Fear ate at her very soul. If she lost Merrick, she could not go on living. She had lost too much, and he was all she had left. The only person who cared whether she lived or died.
She closed her eyes against the horrible images of his death. Death came too readily to mind, she could see it so clearly after witnessing the horror of her parents’ murders.
Who had done this? Was it a trick to remove her from the palace? If so, where was Merrick?
Another knock sounded at her door.
“Come!” she snapped.
“Your Highness, Montagne is secure in the cell, but there is no sign of Lord Merrick. Shall I dispatch a contingent to find him?”
“No,” she said sharply, waving her hand dismissively. “You may go now.”
On the heels of the guard, her maid returned with the clothing. Her eyes widened when she took in Isabella’s scantily clad body, but she wisely kept silent.
“Leave me,” she said brusquely.
The maid bowed and backed out of the room.
She pulled the breeches and shirt on in seconds then thrust her feet into a pair of boots. Rushing to the vanity, she yanked the jeweled pins from her hair. She twisted the strands into a thick braid and quickly tied the end.
Knowing she had little time, she flung open her door and strode down the hall toward Jacques’ cell on the level below. Her guards followed wordlessly behind her. Chances were, he would tell her nothing, but she had to try for Merrick’s sake.
When she approached the cell, she was surprised by Jacques’ appearance. He sat slumped over on the small bench against the wall, his hair unruly and his clothing in disarray. When he heard her, he looked up, his eyes dull and lifeless.
“Where is he?” she hissed.
He blinked, his eyes not reacting to her command.
“Tell me or I will have you killed right now.”
He rose unsteadily and walked over to grasp the bars where she stood. “Where is who?”
“Lord Merrick,” she ground out, her patience at its end.
The look of puzzlement in his eyes was not feigned. Surely he knew of Merrick. Hadn’t Merrick been taken in an effort to free Jacques?
He shook his head. “I have no idea who you are talking about.”
“Bastard!” she spat. “Was it not enough that you killed my parents?”
Pain and something that looked remarkably like regret flashed across his face. “My sins are great, and my time has come to an end. I’ll not survive to stand trial. He won’t allow it.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned in closer to him. “Who are you talking about?” Kirk’s confusion when Montagne’s name had been mentioned flashed in her mind. Was it possible he had not been acting under Montagne’s orders? Was there more than one faction vying for control of her country?
He shook his head again and shuffled back to the bench, leaning over to bury his face in his hands.
“Damn you, talk to me!”
He ignored her, and she swung around in rage, stalking back to her chambers. She had no time to deal with an uncooperative murderer. Merrick’s life was in danger, and she must save him.
How to get out without being seen? The guards would never let her go out alone. She shut the door to her chambers and crossed the room to her window, peering out at the ground below. While too far to simply jump, she could make her way down the ledge then drop to the roof of the solarium. From there it was a short distance to the ground.
Shoving the window open, she threw her leg over the sill and ducked out. Minutes later, she dropped to the ground and crept stealthily to the stables. Would her prize mare still be there? Or would Jacques have ridded the stables of the horses belonging to her family?
She bent over and sidled down the stalls, praying the stable master wouldn’t hear her. To her relief, she found Zora in her stall, and the horse neighed and stamped in greeting when Isabella held out her hand.
She threw herself on the horse’s back and urged her out of the stable. They bolted past a surprised groom, the horse’s hooves beating against the ground.
