Donovan's Woman (6 page)

Artur paced the floor of his private chambers. Earlier that day, his father had announced that Artur would marry the Princess Kallen. Artur had known the alliance was coming. He knew the reason for it, but the thought of wedding and bedding the horse-faced princess of Sirrus was daunting. He had seen the wench only twice and been repulsed by her on both occasions. Neither her face nor her figure appealed to him. But, as his father had told him so many times in the past, an alliance with Sirrus was of far more importance than Artur’s personal feelings on the matter.

With an eye on the lands and dowry Kallen would bring, Artur could hardly refuse. Once she had produced a male heir, and a second son as insurance should something befall the first, he would have no further use for her. Her demise would be easily arranged. A sudden, fatal illness, a fall from the tower window, a riding accident, perhaps, and he would be rid of her, free to marry a woman of his own choosing. Had Marri not been his kin, he would have chosen her…

Ah, Marri. She professed no interest in the throne, but history was rich with stories of men and women who denied they wished to rule and later changed their minds, wreaking havoc in the kingdom. Better to eliminate any and all potential rivals now. Her very presence would complicate things, especially if their father took it in his head to believe her suspicions about the deaths of Cobb and Caddin.

Moving to the mirror that stood in the corner, he stared at his reflection. “Soon,” he murmured. “Soon, the kingdom will be mine.”

As far back as he could remember, he had coveted the throne. As the youngest child in the family, he had always known that the only way he would ever obtain his heart’s desire would be by force or deceit. Even then, he had discounted Marri. She was only a girl, after all. And Annis had early-on expressed her desire to take holy vows, sparing him the need to be rid of her.

It had infuriated him to know that Caddin was being groomed as the heir to the kingdom. Artur was wiser than both of his brothers, better suited to rule their holdings, and yet his father could not, or would not, see that his youngest son possessed qualities and leadership abilities that Caddin did not.

Artur slammed his fist against the wall. It had galled him that everyone in the kingdom had curried Caddin’s favor. The young women of the court had fawned over him, hoping to gain favor with the future king.

When it became obvious to Artur that his father was too blind to see that Caddin lacked the wisdom to rule the kingdom, and that Cobb was more enamored of his mistress than power, Artur had taken matters into his own hands.

He turned his head this way and that, imagining his father’s crown on his head. Marri was the only thing standing between himself and the throne. If Dunnin failed him, then, as distasteful as it might be, Artur would eliminate her himself.

Striding to the window, he cursed softly as he gazed out into the courtyard. Dunnin had been gone a fortnight without a word. Did Marri still live?

He turned as his mistress called his name. Ginna was a plump but pretty wench with fiery red hair and odd, yellow eyes. She had been his mistress since he was sixteen. He would miss her, he mused as he crawled under the covers and took her in his arms. But she was fast becoming another complication he could no longer afford. 

Eyes closed, Marri rested her forehead against the cold stone wall of her prison cell, grateful to be free of the chains that had bound her. Never in all her life had she been so miserable. Her back burned like the fires of Cuadra. If one stroke of the lash hurt this much, how had Gryff endured so many more? She groaned softly. Her legs ached. Her arms ached. She was hungry. And thirsty. So thirsty.

She kept hoping she would awake in her own bed and discover the past few days were only a horrible nightmare. Although it hadn’t all been horrible. Parts of it had been nice. The parts with Gryff…

She glanced at the cell across the way. Chin resting against his chest, he looked like he was asleep, though how he could sleep standing up, with his arms and legs stretched to their limits was beyond her. It had been hours since he’d said. She missed the comfort of his voice. Now, drowning in the heavy stillness of the dungeon, everything seemed worse, if that was possible.

She twitched as something brushed against her ankle, screamed when something fat and brown scurried over her foot and disappeared through a crack in the wall. A rat! She hated the dirty, disease-bearing creatures!

“Marri, are you all right?”

“There are rodents in here!”

“Is that all?” His faint laughter echoed off the walls.

