Queen of Jastain (25 page)

Aesdil's body illuminated with a glowing mist rather than light, and he spoke into her mind.
“Your Gift is impressive, Abigail. Though it may have given you reprieve this day, it cannot save you.”

He pushed against her Implanting. Her light faded. He pivoted and stalked out.

She curled up in a ball on the floor until the tremors subsided. Never had fear gripped her so completely. Trying to regain control of her frantic heart, she played through memories of Avant. She thought of his smile, his broad shoulders, his implacable will, and those blue eyes. Her body stilled and her breathing calmed. Her thoughts turned to her current predicament.

Aesdil planned to use her as bait to lure Avant to his death. That wasn't going to happen.

She had to get out. Avant would be frantic by now, looking for her. Petra would be worried sick…
Petra
. The memory of his kiss washed over her, soothing her mind and confusing it at the same time. She had to get back. To both of them.

Sometime later, though how long she couldn't tell, a soldier brought a meager meal and water. She stared at the gray gruel. Deciding to brave the food and water, she ate and soon was overcome by sleep.
Note to self—definitely drugged.

The sound of footsteps woke her. Raising her head, she eyed another meal and water. How long she had been unconscious was unclear, but days had passed since her abduction.

She dumped the meal and drank the water, which didn’t seem to be altered. Then she passed the long, dark hours singing songs, playing word games in her mind, and trying to think of a way to escape.

Escape was necessary but was it possible? How could she use her Gift? If she could only access her Placement Implanting, she’d be out of this hell hole in a flash, literally. She tried to focus her energy and pull the torch from the wall, but the braided metal fastened into the stone. No concentration of her Implanting could remove it. Nothing else she had would knock a man unconscious. The cell itself lay bare except the tray with a small wooden bowl and cup. She went to the bars and tried the door then looked down the hallway as far as she could see. Nothing. She was stuck.

Where was a gun when you effin' needed one?
If she ever got back to Dallas, she was bringing a gun, and maybe a couple of grenades too. Then she would see how tough that scum bag was. If he hurt Avant, she would blow him and his thugs to kingdom come.

A plan dawned and she smiled as she worked out the details.

The next day when the soldier came to bring her food, Abby gathered her energy and pulled with as much force as she could amass, slamming him into the iron bars. Knocked out, he fell to the ground. She pulled him next to the cell and searched his body. No keys! No weapon. Nothing but the tray.
Shit.
She rattled the bars with her hands.

Eventually, the soldier regained consciousness. He rubbed the front of his head and scowled at her. Grabbing the empty tray, he left without saying a word.

More days passed. Abby didn’t know how many. A soldier brought her food once a day, or at least she thought it was once a day. It was hard to tell. She ate every third tray and slept for at least a day afterward from the drug. Her stomach bloated in starvation. She'd never experienced hunger before. It sucked. Her stomach growled and cramped, and food dominated her thoughts. The only thing that took her mind off her dire need for food was thinking about Avant. She imagined his broad shoulders and firm grip. A genuine smile flexed her face when she remembered how that one wisp of hair never stayed put but fell in a perfect wave across his forehead. Her heart ached with need for him like her stomach ached for food. Against her better judgment, she allowed her mind to wander into forbidden places.

Imagining him in the cave behind the falls, his body glistening and filled with desire, she entertained luscious dreams of endless passion where he sated her every need to be loved and cherished. At times, he was a gentle lover, calming her fears and bringing her sweet release. Others, he was a fierce warrior who took her shamelessly in feral need. However he took her, his strong arms always wrapped her in safety and heat.

Her need to stay lucid became a daily struggle. Floating in and out of consciousness, she counted what she thought was nine days since she'd seen the king and estimated she'd been in the dungeon two days before that. She hadn’t eaten the drug-laden food in a couple of days and wasn’t going to be able to make it much longer without nourishment. What she wouldn't give for a Big Mac and some fries.

Sprawled on the cold stone, her heart gave way to an overwhelming sense of loss and hopelessness. The threat of death became substance. She reached down in the recesses of everything she'd ever known to find something she could cling to, but it eluded her, just outside her grasp.

