The Commander's Desire (34 page)

Except she hadn’t killed the Commander. Had
this proved Richard’s death sentence?

They strode quickly through the halls—toward
the throne room, she realized. Did the Prince sit upon his throne,
even at night? Would he witness the justice the Commander would
mete upon her head, approving it? She gasped, trying to wrench
free, but it only resulted in a harder vise around her arm.

Feet flying, unwillingly, over the stone
floor, she approached the throne room. The doors were open, and it
looked dark inside. So the Prince wasn’t in there. …But a man
sprawled on the floor, near the door.

Richard.

She let out a high, keening wail. The
Commander allowed her to collapse at her brother’s side. He was
dead, she knew this. “Richard. Richard!” She wept and pressed her
cheek to his lifeless one. All their days together as children flew
through her mind at once. The good times, the bad. She sobbed
harder, for the boy he had been, for the man he had become.

“
Come.” The Commander
gripped her wrist, dragging her to her feet. “Enough.” He propelled
her down the hallway again, but she looked over her shoulder,
wanting one last glimpse of her brother. She knew she would never
see him again.

Elwytha did not know where they were going.
She couldn’t see through her blinding tears. Finally, the Commander
shoved her into a small, warm room, and she saw it was the Prince’s
study. He stood beside the round table, alone. Elwytha saw a
parchment upon it. And a quill with ink.

The Commander released her when she reached
the table.

Frightened, Elwytha looked from one to the
other and brushed the tears from her eyes. What meant this? Why had
they brought her here? To kill her, wouldn’t they bring her to the
dungeons, or outside, maybe?

She waited, barely daring to breathe, for one
of them to speak.

The Prince spoke. “Your brother is dead,
Princess. Now your family’s kingdom falls to you.”

Elwytha heaved a breath. Surely they did not
intend to let her live and rule her kingdom. She waited silently
for her sentence to be read.

The Prince’s obsidian eyes held hers. “You
will sign surrender papers now. You will sign over your kingdom to
my throne. Otherwise, we will battle and vanquish your land on the
morrow.”

Elwytha’s hands shook. If she signed it, he
would conquer her land with a pen stroke, and the land her family
had ruled for centuries would no longer be theirs. The dishonor of
it. And the death. The Prince would surely not allow her family to
live. He would kill everyone opposed to him.

“
Nay,” she said. “I will not
allow the murder of my family…my people.”

“
We will kill only those who
defy us,” the Prince said.

“
And I would trust your
honor?” she spat. “You, who killed my brother?”

“
Your brother,” the Prince
said through thinned lips, “felled my guards with a potion. He
sprang upon me with a stolen sword. And he attacked your Commander
with a log and three daggers. He deserved his fate.”

Elwytha stared at the bloodied face of her
husband. He returned her gaze, steely eyes cold. Blood congealed on
his face and he looked frightful, yet still she loved this man. And
Richard had done this to him—had smashed his face somehow. And what
of the dagger attack? Swiftly, she scanned him, and for the first
time saw the blood on his forearm, and the dark stain dripping down
his leg. Horror shuddered through her. Richard could have killed
him.

Her brother had attacked him with the three
daggers as she had meant to do. He had lost. And he had earned his
fate.

She heaved a breath, trying to marshal her
thoughts, and continued to look at her husband. “If the Commander
also swears to their safety, I will believe you.”

The Commander frowned at her. He didn’t look
to the Prince for confirmation. “I swear by my honor.”

Hands trembling, she reached for the quill.
“As well, promise homes for my family, and no ill treatment for all
who cooperate,” she demanded.

“
Done,” the Commander
rumbled.

Elwytha stared at the document. A peaceful
surrender would benefit her people far more than another bloody
battle. A battle they would finally lose, she knew, as they had
lost the last battles. And now they had no king, no ruler. Any
attempt from one of her distant kinsmen to rise to power and deploy
warriors would happen too late.

She dipped the quill in the ink and with a
steady hand, neatly wrote her name. “You have your surrender,” she
said. “Now what will become of me?”

