She followed the sound of his voice to the lowest cell, where water dripped from the ceiling and the straw on the floor was moist and fetid. The stench was unbearable, the rooms cold as death.
“I have no key,” she said, shivering, “but I overheard Holt say that you’ve been given no food.”
“ ’Tis true.”
“Nor water.”
“I’ve survived.”
“I don’t know how.” She held her candle aloft and found him chained to the far wall. “My God,” she whispered, crossing herself as before her very eyes he slipped out of his shackles and limped, unbound, across the cell. “How did you—?”
“ ’Tis not magic, child,” he said in his soothing voice. “I found a nail in the old straw and was able to pick the locks. The guards, they know not.”
“You’re not afraid I will warn them?”
“I think not, though you do not trust me.”
“I hated you.”
His smile was cautious. “I know.” Through the bars he asked, “And now?”
“Now there is trouble dark and deep within Dwyrain, but I think you are not the cause. I—I cursed you, said I wanted you to roast in hell and—”
“ ’Tis forgiven. Asides, anyone who would steal venison from the lord’s table and wine from his mazer would not endanger their only friend.”
“You—you are my friend?” she asked as she handed him the bundle of meat and bottle. He ate hungrily and started to drink from the bottle, only to stop and spit the wine on the floor.
“What?”
“ ’Tis poison you bring!” he said, coughing and gasping.
“No—”
In the candlelight, his eyes turned harsh. “ ’Tis only a little, but enough, if given over time …”
“Dear God, no,” she cried, stepping away and nearly dropping her candle. Wax slipped down the metal holder and burned her hand. “ ’Twas meant for my father. No one else would dare touch wine from his cellar. I brought it to you only so no one would notice.” Her throat turned as dry as milled flour and ugly thoughts began to fill her mind.
He eyed her in the darkness, then spit again. “Your father is being poisoned.”
“No, I’ll not believe …”
“ ’Tis true, Cayley. Whoever is giving him wine each day is making sure that he will die.”
She leaned against the wall. “Holt,” she muttered, finally understanding why her sister did not trust the knight who would now inherit Dwyrain. “Holt allows no one to take my father the wine except one of his most trusted knights—or Nell. Because of the revels, ’twas forgotten …”
“Listen to me, Cayley,” the sorcerer said, his voice low and deadly. “You must trust me.”
She bit her tongue. Though she wished him no ill will, she could not forget the pain and suffering that had been with Dwyrain these two years past. “Trust you?” she repeated. “Even though you cursed the castle and—”
“I thought you understood, girl!” he said, losing the calm that had been with him each time she’d seen him. His fingers curled over the rusted bars of the cage in which he was kept. “I told Megan only what I saw. It came to pass through no fault of mine, but if you do not listen to me and help me, your father will die, Megan will return to Dwyrain only for Holt to shame her and use her to gain possession of this keep, and you and everyone you hold dear will live as his prisoners.”
Wolf stayed out much of the night, but Megan sensed his presence the instant he walked through the door of their chamber in the decrepit old chapel. She’d lain for hours, not sleeping a wink, jumping at every sound.
A few embers glowed red in the fire and he paused to add another log. Lying on the pallet, Megan feigned sleep, while plotting how she would elude him. She would not let him haul her back to Dwyrain like a prisoner. Nay, if she intended to return to Dwyrain, ’twould be her own way. She wouldn’t be traded for a few coins, like a sack of flour or prized horse! If this taste of freedom had proved anything to her, ’twas that she was her own woman and she needed no man to tell her what to do.
Soft snoring rippled down the roofless corridor from the chamber where Robin and Odell were sleeping near their fire, but Megan found no comfort knowing they were close by. Whenever she was alone with Wolf, ’twas as if they were the only two souls in the world and she thought of nothing save him.
For the past few nights, Wolf had taken up his vigil at the doorway, watching over her but not lying beside her beneath the furs. ’Twas better, she supposed, as when he was near her, his body molded around hers, her thoughts turned wanton and through the hours of the night, she fought the urge to turn in his arms and kiss him, to kindle the sinful flames of passion that perpetually ignited whenever his skin touched hers.