But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now.
~ * ~
Reyes sat in front of the hearth, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. Three days had passed since he had locked Montiori’s daughter in the dungeon. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined her sitting in that damned dismal cell with nothing to do but stare at the bars that imprisoned her. He imagined her horror at sleeping on a stained tick on the cold floor. He shied away at the thought of rats sharing her cell. His only concession had been to see that she received nourishing meals. Meals she had, thus far,refused to eat. Perhaps he was being too cruel. Perhaps he would tell Rolf to put a bed in her cell…
“No!” She was the enemy. No matter that she was young and more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. He could not think of her as a woman. She was a means to an end, no more, no less.
He looked up as his steward entered the room. “Did she write the letter?”
“Yes, sire.” Rolf handed him a piece of rolled parchment.
Reyes read it quickly. As he had instructed, she had told her father that she had been taken captive by Lord Reyes and that her life would be forfeit if Montiori did not comply with his wishes before the next full moon.
“Shall I send the missive?” Rolf asked.
“Yes. Have Mergrid take it. Tell him to wait for an answer.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Is there something else?” Reyes asked.
“She still refuses to eat.”
Reyes nodded, then dismissed Rolf with a wave of his hand.
Rolf bowed from the waist, then left the hall.
Reyes swore. He had ordered his cooks to prepare dishes to tempt a lady’s taste but to no avail. For the last three days, every tray had been returned, untouched. He took small comfort in the fact that she drank the water if not the wine.
Gaining his feet, Reyes paced the floor. She was the enemy. It should make no difference whether she supped or not. He swore under his breath. She was only a woman. When she got hungry enough, she would eat.
It was the same thought that crossed his mind later that night when he sat at table, his plate piled high with fresh venison and an assortment of side dishes.
Muttering an oath, he grabbed a plate, filled it with meat and vegetables, and then made his way to the dungeon. She would beof no use in a trade if she starved herself to death. A harsh laugh escaped his lips. No doubt that was her intent.
He opened the door that led to the dungeon, grimaced at the stink of waste and decay that fouled his nostrils. Who could eat in a place like this? He thrust the thought from his mind as he descended the stairs and walked down the corridor that led to her cell.
She was standing in the corner farthest away from the straw tick.
His heart clenched when she turned to look at him. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her cheeks looked sunken, her skin pale. Her eyes were dull and filled with resignation.
“I’ve brought your supper,” he said, his voice gruff.
She gestured at the straw tick. “Give it to him.”
A large gray rat with beady black eyes looked up at Reyes, a bit of potato in its jaws.
A vile oath erupted from Reyes’ throat. Tossing the tray in his hands aside, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cell door. The girl let out a wordless cry as he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the dungeon and up the stairs to the second floor. He opened the door to one of the vacant bedchambers, pushed her inside, and closed and locked the door.
Striding to the head of the stairs, he looked over the railing at the servants milling below.
“Alyce! Beatrice!” he bellowed. “Attend me immediately.”
In moments, the two maids were there, awaiting his orders.
“There is a woman in the room next to mine,” he said, thrusting the key into Beatrice’s hand. “Clean her up and bring her something to eat. And see that she eats it!”
Beatrice curtsied. “Yes, my lord,” she said, and hurried away.
