In the torchlight she examined her surroundings. As far as Thalia could see in the dimness, there were three more cells—one was beside hers, and the other two were directly across. The dungeon seemed to have been carved out of the ground, with stone steps leading upward.
She examined the walls and saw many names scratched into the stone. Her fear had kept her from being affected by the stench, but she smelled it now and pressed her hand over her nose. Dirty water pooled on the uneven floor outside the cell, and she shuddered when she saw a rat creep out of the darkness.
Thalia closed her eyes, hoping Ashtyn would not come for her. Lord Sevilin’s plan was clear—he meant to murder Ashtyn and force her to marry him.
She gripped the bars and leaned her head against them. She must not give up hope.
Having intercepted the lord chamberlain’s messenger, who was on his way to Prince Ashtyn’s camp, Captain Darius discovered the queen was missing.
Charging the messenger to proceed to the camp with all haste, Captain Darius rode through the inner courtyard of the palace with his bedraggled, battle-weary soldiers, who had been on patrol for three days.
As his men were saddling fresh mounts, Captain Darius studied a map, while Lord Parinez anxiously watched him.
“One among the captives we took today told us the general direction of Lord Sevilin’s stronghold. Let us trust to the gods that they have not harmed the queen, or I’ll tear it down stone by stone.”
“I cannot bear to think of the sweet queen being in that evil man’s hands. Make haste, Captain, before it’s too late!”
Chapter Thirty-One
In the cold morning mist, Ashtyn stared at the messenger who was babbling and waving his arms. “Curb your exuberance and speak slowly. What about the queen?”
The young recruit took a big gulp of air and met the commander’s gaze. “They have taken the queen!”
Ashtyn’s eyes narrowed. “Who took her?”
“I don’t … they did not tell me. Captain Darius wanted you to know he would attempt to track her majesty to the enemy stronghold.”
Ashtyn’s voice cut like a knife. “Get me a fresh mount at once,” he said, racing toward his tent to gather his sword and dagger.
Moments later he reappeared, issuing orders, and then leaped onto his horse. A group of startled soldiers watched their commander leave the encampment, his horse at an all-out run.
The day had come and gone, and no one came to see Thalia. She had sat near the door all night, refusing to lay on the filthy straw mat that served as a bed. Thirst made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, but when she glanced at the grimy clay jug that held water, she shook her head. There was no way of knowing how long the water had been there, or what was in it.
Pacing up and down the cell, trying to ignore her hunger, Thalia guessed Lord Sevilin and his mother were trying to wear her down. But she would not give in to them. Her one fear was that Ashtyn would come to rescue her and fall into their trap.
By mid-afternoon thirst drove her to the water jug, and she took only a small sip. It tasted fresh, so she drank deeply. Then she wearily began to pace once more, although her stomach churned and she feared she was going to be sick.
Gripping the bars, she bowed her head. As wave after wave of nausea washed over her, she resisted the need to lie down. Thalia eyed the straw mat with revulsion—it was most probably lice-infected. Instead, she wrapped her cloak around her and sat with her back against the wall. She dared not fall asleep because she did not want anyone to come upon her while she was unaware.
But sleep finally claimed Thalia, and her head fell back against the wall. She had no way of knowing how long she’d slept when she was jerked awake by the sound of scuffling on the stairs. Scrambling to her feet, she heard the sound of clashing swords.
Stumbling to the bars, she gripped them so tightly her knuckles whitened. She hoped it would not be Ashtyn! If Sevilin had both her and Ashtyn as his prisoners, the war would turn in his favor. Or he might try to strike some kind of a bargain with the lord chamberlain.
Suddenly Thalia’s heart clenched: she heard a muffled cry of pain and then silence. She held her breath, waiting.
When she saw flashes of light from a lantern streak across the wall, she tensed as several men dragged two prisoners down the stairs.
Ashtyn and Captain Darius!