The Commander stiffened beside her. He did
not speak, as if unable to.

The Prince spoke instead, black eyes fixed on
the Commander. Could that be a flicker of compassion in that
obsidian gaze? Elwytha found it hard to believe that any kind
emotion lived in him. His next words proved it. “Decide soon,
Commander. You will ride on her castle at first light.”

Elwytha gasped and clenched her fists. “You
promised no battle. You promised the safety of my people!”

The Prince’s eyes looked as hard as coals.
“We will ride under the white flag of truce. The Commander will
present the surrender agreement. All those who fight against us
will die.”

Elwytha went very still. The Commander would
enter her castle, vulnerable, and possibly alone. She turned to
him. “Don’t do it,” she cried. “They’ll kill you.”

The Prince mocked, “Still, she professes
wifely affection.”

She glared. “I know my warriors. They will
attack the Commander if he enters the castle gates.”

The Commander said, “I am not as foolish as
your brother. We will meet on the ground of battle, outside your
castle.”

Elwytha was relieved, but still felt dismayed
about the fate of her people; and about her own fate. She forced
herself to meet the Commander’s eyes. He gazed at her with dislike
and contempt, and it seemed that he didn’t want to look at her at
all. Elwytha’s heart began to bleed, then, as she realized the
deep, irrevocable damage done between them. She had come here
intending treachery. Richard had tried to kill him. The Commander
no longer trusted her. He hated her. He would believe no words she
spoke to him.

“
Commander, what would you
do to me?” She couldn’t stop the small tremor in her
voice.

A muscle clenched in his jaw and he glanced
at the Prince. Then he looked back at her, eyes a wintry, bleak
gray. Harshly, he said, “I will not decide your fate now. I am too
angry to think clearly.”

She swallowed. What did this mean? “Will you
put me in the dungeon, then?”

She waited, and the Prince remained silent,
as if waiting, too.

“
I will put you where it
pleases me!” he thundered. Anger twisted through the
words.

She jumped a bit and he seized her arm, which
frightened her still more. He told the Prince, “I will return
soon.” And then he forced her to the door.

Silently, she ran to match his long strides
down the halls. Familiar halls. He was returning to his chamber…to
her old chamber. He thrust her inside the small room. He seemed
barely able to look at her. “I will decide your fate when I return
from your castle,” he gritted, and slammed the door. She heard the
lock click.

Elwytha stared at the closed door, barely
able to believe her fate. Was it good or bad? She would live for
another few days…or weeks. And then what? Would he kill her when he
returned? Was this incarceration meant to intensify her torment and
fear?

She couldn’t believe this. She did, however,
believe he didn’t know what to do, and that was why he’d locked her
in here.

Still, her fate remained undecided. Tomorrow
he would ride against her castle. Elwytha knew her warriors. Many
would rather fight than surrender to the Prince, signed surrender
or not. Many men could die. The Commander could die.

Elwytha could not bear the thought of any
harm coming to him. She loved him. She loved him so much.

She sank onto her bed and wept for the loss
of her marriage, for her brother’s death, for fear of the
future…and for her own broken heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elwytha paced her small
cell
of a chamber, feeling depressed. Gray,
early morning light streamed in through the overhead window. It
matched her mood. Over a week had passed since the Commander had
ridden out to defeat her castle. Was he dead? Had they killed
him?

Anguish roiled inside her. Though he hated
her, she still loved him with all her heart. Even if she was to
die, she wished him to live a long, good life. It was what he
deserved.

As she had received what she deserved. She
had plotted treachery and lied. No one would believe that she had
changed her mind, even if she told them—the Commander hadn’t. He
didn’t believe she had married him because she wanted to. She loved
him—but hadn’t told him so. He believed nothing she said, anyway.
He didn’t believe that she had wanted peace. Or that she’d tried to
stop Richard’s murderous plot. More tears trickled down her cheeks.
She had cried buckets in the last eight days. It seemed like they
would never end.

The Commander hated her, as did everyone else
in this palace. Her two friends, Hagma and Mary, hated her, too. It
was unbearable. Every day Hagma brought her food, and Elwytha
couldn’t look at her anymore. She couldn’t stand the disappointment
and anger in her friend’s eyes.

