Chapter 27
Griffith watched the change come over Crispin as he broke the seal and quickly read the parchment’s contents.
Crispin took Griffith’s arm. “I must leave at once. Deva’s labor has begun. The first babe was lost early. The healer told me this would be like a first babe. The childbirth can go on for hours. I must be by her side.”
Griffith remembered Carina’s labor. The bevy of women gathered, including his own mother, did not allow him into the bedchamber, much to his later regret.
He’d paced for hours, cracking his knuckles until his joints ached.
No food, no sleep—he could enjoy nothing while Carina suffered so.
And she must have, for the screams became howls that wore on as the day did.
Finally, they’d weakened as time passed.
They’d called him in at the end, as it became obvious to all her life ebbed away. The babe had been expelled dead, and Carina herself was minutes later.
Guilt still ate away at him, as if it were his fault. Then Deva lost her own babe just as she began to feel the faint flutters, and Griffith wondered if his family was cursed. He’d sworn never to love again nor get a woman with child.
All that had changed with Kallen. He couldn’t imagine life without her. He wanted to see their babe in her arms, nursing at her breast. He wanted them to build a life together at Sommerset.
He must get Kallen back. He knew her father had taken her.
Crispin was almost out the door when Griffith wished him, “Godspeed. Deva will be in my thoughts.”
His friend turned and smiled. “If you’re lucky, we might name the child after you.” He winked and was gone.
“How touching,” Nowland proclaimed. “But may I see you to a room, Sir Griffith? Better yet, stay here a while and enjoy some of our fruit and cheese. The wine is especially good this eve.”
Griffith wanted no company, least of all the Earl of Nowland’s.
Even as a boy, he learned what a brutal, immoral man Nowland was.
Griffith’s own father had been thrilled to have his son foster with the Nowland, since the earl was a king’s son, though a bastard one.
Lord Sommersby had no idea how regularly Lord Nowland beat his pages and belittled them with cruel words.
Griffith often thought part of why he became such a good soldier was to prove Quentin’s taunts wrong.
“Thank you, but no, a room with privacy would suit me best. I have a wish for solitude.”
His host stood. “Then I'll have my servant show you one close by. Barley,” he called, and the servant immediately poked his head inside the solar. “Place Sir Griffith across the hall—”
“Not across the hall!” the servant cried.
“–and one door to the left.”
“But what about—”
“I have the situation in hand, Barley, but I thank you for your concern.”
The servant escorted Griffith to a bedchamber. Barley’s nervous behavior troubled Griffith. The man’s eyes also shifted about, and he wouldn’t look Griffith in the face. What was he hiding? Could Kallen be nearby? He’d let the place settle into sleep and then begin his search.
A knock startled him. The Earl of Nowland pushed the door open, carrying a small tray. “Wine. Despite your hostile attitude, I have chosen to be gracious.”
The fact his host brought the wine himself only roused more suspicions.
“Thank you for your kindness,” he said evenly, and the nobleman retreated from the room.
Griffith lifted the cup and sniffed it. No unusual scent marked the brew. He couldn’t help but think how the earl’s sister had been rumored to be a witch. Had she passed some knowledge of potions on to her brother?
He left the wine untouched, biding his time before he began his hunt.
Blowing out the candle, he sat in the dark.
Kallen’s visage shone brightly in his mind.
He remembered her throaty laugh. Her atrocious singing.
The wonderful stories she told around the campfire.
He loved her genuine concern for others, despite her poor treatment at the hands of the good Christian sisters, the supposed chosen of God.
Only Savina had given Kallen love. Griffith remembered how he’d dispatched a messenger back to the abbess to let her know of their safe arrival at Mangeron. Only hours later, Kallen was gone.
Griffith’s insides twisted. He’d lost one love.
He couldn’t bear to lose another. His impatience to start got the better of him, and he decided to wait no longer.
Kallen was valuable to Quentin, so he figured the earl would keep her close by.
Barley had been extremely nervous when Quentin mentioned the room across from the solar.
