“I would not be foolish enough to trust you.”
He laughed softly. “So says the willful but innocent little lamb.”
The two guards snickered.
Juliana stiffened. “’Tis in my interest, as well as yours, for me to recall my past. I am eager to see as much of the keep as possible.” Fighting a nagging trepidation, she gestured to the area enclosing them. “I see naught here that I recognize beyond the past day.”
Tye raised his brows. “You have not forgotten your boldness, Juliana.”
“What makes you say such?” she asked, but her words were drowned by the tramp of his boots as he took the first few steps down.
“Come,” he said.
She had no choice but to follow; no other passage led away from the chamber.
Juliana crossed to the stairwell and started to descend, pressing one hand against the stone wall to guide her way. Down into the unknown, her mind whispered
Around and down the stairwell went, like an uncoiling serpent. The musty smells of stale air and ancient rock surrounded her. In the farthest reaches of her mind, the darkness stirred, akin to dense fog shifting in a breeze.
Willing the sensation to gather into a memory, she continued her descent. Hope quickened her pulse. How fervently she hoped her recollections returned. Then she’d finally, completely know who she was.
Some distance down, Tye halted several steps below her and glanced back. “Well?”
“Naught yet,” she said.
He stared at her for a long, grueling moment, as though debating whether she’d lied to him. Then he turned and continued down the stairs.
When some distance along, they came to a passageway opening off the stairwell, Tye waited for her to catch up to him. “You will go ahead of me.” His hand slid along her lower back to nudge her. “That way, I can keep watch upon you.”
You already told me I couldn’t get away, a voice inside her sniped. I know your warning was genuine. She kept silent, though, and did as he bade.
On they went, through the shadowed corridors of the keep, until she saw an iron-banded wooden door on the left.
Somehow, this passageway seemed familiar.
An ominous pressure, very different from the earlier stirring, crawled up from the base of her skull. It slipped into her thoughts and rammed against the void in her mind: a memory, fighting to break free. So strong was the sensation that she stumbled, fingers pressed against her brow.
Closing her eyes, she willed the recollection to materialize.
“What is wrong?” Tye demanded, sounding a distance away.
She thought of lying and saying “naught.” However, if he grew suspicious, he might send her back to the cell without her being able to experience more. “I sensed . . . something.”
Heaving in breaths, she straightened, opened her eyes, and glanced about the corridor, wisped with smoke from the wall torches. Tye stood a few paces away, hands on hips, his hard gaze upon her.
Hot, sharp tension buzzed inside her as she let the emotions of the place sift deeper into her consciousness. A terrible event had happened here. She must remember.
Her head began to pound. “Where are we?” she whispered.
Tye gestured to the door. “The solar.”
The solar. Where she’d wakened yesterday and met Veronique. Where Juliana had previously lived and cared for Mayda’s babe. She would have traveled this passageway often. No wonder her senses had roused. But something—something!—awful had taken place here and left its imprint upon her soul.
“What do you see?” Tye urged.
Tears moistened her eyes. She struggled to probe the void in her mind. Please. She wanted to remember all. She wanted to understand why she felt this way.
“Juliana?” Anger now darkened Tye’s tone.
Frustration broke from her in a sob. “I see naught. I am trying to remember, but . . .” She grimaced. “My head.” She touched her throbbing forehead. “It hurts so fiercely.” She fought a threatening wave of dizziness, determined not to faint. Not when she seemed so close to remembering.
“The torches are giving off lots of smoke,” Tye said. “Mayhap you need fresh air.”
She nodded. ’Twould be good to clear her head.
He crossed to her, took her elbow, and propelled her onward to a narrow stairwell. A draft swept over her ankles, indicating an upper door opened to the outside.
As Tye pushed her into the stairs, fear swirled into the emotions churning inside her. She’d climbed these stone steps before. Around the same time the terrible event had occurred?
Edouard, I am horribly frightened.
Thinking of him, though, of mayhap finding a way to free him, gave Juliana the strength to take the last stairs and push through the doorway to the wall walk.
