A Knight's Persuasion (32 page)

The answer, however, was oddly phrased. He almost didn’t dare to hope . . .

“Show me ’tis what it says,” Edouard said.

Veronique sighed as though losing patience with him. “You do not believe I can read?” She held the parchment up at an angle, close to his face. “Years ago, I could not read one word, but I learned. Lovers are good for a great many things.” She raised her brows. “Well, Edouard?”

He managed a terse nod. “It does, indeed, say such. ’Tis my father’s signature.”

“So, you see, I never lied to you this day. I spoke the truth.”

Edouard fought the eerie coldness washing through him. He sensed Juliana and Kaine’s concerned gazes upon him, but kept his attention firmly fixed upon Veronique. He couldn’t betray his suspicions about the missive. He didn’t dare.

Stepping away, Veronique rolled up the parchment with her misshapen hands. “I have given you much to think about. Thinking, by the way, is all I allow of you tonight. If you try and talk to one another in even the tiniest whisper, or speak to the guards”—she waved a hand at the two men—“they will silence you. I will not have you planning an escape.”

“You are a heartless bitch,” Edouard ground out.

Smirking, Veronique tapped the parchment against her palm. “Beware, Edouard. I no longer have any reason to keep you alive. Another reason why Juliana will give me all the details I want at dawn.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

At the distant sound of a wooden door crashing against stone, Juliana’s head snapped up. She winced at the answering pain lancing down the back of her neck and through her shoulders, stiff from being held immobile by her chains. She could barely feel her hands. When she flexed her numb feet, a sleepy, pained groan welled in her throat.

“Easy,” Edouard whispered, beside her.

Juliana forced her weary eyes open. “I cannot believe I slept.”

“What else was there to do?” Kaine grumbled, rolling his shoulders as best as he could.

Juliana sighed, for Kaine was right. After Veronique had left the dungeon yesterday, Edouard had dared to address the guards. He’d tried to bribe them with a share of the hidden jewels, but without answering, they’d walked over to him and plowed their fists into his stomach. He’d collapsed in his chains, head bowed, gasping for breath, while she’d silently wept.

A draft of fresh air swirled down into the dungeon. Juliana watched the entrance stairs across from her. Dread brought a sickly sweat to her brow. Footsteps carried and, with the rattle of weapons and leather armor, the guards straightened. They stood tall, looking to where faint light touched the upper stairs: the light of dawn.

“Try to stay calm.” Edouard’s soothing tone reminded her of when they’d lain together to stay warm, before she’d recalled his and Nara’s betrothal. “Do not give in to your fear, Juliana. Veronique cannot know for certain that your memories have come back. She will try, though, to make you betray yourself and thus confirm her suspicions. You must keep pretending you do not remember. You must keep a clear mind.”

Juliana shuddered. “I . . . will.” She
must
stay focused. Good folk, mayhap even Edouard, would die this morning, unless she could successfully bargain with Veronique for the return of her ghastly bones.

“When the guards come to take you,” Edouard added, “do not fight them. Let them take us outside. We have a better chance of defeating them in the bailey, when we are not as well restrained.”

“All right.”

Veronique glided down into the dungeon. Tye and six armed mercenaries followed, but kept back a few steps.

Stay calm. Keep a clear mind
, Juliana told herself.

Veronique’s merciless stare settled upon her. “Well? Will you tell me where the ring is hidden?”

“I do not remember.” Juliana trembled, hoping she revealed naught in her gaze.

Veronique’s lips twisted. “You are a poor liar, Juliana.”

“Nay!” Juliana choked. “I promise you.”

Veronique signaled to the mercenaries. A hard grin curved her mouth as she glanced at the approaching thugs, several carrying lengths of rope. “Bind them and take them up to the bailey.”

“What will happen there?” Juliana asked, unable to stop the words racing past her lips.

“What I told you would take place.” Veronique smiled. “The killing shall begin.”

“Until I yield?” Juliana said.

“Until I have the jewels, including Landon’s ring. How many lives will that be, Juliana?” Her cruel gaze raked over Edouard’s body. “Will I have to take his life?”

“Nay.” Juliana’s mind whirled. The bag of bones. She must try to barter with Veronique. “Wait!” she cried, but her plea was lost as the mercenaries closed in.