Griffith decided his search would begin there.
The corridor was deserted as he stepped from his bedchamber and closed the door behind him.
Yet no guard was posted at any door, nor was the room next to him even locked.
He doubted Kallen would be there, but he was determined to search everywhere.
Griffith turned the handle quietly and slipped into the room.
A lone candle burned low, allowing him to see someone in the bed across the room. Griffith crept over and spied Kallen’s silvery blond hair spread like silk across the pillows. His heart raced. She looked so peaceful. At least no harm had come to her.
He cupped her face and kissed her. “Wake up, Kallen,” he whispered. She did not respond to his touch, much less his voice.
Griffith stroked her cheek. “I’ve come for you, love. Wake up.” Still nothing, so he shook her.
Kallen was dead to the world. He saw a cup next to the bed and retrieved it. He could detect no smell, but he knew she had been drugged. He had to get her away from here.
But how?
She stirred, and Griffith slipped his arms around her and drew her to him.
“Kallen?” He stroked her hair, and she smiled. He decided to speak to her sternly. “Kallen. Wake up. Now.”
She attempted to open her eyes and did for a moment.
“Griffith?” She smiled again and fell fast asleep. He lowered her to the pillows.
It was then he noticed her hands bound with leather ties.
He swore softly and reached for his dagger.
He cut through the ties and removed them.
Even in the dim light, he could see her wrists rubbed raw from her struggles against the bonds.
Anger flared within him at the perfect skin marred by the burns.
Suddenly, he was struck from behind. Pain exploded in his head. Griffith fought to remain conscious. He still had the dagger in his hand and turned, lashing out at his attacker. Someone grunted in pain, and then he struck Griffith’s jaw hard. Griffith went down, his last thoughts of Kallen.
A voice insisted she awaken, but sleep felt so good. Kallen snuggled back down, dreaming of Griffith. He wore a hauberk of hunter green. His aura of purple glowed brightly about him. He stood beside a priest, waiting for her. Kallen knew she must reach him.
“Kallen,” said a stern voice. “I want you to see your Griffith.”
Griffith? Here?
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Lord Nowland hovered over her. The nightmare came back to her.
She shook her head. “No, you lie.”
“Didn’t I say when least expected? I knew you’d want him here with you. I am a man of my word, dearest daughter.”
He yanked her from the bed, dragging her along the deserted corridor and down steps and more steps. The cold stones burned her bare feet.
Then it began to be familiar, as Quentin had described to her earlier. The cold. The damp. The foul smells. A rat ran over her foot, and Kallen screamed.
“Don’t be squeamish,” he snapped and jerked her along roughly. They passed unoccupied cells and then came to a locked door. A guard rushed over to open it, and they entered something out of a nightmare.
Iron devices stood everywhere, ominous and foreboding. Kallen had no idea what any of these apparatuses did, but she caught the smell of fear and blood lingering in the air. She realized these unknown objects were used for torture. Her stomach swirled violently.
Nowland brought her before three guards, and she caught sight of Griffith. He’d been stripped to his waist. Bruises showed about his face and trunk. One eye was completely swollen shut.
“Kallen?” His voice was full of anguish and love. She saw he was tied to some kind of wheel. She threw off the last of the drug’s effects and tore away from the earl. She ran to Griffith and fell on her knees next to him.
His hair was damp with sweat, and she could see his muscles straining because of his fixed position.
“See, ‘tis as I promised you, Kallen. I keep promises to you, and you shall to me. We are quite a duo already.”
She turned and flung herself at him, scratching his face, slapping at him, incapable of words. The guards jerked her away as Griffith hoarsely cried out at them to let her go.
Nowland sneered. “You’re in no position to make demands, Sommersby. Behave yourself.”
Griffith struggled to break free as the earl nodded to the guard next to him. The soldier turned the wheel a click, and a low groan escaped from Griffith’s lips.
Oh, Sweet Jesu, what had she done? Kallen struggled to break away from the guards holding her.
