“You leave for Kaerlud. You have an appointment there with the queen. Such a pity you’ll try to escape and be injured in the attempt.” He clucked his tongue sadly. “I expect that you’ll be very nearly dead when you get there. In fact, with the herbs you’re going to consume tomorrow, I can guarantee it. I think it will work well for you to take your last few breaths at her feet, don’t you?”
Mathos grunted, trying to keep his voice steady. “I won’t confess to anything.”
“Of course not. I thought we’d already clarified that your role will be to frighten our vulnerable young queen while providing a nice reminder to everyone else that there are consequences to interfering with my plans.”
Pain radiated from his shoulder as he glared back at the man he was coming to hate more than he had ever imagined possible.
“Goodnight, Sergeant. Sleep well.” Dornar laughed.
Mathos groaned as he slid slowly down the wall onto the cold earthen floor and watched Dornar walk away with the light.
At least he didn’t go for the jugular. That’s one good thing.
Being alive in the morning was definitely better than the alternative. But other than that, he was pretty sure Dornar had, in fact, gone for the jugular. And, for the first time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do.
Chapter Nine
Lucilla opened her heavy eyes.Hair was stuck to her cheek, and her mouth was dry and sour. She slowly pushed herself up to sitting, feeling disoriented and slightly nauseous as the world spun slowly before settling.
For some reason she was fully dressed; she even had her boots on. She had gone to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, but now the room was dark and cold, and she shivered as her head started to clear.
The last time she could remember feeling so awful, she had spent the night drinking the cook’s cider. And had then spent the early hours of the morning being thoroughly sick before waking up disoriented and fuzzy with a throbbing head.
She hadn’t drunk that much, had she?
She scrabbled in the drawer beside her bed until she found a flint and a candle, which she managed to light after several fumbling attempts. It was a relief when the wick caught and a circle of golden light fell around her. Somehow the room felt warmer and less ominous.
The small clock on the mantelpiece read nearly seven o’clock; she’d slept deeply for several hours, but it hadn’t left her refreshed. If anything, she felt significantly worse.
She forced herself to stand, still feeling as if she was wading through mud, and took several deep breaths, then she stumbled to the small table and lifted the wineglass. It was half full.
Gods. She wiped a shaky hand down her face, trying to think. She hadn’t drunk enough to pass out. And although she’d been exhausted, she wouldn’t have simply gone to sleep like that.
The nasty suspicion that someone had added a sleeping drug to her wine curled through her, and she shivered again.
Who would do something like that? The sergeant who had brought the tray? Why?
Presumably they didn’t want to kill her, or she would be dead. Kidnap her, maybe? Someone else wanting to take her north? Were there more guards working with Alanna?
She wrapped her arms around her belly, swallowing against the acid taste in her throat. Thank the gods she’d locked her door.
She was trying to imagine who could have corrupted one of her guards when a firm tap startled her. Her heart hammered in her ears as she tried to convince herself that she was safe. That no one who meant her harm would have knocked.
There was another firm tap on the door.
She really didn’t want to deal with anyone while her head was still so foggy and unsettled, but another knock on the door suggested whoever was out there wasn’t going anywhere. She cleared her throat while trying to smooth some of the knots from her hair. “Who is it?”
After a long, silent pause, there was a rough sigh from outside her door and then a low voice spoke. “It’s me, Lucilla, open the door.”
Oh, hell no.
She didn’t bother to answer, simply folded her arms and waited for him to leave.
The knocking started again, reverberating in her head until she wanted to scream. She swallowed away the urge and muttered, “Go away.”
“I can’t. I have a trunk full of clothes and your things from the manor for you.”
“Why doyouhave my clothes?” Lucilla asked, her voice sharp with annoyance.