Men reached for her manacles, their groping hands running over her limbs. Panic made her head swim, threatening to cause her legs to fold, but she focused on the rhythm of her breathing. That she could control. As her wrists fell free of the bindings, her upper body sagged, weakened from the strain of being held upright so long. Slumping forward, she groaned.

More mercenaries hauled her up by her numb arms and then tied her hands in front of her, heedless of the welts on her wrists caused by the manacles. For the barest moment, her gaze locked with Edouard’s. The heat in his stare roused within her a tangled mix of sadness and hope, but then men stepped between them to bind his wrists, blocking her view.

As she concentrated on her breathing, she welcomed the roughness of the rope against her tender skin and the pinpricks of pain shooting through her arms. The sensations reminded her she was alive, and she’d fight to survive.

When the commotion began to clear, she searched for Veronique, but she was no longer in the dungeon; she’d left with the two dungeon guards. Edouard and Kaine, bound and escorted on either side by mercenaries, were hauled up the stairs to the bailey. Then the men at Juliana’s side pulled her toward the stairwell.

“You really will not yield?” Tye said, falling in behind her. “Why not, Juliana? You can save yourself much torment.”

“I do not remember,” Juliana cried, even as she was forced toward the daylight.

Watery sunlight touched her face. When she reached the bailey, she dragged in a grounding breath of clean air. Veronique couldn’t win. She mustn’t.

Juliana became aware of the eerie stillness surrounding her. She glanced about to see a silent crowd filled the bailey. The castle folk were herded into groups by mercenaries with drawn swords.

An open space marked the middle of the bailey. Her captors pulled her to this area and forced her to halt. Edouard and Kaine, mercenaries surrounding them, stood a short distance away. Tye moved to stand near them.

“Keep them there,” Veronique said to Tye and the men watching Edouard and Kaine. “We do not want any foolish heroics, do we?”

A hideous shiver ran through Juliana as she glanced over the throng of men, women, and children, many of whom she recognized. She couldn’t watch any of them die.

Her gaze flew to Edouard. How handsome, proud, and defiant he looked, even in this dreadful moment.

Stay calm. Keep a clear mind
. . .

A metallic rasp sounded beside her. Veronique had drawn a knife from its leather sheath. Holding the blade straight out in front of her, she tilted it from left to right, a slow, leisurely examination, as she might admire a coveted new trinket.

“Perfect,” Veronique murmured. “Sharpened just as I asked.” Was she looking forward to the bloodletting? Did causing others to die give her pleasure?

Clearly attuned to Juliana’s horror, Veronique looked up. Her amber gaze sharpened. “I ask one last time, Juliana—”

“Why ask?” Juliana didn’t bother to caution her words any longer. “You do not believe me when I say I do not remember. You
want
to start murdering innocent folk.”

Shocked cries rippled through the crowd.

“’Tis true,” Edouard yelled, obviously eager to stir up unrest. “You are in danger,”—he winced when one of the mercenaries kicked him—“all of you!”

As screams and frantic shouts broke out in the crowd, Veronique’s stare on Juliana didn’t waver. “The deaths today will be upon your conscience.”

Juliana shook her head. “Not mine. Yours.”

A brutal smile defined Veronique’s lips. “You are trying to delay me.” She whirled, facing the closest group of onlookers, mostly maidservants holding tightly to their children; they recoiled in terror. “Now . . .”

Oh, God!
“Do you really believe that your killing will prompt my memories?” Juliana shouted. “Did your wretched bag of bones tell you that?”

Veronique’s whole body stiffened. Slowly, her head turned. “Strange, you should say that. My bones went missing yesterday.”

Juliana raised her chin.
Stay calm. Keep a clear mind
. . .

“So, too, did Azarel. My men have not yet found her. I thought she had taken them.” Veronique’s eyes snapped into menacing slits. “You know where they are.”

“I do.”

Rage burned in her eyes. “You stole them?”

“I took them from the guard I rendered unconscious and then hid them. I
do
remember where they are—somewhere you will never find them.”

Veronique hissed. “Why, you—”

“Put down the knife. Let me, Edouard, and Kaine go free. Promise you will not hurt any of these folk. In return, I will tell you where to find your bones.”

