Love Spell: Book 2 of The Grimm Laws (13 page)

“I …” her voice caught. Why was this so difficult? She loved Rush, but she felt this responsibility toward Edward. In fact, her loyalty to Edward seemed to come from some deep part of herself, almost as though it had come from another time and place. That castle she’d seen in that vision! It was somehow connected to all of this! “Um … I don’t know quite how to say this …” She ran a hand through her hair. “I know things have been kind of tense between us lately.” She glanced at Rush’s peeved expression and then at his clenched fists. A wave of sympathy washed over her. The old Elle had put him through so much. No wonder he didn’t trust her. She forced the words out of her mouth. “What I mean is that I’m so sorry, but—” The phone beeped, letting her know her time was up. The call ended. She sat there, feeling numb, holding the phone in her lap. When Rush scowled, frustration pricked her. “I was going to tell him,” she said defensively, “but the time ran out.” She touched his arm. “Besides, Edward deserves to hear it from me … especially after what happened …”

He gave her a skeptical look. “What happened?” He paused, eyeing her. “And this had better not be another one of your games,” he warned.

“I told you I’m not the same person I was before the accident,” she snapped.

He spread his hands. “Which is why I’m still here.”

“Jerk,” she muttered.

He laughed and shook his head. “Well, you’ve gotta love that sharp tongue.” He began lightly rubbing her arm. Electricity surged through her, making it hard to concentrate. She glanced at his lips, remembering how they’d felt against hers. He seemed to be reading her thoughts and gave her a quirky smile. “Talk first, and we’ll kiss later.”

Heat scorched up her face. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered.

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said innocently. “Okay, continue your story.”

She moistened her lips, trying to find a way to phrase her words so that she wouldn’t come off sounding completely crazy. “The other night …” Crud! She’d forgotten this tidbit. She would have to admit that she’d gone up in the canyon with Edward. This wasn’t going to end well.

He leaned in closer. “The other night.”

Geez! He was making it super difficult for her to concentrate when every part of her wanted to kiss him again. And judging from the look on his face, he knew it. There was no other way to do this but to come right out and say it, like jumping into a cold swimming pool before reason could make her reconsider. “The other night, Edward and I went to the canyon.” The words spilled out, leaving a rotten taste in her mouth.

His hand dropped from her arm and down to his side.

There was no stopping this freight train now. The brakes were gone, and she had to plunge on through. “I’m not trying to make you angry,” she continued, “but while we were up there, this black thing—this shadow crawler—circled around us.” She shivered involuntarily as her face drained. Her throat felt tight.

He gave her a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “This thing. It’s part monster and part human.” She glanced around the room, feeling like they were somehow being watched. “It was terrifying,” she whispered. She winced as his expression went from surprise to doubt, and then she saw the look she dreaded most—the one that believed she was a loon. “I know this isn’t making any sense and that you think I’m crazy, but something happened up there, and it involves Adele.”

He shook his head. “Adele?”

“Yes, she knows what’s happening to us.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, scratching his head.

She caught hold of his hands and locked eyes with him. “Do you ever get the feeling that all of this is some sort of dream or test? That we came from somewhere else?” She could just picture how crazy he would think she was if she told him the truth.
You see, I saw a castle and the two of us on a horse, in a meadow
.
Oh, and by the way, something screwy is going on with my mirror. My reflection isn’t really my reflection, and I saw this gold key that somehow fits into all of this. Oh, and Adele wants me to bring it to her when I gain possession of it because she’s afraid that some lady named Griselda’s going to steal it away from me.
No, she certainly couldn’t tell him that. Geez! Maybe she was going crazy! It had finally happened—Adele dragged her into her kooky world.

“Elle, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know.” She let out an uneasy laugh. “Believe me, I know. It sounds crazy, and if someone had told me this a few weeks ago, I would’ve thought they were crazy, but something is happening here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Adele has powers,” she said in a low tone.

“Powers?” he asked dubiously.

“Yes, she can start a fire with the flick of her fingers, and her chocolate—it makes people forget things.”

A furrow appeared between his brows, and then he blew out a breath. His eyes narrowed. “You’re making this up. This is all some silly game you’ve concocted to throw me off.”

“No!” Her eyes went wide. “I promise! You have to believe me.” Frustration welled up inside of her, and she wanted to scream! How could she possibly expect him to believe her when she could scarcely believe it herself? “The mirror.” It was a long shot but worth a try.

“What? Elle, this is crazy!”

She clutched his hand and pulled him to his feet. “The mirror. Look into it,” she ordered.

He frowned. “Okay.” He looked into the mirror.

