Chapter 2
In which a duke forgets himself
The accoutrements of age and station can be their own disguise.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
As they descended the tower, the icy cold of the stone crept through her thin slippers.
Her blue silk gown—from the day—did nothing much to keep out the chill.
At least she had her matching blue mobcap on, to give a little warmth and a semblance of respectability, despite the fact that she had just illegally entered a military fort before dawn.
Wooten pulled to a halt after six flights of stairs and gestured with his wing. Judith stilled and carefully peered around the corner of the landing.
A soldier stood to attention before a narrow wooden door, set into thick stone.
He wore the red military costume of the infantrymen: one of the garrison stationed at Pendennis.
His posture was ramrod straight, though perhaps more from habit than attention, as his eyes were dreamily focused on the upper right corner of the wall.
The same wall led down a further corridor to another stairwell, presumably ascending to the ground floor and the way out.
An ominous silence came from the cell. Why was Dacian not ranting and raving, or throwing things about? It was dreadfully out of character.
Judith swallowed and drew back. What now?
Should she march out there and tell that pesky guard that his presence had been requested by Captain Drumpellier?
That is what Dacian would do, and he’d have the arrogance to carry it off.
Could Judith manage the appropriate level of hauteur?
It might just work, at a pinch, to send the guard off and give her some precious minutes to discover Dacian’s state and talk to him.
She drew a steadying breath, conjuring a ducal attitude. Just as she did so, she felt the brush of air by her cheek, and a small weight landed on her shoulder.
Yvette’s voice came in her ear, low and melodious. “I can lead him off.”
Marigold’s white face popped out of her pocket, looking up. “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed. “Vampiri aren’t supposed to expose themselves!”
Yvette’s voice warmed with amusement. “Who said I was going to expose myself?”
Judith let out a breath of warning. “Shh!”
“Let me,” said Yvette quietly in her ear. “It will be easy enough to distract him, then I can fly off.”
“I bet,” grumbled Marigold, barely audible.
Judith simply nodded. She was too desperate to see Dacian to cavil at Yvette’s suggestion.
The weight of the vampiri lifted, and a black shape floated to the ceiling. Judith waited, pressed against the stone, still and anxious.
A moment later, a gasp issued from the guard. Judith craned her neck to peer around the lintel. He was still standing at his post, but his eyes had moved to stare, wide-eyed, at the far corridor.
A glimpse of pale flesh showed there. Yvette was in her human form. Her midnight cape swung open to reveal her shapely, naked figure, as she strolled towards the stairs.
From Judith’s pocket, Marigold huffed crossly. “The hussy! She is exposing herself!”
“Marigold!” hushed Judith, under her breath. Marigold was in no position to censure nakedness, but Judith dared not remonstrate further.
By the stairs, the miniature vision of feminine beauty had completely transfixed the soldier. Yvette began scaling the steps, her cloak fluttering behind her. When she had just about vanished from view, the soldier slowly crept after her, his face intent.
Marigold muttered something. Judith felt the tug at her skirts as the vampiri whisked herself out and swept up to Judith’s ear.
“I’m going to follow her.”
Judith nodded again. “Look after the ring!”
Marigold drifted quietly up to the roof and away.
Judith waited a long moment. Then she stepped down from her own hiding place.
Her pulse thudded loud in her ears as she crossed to the barred door.
It was impenetrable wood and adorned with a lock approximately the size of her own head.
She did not think for a moment that she would be able to gain entrance; even Dacian in the fullness of his power would find it difficult.
Moreover, there would be Defences on the cell, comprised of the very same Impacting power he ordinarily wielded.
Fortunately, there was also a low, narrow ledge, jutting into the deep stone and interspersed with iron bars, as a way of viewing the prisoner and also passing food to him without risking the door.
A plate sat there, ignored, with bread and a slice of some kind of meat pie.
There was even a bowl of candied sweets, which seemed out of place.
It was a reconciliatory gesture that did nothing to allay Judith’s fears.
She knelt on the floor and looked through, her hands grasping the cold iron.
Inside was a strange juxtaposition of elements.
A dank, stone cell was strewn about with rugs and cushions, as if to try to hide its real purpose.
