Twilight of a Queen (46 page)

She braced for the queen’s anger, but Catherine only smiled. “Am I not? We shall see about that. I admire impertinence to a degree, but it is not becoming in one so young. I advise you to have a care, my dear.”

Meg tipped up her chin in a show of bravado. “Why? You—you probably intend to have me killed anyway.”

The queen clucked her tongue. “Is that why you look so grim, child? You fear that I brought you all this way to have your head? I assure you that I mean you no harm.”

“You did once. You sent an assassin to London to kill me.”

“A mistake on my part and you have my sincere apology. That was before I understood what an extraordinary girl you are. Now I hold you in the highest esteem.”

“I cannot imagine why that would be, Your Grace.”

“Because—” the queen dropped her voice lower. “As far as I know, you are the only one who has ever managed to translate and read the
Book of Shadows.”

“The book is gone,” Meg insisted.

“Is it?” Catherine smiled. “I don’t think so. I believe you learned a great deal from it.”

Meg swallowed. “That was my mother’s doing. She insisted that I learn how to read the book.”

“And you were such an adroit student, fashioning those nasty witch blades, conjuring up poisons and those deadly white silver roses. What a brilliant girl you are, Megaera.”

“Th-that is not my name and I no longer do any of those things. I have forgotten everything I culled from the book,” Meg said, even though she realized from the way Catherine was smiling that her denial was futile.

Catherine produced a small glass vial. “Then wherever did you learn to brew the powerful elixir that you gave to your friend, Xavier?”

Meg flushed. “That man was no friend of mine.”

“Truly? He certainly behaved as if he were. Risking his own neck in an effort to convince me that you were nothing, that the potion in this vial was water he had obtained from some magic fountain.” Catherine’s lips twisted.

“I must confess the man can be very glib and convincing, but not quite convincing enough.”

Meg listened, her eyes widening. So Xavier had gone back to Paris to see the queen. Not to betray her as she had feared, but to deflect the queen’s interest away from her.

“He really did that for me?” she said. “I don’t believe it.”

“You may ask him yourself if you like. I was obliged to punish him for his treachery.”

“Wh-what did you do to him?” Meg asked, struggling to conceal her dismay.

“Nothing so terrible yet, merely locked him up in the dungeon. Captain Xavier is not fond of imprisonment, owing to an unfortunate experience aboard a Spanish galley. He may well be on the way to losing his mind.” The queen shrugged. “But since he is no friend of yours, you need not distress yourself over his fate. Or that of the Englishwoman.”

“What Englishwoman?” Meg asked, her stomach knotting with another layer of dread.

“Oh, did I fail to mention that when Xavier attempted to escape, Lady Danvers was foolish enough to come to his aid? I was obliged to detain her.”

“Jane?” Meg cried. “Oh, what have you done to her, you evil witch? Did you hurt her?”

“There is no need to resort to unkind insults, child. Lady Danvers is quite well. See for yourself.” The queen gestured to a point behind Meg.

Meg whirled around to see that Jane had been escorted by two guards into the antechamber. Jane looked paler and thinner than Meg remembered, but she appeared unharmed.

Meg had resolved to present such a brave front to the Dark Queen, icy and controlled. But the sight of Jane was her undoing. She stumbled across the room into Jane’s outstretched arms.

Jane held her so tight, cradling Meg in her arms, burying her face in Meg’s hair.

“Oh, Meggie,” was all she could say.

Meg wished she could remain locked in the safety of Jane’s embrace forever. Her tears wet the front of Jane’s gown.

“How touching,” the queen drawled.

Jane raised her head to glare at the queen. “Why did you have to bring Meg here? Why can’t you leave her alone? She is only a young girl.”

“Oh, Megaera may be many things, but a mere girl is not one of them. Is that not so, my dear?”

“Yes.” Meg stiffened her spine, drawing away from Jane. She furiously mopped at her eyes before turning back to face the queen.

“I am sure now you understand how matters stand,” the queen said. “Lady Danvers’s continued well-being is entirely in your hands.”

“Do not lay that burden upon her,” Jane began, but it was Meg who cut her off.

“It is all right, Jane,” she said tersely. Any reluctance, any remaining doubts Meg had about carrying out the purpose that had brought her here were at an end. She could feel her heart hardening.

“What do you want from me?” Meg demanded.

The queen held up her empty vial. “More of this potion to begin with. After that we will see …”

T
HE DARKNESS OF XAVIER’S CELL WAS UNRELENTING WHEN
night fell. The sheer weight of the black chasm that engulfed him seemed to press against his eyes. His body was a mass of aches and bruises, his wrists and ankles raw from his futile efforts to free himself from the manacles that bound his hands and feet.

The room in which he was confined was small and dank, outfitted with little more than a thin pallet and the chamber pot, nothing that could serve him as a weapon. The only window was a narrow aperture set far above his head.

Xavier could remember little of the journey that had brought him to this place. He had nightmarish recollections
of slipping in and out of consciousness as he had been jolted along in a cart over rough roads.

At some point, someone had attended to his wound. Xavier believed it might have been Queen Catherine’s own physician. The witch was clearly determined to keep him alive, if for no other reason than the pleasure of tormenting him to the brink of madness.

He feared he was halfway there. His days and nights were a blur. He had no notion how much time had passed, how long he had been the queen’s prisoner. Worse still, he had no inkling of what had happened to Jane.

He cursed, threatened, and in the end had begged his guards for information. But they brought him food and carted away his slops in stony silence, obviously under strict orders not to speak one word to him.

He was tormented by recollections of the threats Catherine had made against Jane. The fear that these images aroused was so great, he had to force them from his mind in order to keep his sanity.

