keep.
If only her mother were still alive, but Elene had died last year, struggling to give her husband yet another child.
Shanara whirled around as she heard a scrabbling noise behind her, a cry of alarm rising in her throat as a large black rat crawled out from under the straw tick. Picking up her skirts, Shanara retreated to the far corner of the small cell, her back pressed against the damp wall.
Despair settled on her shoulders like a shroud. She was going to die here, in this horrid little cell. The rats would eat her flesh, and no one would care…
She pressed her fingertips to her lips. Why had Reyes kissed her, then thrust her aside? She would not have been surprised if he had forced himself upon her, but the fact that he had pushed her away surprised her a great deal.
But it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now.
Reyes sat in front of the hearth, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. Six days had passed since he had locked Montiori's daughter in the dungeon. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined her sitting in that damned dismal cell with nothing to do but stare at the bars that imprisoned her. He imagined her horror at sleeping on a stained tick on the cold floor. He shied away at the thought of rats sharing her cell. His only concession had been to see that she received nourishing meals. Meals she had, thus far, refused to eat. Perhaps he was being too cruel. Perhaps he would tell Rolf to put a bed in her cell…
"No!" She was the enemy. No matter that she was young and more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. He could not think of her as a woman. She was a means to an end, no more, no less.
He looked up as his steward entered the room. "Did she write the letter?"
"Yes, sire." Rolf handed him a piece of rolled parchment.
Reyes read it quickly. As he had instructed, she told her father that she had been taken captive by Lord Reyes and that her life would be forfeit if Montiori did not comply with his wishes before the next full moon.
"Shall I send the missive?"
"Yes. Have Mergrid take it. Tell him to wait for an answer."
"Yes, my lord."
"Is there something else?" Reyes asked.
"She still refuses to eat."
Reyes nodded, then dismissed Rolf with a wave of his hand.
Rolf bowed from the waist, then left the hall.
Reyes swore. He had ordered his cooks to prepare dishes to tempt a lady's taste, but to no avail. For the last six days, every tray had been returned, untouched. He took small comfort in the fact that she drank the water if not the wine.
Gaining his feet, Reyes paced the floor. She was the enemy. It should make no difference whether she supped or not. He swore under his breath. She was only a woman. When she got hungry enough, she would eat.
It was the same thought that crossed his mind later that night when he sat at the table, his plate piled high with fresh venison and an assortment of side dishes.
Muttering an oath, he grabbed a plate, filled it with meat and vegetables, and then made his way to the dungeon. She would be of no use in a trade if she starved herself to death. A harsh laugh escaped his lips. No doubt that was her intent.
He opened the door that led to the dungeon, grimaced at the stink of waste and decay that fouled his nostrils. Who could eat in a place like this? He thrust the thought from his mind as he descended the stairs and walked down the corridor that led to her cell.
She was standing in the corner farthest away from the straw tick.
His heart clenched when she turned to look at him. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her cheeks looked sunken, her skin pale. Her eyes were dull and filled with resignation.
"I've brought your supper," he said, his voice gruff.
She gestured at the straw tick. A large gray rat with beady black eyes looked up at him, a bit of potato in its jaws.
A vile oath erupted from Reyes's throat. Tossing the tray in his hands aside, he pulled a key from his pocket and
If only her mother were still alive, but Elene had died last year, struggling to give her husband yet another child.
Shanara whirled around as she heard a scrabbling noise behind her, a cry of alarm rising in her throat as a large black rat crawled out from under the straw tick. Picking up her skirts, Shanara retreated to the far corner of the small cell, her back pressed against the damp wall.
Despair settled on her shoulders like a shroud. She was going to die here, in this horrid little cell. The rats would eat her flesh, and no one would care…
She pressed her fingertips to her lips. Why had Reyes kissed her, then thrust her aside? She would not have been surprised if he had forced himself upon her, but the fact that he had pushed her away surprised her a great deal.
But it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now.
Reyes sat in front of the hearth, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. Six days had passed since he had locked Montiori's daughter in the dungeon. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined her sitting in that damned dismal cell with nothing to do but stare at the bars that imprisoned her. He imagined her horror at sleeping on a stained tick on the cold floor. He shied away at the thought of rats sharing her cell. His only concession had been to see that she received nourishing meals. Meals she had, thus far, refused to eat. Perhaps he was being too cruel. Perhaps he would tell Rolf to put a bed in her cell…
"No!" She was the enemy. No matter that she was young and more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. He could not think of her as a woman. She was a means to an end, no more, no less.
He looked up as his steward entered the room. "Did she write the letter?"
"Yes, sire." Rolf handed him a piece of rolled parchment.
Reyes read it quickly. As he had instructed, she told her father that she had been taken captive by Lord Reyes and that her life would be forfeit if Montiori did not comply with his wishes before the next full moon.
"Shall I send the missive?"
"Yes. Have Mergrid take it. Tell him to wait for an answer."
"Yes, my lord."
"Is there something else?" Reyes asked.
"She still refuses to eat."
Reyes nodded, then dismissed Rolf with a wave of his hand.
Rolf bowed from the waist, then left the hall.
Reyes swore. He had ordered his cooks to prepare dishes to tempt a lady's taste, but to no avail. For the last six days, every tray had been returned, untouched. He took small comfort in the fact that she drank the water if not the wine.
Gaining his feet, Reyes paced the floor. She was the enemy. It should make no difference whether she supped or not. He swore under his breath. She was only a woman. When she got hungry enough, she would eat.
It was the same thought that crossed his mind later that night when he sat at the table, his plate piled high with fresh venison and an assortment of side dishes.
Muttering an oath, he grabbed a plate, filled it with meat and vegetables, and then made his way to the dungeon. She would be of no use in a trade if she starved herself to death. A harsh laugh escaped his lips. No doubt that was her intent.
He opened the door that led to the dungeon, grimaced at the stink of waste and decay that fouled his nostrils. Who could eat in a place like this? He thrust the thought from his mind as he descended the stairs and walked down the corridor that led to her cell.
She was standing in the corner farthest away from the straw tick.
His heart clenched when she turned to look at him. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her cheeks looked sunken, her skin pale. Her eyes were dull and filled with resignation.
"I've brought your supper," he said, his voice gruff.
She gestured at the straw tick. A large gray rat with beady black eyes looked up at him, a bit of potato in its jaws.
A vile oath erupted from Reyes's throat. Tossing the tray in his hands aside, he pulled a key from his pocket and
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