A hard stone bench was covered in a red carpet, and a table bore a decanter of whisky, two glasses, and some long candles, lit.
Someone had been in here with Dacian, perhaps persuading him to drink.
Was that how they had managed to give him the Lethe?
Judith doubted he would have been so stupid.
They must have forced it on him somehow.
Or perhaps they had used Diplomacy, that Musing which could transform the tenor of a room—or a person—into benevolence and acceptance.
It would have to have been a very strong Diplomacy Gift, however, to soften the duke’s ire, and it did not look as if it had lasted long.
Dacian sat on the floor, his back rigid against the wall, staring unseeing before him.
His black hair was in wild disarray, and he was still dressed in Robert’s plain shirt, donned as part of a disguise from earlier in the day.
With dismay, Judith saw that his coat and cravat had been stripped from him, and with it the Illusion charm that Robert had hidden within a button.
So they could not rely upon that trick. But Dacian was conscious at least, thank God, and he wore a heavy scowl.
“Dacian,” Judith murmured softly.
His head whipped towards her. His eyes widened slightly—possibly at the sight of a well-dressed, middle-aged matron kneeling by his cell—then his expression became inscrutable and aloof.
“Dacian.” Her heart sank. “It’s me. Judith.”
“Oh? I’m afraid that I cannot remember your acquaintance, ma’am.” His voice was harsh. “Do I know you?”
She blinked back sudden tears, her hands tightening on the bars.
“Fairly well, I promise you. I have come to help. They have taken you here against your will, as I’m sure you can guess. Do you remember anything at all?”
He stared at her for a long moment, unmoving. “They tell me I killed a man. If that is true, perhaps I ought to remain here to meet my punishment.”
She shook her head quickly in repudiation.
“You were provoked, and the punishment is too severe. But I cannot explain it all to you now, dearest. I must simply warn you not to drink or eat any of their food, as that is how they may keep you forgetful, with their dreadful drug. I will offer testimony in your defence, and we must hope they will listen.”
“Dearest?” He pushed himself off the ground and moved with sudden rapidity towards the grate. “Do you claim a relation with me, ma’am?”
“Er, no,” she said after a moment under his intense inspection, for indeed she could claim nothing, even as she kneeled before him.
“Only a very long friendship. And you are very dear to me,” she added, in case she should not be able to tell him again.
Her hands gripped the bars with the effort not to start crying like some foolish female.
“Oh, is that so?” He squatted by the ledge, leaning forward with interest. “Odd that I cannot recall your visage at all…” Doubt and scepticism flashed across his face, then his eyes narrowed in calculation.
“How do I know you are not some trick they have sent to further confuse me? A beautiful woman to soften my temper; I confess that I am not so averse to this tactic. Perhaps if you remove that mobcap, I may see your face better?”
Judith raised her brows, ignoring the moisture in her eyes. That was more like him. Trust the man to attempt to remove her mobcap within minutes.
“I will not remove my mobcap.” She managed a watery smile, and his eyes became hard again with suspicion. “I must remain respectable if I am to speak in your defence.”
Wooten chose that moment to clamber up onto the ledge, fumbling with his black silk. He cleared his throat as he swept it around himself. “If I may say, your grace, you are well acquainted with Lady Avely, and you are extremely fond of her.”
“Is that so?” Dacian tilted his head back suspiciously and his eyes traced down to her bodice. “I can see you have many qualities to recommend you, my lady. But how do I know you’re not trying to seduce or trick me?”
“It is usually you trying to seduce me!”
That won a smirk. “I can believe that. I like your—” his gaze flickered down, then up again— “eyes.”
“Never mind my eyes,” she said with asperity, though the heat in his gaze was familiar, and a welcome relief.
It was much more like him. Though it hurt a little to know that he did indeed flirt with every woman he came across.
“Do you know when they will hold your trial? I must know how much time I have to prepare your defence.”
Dacian’s expression darkened again, and he rose abruptly. “I don’t know much, I am afraid. All I know is that there is evidence of my felonies, and I risk death.” He paused. “Yet it is hard to trust in these assertions when I have no memory of them.”
Wooten spoke up again, diffidently. “The trial is three days from now, I believe. And if they find you guilty, they will ensure that you never recover your memory, or your power.”