Captain Darius appeared to be unconscious, and it took two burly men to bear his weight. Blood streaked down Ashtyn’s face, and her heart stopped when she saw him stagger. Three men escorted him: two dragging him forward, while the other held a sword to Ashtyn’s back.
When he neared her cell, their eyes met. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking her over.
Before she could answer, one of the men struck him in the head with the hilt of his sword, and Ashtyn went to his knees. Shaking his head, he glared at the man who struck him. “I’ll remember your face,” Ashtyn warned him.
“There will be no talking,” the man said, unlocking one of the cells across from Thalia and shoving Ashtyn inside. Captain Darius was placed in the other cell, still unconscious.
“Please don’t hurt them!” Thalia cried out.
One of the men, broad-shouldered with long black hair, spun toward her, advancing with quick steps. “I’ll wring your pretty neck if you say anything more. You’re the cause of all our trouble,” he said angrily.
“Hold,” Turk said, suddenly appearing at the foot of the stairs. “You will not speak to the queen with such disrespect. You were told to deliver the prisoners to their cells, and nothing more.”
“That one,” he said, indicating Ashtyn, “said things I didn’t like.”
Turk’s mouth stiffened into a cruel smile. “Your life has no worth. But that man,” he nodded sharply at Ashtyn, “is married to the queen.”
“Little I care,” the man mumbled. “She’ll soon be a widow.”
Turk grabbed the man by the neck and held him above his head while the man struggled and kicked, making a strangling sound. As Thalia looked on in horror, Turk dropped the man, who coughed and clutched his throat, trying to catch his breath.
“Never disobey one of my orders,” Turk intoned harshly. “For the next time, you will die.” He glanced at the other men, who had been watching the commotion. “Get up those stairs. You, Mored,” Turk said, tossing the keys to a slender youth with shoulder-length black hair, “you I place in charge of the prisoners’ needs. Have a care for the queen.”
Thalia waited until the men left before she spoke to Ashtyn. “You are hurt. How bad is it?”
Her husband shook his head and rose to his feet, wiping blood out of his eyes so he could see. “I am more concerned about the dried blood I see on your face.” He gripped the bars and shook them, needing to get to her. “What did they do to you?”
“Think not of that.” She met Ashtyn’s gaze, agonizing over the fact that she’d been the cause of his capture. “I fear by my foolishness we are lost.” She quickly told him everything that had happened with Eleni, and watched the growing dread gather in his eyes. “I trusted her, and she betrayed me.”
“Betrayal is a bitter dreg to swallow,” he told her. “But the guilt is not yours. It was the king who placed that woman near you, thinking he could trust her.”
Thalia gathered her cloak tighter about her because the dampness of the dungeon had chilled her to the bone. “Why did you come after me? Did you not sense you were riding into a trap?”
Ashtyn lowered his voice. “Knowing Sevilin as I do, I had no doubt he was trying to lure me to him. But I didn’t come without a plan to get you free.” He glanced toward the stairs with a frown creasing his brow, then looked back at Thalia. “First, we will have to get out of these cells.”
Thalia felt somewhat relieved because Ashtyn was so confident. “I fear for Captain Darius,” she said, looking over at him.
At that moment, the big man moaned and struggled slowly to a sitting position. Using the bars for leverage, he st
ood, blinking. “Where are we?”
“Never mind that,” Ashtyn told him. “The question is how we are going to get out of here.”
Thalia smiled. “Leave that to me. I know just what to do.”
As the two men looked on with concern, she bent over, clutching her stomach. “Help me!” she cried, loud enough for her voice to carry out of the dungeon and up the stairs. “Someone help me!”
The guard, Mored, came running down the stairs. “Here now, what’s this commotion?”
“Help me,” Thalia said, dropping to her knees. “I’m in pain.” She lowered her head so he would not see her eyes. “Terrible pain.”
Mored, who was in awe of the queen even if she was the enemy, quickly unlocked the cell and shoved the keys in his belt while he bent to help her stand. “Can I get you something? Water? Would you like wine?”
Ashtyn gripped the bars and shook them. “Let me out! Let me help the queen!”