“What do you see?”

“My reflection … your reflection.”

“Look closer.”

He peered into the mirror.

“Show him!” she ordered. “Show him … please.” Desperation was clawing at her, and she could feel the fingers of hysteria clutching at what little sanity she had left.

“Show me what? Who are you talking to?” He shot her a sympathetic look.

Tears pressed against her eyes as she looked and saw only their reflections staring back. There was no way he was going to believe her. He led her back to the bed and sat down beside her. Silence settled between them. “Are you okay,” he finally said.

She gave him a weak smile. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He looked unconvinced.

“I promise.”

“What’s really going on here?” His voice was tender … concerned, and he began stroking her hair.

She sought for a way to repair the damage. “I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of myself … scared of you.”

His lips turned down. “Of me?”

“Scared of losing you,” she clarified, giving him a pleading look. “I’ve only been able to gather bits and pieces of how I was before the accident, but it sounds like I did some pretty mean things. I know I treated you terribly.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

He nodded.

Her phone buzzed. Alarm raced through her as she saw who was calling. “It’s Edward,” she whispered, wiping away the tears with the palms of her hands.

“Answer it and cut him loose. That’s my condition. You can apologize profusely or concoct all of the crazy stories you want, but it won’t change the fact that I won’t keep being a stand-in for the golden boy. I require your complete fidelity or we’re through … for good this time,” he said firmly. “One small action is greater than a thousand words, Elle. Show me.”

Her throat felt like it was closing as the ominous buzzing continued. Everything was hanging in the balance as she reached for the phone.

I
f the map
Seraphina gave her was correct, she was nearly there. Cinderella held up the torch in an attempt to illuminate the path in front of her, trying to keep her focus on what was ahead rather than on the damp walls, oozing moisture. Even the walls were crying in despair. Crying over Rushton’s impending death and the role her treachery would play in the event. The air was growing cooler with each step, and the ground kept sloping downward. She shuddered thinking that Rushton had been in this wretched place for over a week now, all because of her. Tears welled, and she swallowed them back, willing herself to keep walking forward. She stopped and strained to hear the noise in the distance. It sounded like a heavy door closing, followed by footsteps. Her heart began to race, and she looked around wildly for a place to hide. If anyone saw her, she’d be done for.

It had taken Seraphina a full two days to put the plan together—partly because the dungeon was heavily guarded and partly because Seraphina had been forced to sell a ruby ring in order to secure the information they needed. The plan hinged on two key factors: knowing how to get to the dungeon unseen and when the change of guards would take place. According to Seraphina, the guards worked in groups of three and rotated out twice a day—once in the morning, just after the first meal and once in the evening, just after the last meal. There was only a small window of time (when the guards took their meals) that the dungeon was left unguarded. What if the information Seraphina purchased was incorrect? What if the guards were there? The walls seemed to close in around her, and Cinderella had to will herself to remain calm. This useless worry was doing her no good, but she couldn’t seem to stop it. She thrust her free hand into the pocket of her frock, and felt a little better when her hands encircled the pouch of gold coins she had tucked away to use in case something went wrong and she needed to bribe one of the guards.

She saw the torches on the wall first, followed by an opening up ahead. This was it. She paused a moment, steeling her courage. It was now or never. She threw her torch on the ground and used her foot to stomp out the flame. She would need to relight the torch for her journey back, so she placed it against the wall in what she hoped was an inconspicuous place. Then, before she could change her mind, she continued walking.

Movement caught her attention, and she jumped back, pressing herself into the wall. Footsteps! Men’s voices! The guards! She looked around frantically for a place to hide and saw an offshoot of another tunnel to the left of the dungeon entrance. Not knowing what else to do, she ran for it and lunged in. Her foot got caught on the hem of her frock and she tripped, breaking the fall with the palms of her hands. She let out a slight moan.

The footsteps halted.

“Did ye hear that?” The guard sounded cautious.

“Nay. What was it?”

“Shh, listen.”

Cinderella held her breath.

“It sounded like a child … or woman.”

Deep laughter. “No women down here, my brother. Only men and vermin. Stinky, smelly men. I do not know how the vermin can stand them.” More laughter.

What if they came this way? Should she try and outrun them? But where would this tunnel lead? Footsteps again. She strained to listen. They were growing fainter. She uttered a prayer of relief when she realized the footsteps were fading away. She had to hurry! Seraphina wasn’t sure how much time she would have in between the change of guards.