In a last ditch effort to regain her faith, a prayer sprang to mind and her parched lips spoke the words, “Lord, thank you for my life and all of the love you've given me. I know you haven’t brought me this far for me to die in these dungeons. Please help me out of here.”

There had to be a way out. Avant would be trying to rescue her. Her heart caught in her throat, and she gasped. If anything happened to him….

The door creaked open, and light footfalls pattered down the corridor. Abby’s head jerked up, and she stood in the middle of her cell, anticipating the approaching figure.

Her heart pounded in her head. The woman glided to the iron bars of the cell wearing a long, hooded cloak. The whoosh of air caused the torch to flicker, and her shadow danced long on the rock wall of Abby’s cell. Pushing back her hood, the woman revealed brown hair pulled back from the lovely lines of her neck and the silky skin of an oval face.

Abby gasped at the sight of the warm doe eyes she knew intimately, though they’d never met. Tall with an air of elegance, Sentieve’s regal beauty was everything a queen should be, and everything Abby wasn’t. With just a first glance, it was easy to see why Avant had fallen in love with the woman.

“My lady, have you been harmed?”

The queen’s satin speech rang oddly in Abby’s ears after not hearing a pleasant voice for so long, or any voice for that matter, for almost two weeks.

Abby shook her head but continued to study the graceful woman. “No, Your Highness. I’m just hungry. What are you doing here?”

Sentieve was older and more careworn than in the memories, but her countenance appeared genuine. Reaching into the deep pockets of the gray cloak, she pulled out a small loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, and an apple. She offered the food between the bars. “My lady, I need to speak with you. My sources tell me that you may be the Chosen One. Is this true?”

Abby quickly took the food not even caring if it was poisoned. “Yes, it’s true.” How often had she thought of Sentieve? Never had she imagined the queen would be helping her.

“Your name is Abigail?”

Abby nodded as she took a frantic bite of bread and barely chewed it before she swallowed.

Sentieve waited for her to eat a few more bites of bread and cheese before speaking. “You look so much like your mother.”

“You knew my mother? How?”

Raieda Randall had died in a car accident before Abby was two years old. She had only vague memories and a few old pictures of the woman.

“Raieda was my mother’s best friend, and she helped me….”

Abby gulped in air and bent over, trying to catch her breath.

Sentieve stared past Abby as if a long stored memory returned to her mind unwillingly. She breathed in sharply. “My sources tell me that someone has been helping you, Abigail. Someone by the name of Lord Ventium. Do you know Lord Ventium?”

In all the moments of Abby’s life, in every experience she’d ever had, these words brought more fear than any others ever had. Her body shook and her voice trembled. “Yes, Your Highness, I know him.” The utter truth of her words—truth the queen would never suspect—struck her as painfully ironic.

Speaking slowly, deliberately, the queen said, “I believe I also may know Lord Ventium.”

Steeling herself, Abby took a deep breath. “Yes, Your Highness, you know him.”

Sentieve closed her eyes and grabbed hold of the bars relying on them to keep her upright. “I had thought him lost and have only recently… Is he…well? Are you and he….” She opened her eyes and tried to ask, but it seemed as if she couldn’t bring herself to the words.

The defining moment of Abby’s life stared at her with familiar brown eyes. Finally, she understood the true meaning of sacrifice. “Avant is well. We’re friends. He’s been seeking a way to reconcile with you for more than twenty years.” A pain pierced her heart like a sword. “He still loves you.”

Sentieve turned her back. Her body shook beneath the cloak, and her chin lowered to her chest in quiet sobs.

After a long moment, she turned to stare into Abby’s face. “Thank you, Abigail. I must go now. I will return tomorrow. Eat no food brought by the sentries and hide any remains of what I have given you.” She quickly turned and padded away.

Abby heard the clank of the door and exhaled a sharp cry. She fell to her knees. Sobs came easily but, in her dehydrated state, the tears wouldn't flow. Knowing all along this was her destination, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it would happen. She had a bad habit of not accepting the reality of a situation. Escape was what her life was all about, even before her birth, but there would be no escaping this.

