can’t. Don’t ask me to do this, Addy. Don’t ask me to leave you with him.”
I move to stand in front of him and take his hands in mine, removing them from his face. His expression is filled with despair.
“You have to. If they find me with you, my punishment will be much worse than anything he’ll do to me during our travels. You can give us a chance to beat him, Drake. You can give us a chance to be together, without fear. But you have to leave now.” He stares down at me for several seconds before turning away and slowly walking toward the window. I follow him silently, and as he reaches the open window, he turns to face me. Our eyes lock and both of us cling to the sight of each other, the same thought seemingly running through our heads; Will I ever see you again?
The wind blows in, rustling his hair. He leans down and presses his lips against mine. My heart clenches with the contact and even more when he pulls away.
“Wait.” I reach under my bed and grab hold of his black cloak. He needs it more than I do. “Here, take it. It’s yours anyway,” I say shyly as I hand it to him. He offers me a sad smile and wraps it around his shoulders.
“I love you,” he says before climbing out the window.
“I love you.” I lean my head out and place my lips against his once more. After I pull back, he rubs his hand along my cheek and places a kiss on my forehead.
“I will see you soon,” he murmurs against my skin, before turning around and running to his horse. He pulls himself up and gives me one last glance before galloping off into the dawning horizon, my uncle and brother by his side.
Chapter 31
HER
I pull myself away from the window and turn to face my bed. Lying in front of me is a multitude of fabrics. I gently drag my fingers across one of the dresses and, in my mind, I see Drake frantically gathering my belongings in his haste to make me leave with him. If only I could have. I would give anything to be with him now, to know he’s safe. But I know, deep through to my core, that leaving with him would have resulted in Charles taking his anger out on my family. I made the right choice, the only choice, but it still devastates me.
At least his frantic packing accomplished one thing. I have yet to pack for Synereal, and am supposed to leave in a few hours. Drake’s diligence has given me a small start to the tumultuous task. I turn toward the large trunk that is leering at me from across my chambers, my hands on my hips, contemplating how to fill it. Charles is expecting me to pack the new dresses he bought for me, including my wedding dress. He reminded me that, although we’re already married, I’m still to wear it at the Ball that will be thrown in our honor. Our honor. As though honor is a word that can be associated with our marriage.
The thought of our marriage sets my body prickling with equal amounts fear, anger, and disgust. I push the unwanted thoughts away and move toward the trunk, reaching for the gold latch.
The sound of rapid pounding causes me to jump, my fingers flying to my chest.
“Under orders of Lord Berrenger, we demand you open the door at once!” the guard’s boisterous voice echoes down the hallway from the front door. My pulse races while I remain paralyzed in the confines of my chambers. They have nothing to find here, but I’m terrified, knowing they won’t be far behind Drake.
“What is the meaning of this?” my father’s voice calls out. The door groans loudly, followed by the incessant march of footsteps. The sound of their heavy boots on the stone floor tells me there’s at least a dozen of them.
“Where’s the orphan?” It’s Charles’s voice I hear now. The undercurrent of rage is clear in the harshness of his tone.
“Is your father aware of you barging into my home at this ungodly hour?” my father responds angrily.
“My father is dead.” Charles’s voice is clipped and aggressive. There’s no sorrow.
I blow out a breath, and move closer to the door, listening carefully for my father’s response.
“How? When?” Father stutters, devastation dampening his voice.
“The fever took him last night.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Charles. Your father will be greatly missed.”
“Yes, he will. Now tell me, Robert, have you any idea where Drake Walton may be?”
“The last I heard he was in a prison cell. Am I mistaken?” My father’s voice is still saddened, but there’s a surprising amount of harshness to it.
“That’s where he was, however, he’s no longer there. He broke out in the middle of the night, killing several of my guards. Now we both know this would be impossible for him to have done on his own. Tell me, Robert, where’s your son, Gregory?”
My breath pushes past my lips in shaky, short bursts.
“He’s on his way to Synereal. He left with Geoffrey Walton. Geoffrey needed help trading some merchandise along the way and, since his son was in prison, he asked Gregory to go in his place.” I try to wrap my head around my father’s words. Would he lie for Gregory and Uncle Geoffrey? Was he part of their plan as well? “He left me a note explaining his departure. I can retrieve it if you’d like.” A note. Gregory really did think of everything.
“Don’t you find it strange, Robert, that your son and Geoffrey Walton left suddenly, on the same night that Drake Walton broke out of his cell?”
“A coincidence, I’m sure.”
“If I find that you’re lying Robert, your entire family will be held accountable and punished accordingly, regardless of my relationship with Addalynne.”
“If you find proof that I’m lying, you can punish me, not my family. But I’m not lying to you. If Drake broke out of his cell, my family did not help him do it.”