The only thing that prevented him from slipping over the edge was his ability to slow his breathing, to ease himself into a self-induced trance. In his mind, he assumed the form of the jaguar. He was back in his tropical paradise, near the cool stream with his mermaid bathing his brow.

Her caress felt so gentle, so real, Xavier opened his eyes. After being in total darkness, even the soft glow of the candle felt painful. His eyes gradually adjusted, focusing on Jane’s face.

When he realized she was not an illusion or a fever-induced dream, his heart constricted painfully.

“God damn it, no,” he rasped, tossing his head weakly from side to side, unable to stop the flow of tears from his eyes.

“It is all right, Xavier. I am here,” Jane said, trying to wipe his tears away.

“No!” he groaned. “Don’t want you here. I prayed you ’scaped. Why didn’t… run? Why did you t-try to—”

“Hush, my love,” she soothed. She continued to bathe his face and forced him to take a sip of some wine.

It was a potent vintage, heavy and sweet. Xavier was unprepared for the rush of warmth it sent through him, seeming to radiate along every vein, every nerve. Even his head felt a little clearer.

The candle set in its iron holder rested upon the floor next to Jane. The burning wick cast a soft flickering glow over her features, but the illumination was not enough for him to see her as well as he wished. His gaze roved desperately over her.

He took another swallow of the wine and it cleared his throat. He was better able to articulate his words.

“You are not harmed? That witch has not hurt you?”

Jane smiled sadly. “No. I am close watched but other than that I have been well treated. I don’t believe the queen considers me of any significance other than a pawn to persuade Meg to do her bidding.”

“Meg?” Xavier’s breath hitched in his chest. “The queen has Meg too?”

He moaned. The situation seemed so hopeless.

“Tell me everything that has happened,” he said.

Jane related as much as she knew of Meg’s capture and arrival at the castle.

“The queen is so desperate for Meg’s cooperation, she has made many concessions. It was Meg who persuaded Catherine to allow me to visit. The queen has accorded Meg a certain measure of freedom and given her a stillroom to work in. She badly wants more of Meg’s elixir.”

“Meg must not brew it for her. It only makes Catherine stronger.”

“Meg knows that. She has been stalling for time, but I don’t know how much longer Catherine will give her. Meg has succeeded in making more of the elixir. She put a few drops in this wine.”

That explained the potency of the wine. Xavier managed a wan smile. “Considering how the girl feels about me, I am surprised she didn’t try to slip something else in the cup.”

“Meg knows the truth about you, Xavier.”

“What? You mean about how my blundering only resulted in the Dark Queen being more determined to capture her?”

Jane stroked the hair back from his brow. “No, she knows how you risked your life in an effort to protect her.”

“Damned little good that it did.” The irons on his wrist clanked, but at least they allowed him enough movement to gather Jane’s hand in his. “Jane, I don’t know how much more time we will be granted together, so you must listen to me.

“Meg is remarkable, so clever. I suspect that elixir is only one part of what she learned from that
Book of Shadows
. She can use her knowledge, figure out something that will help the two of you escape. I know it must sound mad, trusting your fate to a girl—”

“Meg is not a girl anymore,” Jane interrupted him, her expression somber. “She has changed into someone I scarce recognize and it frightens me. It is as though she is actually becoming Megaera.”

“Megaera may be the one needed to defeat the Dark Queen. Have her conjure up whatever dark spell, whatever is necessary. If you find any opportunity for escape, you have to take it.”

“I won’t leave you,” Jane said quietly.

“Damn it, woman,” Xavier said, in his agitation struggling to rise. “There is no hope for me, can’t you see that? Catherine believes that she read my greatest fear, being shackled and held prisoner in some dank hold. But she understands so little of love, she doesn’t know, could not comprehend.”

Xavier regarded her with a mingling of love and desperation. “My greatest fear is anything happening to you, Jane.”

“And what do you think mine is? Losing you.”

Xavier swore again and tossed his head, racking his mind for anything that he could say to convince her. But Jane captured his face between her hands.

“Damn you, Louis Xavier Cheney,” she said fiercely. “You listen to me. I—will—never—abandon—you.”

He stared deep into her eyes blazing with so much love for him it filled him with such joy, such despair, such frustration at his own helplessness, he felt his eyes well up all over again.

Jane wrapped her arms about him, cradling him close, tears spilling down her own cheeks. She whispered in his
ear, “We survived a near revolution. We will get through this somehow together, you, me, and Meg. I know we will.”

She was glad that her face was buried against his neck and he could not see her eyes. If she and Xavier did find a way out of this, it would not be because of Meg.

Some darkness indeed seemed to have taken possession of the girl. Meg showed very little interest in escape.

THE STILLROOM THAT CATHERINE HAD PROVIDED FOR MEG
was set in the older part of the castle, far away from the main flow of the household.

The queen had stocked it well with every manner of herb, mortar and pestle, vials and cauldrons. The chamber was strangely little different from Ariane’s workroom.

But Meg was certain that the concoction steaming in her cauldron was nothing that had ever been brewed by any Lady of Faire Isle. As Meg worked, she was aware that a guard hovered just outside the door.

She knew that Catherine’s servants were supposed to be keeping close watch and reporting everything she did, every ingredient she used. But they were lax in their duties for a reason that astonished Meg when she realized it.

They were all more afraid of her than Catherine. Her reputation as the Silver Rose had spread and was talked of in hushed whispers. For once Meg did little to try to disprove her legend. The fear of the servants worked to her advantage. Although she was disturbed when even her burly guard shrank away from her, it also gave her a heady taste of power.

As she carefully added another ingredient to her cauldron and the liquid bubbled violently, she saw the guard inch even farther from the doorway.