When he was nearly through the door, he turned. “Who knows, we may find another use for those chains when I return.”
I glared at him, but he was already gone. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor, listening as he unmoored the boat and departed with the splashing of oars. No doubt he had a horse waiting on the other side of the lake to take him wherever he wished to go.
It was odd, but now that I was shackled with little freedom of movement, I finally felt like a prisoner. Maybe it was because I was free from the constant threat of beatings and rape, free from my fear of him. I hadn’t realized it, but it was that fear, my fight for survival, that was keeping me sane. Before I realized what was happening, I began to sob, hysterical spasms over which I had no control. Curled up in a ball on the floor, I buried my head in my knees, clenched my fists in my hair, and wept.
For the first time, I realized the gravity of my situation. I was Malegant’s prisoner, his “wife” of the lowest degree according to ancient tribal law. I had been violated and subjugated in the most horrible ways possible, robbed of all the dignity due to me as a queen and a priestess.
And what of rescue? Arthur surely would have sent all of the forces at his command to rescue me six months ago. They would have combed the forests and glens, rivers and mountain passes, for me. Six times the moon had waxed and waned, yet no one had found me. He’d probably even issued a reward so the people would be motivated to look or turn over any evidence they had. Briefly, I wondered how many false claims he fielded each pleading day, how many dark-haired daughters were passed off as imitations of the queen in the hopes of monetary gain. At the thought and the image in my mind’s eye of Arthur’s annoyance, I laughed as uncontrollably as I had cried.
The laughter buoyed my spirits a bit. I chewed on a morsel of a thought. If Arthur truly had issued a reward, I could use that to my advantage—if only I could get access to other people. Imogen had as little hope of escape as I, and Aine—well, I had the feeling she would rather see me dead than returned to Arthur, no matter the sum.
That left who? The guards? I hadn’t had many interactions with them, but they were no ordinary mercenaries—of that much I was certain. It took a certain loyalty or compulsion to remain in an assignment as remote and joyless as this. So either they believed in Malegant so strongly they were willing to kill for him or he had some kind of leverage that made them obey his every whim. There might be an opening there, but it would take time and much effort, not to mention careful avoidance of their master, to feel them all out.
Exhausted, I eventually drifted off to sleep. When I woke, stiff and sore from my awkward position, the first thing I saw was that dinner had been set on a tray within arm’s reach. Imogen must have had to return to the kitchens to prepare Aine’s meal.
I stood and stretched, thanking the gods that at least Malegant had shown me the kindness of being able to move around. Munching on a leg of whatever poor bird adorned my plate, I went over to the window and looked out. The sun was sinking fast, turning the lake to a pool of blood, but the sound of the water lapping the shore was at least relaxing. I looked down. The dock was empty. We were all trapped here until Malegant returned.
I was about to give up hope and climb into bed when a new thought crossed my mind. Malegant had mentioned the fisherman was supposed to deliver supplies in the coming days. Perhaps if I could get free, he would recognize me or I could convince him I was being held under duress.
It was a weak plan, but it was more than I’d had a few hours before.
I fought against the shackles for a few moments, trying to slip my hands from their unyielding grasp. Somewhere deep in my mind, I knew this would do no good, but still I strained to make my hands narrow until my skin was raw and my wrists threatened to dislocate.
I decided to change tack. Holding my wrists up to the light, I inspected the locks on my manacles. They were the simplest type of barrel lock—not surprising since Malegant didn’t know about the skill I had obtained from Isolde. Had Malegant been wiser, he would have bound my wrists together, but he’d allowed me the dexterity to sew. Fortuna had finally smiled on me.
I looked around the room. If I could find something thin enough, I could pick them. My sewing needle was too short and too delicate to do any good. There was nothing in the bed or within arm’s reach that could help me. I considered asking Imogen to bring me something from the kitchen or barracks, but I didn’t want to involve her in case I was caught. My eyes alighted on the bird on my plate. I said a silent prayer of thanks to its soul before I ripped the carcass apart and went to work with the wishbone. With a bit of luck, by morning, I would be free.
When the sun rose, my right hand was free but I was still struggling with the lock around my left.
I had gone through all of the smaller bones in the poor bird’s body only to snap the last one off in the lock in my weariness and haste. Tears of frustration coursed down my cheeks as I realized my folly. Eventually, exhausted, I had fallen asleep again.
As soon as there was enough light in the room, I studied the jammed mechanism, trying to figure out how to fix it. At first I thought I could remove the bone with my fingernail, but the bone was just big enough to prevent me from getting underneath it.
From the hall, the telltale crunch of boots on rushes signaled someone was approaching. It was likely Imogen, but I put the other shackle around my right wrist, not quite locked, just in case Aine decided to pay me another unanticipated visit.
She had taken it upon herself to check on me last night even though Imogen was asleep on a pallet at my feet. Still awake and hiding my free hand beneath the blankets, I’d glared at Aine as she rounded the bed making sure everything was in proper order. Something in the glint in her eyes told me that had Imogen not been present, we would have come to blows. Ever since the night of her strange ritual, I’d had the sense she wanted my blood and would do whatever it took to get it. But she obviously wasn’t keen on doing it in front of her mother. Thank the gods for Imogen.
