Chapter 16
In which a prisoner is contrary
It is hardest to be guileful when under the sway of strong emotion. Keep a calm head and you will do better at deceiving.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Compared to Dacian’s first cell, this one was empty of comfort—no rugs, cushions, or food. It was simply a hard, square room of stone.
The duke stood in the middle of the room. His black hair was in wild disarray, his cheeks shadowed, his eyes hooded. Only a pair of brown half-trousers covered him, leaving his chest and feet bare. His fists were loosely clenched before him and bound in manacles.
Judith let out an involuntary gasp of horror.
Dacian stared, impassive, his jaw etched in rock. Then his expression warped into anger.
“Who is this lady?” he growled. “What trickery now?”
Judith kept herself firmly in hand. She must not throw herself on him and weep upon his chest, as much as she may wish to do so.
And she didn’t know what to think of this ferocious anger.
It was difficult to parse a lie from the questions he threw at her.
Should she be relieved that his acting passed muster?
Or afraid that he had forgotten her completely?
“I am Mrs Judith Avely,” she said quietly, leaving her new title out of it. “I am your friend.”
Dacian snarled. “Oh, really? Like the rest of them here?”
She wondered what Drumpellier had told him. Behind her, the captain watched. She could feel his attention, as sharp as a hawk’s.
“You have forgotten me,” she said slowly, “but I remember you well. And I do not recall a beast.”
Dacian took a threatening step forward. “I do not recall anything, so why not a beast?”
Her shoulders almost sagged with relief, hearing the echo of a lie in his voice. He did remember something. Her? She kept her posture ramrod straight.
“Because you are an English gentleman,” she replied, mindful of Drumpellier’s instructions. She turned to the captain haughtily, stepping away from him slightly. “I must ask, sir, why have you bound his hands?”
Drumpellier’s lips thinned. “To keep him contained. Those are wristbreakers, so I do not have to constantly exert myself.”
She frowned at the implication. “You have imbued them with an Impacting charm?”
He nodded.
“You mean they cannot be broken?” She wanted to know what Dacian was dealing with; wanted him to hear it too.
Drumpellier seemed to guess her intent, for he gave a mirthless smile. “Worse, I’m afraid.” He gestured at a chain that hung in a loop through his crossbelt. “If I pull at this loop, the manacles will tighten unbearably. You can imagine the result, should I tighten it completely.”
Judith swallowed down bile. “It will break his wrists.”
“I assure you, I do not wish for that, any more than you do.”
Dacian growled, “Coward.” He lurched forward threateningly, but Corporal Threadbow raised his gun in a pointed manner.
Dacian stilled.
Judith licked her lips, turning to face him again. “Dacian, I beg you to calm yourself. I am certain that no one here wishes to break your arms.” Especially if Drumpellier intended to use him as a soldier. “You must show yourself to be reasonable, otherwise they will sedate your further.”
She widened her eyes meaningfully, hoping he would understand the threat of Lethe that still hung over him.
“They don’t want me sedated,” he snarled. “They were using me as a plaything yesterday, and I want no part of it.”
Judith glanced at Drumpellier accusingly. “What were you doing?”
Drumpellier remained wooden. “As I told you, we were allowing him some exercise. He partook in some wrassling matches against the other soldiers—without weapons, or power, you understand. It is a popular sport around here, and I thought it a good opportunity to see if he might follow the rules.”
“And did he?”
Drumpellier became dry. “Almost. He threw someone from a supine position, which is not permitted. Though he did seem familiar with the finer points of the sport.”
Judith nodded. “Indeed, his grace has undertaken wrassling before. Or so my butler, Trebellow, informed me. Perhaps those sorts of things are a visceral memory.”
Dacian raised his manacled hands. “Are you talking about me? I do not recall wrassling with any butler.”
“Not with my butler,” she assured him. “Though Trebellow would welcome the opportunity.” Dacian stared at her in growing confusion, and she hurried on.
