A Knight's Persuasion (31 page)

Two guards held Juliana between them, pinning her arms behind her back.

A cruel smile on her lips, Veronique held a dagger at Juliana’s throat.

Chapter Twenty-One

Juliana tilted her head against the grimy dungeon wall behind her. When she moved, her cheek brushed her upper arm, bared by her fallen sleeve, and she caught the scent of sunlight still clinging to her garments.

Not a single sliver of sunshine reached into this belowground prison; a few wall torches provided the only light. With her arms stretched above her head, and chains clamped around her wrists and ankles, she awaited the dawn and the grim fate Veronique had promised after the guards had secured Juliana’s shackles. “Come daybreak, you will tell me where that gold ring is hidden. I will kill servants, one by one, till you yield that information.” Veronique had smiled in that depraved way of hers. “Better still, I will use my knife on Edouard.”

Juliana swallowed, her mouth painfully dry. She didn’t want to reveal any secrets to Veronique, but she also didn’t want Edouard or any castle folk to be harmed. Not because of her.

The faint
clink
of another prisoner’s chains reminded her that Edouard and Kaine were shackled in the same manner as she, and lined up along the wall beside her. The three of them were all that were left of Edouard’s supporters.

Beside her, Edouard blew out a sigh. Her eyes burned. She fought the desperate need to look at him, to know he was still alert and full of fighting spirit.

But she couldn’t meet his gaze. Not yet.

How could she, when she’d failed him? Him, Kaine, Lord Geoffrey de Lanceau, and all the other good people who’d hoped for an end to the treachery at Waddesford.

A silent cry broke within Juliana and she dropped her head back to the wall. She ignored the twinge of discomfort from her wound, for the pain was unimportant compared to the slaughter Veronique would carry out. Somehow, tonight, Juliana must think of another way to save Edouard and Kaine, and give Lord de Lanceau an advantage over the traitors.

One of the torches popped, sending flames licking in a greedy spike, and she flinched. The yellowish light flicked over mortared stone smeared by years of God only knew what. In places, she recognized the spread of gray-black mold; the earthy odor of it thickened the stale air. Closer to the door, where two guards stood talking in lowered voices, grooves in the dirt floor showed where a heavy object had been dragged several yards. A torture rack? A coffin? A shudder crawled up from the soles of her feet, as though the souls of those who had died here had come to warn her of doom.

“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.