Thalia was moaning, and she threw her arms about the big man’s waist. “I feel sick,” she cried. “The water here is foul. Perhaps if you brought me a fresh jug?”
With growing concern, Mored gently seated Thalia on the floor and hurried out, locking the cell behind him.
“Are you ill?” Ashtyn said, shaking the bars, frustrated because he could not get to Thalia.
“Shh! I am not ill.”
The guard reappeared with a fresh jug of water. Bending, he held a dipper for Thalia to drink from. “How fare you now, Majesty?” he asked, knowing he would be held responsible if anything happened to her.
Thalia pushed tangled hair out of her face, giving the poor guard a smile that made him smile in return. “You have been most kind. Help me up, and let me lean on you for a moment until the dizziness passes.”
He was most compliant, and held her while she reached around his waist. “I shall not forget your kindness. Should the time ever come when I can stay someone’s hand from causing your death, I shall do so.”
Puzzled, the young guard looked at her. “I do not think that time will come, Majesty.”
All Ashtyn could do was watch helplessly. “Bring the queen to my cell so I can have her with me,” he called.
“Nay,” Mored replied, as Thalia moved away from him. “My orders are to keep you separated.” He watched the queen for a moment. “Are you still dizzy?”
She reached out to Mored, and he took the hand she offered. “Just stay with me for a moment more,” she said, looking pale and shaken.
It was easy for Ashtyn to see that Mored’s attitude was softening toward Thalia, or perhaps it was the man’s fear of retribution from Turk that made him attentive. Whatever the reason, Ashtyn was infuriated by the guard touching his wife.
Mored’s hand was gentle as he patted the queen on the shoulder. “Rest a bit. That’s what you should do.” He smiled as he stepped out of the cell and turned the key in the lock before fastening it to his belt. “Is there anything else you need?”
Thalia reached through the bars and caught his hand. “Just stay with me a moment. I am frightened.”
The concerned guard slid his hand up her arm, and when Thalia glanced over at Ashtyn, she could tell from his expression that he wanted to kill the man. She gave her head a slight shake so her husband would know she was only acting, but she wasn’t sure he understood what she was doing because he glared at her.
“I am feeling much revived,” Thalia said, smiling at Mored. “Perhaps I shall lie down.”
Mored looked her over carefully. “If you need me, call out—I’m just up those stairs in the armory, so I will have no trouble hearing you.”
All three prisoners watched the guard leave, then both men looked startled when Thalia laughed. “What was the meaning of that little display?” Ashtyn demanded.
Dangling the keys, Thalia said, smiling, “Husband, you know I was a very fine pickpocket on the streets of Rome. It seems that becoming a queen has not caused me to lose my skills.”
Ashtyn watched in amazement as Thalia unlocked her cell, then hurried to unlock the other two. He grabbed her and held her in his arms as if he would never let her go.
Captain Darius was busy looking about for something to use as a weapon.
“At first I feared you were in pain. Then you—” Ashtyn’s grip tightened. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I had to make it look convincing for the guard to believe me.” She smiled up at him proudly. “Are you not impressed by my skills?”
He held her to him for a moment longer, then released her. “We have to find a way out of here, and I don’t have a weapon.”
She dangled her own jewel-handled dagger from her fingers. “They did not search me before they locked me in the cell.” Thalia arched her brow at Ashtyn. “Despite my skills as a thief, I must have an honest face.”
He touched her cheek. “Thalia. My Thalia.”
“Commander,” Captain Darius said, gripping a long wooden pole that had been propped against the wall, “if you don’t mind my saying so, we would be better served if we got out of here.”
Ashtyn’s face took on a guarded look, and Thalia saw his jaw harden and his eyes narrow as the warrior in him emerged. He shoved her behind him and gripped the dagger. “Let us make our way to the armory.”
Silently they crept up the stairs, with Captain Darius in the lead and Ashtyn keeping Thalia just behind him.
When they reached the armory, Thalia saw that Mored had nodded off, a jug of wine on a table next to him.