“I should think you would enjoy exerting your strength again, your grace. You might need it in the future.” That was as much as she could say, to hint that he must be ready to act.
For an idea had begun to take seed in her mind, inspired by everything she had learned that day.
“Not if I am to be kept in this godforsaken keep for the rest of my life.” Dacian snapped.
Uneasily, she realised that there had been no talk of Dacian’s crimes or hearing.
She remembered Drumpellier’s injunction not to mention it.
What game was the captain playing? She looked over her shoulder, frowning at Drumpellier.
“What have you told him?” she demanded, then she turned to Dacian. “What do you know?”
Dacian scowled. “Merely that I am a murderer, and that I must serve my punishment. You can forgive me for doubting it, when I cannot remember anything of the sort.”
Again, it was a lie. Judith bit her lip, trying to stay impassive. She might, after all, still be a stranger to him. And she was starting to feel Bemused, from the intense exertion of her Gift.
“You will continue to remember nothing,” snapped Drumpellier, “if you refuse to cooperate.”
Cooperate with what, exactly? And Drumpellier’s voice also clanged hollowly. Anger rose in Judith, like a fire suddenly doused with brandy. “How dare you! His grace has not even been tried, and already you are punishing him!”
Drumpellier gave her a warning look. “I am giving him a chance to prove his character, before it comes before the court.” He folded his arms across his chest, brushing the iron chain that hung on his cross-belt, and directed his next words to Dacian.
“Might I add that if you prove yourself compliant, I will remove those cuffs. Furthermore, I shall even allow the return of your power. Then you can try fighting with your Gift. There is a form of wrassling, not so well known, that indulges in more difficult manoeuvres.”
Judith heard truth in these declarations, but she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “I suppose you are a practitioner of the art.”
Drumpellier nodded shortly. “And if our prisoner should prove himself worthy, I will face him as an opponent.”
A gleam came into Dacian’s eyes, but Judith was unimpressed.
“No doubt you will ensure that your power is the greater,” she snapped, through gathering Bemusement. “I beg leave to suggest, sir, that it will not be a fair fight.”
“You go too far, ma’am.” Drumpellier’s jaw tightened.
Dacian bared his teeth. “You are the one hiding behind a bracelet, instead of fighting like a man.”
“If you can give me your word of honour,” said Drumpellier rigidly, “that you will obey orders of the Crown and Custos, then I will consider releasing you, and allowing you the freedom to fight.”
Dacian stared at Drumpellier for a long, hard moment.
Then he shrugged his broad shoulders, took a few steps back, and threw himself upon a stone seat.
“I will think on it.” He turned his hooded eyes upon Judith.
“And you, ma’am, what is your relation to me?
Are you some infernal cousin or sister, trying to rescue me? ”
Judith almost choked. “Certainly not! We are much closer than…you have…” Then she realised what might be his intent: to protect her, and that she should not reveal their intimacies.
“You have flirted with me, your grace, on more than one occasion,” she said coldly, in her best approximation of outraged dignity.
His gaze became sardonic. “Flirted? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Did I ask for your hand?”
“No,” she said icily.
“Perhaps you already have a husband?” he suggested. “A lucky man, no doubt.” He gave a leer.
Judith drew herself up haughtily. “I am a widow.”
His eyes lit up. “Oh, a widow! Now I understand!”
Judith saw his gaze travel to her bosom, and she drew a heaving breath. “Please do not insult me, your grace. I am a friend, trying to help you.”
He laughed, but it was a bitter sound, and he leant his head against stone. “Yet you come before me with soldiers at your back.”
She could not deny it, and she had to go along with his performance. Desperately, she hoped that it was a performance. What could she say or do to help him? She was aware that Drumpellier was closely scrutinising every word.
“There is no point dwelling on your indignities,” she said stiffly. “If the captain is offering you a way forward, you must take it. Have patience and reticence, and I am certain all will be well.”
Dacian scowled over her shoulder at Drumpellier. “You ask a woman to speak your piece.”
Yet Judith hoped he had somehow heard her warning, and her reassurance, even as he avoided her eyes.
