He studies me for a long, silent moment, then seems to make a decision. “Here. Let me show you these ghosts.” He lets go of my arm, then pounds once on the grilled door. As footsteps shuffle toward us, he glances down at me. “How did you get in?”
I blink, as if I do not understand his question. “I opened the door and walked in.”
“Impossible,” he hisses. A dark eye peers through the grille. He looks up so his face can be seen, then there is a rattling sound as the latch is lifted.
Interesting that the jailor opens the door so easily for my brother. Just how deeply is Julian in d’Albret’s confidence? I had thought him peripherally involved in d’Albret’s schemes, just enough to keep from drawing attention to himself, but now I must rethink that.
The door opens, and the strange little man makes a crooked bow. “That,” I say, looking at the creature, “is no ghost, but a crippled old man. Or a gargoyle.”
Julian shoots me an exasperated look, grabs my arm, and half drags me across the small room. I cover my nose with my hand. “And that is most definitely not an otherworldly stench,” I say.
“Behold.” Julian thrusts me toward a second door that also has a barred window at the top. “Your ghost.” Julian takes a torch from the wall and shoves it through the bars.
“Sweet Jésu,” I whisper. The man groans and tries to turn away from the bright flames. His face is beaten and misshapen and lumpy and crusted with blood. He is half naked, with naught but rags to cover him, and two great wounds in his left arm ooze darkly. I cannot believe this is the same creature who so valiantly fought off the duchess’s attackers but a fortnight ago. D’Albret has taken yet another bright, noble thing and ruined it. “Who is he?” It is no great trick, putting revulsion and disgust in my voice, for the prisoner has been treated like the vilest of criminals, a violation of all decent standards for ransom. We would not treat our oldest hound this poorly.
“Just a prisoner from the battlefield. Now come. If anyone else learns that you have been here, I do not think even I can save you from our father’s wrath.” With that, Julian sets the torch back in the wall, then drags me from the dungeon.
Once outside the cell, I take in great gulps of the sweet, cold air. “Is our lord father planning to ransom him?”
“No.”
“Why doesn’t he just kill him, then, and be done with it?”
“I think there is some old history between the two of them, and our father has planned some special revenge. I believe he intends to use the man to send a message to the duchess.”
I keep my voice light. “The man does not appear capable of getting a message across his cell, let alone to Rennes.”
“You misunderstand me. The knight will be the message. When his hanged, drawn, and quartered body is delivered to the duchess, it will serve as a warning that even her strongest and most loyal men cannot stand against the d’Albret name.”
The vileness of this plan makes my stomach roil. I smile and poke Julian playfully in the ribs. “My, but you are fully in our father’s confidences now. Have you risen so very high in his favor?”
We have reached the top of the stairs. Julian ignores my question and turns to face me. “How did you get in, Sybella?” It is his most serious voice, the one he always uses when he worries we are in danger.
“The door was unlocked,” I tell him. “Was it supposed to be otherwise? If so, you’d best check with the guards and see who was last on duty, for it was not when I came upon it. “
He still looks unconvinced. I step closer to him and ignore the sharp wave of revulsion that rises up from deep within me. I place my arms around his neck and rise up so that my lips touch his ear. “I am telling the truth, but you may search me if you like. It would make a very fine game.” My heart is thundering so hard in my chest, it is a wonder he does not hear it. Afraid that he will, I do the only thing I can think of to distract him. I place my mouth on his.
His eyes widen in surprise, and then he wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer so that our hearts beat against each other and I can feel the entire length of his body against mine. He pulls away long enough to sigh my name.
He is not my brother, he is not my brother.
When he moves in to kiss me again, I step sharply back, rap him on the chest with my fist, and scowl. “Next time, do not leave me for so long,” I say with a pout. If he thinks I am playing a game, he will play too. If he thinks I am rejecting him, he will turn on me. I wait, holding my breath, wondering which it will be.
When he blinks in mild surprise, I know the moment of danger has passed. “How did things go with Mathurin?” I ask to more fully distract him. “Was our father satisfied with the explanation you gave him?”
“Yes. He was pleased, in fact, that you acted so quickly to see to his interests.” Julian almost smiles, for he knows how poorly that sits with me.
“And the others. Have they returned yet?”
“No. I rode on ahead. To hurry back to you.” His voice holds an accusing note, and his eyes are but pools of darkness in this lightless place. I wonder if he is telling the truth or if he is more wrapped up in my father’s games than I have guessed.
But no, not Julian. He is the only one in my entire family who hates our father as much as I do. But he has also changed in the three years I was away at the convent, and it worries me, for I do not know him as well as I once did.
Besides, he has betrayed me before. There is nothing to say he will not do so again.
Chapter Twelve
OUR TRIP BACK TO THE room is long and tense and we do not speak at all. I glance sideways at him, but his face is obscured by the shadows.
Has he bought my explanation? Has he guessed my true purpose in going to the dungeon? No, he cannot have, for even I was not sure of my true purpose. Although now that I have seen how weak and injured the prisoner is, I am even less certain he can be saved, let alone ride the twenty-six leagues to Rennes, where the duchess awaits him.
When we reach the residential wing of the palace, Julian nods to the newly posted sentry at the door. As we climb the stairs to the upper floor, my desperate kiss to divert Julian’s suspicions lies thick in the air between us. I fear he has taken it as a bold invitation. What will he do once we reach my room?
We stop at my chamber door, and even though I know Julian is waiting for me to open it, I turn as if to bid him good night. “I am glad you are back safe and sound,” I murmur.