Silence fills the air for several seconds, and then the sound of footsteps moving about breaks through it.
“In that case, there’s no harm in my men and I looking around, is there?” Charles replies with his usual air of false politeness.
“None at all.”
“Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me Robert, Genoveve.”
Footsteps move closer to my door, causing me to take several steps back. I watch with consternation as my door opens and Charles steps into my chambers. He kicks the door shut with the heel of his black riding boot and faces me. His black cape is slung across one shoulder of his white tunic and a black velvet roundlet hangs low around his head. His dark, narrowed eyes take me in.
“Where is he?” His voice is hushed, but sharp as a blade.
“I haven’t the faintest idea.”
I set my shoulders as he swiftly closes the distance between us, my body tensing in preparation. His hand wraps tightly around my arm and his h
ot breath blows across my face, his eyes black with fury.
“Do not lie to me, Addalynne. I know you have seen him.” He leans down and brushes the tip of his nose along my neck. “You reek of him.” I pull my arm away and take a step back.
“I have not seen him, and I don’t know where he is. But even if I did, I would never tell you.”
His eyes narrow, the fire casting an orange glow across half of his face. “Do you think that just because the orphan is temporarily out of my reach, I can’t still hurt you?” A soft chuckle escapes his lips and he slowly shakes his head. “He’s not the only weakness you have.” He moves closer to me. I step back, trying to keep distance between us, but my back hits the wall and he’s upon me, bracing his arms on either side of my head. “Tell me, how is that darling little sister of yours?”
I pull in a violent breath, while the room seems to tilt around me. “Don’t you dare threaten my sister. I have done everything you’ve asked of me. You will not touch her.” I speak as forcefully as I can, trying desperately to sound firm, when internally I’m barely holding on to solid ground.
“I never said I would.” The corner of his mouth turns up into a sadistic smile. “Oh, and I assure you that my guards will find the orphan, and when they do, they’ll bring him to me and I will kill him . . . slowly, while you watch.” He leans down and aggressively pushes his lips against mine. The urge to bite his mouth is overwhelming, but I fight against it, as I always do. He pulls back and moves his lips to my ear. “There’s nothing you can do to prevent it now,” he whispers before turning and walking toward the door. “Be ready to leave within the hour.” His departing words precede the sound of the door slamming shut behind him.
* * *
The emotional heaviness of my family standing next to me presses against me like the weight of a thousand mountains, consuming and suffocating. I can feel their gazes on my face, waiting for me to speak, to start my goodbyes. Instead, I stare at the ground, telling myself repeatedly that I will get through this. Once I leave with Charles, my family will be out of his reach, and I will be the only one he can hurt. Then, with any luck, when we arrive in Synereal, Drake will be there, and King Theoderic will be well-informed and waiting to detain Charles. This thought brings a smile to my face, and I cherish the small amount of hope I feel coursing through me. It’s not much, but it’s enough to get me through.
“Addalynne, are you sure you have everything you need?” Mother asks, her voice hesitant. I look toward her. Her eyebrows are drawn in a worried line, and her hands are fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. She looks younger in this moment, more vulnerable than usual, standing there with concern hovering over her. I think about how she went to the prison and helped Drake. She risked potential punishment for him, and I know she did it for me as well. The emotions blow through me, as though I’m only partially solid, and I run to her, my arms wrapping around her waist. Her body stiffens momentarily, but she quickly loosens and embraces me tightly. I lean my head against her shoulder, my face pressed into her neck, breathing in her scents of lavender and vanilla.
The first tear trickles its way down my cheek and onto her cloak. She leans her head against mine and slowly begins to sway, rocking us back and forth, soothing us both, comforting me. In this moment I wish desperately that I was a little girl again, lighthearted and carefree, running around the woods without a worry in the world. There was no darkness pressing in on me then, no burdens to carry.
I feel the presence of another hand on my back. I lift my head enough to see my father, a sad smile forced on his face. I lift one arm and wrap it around him, pulling him into our embrace. Within seconds, Elizabeth makes her way in and we stay there, holding each other. No words are spoken, but through our tangled embrace we show every apology, every forgiveness, and every goodbye.
The sound of the carriage and horses approaching causes us to slightly pull apart. What I see in front of me leaves me dismayed. There are five guardsmen riding on horseback, surrounding the carriage. The carriage itself is being pulled by four of Charles’s solid black horses, followed by the carriage driver, perched on top of his wooden bench. This is normal, to be expected. It’s what comes next that holds my attention.
Behind the driver is the enclosed wooden carriage. But this is no ordinary carriage—this carriage is at least three times the size of the one I’m used to riding in. There are three windows running along the side of it and the dark brown wood is carved with intricate spirals. It’s as beautiful as it is disturbing.