With a quick thrust, Captain Darius’s staff came down on his head, and the poor man crumpled to the floor, never knowing what had hit him. When Captain Darius would have struck him again, Thalia reached out and grabbed the staff. “I made him a promise. He will live.”
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Ashtyn grabbed one of the swords from the wall hook, turning to face the three men who rushed at him. Before the guards knew what was happening, Ashtyn and Captain Darius were before them. In a short time the rebels were disarmed, two bleeding, the other probably dead. They moved hurriedly toward the door when a shadow fell across the wall, and Turk stepped into their path.
“Yield or die,” Turk said to Ashtyn.
“It will not be me who dies here today,” Ashtyn said, striking the first blow, which Turk easily sidestepped.
Thalia could do no more than watch. Turk had been a gladiator, a trained fighter, and he was at least a head taller than Ashtyn, and much larger. Turk swung his sword and caught Ashtyn across the arm, barely scratching the skin.
“I shall make the queen a widow this day,” Turk threatened, swinging wide with his sword.
Ashtyn caught the thrust with his own blade. “You boast, but I see sweat on your brow. Age has dulled your sight, and you are losing your skills,” he taunted, knowing that if he could anger Turk, the big man might become careless.
Turk swung swiftly, his blade clanging against Ashtyn’s. The two men fought, neither gaining the advantage, while Thalia could only watch, fearing for her husband.
Suddenly Ashtyn stumbled and went to his knees.
Pain twisted his features as Turk’s sword struck again, but Ashtyn managed to roll away quickly so the sword struck his breastplate. Still, the blow was delivered with great force, and Ashtyn reeled backwards.
Turk raised his sword, ready to deliver the final blow. Thalia cried out to him. “Turk, no—please don’t!”
For the merest moment, Turk turned his gaze to the queen, and that gave Ashtyn the advantage he needed. Slamming his sword upward, he buried it deeply into Turk’s chest.
For a moment the big man looked amazed. He crumpled to his knees and reached out to Thalia. “… My Queen,” he uttered, falling forward. He twitched, and then died.
Tears sprung to Thalia’s eyes. Some part of her pitied the man, but at last she was free of him.
Ashtyn gripped her arm, hurrying her out of the armory. Silently, they slipped out the side door and made their way away from the stronghold, int
o the woods.
Once they were under cover, Ashtyn went down on his knees and took Thalia in his arms. “I thought I had lost you,” he murmured.
She touched his face. “I am not so easy to lose. But you are injured. Let us find a place where we can treat your wounds.”
Suddenly they were surrounded by Ashtyn’s own loyal troops, who had been waiting for the signal to strike the fortress. “We weren’t sure when you’d come out,” one of his men stated. “We considered going in after you.”
“We will never have a better time to hit the enemy than now, when he is at his weakest,” Ashtyn told his men. “I am taking the queen away from here. From what I gathered, there are but a few men holding the stronghold. If Lord Sevilin is in there, spare him if you can. He has much to answer for. I shall return as soon as I see the queen to safety.”
Moments later, Thalia found herself on a horse in front of her husband.
Captain Darius moved back toward the sound of fighting and called over his shoulder, “We’ll make short work of these rebels, Commander.”
As Ashtyn’s horse climbed the hill, there was already the sound of swords clashing all around the compound. Ashtyn held Thalia against him and felt her tremble. “Do not fear defeat—your soldiers will win the day.”
“There were moments in that dungeon I feared I’d never see you again,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
“There was no danger of that. The rebels had something that belonged to me, and only the gods could have kept me from getting to you.”
Thalia felt his arms go around her, one of his hands resting on her stomach, where his baby was nestled.
“Thalia,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “My sweet, unpredictable Thalia.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When they reached the road that led to the palace, Thalia saw a sight to behold. Her citizens, young and old, women and children alike, were hurrying toward them in large numbers. They all clutched whatever weapons were available to them—brooms, rusted spears, limbs from trees.
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