“You, too, my pet. Behave. They’ll release you only if you remain perfectly still. Do not go to him, or he’ll suffer another turn of the crank.”
Kallen went limp. The guards released her. Her eyes cut to Griffith as tears rolled down her cheeks.
She fell to her knees. “I’ll do anything, I'll help you in any way, only stop this madness, I beg you.”
Lord Nowland stared at her. “Loose him for now.”
Kallen let out a muffled sob. Griffith groaned again. She couldn’t look at him, knowing she was the cause of all his pain.
“Return him to his cell,” the earl ordered.
Kallen watched the guards unbind Griffith. He fought back, but they struck him down and dragged him through the door. She remained rooted to her spot.
“You follow my directions well. That pleases me, Daughter.”
“Free him,” Kallen said quietly.
Quentin laughed. “I’m no fool. He stays. You’ll do as I bid.”
“Free him,” she repeated. “I give my word, as a de Mangeron, that I will continue to do whatever you ask. For as long as you ask.”
He studied her, an amused look upon his twitching lips. “For the rest of your life? That could be a long time, my sweet.”
“I can live only if I know he does. If you continue to torture him and try to break him, I will kill myself.” She narrowed her eyes.
“As your sister did.” Kallen stared at the man whose blood ran through her.
“I mean what I say. I would find the way. Do not doubt me, Father.” She spit out the last word with contempt.
He nodded slowly. “I do believe you. You have the Nowland stubbornness and the de Mangeron sense of honor. What a lethal combination.” He chuckled. “Bevia and I may have created a monster.”
He circled her. “You would prostitute yourself to me.”
She held her head high. “My love for Griffith is so great, I would sacrifice my life for his.”
He stopped. Kallen knew he’d come to a decision. “Very well. I will see him released.” He took her arm, but she shook it off.
“I ask but one favor. Let me tell him goodbye.”
He nodded.
Kallen left the chamber of horrors and walked slowly until she came to his cell.
She stopped and wrapped her fingers about the bars for support.
He had been thrown upon a cot, which took up most of the narrow space.
His one good eye saw her, though, and he struggled to his feet.
She knew the agony he suffered from his aura.
Griffith staggered the few feet, falling twice, finally dragging himself to the bars. He pushed himself upright and clutched his fingers around hers. “Are you all right, my love?”
Kallen forced a brave smile. “I should ask that of you.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her lips. Her heart ached. I must make him forget me. She couldn’t risk his life any further.
She did not respond to his kiss. He pulled away. “What is wrong?” he asked hoarsely.
“Go home to Sommerset, Griffith. I have chosen to remain here. With my father.”
He tightened his grip on her fingers. “Are you mad?”
Kallen struggled to keep from crying. “No,” she whispered.
“All my life, I have been powerless. I suffered abuse you can only dream of, especially at the hands of the nun, Savina. She was the cruelest one of all. My father has made me see what my destiny is. I can control my own future now with his help.”
“You are my destiny.” She heard the anguish in his voice—along with the first signs of doubt. “We belong together, Kallen. You know that.”
Kallen knew she must lose him to save him. “No, Griffith, I need more than you can offer me. With my father, I can live as royalty and help him rule all of England. He’s promised to teach me more about my gifts. He understands the auras like no other.”
She met his gaze, seeing the desperation there.
“I love you, Kallen. You don’t know what you’re saying. He’s pure evil. Just study his aura. Surely you see what a monster he truly is.”
Kallen paused. She glanced over her shoulder at the earl, who’d come to stand behind her, his hand possessively resting on her shoulder. “He is what I am. I am of his blood. I cannot change that. Even if I could, I would not. It is my father who pleases me now. I wish you to be gone.”
Griffith’s hands fell from hers. She turned and walked away, her heart breaking in two. Griffith called out after her.
“Come back, Kallen. I don’t believe you. Come back!”
She placed one foot in front of the other. Lord Nowland’s hand remained steady on her shoulder as he led her away.
Keep moving, she told herself. Out of Griffith’s life.
And into the darkness.