Sunshine lit the squared merlons and rough hewn walkway before her. An armed sentry farther down looked her way, then resumed his watch on the landscape beyond the keep.
As her gaze traveled the wall walk, a monstrous sense of dread swept through her. Something gruesome had transpired here, too. Panic seared her thoughts, urged her to turn around and flee back down the stairs, but Tye was behind her. If he sensed her memories were returning, he wouldn’t let her past.
What had happened here? Oh, God, what?
Pressing a trembling hand to her forehead, she moved forward. Her inhalation rattled in her throat, for the foreboding pulled at her like a malicious ghost. It dragged her consciousness down, down, as though she were falling into dank, smothering blackness.
Into . . . icy water.
She gasped, eighteen years old again, the well’s coldness swallowing her.
“Juliana.”
Was that Edouard’s voice, as he called down to her from the rim of the well?
Nay, not his voice. Tye’s.
She realized once again that she stood on the wall walk. The breeze stirred her gown and she shivered, hugged herself tight, for she still felt the frigid water sucking her down. The chill seeped into her skin, her heart, her bones . . . Deathly coldness.
Tye was beside her now. “What is wrong, Juliana?”
She held up a hand, staying Tye before he tried to catch her arm. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. With each painful beat, she sensed the onslaught of more insight.
The wind gusted through the space between the nearby merlons; the sound was like a wail.
Like an infant’s cry.
An image flashed into her thoughts. A baby, crying. Struggling in her arms.
Rosemary!
“You look very pale,” Tye said. “Are your memories returning? Do you recall what took place here?”
Beware, Juliana. Tye is a part of what happened.
Rubbing her brow, she forced her lips into a weak smile. “My head aches very badly. ’Tis almost unbearable.”
“I will tell Mother, so Azarel can prepare another potion.”
“Hopefully after I have breathed the morning air awhile, the pain will ease.”
His stare sharpened, as though he suspected she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but then he nodded and glanced away. While she blew out a relieved breath, she became aware of conversation carrying from down the wall walk. The sentry’s head turned as he spoke to someone standing beside him, blocked from Juliana’s view.
Darkness suddenly whirled into Juliana’s mind, rousing the sense of nighttime. Raised voices. Landon and Mayda arguing on the wall walk. Mayda cradling her face, as again they fought.
Juliana swallowed hard. What had she witnessed?
Landon’s fist slammed into Mayda’s head. She fell against the merlon. Tried to get away, but Landon shoved her. She fell, screaming, over the side. To her death.
“Oh, God,” Juliana moaned.
“Juliana,” Tye snapped. “If you are lying to me—”
She clawed her hand into her hair. “My . . . head,” she managed to say, despite the grief and panic swarming inside her. She mustn’t let Tye know she remembered Mayd
a’s murder. If he guessed her memories were starting to come back, he and Veronique would force her to reveal the location of the gold ring. Then Edouard would die for certain.
She fought to steady her tattered nerves. But then Veronique strolled from behind the sentry, her hair a garish hue in the sunlight.
“Well?” Veronique called. “Has she remembered anything?”
Juliana froze, captured by the memory of moonglow on Veronique’s red locks as she stepped out of the night shadows, applauding Landon’s actions. More memories careened, one after another: Veronique blocking the passageway by the solar so Juliana couldn’t escape with Rosemary; Veronique smiling while the armed thugs seized Juliana; Veronique grabbing the baby from Juliana’s arms and thrusting her at a mercenary to be slaughtered.
Anguish and hatred boiled up inside Juliana. She wanted to scream at Veronique, scratch her painted face, rip out handfuls of red hair. But that would help no one, especially Edouard.
She shook, struggling to keep her emotions from being discovered. She mustn’t fail Mayda, Edouard, everyone she cared about.
“Juliana?” Veronique’s eyes narrowed.
Oh, God, did Veronique guess? Did she know?
“She claims she has a bad headache,” Tye said.
A rasp echoed. The scrape, Juliana vaguely realized, of Tye’s heel, but her mind filled with an image of Landon, his lip curled, his sword aimed at her, while thugs spun her around.