Her hands were stinging from the fall. She stood and rubbed them on the coarse fabric of her plain, black frock. She’d worn plain clothes on purpose. Hoping that if anyone saw her, they would think she was a servant. Simple hair, ragged cloak, eyes downcast. For so many years, this had been who she was—a servant in Seraphina’s home. It was startling to realize how much more at ease she felt in these humble clothes than she did in the elegant silk gowns with their rich colors and intricately woven beadwork. Maybe she was destined to remain a servant. She shrugged off the thought and focused on the task at hand.

She nearly cried when she saw the closed wooden doors, blocking the entrance of the dungeon—solid and imposing with their handles made of iron. How did Seraphina miss this crucial part of the plan? If they were locked, she’d never get in, and all of the trouble they went to would be wasted. She grasped one of the handles with both hands and pulled. Nothing. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she pulled with all of her might, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried the other door next. Took both hands and pulled. It moved. She exerted all of her strength and was able to open it enough to scamper through. Once inside, she looked around the open room with the dirt floor and wooden beams at the top. There were two chairs and a table in one corner. On the other, a solitary bed made of straw. The dampness seeped through her thin frock and cloak, sending chills up her arms. Movement caught her attention, and she whirled around. A rodent was scampering up the wall. Relief flooded her, making her knees go weak, but she shuddered in disgust at the same time. There was a narrow tunnel off to one side. That had to be where they were keeping him. She started walking in that direction. The tunnel opened up to a large room. She saw him, sitting in a crouched position, his hands and feet shackled to the wall.

“Rushton!” she whispered, running to him. He looked up, and she stopped in her tracks, momentarily confused. It wasn’t Rushton but someone else near the same age. He pushed his stringy hair out of his eyes, looked up, and smiled. “Well, well as I live and breathe … Me thinks the angels have taken pity on me and sent one of their own to bind up my wounds and comfort me with food, I hope, and …” His eyes traipsed over her … “blessed company. Thou art sweeter than the plumpest berry, mi’ lady, and I welcome ye to my humble abode.”

Her eyes went wide. Any self-respecting maiden would have slapped him for his impropriety, but the ridiculousness of the situation struck her as funny. Here he was, filthy and chained to a wall, and he was going on about angels and her sweetness. She chuckled despite herself. “Who are you?”

“Why, I thought ye would have heard. The whole kingdom knows who I am.”

She took a closer look.

“Jack,” he announced, straightening himself up. “Humble Jack Swift of Landerburg Township.”

From the way he said it, he obviously thought that would explain everything. “Sorry, I am not acquainted with thee.”

He looked disappointed. “I am the cuckold who trusted the old hag. ‘Plant the beans,’ she told me. ‘Plant the beans, and ye will be a hero—rich beyond thy wildest dreams.’” He let out a humorless laugh and held up a shackled wrist for her to see. “She neglected to tell me about the giant.”

Realization dawned. “Oh, you are he who loosed the giant. Jack the Coward.”

He beat his fist on his leg, causing his chains to rattle. “Those liver-bellied, snake-eyed, dogs cannot get their story straight. I was not afraid!” He looked her in the eye. “I am not a coward.”

Time was trickling away. “Jack,” she said urgently. “I am looking for someone. His name is Rushton, and he was brought here a week ago. I don’t have much time before the guards return. I need to speak with him.”

He laughed. “Alas, you are not an angel, sent here to keep me company.” His eyes met hers. “Pity.”

“Please, I need thy help.”

“What did ye say his name was?”

“Rushton.”

He paused, his eyebrows knitted in concentration. “Sorry, I do not know him.”

“But you must! He was brought here!”

He eyed her slyly. “Got any ale?”

“Nay, but I have gold coins.”

Interest flashed in his sharp eyes, and she could tell that she had finally caught his attention. “Is this Rushton about my age with dark hair?”

“Aye,” she said eagerly. “Aye!”

“Now that I think of it, I do seem to remember seeing someone who looks like that …” He paused. “How many gold coins did ye say ye have?”

She reached into her frock and pulled out the bag of coins.

“Cinderella!”

“Rushton!” She turned and saw him, standing in a separate room and craning his head to look through a small square opening. In that one word, she heard the heart-wrenching mixture of hope and anguish in the timbre of his voice. She moved to get to him.

“Nay, mi lady, do not flee, for we were only just now getting acquainted.” Jack caught hold of her frock and pulled her toward him. The sudden movement caught her off guard, and she fell directly on top of him.

She twisted free from his grasp, stood, and jumped back, beating him. “Remove thy hand, filthy knave! You knew Rushton was in the other room. You tricked me!”

Her outburst seemed to amuse him. He flashed a quick smile. “Can’t blame a lad for trying.”