The door opened, and Imogen waddled in, maneuvering the door with one hand while trying not to drop the tray she balanced on the other. As soon as she was within reach, I whisked the tray away, and she signed her thanks.
Have you made any progress? she asked.
“No. I can’t pry the bone loose.”
This will help. She pointed at the thin knife sitting next to a hunk of hard cheese on the plate. Aine would beat her at the very least if she knew Imogen had supplied me with a weapon, but still, she’d risked it to help me get free.
I kissed her and swallowed my breakfast as fast as possible.
Once Imogen had removed the dishes and gone to attend to Aine, I went back to work on the lock, trying to free the bone with the point of the knife. I was so engrossed in my work I was surprised to find the sun was high overhead when I looked up. Somewhere in the distance, the rhythmic slap of oars on the water’s surface heralded the arrival of a boat, likely the one bearing the fisherman who could answer all our prayers. Slowly, the boat came into view, and equally slowly, I eased the tip of the blade beneath the bone. With an audible crack, the bone gave up its position in the lock and flew out, landing somewhere in the rushes.
It took all I had not to whoop with joy. But I had to restrain myself, for the fisherman was now on the docks, being warmly greeted by Aine and Imogen. He was wearing a hooded cloak, so I could not see his face, but from his build, I surmised he was young and, from Aine’s body language, likely handsome. She was doing everything she could to entice him.
But even from this distance it was clear he was embarrassed by her advances. He scratched his chin nervously and shifted his weight from foot to foot. They spoke for a while—I couldn’t hear their conversation—then he gestured toward the supply-laden boat. Aine indicated with a wave that she and Imogen would help unload it.
Before taking the first sack from the fisherman, Aine fl
ipped her hair over her shoulder and brushed his hand. He smiled. She grinned back. They disappeared into the house several times, returning for another round of supplies, then eventually they remained in the main hall. Their voices drifted upward, indistinct but a reassuring sign of the stranger’s continued presence.
All the while, I worked the lock, desperate to free myself while the man was still here. All my anxiety did was make my brow sweat and my hands grow clammy and slick. Several times I dropped the dagger, nearly missing my big toe once. Cursing and muttering prayers to every god I could think of, I kept jiggling the metal, looking for the sweet spot that would spell an end to my trouble. The release I felt when the lock clicked open was greater than any I’d experienced with a man.
Rubbing my wrist, I stood and pocketed the dagger. I was halfway across the room before I realized the tower had grown eerily silent. I rushed over to the window and breathed a sigh of relief that the boat was still tied to its mooring.
I crept over to the door. Praying it wouldn’t squeak, I peered out. The hallway was deserted. So was Malegant’s room. I didn’t dare open Aine’s door, so I crept down the stairs and into the main room. It was deserted as well.
Imogen was slicing parsnips in the kitchen.
“Where is Aine?” I really didn’t want an answer, but I had to know before we could reinstate our escape plan.
She rolled her eyes and pointed at the ceiling. Then she made a gesture I’d never seen from a woman before. Apparently Aine was entertaining our guest with the friendship of the thighs, as my mother used to call it.
“Get your things and meet me back here.”
Imogen pointed at a bundle at her feet. She was way ahead of me.
“You know what to do then?”
She nodded, signing the word for fire.
I raced back up the stairs on silent priestess feet and uncovered the bundle Imogen and I had made months before on our first escape attempt. I slung the bag over my shoulder and fastened my cloak about my shoulders. With one final deep breath, I said a prayer to Ellen to guide our path, and I stepped into the hall.
I immediately froze. Aine’s door was ajar. I could have sworn it had been closed a moment ago when I raced past. I should have headed straight back to the kitchen, but I was compelled to peek inside. Making certain I made no noise, I crept up to the door. No movement disturbed the peace within. Hesitantly, I peered around the door. Aine lay supine on the bed, knees bent, one arm across her body, the other flung above her head. She wasn’t moving.
“She’s not dead,” said a familiar male voice over my shoulder.
I jumped and grasped my thundering heart. It couldn’t be who I thought it was. It just couldn’t. Slowly, I turned.
Lancelot grinned at me. “She’s only unconscious. A blow to the head will do that to a person.”
I couldn’t speak, only stare at him dumbly. How had he gotten in here?
“I was the fisherman,” he explained as though reading my thoughts. “It’s a long story, but we have not time for that now. We must get out of here.” He reached for my arm.
“Wait. I have to do one thing first.” I crept over to Aine’s side, still fearful of waking her, and slipped my ring off her finger. I put it back onto mine where it belonged. “Now we can go.”
Lancelot dragged me by the hand down the front stairs. Just as we were about to come into view, the main doors burst open.
Malegant strode in, an angry scowl on his face. “Aine! Imogen!”
Lancelot stopped so fast I smashed my nose into his back. We backed up a few steps, just far enough to stay in the shadows but close enough to watch the unexpected turn of events.
The head guardsman rushed in. “My lord, we were not expecting you so soon. Is all well?”
“My horse threw a shoe in the middle of the forest. I had to walk him back to town to have it fixed, but I wouldn’t stay in their rat-infested inn for all the gold in Camelot,” he said.