“She is fainting,” Veronique shrieked.
In her darkening mind, Juliana saw Landon’s sword slam into the back of her head.
Chapter Eighteen
“Juliana,” Edouard said in a gentle voice. Squatting on his pallet, he studied her ashen face, watching for the tiniest response. She lay on her side on her bed, where Tye had left her moments ago.
The sight of her unconscious in Tye’s arms had sent fear lancing through Edouard. From the moment she’d left the cell, he’d worried. Tye and Veronique might use any means to get the information they wanted from her, including threats and the infliction of pain. His imagination had refused to give him a moment’s rest. Unable to focus on digging out the bolts, he’d counted the torturous moments until her return.
When the door had opened and Tye had carried her in, a lethal roar had torn from Edouard. Rising to his feet, he shouted, “What have you done to her?”
“She collapsed,” Tye said, his nonchalance fueling Edouard’s rage another notch.
“Why? What torture did you force upon her?” A vile taste flooded his mouth. “Did you . . . defile her?”
Tye raised his brows and knelt beside Juliana’s pallet. Her body slid down on the mattress, while her gown tangled about her legs. Standing again, Tye said, “Your fury is unwarranted, Brother. While we walked the passageway near the solar, she complained of a headache. I took her up to the wall walk in hopes the clear air would ease her discomfort. Whether pain caused her to swoon, or another reason, we will not know till she wakes.”
“Summon Azarel. She must examine Juliana’s injury again.”
Tye had glowered. “Mother is doing that. I will return shortly with the healer.” He’d stormed out, and the door had slammed and locked behind him.
“Juliana,” Edouard said again, then dragged his hand through his hair. She hadn’t yet stirred. What if she never woke?
He dropped his head into his hands. Guilt squeezed his conscience. If she perished, he was to blame; he couldn’t bear to live with that agony. “Please, bring her back to me.”
A soft inhalation snapped his gaze to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but a frown puckered her brow. A low groan broke from her, and then her eyes flickered open.
“Juliana!”
Her unfocused gaze fixed on him. Her stare sharpened before she pushed up to a seated position, hair falling around her shoulders. Her expression, though, remained filled with uncertainty. Her body shook. She still looked unnaturally pale, and, he realized, she avoided looking at him.
The joy within him dimmed. “Are you hurt? Tye said you had a headache.”
With a shaking hand, she swept fallen hair from her face. “My head feels a little better.”
“Good. Tye will be bringing Azarel here soon to tend you.” Trying to keep the roughness from his voice, Edouard asked, “What happened to you? Did Tye and Veronique catch you trying to find a way to free me?”
“Nay.” Her gaze slid to his pallet, and a blush stained her face. She seemed to be struggling with an inner dilemma, some kind of awkward memory . . .
And then he knew.
“Look at me, Juliana.”
She heaved a breath. Her shoulders stiffened, as though she planned to refuse. Slowly, her head tilted, and her stare met his. In her guarded gaze, he saw the Juliana he’d met long ago.
The woman he’d hurt more than once.
He sensed the turmoil battling inside her: the resentment from their past dealings, versus the need to ally with him to escape and survive. How he hoped he hadn’t lost the trust he’d earned from her in the past days and that she’d still consider him worthy of friendship.
Before he could venture to break the silence between them, she said, “I remembered, Edouard. Tye took me outside to the wall walk, and all of my memories flooded back.”
He managed a smile. “I am glad. I know ’tis what you wanted.”
He’d hoped for a hint of a smile in return. Instead, tears slid down her cheeks. “I, too, thought I would be delighted. What I recalled . . .” A tremor shook her. “’Tis too important to keep to myself. You must hear the truth, Edouard, so you can tell it to your lord father.”
You will live to tell him yourself, Edouard silently vowed, before he said, “You know who wounded you days ago?”
“Aye, but ’tis only part . . . of what I must tell you.”
“Go on,” he coaxed.