She tilted her head. “Are you sleeping well? I find that if I don’t have a proper sleep, I am quite unbearable.
” It was another clue, she hoped, for him to be alert that night, if he could read between the lines.
She ignored the faint doubt at the back of her mind, which was now rather clouded.
Dacian had given her no real sign of recognition, no hidden clue or word to show that he remembered her.
Yet she ought to retreat before she said anything foolish.
She turned to Drumpellier. “Are you satisfied now, Captain? Your prisoner seems calmer. I hope that you may now count on his cooperation.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dacian’s fists clench.
Drumpellier looked between them, unreadable. “I am glad of it. Lady Avely. Perhaps you can join me for some tea, now that your duty is done?”
She inclined her head, gracious.
The duke let his head thunk against the wall. “The tea is terrible. Much better to have drinking chocolate, ma’am, if you can find it.”
Judith tried to remain expressionless, even as her heart leapt within her. He did remember her. Their eyes met for a charged instant.
“Indeed.” She dropped a shallow curtsy. “Good day, your grace.”
His gaze dropped. His lips twisted. “Good day, ma’am.”
She turned and walked away. Every fibre of her being revolted against it, but she had to leave him behind.
Drumpellier followed her and opened the door. Corporal Threadbow kept his face to Dacian, gun still primed and backed out after them.
As the heavy door slammed into place, she turned ferociously. “You should take better care of him, Captain. He is not even properly clothed!”
Drumpellier strode past her. “He has refused other shirts. And we discovered an Illusion charm on his livery. I don’t suppose you know anything about that?”
“No,” she lied baldly.
“Speaking of charms,” said Drumpellier coldly, as he began up the stairs, “that diamond ring you gave me does not appear to work as a Travel charm.”
“I warned you,” said Judith, trying for an equally cool tone. “Its magick has been exhausted.”
“That may be so, but I warn you: if I find you Travelling into my domain again, I shall have no choice but to arrest you for treason. This is a military fort, and unauthorised trespass must be treated with the utmost severity.”
“My dear Captain,” replied Judith, “I have no wish to trespass upon your dreadful fort. Besides, even if I should do so, what good would it do? His grace does not remember me.”
Abruptly, Drumpellier spun round to face her on the landing. “On the contrary, I think he did recognise you.”
She hoped her shocked pause was not telling and drew herself up. “I certainly saw no sign of it.”
“That’s because you didn’t witness his behaviour this morning. He was a raging beast, a veritable demon possessed. Yet that little performance fell away as soon as you arrived on the scene.”
Judith was silent for a dreadful moment. Then she rallied. “No doubt it was the natural civility of a gentleman in the presence of a lady,” she said austerely. “I am glad to hear that his breeding showed through, despite your ill treatment.”
Drumpellier scoffed. “Rather, his grace didn’t want you to see him like that, because you know a very different man. He softened before you; I saw it. He recognised you,” he repeated, with more certainty. “Which means he has more of his memory than I thought. I wonder how he is doing it.”
“Nonsense,” said Judith sharply. “Just because you have no notion how to treat a respectable widow does not mean that his grace is devoid of all proper feeling, even without his memories.”
“Hmm,” Drumpellier said sceptically. He began walking again through the cold stone entryway of the keep.
Judith hastened after him. “Regardless, I think it is a very good thing if his grace recalls himself. I just heard you promise him the return of his power and freedom, which I am glad to hear. It seems as if you intend to drop the charges against him.”
They had reached the gate, and he gestured for her to follow the same path of three nights ago, through the portico and towards the barracks.
“Do not misunderstand me,” said Drumpellier, his hardness returning. “His grace must still be tried and punished. We are merely trying to establish some compliance, for his own good.”
She heard the lie and lifted her chin with scorn. “I suspect it is more for your good,” she snapped. “I wonder what you truly want from him?”
Drumpellier did not answer. His silence was all the confirmation she needed. He intended to use Dacian for his own purposes.
She was determined it would not happen.