Imogen had entered the room now.
“Ah, good. Mother, some ale, please.” She turned to fulfill his request, but he stopped her with a touch on the arm. “Why is the fisherman’s boat still here?”
Imogen gave him a sly look and repeated the same gesture she had made for me.
Malegant rolled his eyes. “So that is where my sister is then?”
That was Lancelot’s cue to turn. “Go! We have only minutes before he finds Aine.”
“But Imogen—”
“Knows what she’s doing. Come on.” He dragged me toward the upper floor. “Change of plans.”
Instead of going all the way to the top, where the sleeping rooms were located, he pulled me into a small alcove halfway in-between. I almost screamed. A man who looked passably like a slightly older version of Lancelot was standing there.
“Well met,” Lancelot greeted him. “You are right on time.”
The man shook Lancelot’s hand and headed down the stairs.
“Who is that?” I hissed.
“Listen and learn,” he answered with a chuckle.
Lancelot whisked aside a tapestry on the wall and opened a hidden door leading out onto the rickety bridge. I stepped onto the landing, fighting a sudden wave of dizziness. Clouds were quickly filling the sky, and a sharp breeze buffeted the bridge, making it swing precariously. On either side, fog rose off the lake as the cold air hit its warm surface.
“Go on,” Lancelot encouraged me.
I took a hesitant step onto the wood beams. Each was about the width of both my feet together, and only four beams made up the bridge, allowing me to easily grasp the ropes on either side.
“Why didn’t we take the boat?” I asked, my voice shaking as I tested the next beam.
“The fisherman had to have it back for the ruse to work,” Lancelot answered, sliding around me to take the lead. “I convinced him to let me take his place today. I told him if I didn’t return in two hours to walk across the bridge and pretend he was the one who had made the delivery so he could get his boat back. It doesn’t hurt that we resemble one another.”
“And he agreed to that?”
“He agreed to my payment.” Lancelot grabbed my right hand, leading me slowly onto the bridge proper.
Behind us, chaos erupted. Voices carried out the windows on the wind.
Aine clomped unsteadily down the stairs. “Who is this?”
“You should know, sweet sister. If rumor is true, you’ve been riding him all afternoon.”
“He’s not. . . I didn’t. . .” Aine sounded confused.
I smiled, imagining her trying to reconcile the older man before her with the younger one in her memory.
“I’m sure you didn’t, just like all the others,” Malegant replied dryly. “Now if you don’t mind, I am going to spend some time with my wife. We are not to be interrupted. Understood?”
“He’s going to find out. We have to run,” I pleaded with Lancelot, looking around wildly for a way to steady the bridge.
Lancelot shook his head. “We can’t run. The bridge is too unpredictable. Can you calm the winds?”
“I think so.” I closed my eyes, sent my consciousness upward into the clouds, and willed the air to be still.
“It’s working,” Lancelot said.
We took a few steps toward the middle of the bridge, and a primal roar stopped me in my tracks. It was Malegant. He must have found the unoccupied chains.
Below us, the fisherman’s boat was a shadow in the mist. It was catching up to us. I could just make out two forms within. That meant Imogen and the fisherman had successfully escaped.
I shoved Lancelot forward. “Go! We have to get across before he cuts the ties and the whole bridge collapses.”
Lancelot sniffed the air. “Or notices the fire. I can smell it already.”
We walked as fast as the bridge allowed, t
he boat surpassing us easily. But then I noticed another shadow emerging from the fog. The mist parted and I saw Malegant had followed in his boat with two of his guards, both armed with bows.
Lancelot had noticed them too. He cursed. “I have no shield, so we have nothing to deflect their arrows if they can sight us through the mist.”
“Yes, we do. Can you carry me across?”
He looked at me as if I was mad but answered like a dutiful champion, “Yes.”
“I can direct the arrows away from us, but I can’t walk and do that at the same time.”
Without a question, Lancelot picked me up, one hand under my knees and the other at the middle of my back, shielding me with his body. “Do your best. I swear I will get us across.”
I closed my eyes again and envisioned the wind curling around us as though we were encased in a protective bubble. Arrows whizzed by, closer than I was comfortable with.
Lancelot set me down. “Climb on my back. I want to have my sword free should we need it.”
I did as he asked, but it was enough to break my concentration. An arrow grazed my left shoulder. I cursed.
Lancelot turned to tend to me but was knocked sideways against the ropes as the bridge shook. I fell flat on my face. Turning my head, I realized it wasn’t just the bridge shaking. Around us, trees were shedding leaves like rain. Branches fell into the lake like boulders in an avalanche. Waves smashed into the prows of the boats. The entire earth was shaking.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and a chill ran down my spine as a familiar keening filled the air. Aine was fighting back in her own way.
The ground rumbled again, and I struggled to my knees. Imogen’s boat was just nearing shore, while Malegant’s archers were fighting to keep their boat upright in the choppy waters. We had to make the most of our few moments of freedom.
I crawled toward the end of the bridge, afraid to stand lest another jolt send me tumbling over the edge. Lancelot clung to the ropes, carefully measuring each step.
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