boy.
“Look upon
the man who murdered your brother. He tells the tale another way, but he knows
what he took from me.”
Berold took
a step closer, bringing the reluctant boy along with him.
“This man
took my beloved son from me,” he hissed. “My heir who would one day rule
Winterbourne. I shall now take from him.” He spat upon the ground in distaste.
“Yesterday
was the happiest day of this man’s life, Hardwin. The rest of his life will be
lived here. In darkness. In loneliness. In misery.”
Icy fear
coursed through Geoffrey’s veins. Berold must be mad to think he could get away
with such a scheme.
“I shall
feed him every day. Enough to survive. I don’t want to kill you,” he said
conversationally. “You must live many years. In suffering and anguish. To atone
for what you did to my boy. My flesh and blood.”
The earl
turned and gripped his son’s shoulders roughly, shaking him. “You must never,
ever, come here again, Hardwin. No one shall know what became of this
man. Not your mother. Not your sisters.”
He paused.
“And upon my death? You shall take over and do the same. If he lives,
then your son shall do the same. Until the bastard is dead.”
He released
Hardwin and looked back at Geoffrey. “You stole the life of my eldest. Now I’ll
steal your life. I allowed you to have a wedding day so you would know what you
were missing as you spent days and weeks and months and years, here in this
prison. You’ll grow old and never see another face but mine.
“Your
comely wife will either go mad with grief at your unexplained disappearance, or
she’ll grow old before her time. Her beauty will wither. Emptiness will fill
her heart. And she, too, will die, sad and alone, wondering what happened to
her handsome husband. You’ll never even hear your name again. For down here,
you are no one.”
Berold
moved his hand in a sweeping gesture.
“Welcome to
your new home.”
CHAPTER 10
Geoffrey
lay on the stone floor. He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been
brought to this Hell. He’d been feverish for what he assumed to be days. The
healer came periodically. Inspected his wound. Changed his bandages. Bathed his
face with a wet cloth. Forced him to drink.
But she
never spoke to him.
The fever
had finally broken. His body no longer burned with fire. Even his shoulder had
calmed from a raging inferno to an ugly, dull ache. So he knew he wouldn’t die
from it.
What
awaited him was a living death.
Now that he
was in his right head again and could think coherently, he could see no way out
of this prison. True to his word, the earl brought food as he’d promised. Not
enough to fill his belly to satisfaction, but far from starving him.
How could
he escape?
A sound
came from a distance. His ears had attuned to the quiet of the dungeon so he
could hear a rat scurrying about in the darkness.
Someone was
coming.
Hope sprang
in his heart. And just as quickly fled.
The earl of
Winterbourne appeared at the cell’s locked door. He opened it and put the day’s
repast before him. He never came close enough for Geoffrey to touch him, always
staying just out of where the chains could reach. He would eat later. He didn’t
want Berold to see how hungry he was nor how dependent he’d become on him.
“You should
be able to remove your bandages.”
Why would
the earl say that?
He knew the
answer in his heart but said, “I’m no healer. She should do so to see if I’ve
made good progress.”
“She’s
assured me you will be fine.” He paused. “She won’t be returning.” Berold
locked the door again and hung the key on the wall opposite his cell. Folded
his arms across his chest and smiled. “They came here today.”
They?
But once
again, he knew without asking. This time he remained silent.
Berold’s
eyes met his. “Your father. Your cousin. And . . . your
“Look upon
the man who murdered your brother. He tells the tale another way, but he knows
what he took from me.”
Berold took
a step closer, bringing the reluctant boy along with him.
“This man
took my beloved son from me,” he hissed. “My heir who would one day rule
Winterbourne. I shall now take from him.” He spat upon the ground in distaste.
“Yesterday
was the happiest day of this man’s life, Hardwin. The rest of his life will be
lived here. In darkness. In loneliness. In misery.”
Icy fear
coursed through Geoffrey’s veins. Berold must be mad to think he could get away
with such a scheme.
“I shall
feed him every day. Enough to survive. I don’t want to kill you,” he said
conversationally. “You must live many years. In suffering and anguish. To atone
for what you did to my boy. My flesh and blood.”
The earl
turned and gripped his son’s shoulders roughly, shaking him. “You must never,
ever, come here again, Hardwin. No one shall know what became of this
man. Not your mother. Not your sisters.”
He paused.
“And upon my death? You shall take over and do the same. If he lives,
then your son shall do the same. Until the bastard is dead.”
He released
Hardwin and looked back at Geoffrey. “You stole the life of my eldest. Now I’ll
steal your life. I allowed you to have a wedding day so you would know what you
were missing as you spent days and weeks and months and years, here in this
prison. You’ll grow old and never see another face but mine.
“Your
comely wife will either go mad with grief at your unexplained disappearance, or
she’ll grow old before her time. Her beauty will wither. Emptiness will fill
her heart. And she, too, will die, sad and alone, wondering what happened to
her handsome husband. You’ll never even hear your name again. For down here,
you are no one.”
Berold
moved his hand in a sweeping gesture.
“Welcome to
your new home.”
CHAPTER 10
Geoffrey
lay on the stone floor. He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been
brought to this Hell. He’d been feverish for what he assumed to be days. The
healer came periodically. Inspected his wound. Changed his bandages. Bathed his
face with a wet cloth. Forced him to drink.
But she
never spoke to him.
The fever
had finally broken. His body no longer burned with fire. Even his shoulder had
calmed from a raging inferno to an ugly, dull ache. So he knew he wouldn’t die
from it.
What
awaited him was a living death.
Now that he
was in his right head again and could think coherently, he could see no way out
of this prison. True to his word, the earl brought food as he’d promised. Not
enough to fill his belly to satisfaction, but far from starving him.
How could
he escape?
A sound
came from a distance. His ears had attuned to the quiet of the dungeon so he
could hear a rat scurrying about in the darkness.
Someone was
coming.
Hope sprang
in his heart. And just as quickly fled.
The earl of
Winterbourne appeared at the cell’s locked door. He opened it and put the day’s
repast before him. He never came close enough for Geoffrey to touch him, always
staying just out of where the chains could reach. He would eat later. He didn’t
want Berold to see how hungry he was nor how dependent he’d become on him.
“You should
be able to remove your bandages.”
Why would
the earl say that?
He knew the
answer in his heart but said, “I’m no healer. She should do so to see if I’ve
made good progress.”
“She’s
assured me you will be fine.” He paused. “She won’t be returning.” Berold
locked the door again and hung the key on the wall opposite his cell. Folded
his arms across his chest and smiled. “They came here today.”
They?
But once
again, he knew without asking. This time he remained silent.
Berold’s
eyes met his. “Your father. Your cousin. And . . . your
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