“ ’Tis too late to bargain, m’lady,” he said, smiling at last. “They’ll be hanged tomorrow at sunset, every one of them, including the leader of the outlaws—your precious Wolf.?
??
Awaken.
The voice sounded odd, as if it were spoken from a great distance.
Ware of Abergwynn, awaken and I will heal you.
Wolf opened an eye and sucked in his breath. Gritting his teeth, his body clenched from the pain, he held his tongue. For the first time in his life, he welcomed death.
She is here. Lady Megan has come searching for you.
What? With every ounce of strength he could summon, Wolf struggled to a sitting position and found himself in a hideous, smelly cell deep in the dungeons of Dwyrain. His head ached wildly, the pain behind his eyes was intense and blinding, and his back stung as if it were on fire.
“ ’Tis over,” he said, though no sound came from his voice.
You cannot give up on her.
Megan. His heart ached at the thought of her, her warm, golden eyes, easy laugh, and wild curls. The few hours of bliss he’d had on this earth were when she’d been with him, giving of her body and her spirit. His throat ached, but not for water. Nay, though he was thirsty, ’twas not for drink. If only he could see her before his spirit left this earth.
You will only die if you so wish it, the voice reprimanded again, and finally his head was clear enough to understand that Cadell, the sorcerer, was speaking to him through his mind—or was it that he was addled himself?
For the love of Christ, look at me!
Wolf raised his eyes and his gaze connected with the intense, outwardly serene stare of the magician. Now, friend, pay attention, for I will heal you and you will be strong again, but for our plan to work, you must pretend to be weak and feign that you are near death. Not even Megan can suspect that you be whole; elsewise, all is lost.
“ ’Tis lost already.”
“Say what?” the guard asked, looking up from his post.
’ve never thought you were a coward, Ware. Prove me not wrong! Lady Megan’s life depends upon you.
Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Wolf inched himself across the cell. Through fetid rushes, scraps of bone from previous meals, rat dung, and spiders, he forced his battered muscles and broken bones to move. Each bit of space he crossed felt as if it lasted forever, but he set his jaw and decided that if he was going to leave this earth, he’d do it while trying to save the woman he loved.
The thought jolted him, for he’d vowed never to love another woman, not after giving his heart to Mary and watching her be destroyed. Now, years later, he’d fallen for another woman, a beautiful, headstrong baron’s daughter who had married his worst enemy, and his actions had started a chain of events that might cost Megan her happiness as well as her life.
Nay, he could not die with her death on his hands. If there was a way to save her, he’d find it, no matter what the cost.
That’s better, Cadell intoned without words. He stretched a hand through the bars and clasped Wolf’s frail fingers with his own strong hand. Heal, friend. Cadell closed his eyes and a warmth the likes of which Wolf had never felt before swept from the magician’s body to his. Be strong and you will see your beloved Megan again.
“I demand an audience with my husband!” Megan yelled, the word tasting foul on her tongue as she pounded on the door. “Do you hear me, guard? Fetch Lord Holt, for I needs speak with him!” She’d been deceived and locked in her chamber for nearly a day. In that time she’d slept fitfully, prayed constantly, and eaten only a bite or two of the food sent her way. She was allowed to speak to no one but the guard. Not even Rue was permitted to visit her.
She’d waited, standing for most of the day upon a stool to look through the window and watch as the gallows was constructed. Every thud of the carpenter’s hammer drove a nail of fear deeper into her heart. She’d heard snippets of gossip from the laundress and milkmaid as they’d passed under her window. Not only were Wolf, Jagger, and the sorcerer to be hanged, but young Robin and a boy named Tom—the son of the man building the hated structure—as well. But the builder did not slack in his work, and the horrid wooden structure was taking form.
“Did you not hear me? I demand to speak to Lord Holt!” she cried again, pounding on the thick oak of the door until her knuckles began to bleed.
“I heard ye, m’lady, but the baron’s out for a while.”
“Then am I not in charge of the castle?”
There was a soft laugh on the other side of the heavy oak beams and Megan leaned uselessly against those imprisoning timbers. “Lord ’Olt, ’e said ye’d try somethin’ like this. Nay, Sir Connor is in charge while the baron’s out ’unting.”
“Hunting?” she repeated, feeling the horrid talons of defeat swipe at her courage. Holt is out hunting while Wolf and Robin are doomed to breathe their last breaths?
“Aye—oh, ye do ’ave a visitor.”
With a clank of locks and the scrape of the heavy bar being lifted, the door opened and Father Timothy, a look of vast superiority pinned neatly on his face again, swept into the room on a cloud of pious pomposity.