“Tye took me to the passageway by the solar. I felt on the verge of remembering something horrendous. ’Tis when the headache started. He took me up to the wall walk. I later realized I had used those same stairs the night I was injured. Outside, my memories began rushing back. I saw again”—she paused, as though rallying her strength—“the treachery I had witnessed nights ago. ’Twas awful, Edouard. The horror, the fear, the sense of danger . . . I knew I couldn’t let Tye see that I had regained my memories, so I pretended my headache was severe. Then Veronique came toward us, and I knew she would see through my ruse. Panic overtook me, and I . . . fainted.”
“Tell me,” Edouard said. “What treachery did you see?”
“Mayda’s murder.”
“God above!” He could only imagine how ghastly it had been for her to see her best friend killed. “I am sorry, Juliana.” As she wiped at her eyes, he added tersely, “’Twas Veronique’s doing, aye?”
Sorrow etched Juliana’s features. “Nay. Landon murdered Mayda.”
“Landon?” Shock forced Edouard to drop down on his pallet. Surely Landon wasn’t corrupt; he’d tried to spare Edouard from Veronique. “How can that be? You and I attended Mayda and Landon’s wedding. They seemed very much in love.”
“I know.” Shaking her head, Juliana said, “Their marriage, happy at first, unraveled over the months. He and Mayda constantly argued. Mayda and I had hoped that the newborn would help to revive their love, but Landon wanted a boy, and Mayda gave birth to a girl. As if that were not unfavorable enough, Landon invited Veronique and Tye to live as guests in the keep. Veronique and Landon soon became lovers.”
“That deceitful bitch,” Edouard muttered.
“Landon and Mayda fought the night she died,” Juliana went on, each word heavy with anguish. “’Twas a terrifying disagreement. When I caught their angry voices coming down from the wall walk, I sensed Mayda was in grave danger. She had feared, since Rosemary’s birth, that Landon might try to harm her and the babe. I thought she was imagining that, but when I heard them fighting, heard him say how he desired Veronique, I knew Mayda had spoken the truth. I hur
ried up to the wall walk with the baby. I tried to call out to Mayda, to bring her back to the solar to nurse Rosemary. But Mayda did not hear me. Landon struck her again—”
“Nay,” Edouard whispered. Landon had hit his wife more than once? What kind of beast had Landon become, to hurt a woman?
“—and, just as Mayda saw me, Landon hit her hard enough that she fell against a merlon. She tried to regain her balance, to save herself. In his rage, he shoved her again, and she”—Juliana’s voice wobbled—“fell off the battlement. To her death.”
His innards twisted with the pain binding together Juliana’s account. Damnation, how helpless he felt. How he longed to offer her the comfort of his embrace, but she likely wouldn’t accept it. “I am sorry,” he finally said. “Truly sorry.”
Nodding, Juliana said quietly, “I did not know Veronique was also on the wall walk, until she appeared, gloating over Landon’s actions. They had both, however, seen me. In that moment, I realized I was the only other witness to what had befallen Mayda. If I died, the truth about her demise would die, too. So I ran. Oh, Edouard, I tried to keep my promise to Mayda, to keep Rosemary safe”—a moan tore from her—“but Veronique’s thugs trapped me. They grabbed me, and forced me to turn my back to Landon. The last thing I remember of that night is the blow of his sword.”
Edouard scowled. “They thought you were dead. Until I found you in the river, and, fool that I am, brought you right back here.
Self-condemnation darkened Juliana’s expression. “Mayda should never have perished. I should have acted sooner to get her attention. I should have shouted to distract Landon. Anything. I failed her, and now she is dead, and Rosemary will grow up without her mother.”
“Juliana, I vow you did all you could to save Mayda. Veronique obviously wanted Mayda killed and manipulated Landon so he would accomplish the deed for her. If Landon hadn’t succeeded, Veronique would have found another way to have gotten rid of Mayda.”
Juliana dried her eyes on the edge of her sleeve. “She was my best friend. I should have—”
“Should have,” he cut in. “You cannot allow yourself to believe that, Juliana. The guilt will eat at your soul, day after day, if you allow it.”
A Knight's Persuasion (Knight's Series Book 4) Page 21