The tall, dark figure scowls in disbelief. “Sybella?”
Merde! It is no mere guard or sentry, but Julian. He takes three silent strides toward me and grabs my arm. “What are you doing here?” Behind the anger, I see true fear in his eyes.
“You’re back.” The joyful lilt in my voice is so convincing that even I almost believe it. I smile coquettishly. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I searched until I thought to check the one place you should not be.” He gives my arm a little shake. “You cannot imagine the danger you have put yourself in.”
“I could not sleep for the rattle and clank of the ghosts. Did you know this tower is haunted?”
“You could hear the sounds of haunting all the way from your chambers?” His eyes are wide with disbelief.
“Of course not.” I glance out from under my lashes. “I came to the chapel to pray for your safe return. That’s when I heard the rattling.”
The harsh planes of his face relax slightly. “While I appreciate your prayers, you have put yourself in harm’s way, prying where you should not.”
“How was I to know my prayers would be answered so quickly?” I smile, as if with true gratitude. Then I grow serious once more. “Ghosts, Julian. Can you feel them?” I allow a shiver to rack my body—easy enough with the chill of all the unquiet dead clinging to me like a mantle and so much fear coursing through me. I make certain to put a sparkle of excitement in my eyes. “Ghosts of all the prisoners who have died here, unshriven.” There is a faint rattle of chains just then, the first I have heard from the prisoner all night. I clutch at his arm. “There! Did you hear it? They could sneak into our rooms at night and suck the souls from our bodies.” I cross myself for good measure.
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.