Marri scowled. How could he laugh at a time like this? They were locked in a dungeon. No one knew where they were. No one would come to their aid. Tears stung her eyes. How could something like this have happened to her? All she had ever wanted was to be allowed to marry and raise a family. She wasn’t interested in court intrigue, had no designs on the throne. Now, she yearned for nothing more than to return to Brynn Castle, but even that was no longer possible, not when Artur was determined to see her dead.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she dashed them away with her fingertips. But the harder she tried not to cry, the faster the tears came.

“Marri, crying won’t solve anything.”

She sniffed. “I know, but I…I can’t help it.”

“Dry your eyes. I’ll get you out of here.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I will. I promise.”

She couldn’t imagine how he would accomplish it, but he had escaped this dreadful place before, and she pinned all her hopes on that.

* * *

Gryff shifted from one foot to the other in a vain attempt to get comfortable even though he knew it was impossible. Serepta had healed his wounds but his whole body ached from the unnatural position of his arms and legs. His limbs were stretched to the limits of their endurance, his muscles screamed for relief. He licked dry lips, wondering if and when Serepta would allow them nourishment.

He glanced over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marri, but it was too dark to see more than a vague outline. He knew she was afraid and in pain. He didn’t know where she came from, but he was certain she had never been mistreated in her entire life. He hadn’t missed the fact that her skin was baby soft and unblemished, that her hands were smooth and without calluses, that she was totally ignorant of the ugly side of life.

Maybe she really was a princess.

Maybe her father was out there, searching for her with legions of armed warriors.

And maybe Serepta would kiss him on both cheeks, wish him Godspeed, and send him on his way.

He was dozing when the door creaked open and an old woman limped into view, a covered tray in one hand and a torch in the other. She set the torch in a holder, removed the tray’s cover, and slid one plate under the door of his cell and another under Marri’s. Picking up the tray, she hobbled out of the dungeon.

Moments later, an ape of a man shuffled into view. He had come earlier and released Marri from her bonds. Entering Gryff’s cell, he removed the shackles from his wrists and ankles, but didn’t unlock the collar’s chain from the iron ring in the floor.

Wordlessly, he stepped back into the corridor, locked the door and shambled back the way he’d come.

Gryff’s legs were numb and refused to hold him. Stumbling forward, he sank down on his haunches, his stomach growling as the scent of beef and vegetables tickled his nostrils.

Besides the bowl of soup, there was a loaf of dark brown bread and a cup of tepid water.

He ate quickly, the soup’s warmth strengthening him. Only when his hunger had been assuaged did he glance in Marri’s direction.

She was sitting on the floor, sipping daintily from the crude wooden bowl. Feeling his gaze, she looked up. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ll be all right. How about you?”

“My back hurts.” After what he had been through, Marri felt guilty for complaining. Still, the witch had healed Gryff, while the wound in her back was still raw and oozing blood. She could feel the wetness, warm against her skin. It should have stopped bleeding by now. Why hadn’t it?

“I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “How long do you think she’ll keep us down here?”

“Until she tires of us, or until…”

Marri stared at him, all the color draining from her face. “Or until we’re dead?”

“Don’t think about it. Brooding won’t help.”

Nodding, she set the bowl aside, her appetite gone. Gryff had promised to get her out of this dreadful place, but she was afraid he was just trying to make her feeling better. She wanted desperately to believe him, but she was sorely afraid that she was never going to see her father or her sister again.

She was still trying to absorb that fact when the door opened and Serepta entered the dungeon. She looked cool and elegant in a long blue gown trimmed in white fur.

With a low groan, Gryff stood.

Lifting her staff, Serepta pointed it at the collar around Gryff’s neck. “I would see the wolf.”

Gryff shook his head. “No.”

“I’m bored,” Serepta said. “You can amuse me, or…” Slowly, she swung her staff in Marri’s direction. “She can.”

Marri glanced from Gryff to Serepta and back again, her eyes widening as Gryff’s body transformed. One moment he was a man— the next, a large black wolf stood in his place. She stared at him, mesmerized by the creature’s size.

“Astonishing, is it not?” Serepta mused. “I have seen him do it dozens of times and yet it never fails to amaze me.” Unlocking the cell door, she stepped inside. A touch of her staff freed the chain from the iron ring in the floor. Taking hold of the end, she strolled out of the cell.