Several of the guards dismount and give us gracious nods before gathering my belongings and piling them into the back. The wooden door of the carriage opens and Charles gracefully jumps down, wearing the same clothes from early this morning. He stands stiffly in front of one of the large wheels, his eyes drifting over my family before stopping on me.
“Addalynne, we need to leave. Surely you’ve had enough time to say your goodbyes.” I’m taken aback by his words. He has never spoken to me like this in front of my family. This tone of voice has, until this moment, been reserved for me alone. He arches one eyebrow and folds his hands behind his back. “Were my words unclear?”
My father pulls away from us and turns to face Charles. “There’s no need to speak to my daughter that way, Charles.” Father’s voice is reprimanding, and I find myself cringing in response, afraid of how Charles will react.
“I am the Lord of this village now, Robert, and you’ll do well to remember it. I may speak however I wish, and you will address me properly, as ‘Lord Berrenger.’”
My father stiffens in anger. I untangle myself from my mother and Elizabeth, and place my hand on my father’s shoulder.
“It’s fine. He’s just upset over the loss of his father,” I whisper. Father looks at me, his brown eyes weary. I offer him a reassuring smile, and after several seconds, he gives me a small nod. I rise on my toes and place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you,” I tell him before turning toward my mother and sister. There are tears in their eyes, forcing me to choke back my own. “I’ll see you soon,” I tell them in a voice that oozes forced merriment. Elizabeth eyes me speculatively, but turns her head away, biting her lip in what I’m sure is an attempt to not say something she knows will only make things worse.
I turn and make my way toward the carriage. As I approach the open door, I set my gaze on Charles. He’s looking down at me, his expression unreadable. Just as I’m about to pull myself into the carriage, he turns and grabs onto my waist, lifting me into the coach.
Navy, velvet drapes hang along the top of the windows, and the bench is covered with a thick, fox fur blanket. I sit down slowly and see, from the corner of my eye, that there’s another window inside the carriage. This one opens into the part of the carriage that extends behind us. I rise to my feet, in a slight crouch, and glance into the opening. What I see robs me of my breath. Lying in the back of the carriage is a wooden coffin, the lid upturned, revealing the ashen face of Vernold Berrenger. Charles moves to take his seat next to me. A smile curls along his face as he reaches through the window and snaps the lid of the coffin shut.
Chapter 32
HER
I try to keep my mind off the fact that we’re traveling with a dead body, but it’s impossible. I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to the coffin behind me. Lord Berrenger’s pale face is plastered in my mind—the transparently thin lids of his eyes, the blue veins that were beginning to darken across his face and neck, the mouth that was slightly opened, as though he was about to take one final breath. Repressing a shudder, I look out the window, trying to replace the pictures that are decaying in my mind with the trees I see around us.
We have been traveling for several hours and are now deep into the woods. The suffocating presence of Charles’s body radiates toward me. I slide down, crushing the left side of my body against the door of the carriage. Traveling with him in such an enclosed space is as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. However, I didn’t expect his silence. He
hasn’t spoken one word to me. This is fine; wonderful, in fact. It lets me try my best to pretend he’s not here.
I try to resist the urge, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself looking at him. His back is stiff, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He’s no longer wearing his hat and his hair is standing around his head in a knotted mass of gold. He’s staring out the window on his side and his fingers are drumming impatiently on his arm. He must feel my gaze on him, because he suddenly turns his head to face me, his eyes locking onto mine. I fight the urge to look away and instead continue to hold his gaze with my own, telling him with my eyes that he doesn’t scare me. Hopefully, he can’t hear the rapid pounding of my heart.
“Stop the carriage, Dawson. I want to stretch my legs,” Charles calls to the driver, his eyes never leaving my face. I look away first, hating myself for it, knowing it made me seem weak and intimidated.
The carriage pulls to a stop and I push the door open and jump out, landing among the trees. I inhale deeply and relish the scent of the woods around me. The smell here is different, cleaner, away from the villages and the burning fires.
Charles walks up behind me, making me hate him even more for ruining the solitude of the woods for me. “Let me guess. You’re thinking about the orphan. Wondering where he is and if you’ll ever see him again.” His voice carries a whimsical dreaminess to it, mocking me.
“Actually, I was thinking about how your body would look, hanging from one of these trees.”
He laughs humorlessly, and his hand travels down the length of my sleeve. His fingers reach my wrist and he grabs hold of it. I try to pull away, but his grip is firm and unyielding. He pulls my body around to face him and his free hand presses into my lower back, holding me against him. I have to tilt my head back to look into his face. He’s smiling down at me, excitement dancing in his eyes.
“You pretend you’re not afraid of me. But your rapid pulse gives you away,” he says, lifting my wrist. I pull away again, and this time he lets me. His laughter follows me as I turn and walk back to the carriage. I slam the door shut and pull the navy velvet drape across the window.