Veronique tapped a finger to her chin, a gesture that implied she pondered Juliana’s demands. Then she whirled, her red hair snaking out around her. “A tempting offer. Yet mayhap ’tis time I started a whole new collection—”

“Nay—”

“—of fresh bones, cut from the dead!”

“
Nay!
” Juliana cried, bile stinging her mouth. “Veronique—!”

Horrified screams arose. Folk scrambled to flee.

Shrieking a laugh, Veronique snatched a young girl, no more than five or six years old, from the throng and dragged her forward. Sobbing, the girl looked back at a crying woman struggling to reach her; a mercenary kept the mother back.

“Let her go,” Juliana pleaded, almost choking on her revulsion.

Veronique anchored her hand into the girl’s long braid and twisted. The girl cried out, her face crumpling with pain, even as Veronique jerked her head back and set the dagger at the girl’s exposed throat.

The terror in the young girl’s tear-filled eyes . . . A girl too young to have really lived or loved . . .

Juliana pressed her arm over her stomach and gasped, fighting to draw breaths into constricted lungs. This girl didn’t deserve to die.
Couldn’t
die. “Veronique,” Juliana croaked.

“I
knew
you would give in,” Veronique snarled, spittle at the corners of her mouth. “You pathetic, weak—”

A shout echoed from the wall walk above. “Milady!”

“Be
quiet!
” Veronique screeched, and pulled the weeping girl’s head back farther.

“Milady! Riders,” another man cried from above. “Approaching fast.”

Veronique glared up at the battlements. “
What?
”

“How many?” Tye snapped, his hand moving to his sword.

Juliana blinked up at the men on the wall walk, then looked at Edouard. Wariness still defined his posture, but he appeared to be . . . grinning.

Catching her gaze, he winked at her.

Winked!

Her pulse thundered, while the guard on the wall walk shouted down, “Two score riders. Likely more.”

Veronique spat an oath. Her furious gaze snapped to Edouard.

He smiled. “That will be my father.”

***

Edouard laughed, the sound rich and jubilant, as Veronique’s face contorted with shocked outrage. That look alone made his heart leap with pleasure. Knowing she’d believed him left to her depravity made this moment all the sweeter.

Today, his sire would wrest Waddesford from her clutches. At last, his father would see her punished for all the pain and treachery she’d caused not only the de Lanceau’s, but so many others through the years.

Hope shone in Juliana’s eyes. “Are you certain ’tis your sire, Edouard?”

“I am.”

“You
knew!
” Veronique shrieked, her gaze still upon him. She shoved the young girl from her grasp. The child stumbled, scrambled to her feet, and ran, crying, to her mother.

Edouard shrugged, as well as he could with his wrists bound and mercenaries at his sides. “I had my suspicions.”

The knife shifted in Veronique’s white-knuckled hand. “I see now. The missive was strangely worded. You would understand it held a message.”

“I told you.” Tye stormed to her side, his expression dark with fury. “I warned you last night, Mother. I said ’twas too simple, but you refused to heed me—”

Veronique trembled on a violent curse. She turned on him, the knife flashing in the sunlight. “Cease!”

Easily dodging the errant strike, Tye’s brows raised. “Swear at me all you wish, Mother. However, I do not intend to become my father’s prisoner.”

“Neither do I.” She thrust her hands at the mercenaries amongst the throng, looking uneasily at one another while still keeping the castle folk corralled. “Give all the menservants weapons,” she shouted at them. “They shall fight for us or their families will die. Then you will go to the battlements. Do not let the army get near. Kill anyone who tries to cross the moat. Do you understand?”

The warriors glanced at each other. Some looked disgruntled, an opportunity Edouard mustn’t let slip by.

“Obey Veronique, and you will die,” he called. “You cannot defeat my sire. Lay down your arms and surrender to him.”

“Silence, Edouard,” Veronique shrilled. “Win this battle for me, my mercenaries, and I will pay you thrice what I do now!” She pointed to the warriors guarding Edouard and Kaine. “You, too, shall be so rewarded.”

“Aye, milady,” the mercenaries said, before those in the crowd rushed off to do her bidding.

Veronique gestured to Tye. “Round up the remaining mercenaries. Send them to guard the gatehouse. No one is to enter or leave that way.” She thrust a gnarled finger upward. “Then join me there on the wall walk.”