She heard a sound at the door, and knew Hagma
had arrived with breakfast. She sat quietly on the bed and watched
the maid enter.

“
I’ve bread and eggs this
morning,” Hagma said, and then attended the necessary chores in the
chamber. She moved quickly, as if anxious to leave.

All of a sudden, Elwytha couldn’t stand it
anymore. “I know you hate me,” she said softly. “I know you all
do.”

Hagma turned on her, eyes hard. “You betrayed
us all. How else should we feel?”

Elwytha swallowed. She had to try, at least,
to explain herself. Over and over again she’d rehearsed her
speeches of innocence…and remembered her sins. She was about to go
crazy in this tiny room, cut off from people, and from the outdoors
she loved so well.

And feeling the hate of others shriveled up
her soul. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to speak…to try to
make someone understand. And struggle—perhaps hopelessly—for
someone to believe her.

Quietly, she said, “I committed no treachery
against the Commander. It’s true I intended to when I first
arrived, but…”

“
Because you hate us so
much?” Hurt and further anger sounded in Hagma’s voice.

“
No. Because of Thor.”
Elwytha drew an anguished breath. “I thought the Commander murdered
him. His sword was found deep in his back. Richard wanted
vengeance, and so did I. So he sent me here under a false peace
agreement.” Elwytha felt even more depressed, confessing her guilt,
and further shame; not better, as she had hoped.

“
The Commander would kill no
one in such a manner,” Hagma stated, sharp and
condemning.

“
Of course not.” Elwytha bit
her lip. “I learned that quickly. So I decided to abandon Richard’s
plot. But when Richard came, he told me he’d kill the Commander if
I wouldn’t; so I told him I’d do it. But really, I meant to smear
my own blood on the blade so Richard would think he was dead. Then
we’d both escape the palace and go home. But it didn’t turn out
that way.” That horrible night again blasted through Elwytha’s
mind.

Hagma said coldly, “Richard plotted to kill
the Prince.”

“
I didn’t know,” Elwytha
cried out. “I didn’t guess—not until he came. And then I told Mary
to warn Henry that Richard might need watching. I hoped I was
wrong. I didn’t
know.
Since I first got here, I wondered if Richard might be
plotting something else, but I never dreamed… I thought he might
try to attack the palace, but I never guessed he’d try to
assassinate the Prince.”

“
Verily.”

Elwytha looked away. “I know you don’t
believe me. I know you hate me, and everyone hates me. The
Commander hates me.…” Unable to help herself, she burst into tears.
“I never wished for any of this to happen.”

Hagma looked sad, and wary. “Truly,
miss?”

“
Yes.” Elwytha felt
hopeless. Helpless. The man she loved hated her. She was
incarcerated in the enemy palace, and every friend she’d made here
distrusted and hated her. It made her feel sick to her stomach. In
truth, she felt she might vomit now.

With difficulty, Elwytha took a deep breath,
trying to calm herself. But her relentless thoughts beat on. Her
honor had been irrevocably sullied to these people. Forever, they
would be her enemies. She wiped her face with her sleeve and
surveyed the unappetizing eggs before her. The sick feeling
intensified and she pushed the tray aside.

“
What is to become of me?”
she appealed to Hagma. “I’ve been locked up here for over a week.
Has the Commander vanquished my land? Am I to die?”

Hagma bit her lip and backed toward the door.
“The Commander has not returned, and I do not know, miss.”

Of course not. She was only a servant.

“
I will speak to Mary,”
Hagma said. “I’ll be back later.”

Hopelessly, Elwytha watched her go. Another
mindless day to be spent in her prison. If only she had a parchment
to write upon, or needlework to occupy her mind. She felt she might
go crazy soon.

The food looked revolting now, and Elwytha
flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Light streamed
through her tiny window. Oh, if only she could go outside. But
condemned prisoners could not partake in such joys. And when the
Commander returned, not only would her joy be ended, but perhaps
her life as well.