The wolf padded behind her.

Marri watched the two of them until they were out of sight, her mind reeling at what she had seen.

* * *

Serepta left the castle by a side door that led into a walled garden. It was her favorite place, created by her own hand. Wildflowers bloomed here both summer and winter. Lacy ferns shared space with blood-red roses. Trees grew to remarkable heights, their branches intertwining at one end of the garden, providing a leafy canopy that blocked both sun and rain. Footpaths meandered through the foliage; stone benches stood at intervals. Brilliantly colored peacocks wandered the grounds. Statues of soldiers and warriors and maidens stood forever frozen in time. At first glance, they appeared made of stone, but anyone looking closely could see they weren’t statues at all, but men and women who had been frozen in time. The truth was in the horror reflected in their eyes.

She paused in front of one of them now. He had been a young man, vain and foolish, with beautiful blue eyes and a wayward tongue. If he still possessed the power of speech, she had no doubt he would have gone down on his knees and begged for her forgiveness. Pleaded with her to end his torment, but it was too late for that. Eternally too late.

Smiling, she patted his shoulder and moved on. She had filled the garden with statues of people who had displeased her.

The wolf walked beside the witch, seething with impotent rage as she stopped before each poor unfortunate wretch who had been foolish enough to provoke her wrath. He supposed he should be grateful he wasn’t one of them. But, statue or slave, he was still under her power, his freedom gone, his only hope of survival to suppress his anger and obey her commands.

He growled low in his throat. He had escaped before. He could do so again, though taking Marri with him would make it more difficult. But he couldn’t leave her behind, didn’t want to think about what Serepta would do to her.

He padded beside the witch as she made her way from one end of the garden to the other. When she came to a small alcove, she sat down. He stood in front of her, waiting.

“Shall we do tricks, wolf man?” she mused. “Let me see, where shall we start? Sit. Good boy. Lie down. Roll over.” She laughed as he obeyed each command. “Such a good boy.” She patted him on the head. “Shake hands.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a bit of meat. “Beg.” When he did so, she fed him the morsel, then leaned forward and offered him her cheek. “Have you a kiss for me?”

He stared up at her, stared at her long, white throat, and imagined his teeth sinking into soft, warm flesh…

The collar at his throat vibrated. He whined as it grew tighter, tighter. Damn and blast! How did she always know what he was thinking? And how could he have forgotten her uncanny ability to do so?

He stood his ground, stubbornly, stupidly, daring her to do her worst.

She watched him through narrowed eyes and then, in an elegant gesture, she extended her hand toward him. Pain exploded through his body, sharp, needle-like shards that pierced every inch of his flesh until he trembled convulsively.

There was only one way to end the pain and he was loath to do it. He curled into a ball, hoping she would make it stop, knowing she wouldn’t. Not until he abased himself at her feet.

Time lost all meaning. It was foolish to resist and yet he couldn’t bring himself to surrender so soon. It was like a horrible game he could never hope to win and yet, each time she punished him, he hoped for the strength to endure the pain until she grew weary of exacting it. Thus far, it had never happened. Tonight would be no different.

Unable to endure more, he crawled toward her on his belly, lifted his head, and licked her hand.

“I will forgive you this time,” she said, her voice as hard and cold as the ground beneath his paws. “Next time, I will give the woman to my guards. They would enjoy her, don’t you think?”

* * *

Hours later, Serepta returned him to the dungeon. When the chain was again affixed to the iron ring in the floor, he looked up at her, a silent plea in his eyes.

“Tired of being the wolf, are you?” she purred. “Very well. Resume your human form.”

When he had done so, she left the cell and locked the door. Looking thoughtful, she stared at Marri for several moments and then she looked at Gryff again. “I think perhaps we will go hunting tomorrow,” she said with a mysterious smile. “Rest well until then, my handsome one.”

Marri waited until Serepta was gone, and then she moved toward the front of the cell, her hands folding around the bars. “What did she mean by that?”

“I’m not sure,” he said with a shrug.

But it was a lie. He knew exactly what Serepta had in mind.