The pain reverberated inside her like the echo of footsteps that stole her heart’s desire. Avant would take up his life with the woman who obviously still loved him. He was lost to her. Gone, and she would never recover from it.
“Lord, the price is too high. I can’t pay it.”

A single tear ran down her cheek as the only lament her body could afford.

Laying in a fetal position on the stone floor, she eventually fell asleep.

Shaken out of a dream by the sound of footsteps, Abby stood at the approach of her daily meal. She'd awakened in the night and eaten all the food Sentieve had given her, hiding the apple core away in her corset.

The soldier, as always, didn’t speak but placed the new tray on the floor and removed the old. Abby met his cold gaze with defiance before he stalked away.

After he left, she ran to the water and drank it in one gulp, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat.

The ripping pain from yesterday’s encounter was replaced with a dull ache that made her head throb.

Sentieve was still in love with Avant and he loved her. What else was there to do? If Avant was in her shoes, what would he do? He would stand behind that ironclad will and endure. That’s what she would do, too. She had to find a way to get out and to bring the queen with her.

Sentieve had said she would return. Abby just had to wait until she did, then they would figure out a way to escape.

Hours passed. The door creaked open, and the patter of light feet echoed softly. She stood and went to the front of her cell.

Sentieve glided across the floor, her long cape billowing, giving her the appearance of floating.

Her eyes were grave and her face gray with exhaustion. “We must be quick.” Sentieve took out a key and unlocked the cell door. “Please come with me.”

Abby hurried out of the cell and down the hall. The queen opened the huge wooden door, which swung out to a winding stone staircase. The women stole up two flights and out a side exit of the castle.

The queen led Abby into a small room. Abby spoke before she turned to face Sentieve. “Your Highness, you must come with me. Avant will protect you. It has been our plan to rescue you.”

Sentieve shook her head and whispered, “I cannot go.”

“Your Highness, how can you stay? Avant is alive and wants you with him, and the king is dangerous. You must come….”

“I cannot go with you, Abigail.” She breathed in and looked up at the ceiling as if it could give her support.

What was holding her back? Abby couldn’t imagine not wanting to run all the way to Avant after hearing he was alive and still loved her. What was the crazy woman waiting for?

“After Avant’s death, I married the king and had a child. He was beautiful, strong and gifted, and having heard rumors by that time of the king’s treachery, I feared for his safety. Abigail, I did not know of the plan to harm Avant. I loved…
love
him.” She stopped and placed her long elegant fingers across her mouth as if she’d said something she herself didn’t realize. She inhaled. “I had to get my son out from under the king’s clutches.”

Abby gasped in horror. “Oh my God, Aesdil killed him?”

“He didn’t die.” Sentieve evened her gaze.

“Your son is alive?”

“With the help of your mother, I created the illusion of his death and sent him away with Raieda. I sent with him two of the Crown jewels that had been entrusted to me by my father. Raeida took him to a place where Aesdil could never find him.”

“Avant’s son is with my mother?” Abby sat absently in a wooden chair with a narrow back that spanned a foot over her head.

Sentieve looked at her with a sadness Abby couldn’t understand. “I don’t know if he is Avant’s son, but the last time I saw him he was with your mother. That was nearly twenty years ago.”

Abby shook her head, trying to understand. “Not Avant’s son? But Avant said you were expecting a child before his accident.”

“That is true.” Sentieve dropped her gaze in shame.

Abby looked at her with a revelation of disgust. “You were unfaithful to him while you were married? Do you know he's been faithful to you for twenty years? He won’t allow himself to love or be loved by anyone because of
you
.”

Deep lines of pain etched the woman’s face, and her voice was filled with inconceivable sadness. “I can imagine what you think of me, but believe me, I have paid for my indiscretion. I am telling you this because if you find my son, you will find the emeralds you seek.”

Abby’s head was so full of new information she wondered if it leaked out her ears. Two things stuck out in her mind: Avant may have a son and that son had two of the jewels.