Chapter 17
Kirsten was dragged through the castle and thrown in the dungeon.
On the way, she had to suffer the ignominy of having all the servants and guards and other people staring at her.
Word had spread like wildfire through the clan.
It was difficult to keep a secret, especially when something as momentous as this happened.
It captured the attention of them all, and they all knew that Marcas had been poisoned.
In their eyes, the fact that Kirsten was being taken away was basically proof of her guilt.
After all, why would she be punished if she was not guilty?
Kirsten gave them all imploring looks. When she saw Caitriona, she cried out and asked for help, for mercy, but Caitriona closed her eyes and turned her back, showing her disappointment and her shame in one gesture.
Kirsten had long stopped pleading with the guards. They were devoted to Marcas and the clan, and they had been well trained to obey the commands given to them. Kirsten’s feet stumbled and dragged across the ground as the guards hauled her away, and they hardened their hearts to her plight.
The dungeon was one of the oldest parts of the castle.
It was hewn in old stone, and the very walls echoed with history.
It was deep in the bowels of the oldest part of the castle.
Spiders scuttled along walls, hiding in the shadows.
Thin webs hung down and caressed her skin, catching her hair.
The air was cold, and the only light was from intermittent torches.
The corridors were long and seemed to stretch into infinity.
She wondered how many people had been kept in these dungeons over the years, their names lost into the mists of time.
Was that what she would be? One of the nameless?
The first settlers here had known there was a need for punishment. The dungeons were imbued with history, but it was not a part of the castle that she had ever wanted to see.
The guards opened a creaky iron door and flung her into her cell.
She landed with a thud and a cry of pain.
The impact of the cold stone reverberated against her palms and knees.
She turned and moved quickly towards the door, but it was locked shut before she could slip through.
Her hair was tousled and her eyes were wild as she clamped her hands around the old iron bars.
“Please, ye hae tae let me out of here. This is no place for me! I am the lady of the clan! I’m Lady Monroe!” she cried, but the guards walked away. Her voice faded into silence.
Kirsten was alone, with only a sliver of moonlight to bring her company.
At the top of the cell, near the ceiling, was a narrow slit where light could slip in.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she peered into the shadows.
In the corner, there was a skeleton. The hollowed-out eyes stared at her, and the mouth hung open as though it was mocking her.
She turned her face away and made herself as small as she could in one of the corners of the cell, shaking and shivering with cold and fear.
The stone walls were uncomfortable and hard.
Her mind was a mess. How could this have happened?
How could Roderick have taken this action when previously he had been so kind to her?
Roderick…the wheels of her mind turned.
He was the one who had told her to make the tea in the first place.
He was the one who guided her to the hay bales where the lavender was located.
This was all his idea. Her brow furrowed as she closed her eyes and thought back to the idyllic morning when everything had seemed beautiful and calm.
She pictured herself sitting beside the lavender, and the more she thought about it, the surer she was that there were no other plants there.
She had picked the only ones that looked like lavender, but if that was true, then it meant Roderick was the enemy all along!
She gasped at the revelation. It was the only thing that made sense because she knew she had not made a mistake.
He had purposefully guided her to the monkshood, knowing that she was going to make tea from it, knowing that she was going to give it to Marcas.
It was all his plot...but why? He had only ever given her good advice—advice that would bring her closer to Marcas.
It didn’t make sense. There were still so many things that brought her uncertainty, so many unanswered questions, but the one thing she was certain about was that this was Roderick’s doing.
She didn’t know why, but he was behind this.
It made sense why he would insist on her being thrown into the dungeon as well.
He might well claim that it was to keep her guarded while they found out the truth, but they could have been humane and kept her in a room in the castle with guards posted outside the doors.
But if she was in the dungeon, she was out of his way because she was the only one who knew the truth, the only one who could speak out against him.
She had to get out of there and tell Moira the truth.
Moira was the only one she could count on now.
Kirsten railed against the door, rattling it, but it was made of strong iron clamped into stone.
The dungeons had stood for hundreds of years and had borne the brunt of every prisoner trying to break free.