“I will kill you,” Rushton yelled. “If you touch her again, so help me, I swear before the almighty king and the throne that I will shred thee to pieces and make thee food for wolves!” He beat the wall with the palm of his hand.

Jack started laughing, a loud, raucous sound that echoed off the stone. “The noble squire comes to the aid of the princess. Forgive me, sire, if I am not shaking in my boots, but seeing as how ye are shackled to the wall, I don’t see how ye are in a position to be handing out threats.”

Cinderella gasped. He had called her
princess
. “How do you know who I am?”

He gave her a shrewd look. “I may be chained to a wall, but I am neither deaf nor dumb.”

“The latter part is debatable,” Rushton piped in.

“What do you mean?” Cinderella said.

“What I mean, plum tart, is that the entire kingdom is ablaze, talking about how the peasant princess stole the heart of the crown prince. Hair like the sun, eyes like the sky. Even the moon is envious of you, they say.” Jack made a point of looking her up and down. “I suppose ye are passably attractive in an ordinary fashion … if ye are into that sort of thing.”

Her face flamed. It was bad enough that she was standing here, having a conversation with this slovenly fool but to think … the people were calling her the
peasant princess
when she did not want to marry the prince to begin with. She had a primal urge to grab the knave by his skinny neck and squeeze until his head popped off. The urge left as quickly as it came. Enough of her time had been wasted on this scoundrel already. She gave him a hateful scowl, hoping it would convey that she considered him lower than the rodents scrambling up the wall, before dismissing him altogether. Cinderella turned and went to the small opening where Rushton was holding out his arms to her. She clasped her hands around his, shackles and all.

“You are,” he said, wonderment in his voice. “I cannot believe it, for I feared that I would never lay eyes on thee again.” Moisture formed in his eyes. “‘Tis what I prayed for, my love, to look upon thy face once more.” He touched a strand of her hair.

His face was gaunt and bruised, and there were dark circles under his eyes, fathomless caves reflected in a deep pool of water. She looked into those vivid blue eyes, searching for the fierceness she knew so well—the essence of who Rushton was. The man that, on the night they were captured, would have single-handedly waged war on the king’s guards had she not asked him to surrender. Panic fluttered in her breast. Had they beaten the fight out of him? Had they finally won? No one, perhaps not even Rushton, could remain strong in this dark, dank dungeon.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Rushton, what have they done to thee?”

She saw it then. The heartache. The pain. The torture he must have endured. He looked away, not wanting her to see more. But she reached and gently turned his head so that it was facing hers. “I am so very sorry.” She rested her forehead against his.

He nodded. “Me too. ‘Tis my fault. I should have never sent you that letter asking you to meet me.” His voice broke. “If only I had possessed the strength to let thee go.”

“I know,” she murmured, “I know.”

He pulled back, studying her as if he were trying to memorize her face. “We haven’t much time, the guards will be returning soon.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, halfway expecting the guards to be standing behind her. She had gotten so caught up in seeing Rushton that she had momentarily forgotten why she was here. Her carefully prepared words were stone on her tongue, too heavy to speak. She looked into his eyes, drinking in the memories—everything they had together. A part of her was dying in this dungeon. Dying here with Rushton. She saw her life stretching on without him, empty and cold.

“What is it?” he said gently. “I prithee. Tell me.”

“Seraphina and Queen Loreena found the vial. They are saying that you cast a love spell over me. That the spell was so powerful I was compelled to leave the castle that night and meet thee in the forest.”

He looked stunned. “What? That is ridiculous!”

She paused, knowing how deeply the next part would cut. “They are saying that Wisteria masterminded the plan and concocted the spell.”

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “They do not want to involve my mother in this! Heaven help the fools that are ignorant enough to tangle with her.”

“I know, this whole thing is absurd, but ‘tis like I tried to explain to thee in the forest. Seraphina’s debts are being called in, and she fears that if I do not marry Edward then she will lose the manor, the land, everything my father worked and died for.” She detested how the words sounded in her ears. Detested how she felt. Detested that she was even considering going along with this foolish plan in order to save herself and what semblance of a family she had left. What must Rushton think of her?

“I see.” He paused, studying her. “What else?”

She shook her head, unwilling to say more.

“What else did she tell you?” There was a hard edge to his voice, making her wonder how she could have ever thought he was defeated. He grabbed her wrist. “I demand that you tell me!”

“She wants me to agree to her plan.” The words started spilling out like grain tumbling from a sack, and she couldn’t hold them back. “She says that you are going to die anyway and that my standing by thy side will not change anything. Except that we will both die.” Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.