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“Where is Ruby?” Crispin repeated. His eyes blazed like a vicious internal inferno.
“She is quite safe, I assure you.” Francis crossed his arms.
“I demand to see her.” Crispin took a step closer bringing the tip of one of the guard’s blades against his doublet. “Without delay.”
“You are in no position to give orders.” Francis held steady, his infuriating confidence burrowed beneath Henry’s skin. “Within these walls, I am king. Soon, the whole of Meradin will also agree. Your time has come to an end, and I will take my rightful place.”
A vengeful scream wrenched from Crispin’s throat. He attempted to lunge for Francis. But the guards intercepted without hesitation. They threw Crispin to the ground and pinned him against the stone with boots and blades.
Henry watched helpless as they beat him into submission with their fists and the pommels of their swords. Their blows driving into Crispin’s torso and head repeatedly. He closed his eyes unable to watch any longer.
“Enough.” Francis’s command silenced the commotion, leaving Crispin’s echoing groans of pain to fill the silence. “Take them both to the dungeon.”
Two of the guards lifted Crispin between them. Another guard came behind Henry and jerked him to his feet. He followed the men carrying Crispin being mindful to keep his gaze lowered. They entered a door on the side of the tower and wove down the staircase.
Henry marked the distance between the door and the dungeon. A small keep, weakly fortified. He had enough sense to tuck these details into the back of his mind. They would be useful should the opportunity for escape arise. He counted a dozen men, perhaps more.
The guards tossed Crispin onto the floor of the cell then threw Henry in beside him. The cell was narrow and dark. Henry shuddered at the memory of being locked inside it without food or water. It became impossible to breathe.
He clawed at his throat and rushed for the door. The guard slammed it in his face. His laughter echoed down the corridor beyond. Henry slammed his fists against the wood.
Weakness pulled him down to the floor. He leaned his head against the door and surrendered to the obvious. Francis would never allow them to live. Death would come for them both, of that he was sure.
Chapter Eleven
Ruby loathed the twowomen designated as her jailers. Eva proved to be worse than Emma, but both women were loyal to Francis. Nothing could dissuade them from their blind obedience.
When they woke her at dawn, Ruby begrudgingly allowed them to care for her. If only because they arrived with a sturdy tub and began to fill it with steaming water. She longed for a bath to soothe her aching body and revitalize her soul.
The sweet scent of rosemary filled the air. Ruby twisted in the bed to watch the slow progress as they filled the tub. Her gaze lingered longingly on the open door. She shifted slowly to a sitting position, ignoring the protests of her heavy limbs and aching body.
Emma appeared before her. “Best not move too quickly, pet. You are still weak as a kitten.”
Ruby ripped her arm from beneath the woman’s touch. “Only because you allowed him to poison me.” She could not keep the venom from her voice as the grief settled around her heart once more. No amount of time or rest would banish the searing ache. Even in the midst of her pain, she would not allow Francis to gloat in his success. She would fight him until her dying breath.
The old woman drew back, her eyes filled with hurt. Ruby could not find any conscience in her actions. These women were sent to prepare her for Francis. They were his loyal servants, and no amount of pleading or begging would convince them to free her.
Eva watched the interaction from the opposite side of the room where she poured scented oil and herbs into the steaming water. Although the women looked similar in stature and coloring, there was a distinct difference in their posture and expression. Ruby saw the resentment in Eva’s dark eyes. Emma’s kind gestures reflected a more tender nature.
It mattered not for they were not her friends nor allies. They were in the service of her enemy, and she would give them no consideration when she fully regained her strength.
Ruby struggled to rise to her feet, gripping the bedpost with both hands. Emma stood nearby, ready to lend her assistance. She swatted the woman’s hands away twice before she was able to fully put her weight on her feet. Even in her state of complete undress, Ruby could not muster the strength to feel shame. Francis, these women, and every miserable soul in his service could strip her of every shred of clothing and decency, but they would not steal her spirit.
The cold air from the corridor crept over her skin, making her shiver. She stared longingly at the steaming bath.