Kirsten wasn’t going to succeed where they had failed, and her cries of mercy drifted into silence.
She gazed up at the faint moonlight and sighed, trying to understand why all this had happened.
All she’d wanted was to do her duty to her family and be a good wife.
All she’d really wanted was to fall in love with her husband, and she had.
He might well die without ever knowing that she loved him, and what would be her fate?
Would she be forever imprisoned in this place and end up as a nameless skeleton, or would she be pulled outside and executed for murder?
Her name and the reputation of her family would be besmirched, and nobody would ever know the truth.
Kirsten wept all through the night and barely slept, finding it impossible to sleep on the cold stone floor.
The sun rose, although the illumination in the cell barely changed.
Her stomach growled with hunger, and her throat ached with thirst. A rat crept in through the iron bars, but when it realized there was nothing to be found, it ran away, its worm-like tail disappearing.
Kirsten groaned. Even a rat had more freedom than her.
In time, she heard footsteps approaching.
“Get tae the back of the cell,” the guard said.
She did as she was told. The guard’s voice was harsh.
He opened the cell door and placed a tray down.
It had a bowl of broth, a cup of water, and some bread.
She was so starved that it looked like a gourmet meal to her.
She waited for the guard to close the door again and then rushed to it, sipping the water and tearing the chunky bread apart, dipping it in the broth and then placing it in her mouth.
She knew it wasn’t even as good as what the animals were given, but she didn’t care.
After locking the door, the guard spun on his heels and was ready to turn away. Kirsten called out to him.
“Wait! I hae something I want tae say tae ye.”
The guard looked at her with derision and spoke in a sneering tone. “Murderers dinnae get tae speak.”
“I am nae a murderer! And ye should know that. They are still trying tae discover the truth. But I hae rights! I want tae send a message tae my family, tae my brothers. They should be here tae defend my honor.”
“Ye hae no honor worth defending.”
“Then I…I demand tae see Roderick! Let me make my request tae him in person. He haes tae listen tae me. We are family.”
“Ye might be family, but ye are nae of his blood. I’ll tell him, but I wouldnae expect him tae come,” the guard said. He walked away, not willing to listen to any more of her requests.
Kirsten finished her meal within moments, for she was so hungry.
She stared at the empty tray and wondered if she could use anything on it to break free of the cell, not that she knew where she would go if she had the opportunity.
Running away now would only make others certain of her guilt, but there had to be a way for her to defend herself.
Surely she had that right? How she wished that she could get word to Ramsay and Neil.
If they knew what was happening to her, they would rush to her aid without delay and force the truth from Roderick.
It was just a shame that Moira couldn’t, but Kirsten didn’t blame her for that.
Moira had lost so much of her family already; she couldn’t very well go against her uncle’s wishes, especially when he had taken care of things for this long.
No, Kirsten was alone here, and she could only hope that somewhere fate had mercy on her.
The day was long. There was nothing she could do to pass her time other than think, and she thought it would drive her mad.
She tried to soothe the anguish in her soul by thinking of all the happiness that she and Marcas had shared already, but it only served to depress her even more as she knew that it was not going to happen again.
When her thoughts turned to her husband, she wondered if he was still clinging to life, that stubborn spirit fighting against the poison, or if he had finally succumbed and slipped away.
Either way, it didn’t seem as though she would get to see him again.
She hoped Roderick would come to see her, though.
At least she could give him a piece of her mind and tell him that she knew, and she would vow to haunt him as a spirit for the rest of eternity.
And for herself, she would have peace of mind in knowing the full extent of his scheme and the reasons behind it.
The hours crawled by as slowly as a snail.
Shadows eventually encompassed the cell as the day grew old, and Kirsten braced herself for another uncomfortable, sleepless night.
Roderick hadn’t appeared yet. She wondered if he was going to be too much of a coward to show his face, but eventually, there was the heavy rhythm of a man’s footsteps.
Anger raged within her heart at the thought of facing her accuser.
She pushed herself up and stood directly in front of the door, snarling as the figure emerged from the shadows.
But the man standing there was not the man she had expected at all.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped with relief.
“Marcas!” she exclaimed.
He is alive!