“What else do you have in there?” she asked instead.
“Bread, berries, and a flagon of small ale.” He paused awkwardly. “And your charcoals.”
He laid his offerings out on the table, making Ariana’s mouth water in anticipation of food and drink, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how grateful she was.
“You bring enough to keep your prisoner in basic health,” she observed tartly.
Otto cleared his throat. From the corner of her eye, she saw him fold his arms over his chest.
“Who said you were a prisoner?” he asked. There was an edge to his voice, but Ariana couldn’t decide if it stemmed from anger or regret.
“The fact you have stationed a guard by the outer door tells me as much.” She looked away from him, focusing her gaze on the flickering yellow and orange flames. Despite her resentment, Otto’s presence unsteadied her. In truth, she was tired and upset and longed for the comfort of his strong embrace.
Ridiculous,she told herself.
Otto appeared silently beside her. After a moment’s hesitation, he knelt down next to the hearth, his body disturbingly close to hers. She could feel a new source of warmth radiating from him. His proximity made her pulse quicken and she drew the blanket more closely around her shoulders, conscious of her damp, clinging gown.
“The guard is a knight,” he said, following her gaze into the fire. “His name is Gaius, and he is one of my most trusted men.” He placed his hands behind him and leaned back against them. Through the orange light of the fire, she could make out a rasp of dark stubble coating his jaw.
“Forgive my ignorance,” she spoke up, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone. “You have stationed a trusted knight outside my door. That makes me feel so much better.”
“It should,” he countered, shifting his gaze to her face. She could feel the force of his glittering eyes, even though she looked resolutely away. “Gaius is not tasked with keeping you inside, Ariana. He is tasked with keeping others out.”
Lazily, he picked up a nearby poker and rearranged the logs in the grate. The fire spat and crackled as Ariana digested his words.
“Why?” she asked. “Who in Darkmoor wishes to find me, to do me harm? No one here cares in the slightest about me.” She clamped her lips shut, disliking the self-pity evident in her words.
Otto paused before answering. She held herself taut with anticipation that he may declare some feelings of his own towards her wellbeing, but he disappointed her.
“There are those in Darkmoor who are displeased with your actions,” he stated, his voice even and calm.
It was no more than she feared, though her heart pounded in her chest to hear it said aloud.
“And you are amongst them?” Her breath caught in her throat as she awaited his answer.
“Alas, yes.”
She waited for more, but Otto fell into silence.
“I’m sorry for it,” she said, truthfully, her voice breaking over the words.
He angled his head towards her and again, she felt the scorching heat of his gaze. She looked down, nudging her hair forward to hide her expression, unable to find the strength to meet his eyes. Guilt and fear washed over her in equal measure. This was the golden opportunity she had been waiting for. Now was the time to speak up, to explain why she had rescued Ysmay and plead for clemency.
Had Otto been a man of normal size and stature, with a reputation for passivity, Ariana fancied she may have found thewords. But despite his gentleness towards her, she could not dampen down the knowledge that this man, her husband, was a mighty warrior accustomed to showing no mercy. He was not a man to be crossed.
And she had crossed him.
Mayhap he didn’t know for sure that she was the one to rescue Ysmay. Mayhap he only suspected it. Would her confession see her transported directly to Traitor’s Gate?
As she looked into the flames, she decided it came down to one simple question; did she trust Otto?
She swallowed hard, her mind a quagmire of uncertainty.
Otto spoke up first. “You have not asked me why you are here.” A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his investment in the conversation, but in all other aspects he appeared cool and composed. “I ordered you from the morning room and stationed you here, with neither food nor light, nor the comfort surely expected by the Countess of Darkmoor.” He pronounced her title with deliberate slowness and Ariana felt goosebumps break out on her arms. “And you ask nothing?” Hot tears formed in the corners of her eyes as he jumped to his feet in frustration. “Damnation, Ariana. Can’t you see how this speaks of your guilt? Your complicity?”
A searing pain lodged itself in her heart. Ariana bent her head and allowed the tears to flow. “I am guilty,” she said, the admission tearing from her in a rush.
He took a pace backwards, reeling in surprise. “I didn’t want to believe it.”
