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By the time she reached the door, Ruby found an inner reserve of fortitude. Every step brought her courage and determination. She would face him on her own terms.
Henry would not save her. Neither would Crispin. If she wished to survive and defeat Francis, she would need to save herself. She would bide her time and her strength until he revealed his weakness. Then she would strike.
In the corridor, Eva led the way while Emma followed behind flanked by two guards. Ruby ignored the prickling of awareness as their gazes lingered on her. She focused on her even steps and maintaining her balance as they descended the narrow staircase.
At the base of the stairs, they turned right into a wide hall leading to an oversized wooden door. Francis waited behind it. There was no question in her mind. He summoned her, and this was merely his way of intimidating her into compliance.
There was nothing he could do to her that he had not already done. He refused to kill her. What could possibly be a fate worse than death? Death would be a welcome release, but she would not give him the satisfaction of bringing her misery. Whatever waited beyond those doors, she would endure with the same strength she possessed through the entirety of this ordeal.
With a deep breath, Ruby paused outside the doors. The guards came forward and opened them. Inside the cavernous room, Francis sat upon a large carved mahogany throne. His gaze consumed her as she entered the room.
“My queen.” He rose from his seat and stepped down from the raised dais.
Ruby held her tongue and stopped in the center of the room refusing to bow to her captor.
“You have done well,” he complimented the two older women who bowed low in his presence. “Leave us.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
The sisters retreated, leaving Francis alone with her and the two guards attending the door.
“I see you are recovering well.” Francis paced around her. He traced his fingers over her shoulder.
Ruby flinched at the touch and glared at him. “Why have you summoned me?”
“Must you be so ungrateful?” Francis tutted with disappointment. “I have a gift for you, my sweet.”
“There is nothing you could give me that will ensure my compliance and loyalty.” Ruby recoiled when he lifted his hand, anticipating his wrath.
“Bring them in.” He addressed the guards and dropped his hands, clasping them behind his back as he retreated.
Confused, Ruby spun around to face the door when it burst open. Two guards appeared carrying a man between them.Henry.Another pair of men entered just behind him bearing another prisoner.Crispin.
A gasp burst from her lips at the sight of the man she loved hanging limp between the two guards. Whatever hope she bolstered within herself withered at the sight of them in chains. She watched in horror as the guards dumped the two men on the floor at her feet and withdrew.
Ruby dropped to her knees beside Crispin’s limp body. He was breathing, but blood smeared across his face and clothes. She reached for Henry and found him in much the same condition but with abrasions across his face and a swollen, blackened eye. Henry groaned at her touch but did not wake.
“What have you done to them?” Ruby rounded on Francis who seemed amused by her tender concern for the wounded prisoners.
“Nothing less than they deserved.” Francis motioned to the guards again who appeared carrying wooden buckets. “Wake them.”
Ruby scrambled back as the guards doused the two unconscious men with cold water. They shifted and groaned, waking from the unnatural slumber in a haze. She watched helpless as they shook the liquid from their eyes and searched their surroundings.
Crispin met her gaze. “Ruby.” Relief filled his hoarse voice. He struggled to rise, nearly falling over twice before he was able to find his footing and brace himself with his bound hands.
Henry rolled to his side, but he slumped back against the ground, weak and exhausted.
Ruby longed to rush to his side and offer aid, but Francis gripped her arm when she took a step toward Henry and Crispin.
A vengeful cloud settled on Crispin’s countenance. “Get your hand off my queen.”
“You are in no position to offer demands, brother.” Francis laughed, and the chilling sound echoed in the imposter’s throne room.
The murderous glare in Crispin’s eyes should have offered her comfort, but it did nothing but instill fear. If she learned anything about Francis, she knew there was a larger game at play. She steeled herself knowing Francis would make this next move as painful as possible.
