Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (19 page)

She’d looked into Tristan’s eyes as he gathered the chains from the floor of council, mentally begging him for some rational explanation for his betrayal. She’d gotten the sense that he was playing with her, that this was some kind of
game
to him. He was simply amusing himself with the human, and her desperation to save her kingdom meant nothing to him.

She wanted to dive head-first into pity, but after having nothing but time to reflect on it, she was thankful Roderic had been sent on his way. If anyone could make it, he could. She had complete faith in him. Roderic understood how important their task was. She would have given him permission to go even if she’d been given a choice, so she couldn’t fault him for that. But now she felt abandoned, lost...
stuck.

How had Roderic reacted when Tristan told him she was being kept there as a hostage? Had he argued for her release too? Did he make it clear to Tristan how important Arianrhod was to her? Roderic had gone, so there couldn’t have been too much of an argument about her. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. There was simply no arguing with the elf.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself. No one but Roderic knew she was here, and if some misfortune befell him, no one would think to look for her. Her family would just assume both of them had disappeared on the way to Wyndham, and that would be that. She would spend the rest of her life at the mercy of a human-hating elf.

And even if Roderic
did
make it, there was no guarantee anyone would come looking for her. They’d arrived in Oakenbourne in the middle of the night, and she’d been unconscious. She had no idea where they were. How would her uncle’s army find them? Would Tristan give her back if Arianrhod was retaken from Jariath?

Will he
ever
let me go?

Tristan had been so kind to her that day in his private garden. It had all been a cruel charade. She’d asked to see Roderic, and he’d known then that he was already gone. He’d known the whole time and refused to tell her. Instead, she had to find out from the Sylvan council, and that hadn’t gone very well at all. He was the worst kind of liar, and she didn’t know if she could forgive him for putting her in that position. If only he’d been
honest
with her... but he seemed to have many secrets.

She leaned her head against the wall, thought of Maeve, and felt the tears well up again.
I love that little girl so much.
She would grow up to be a beautiful, strong woman, and Aislin was sick with regret that she wouldn’t be there to see it.

Nothing made sense, and thinking was just too painful. She focused on the bars of her cell and willed the comforting gray swirls to fill her mind. Exhausted and emotionally spent, she was finally able to drop off to sleep.

Tristan, unable to calm his thoughts, lay in his bed staring into the darkness. He was filled with remorse at how easily Duff had been able to bait Aislin into an outburst of anger—an outburst he could have avoided if he’d been honest with her and given her a choice. They thought the worst of her now—just another ill-tempered, ugly human deserving of death. He wondered how he was ever going to make things right.

The entire council was furious with him, and he didn’t blame them one bit. Humans were the enemy. It had been that way for over a hundred years. He’d fought long and hard to have the senior elders view him with respect, to gain their trust, to show them the well-being of the Sylvan was all that mattered to him. And now he wanted to keep a human dangling at the end of a chain for nothing more than his own amusement. Given the circumstances, it must appear to council as though he’d lost his mind.

She’d been warming to him. He smiled in the dark as he remembered how wonderful she smelled, how she’d relaxed against him when he wrapped his arms around her in the garden. But that was all in the past. He’d seen the light go out of her eyes as he’d given into his own anger and frustration. He’d been quite rough with her, and she wouldn’t be so quick to drop her guard again where he was concerned.

He sighed, a long troubled sigh. That face, that smile, those eyes. He wanted to hold her, make love to her, keep her with him forever. She was the first thing on his mind in the morning and the last thing at night, and while it felt so good, it was wrong in so many ways. His people would never accept her here, even if he
were
the chieftain.

He knew what he had to do, and it felt like a knife in his heart. He had to take her to Wyndham and give her back to her people.

Chapter Twenty One

W
RAPPING A ROUGH WOOL BLANKET around the two of them, Gwen cradled the unconscious Emara in her arms. Gwen hoped she wasn’t badly injured. She’d really taken a hard blow from Jariath. After what seemed like an eternity, Emara stirred.

“What happened?” Emara asked weakly.

“Jariath found the cave. We’re back in the dungeon in Arianrhod.”

Emara groaned. “What about Maeve? Devin?”

“They weren’t back from their walk yet, and I saw no sign of them as we were loaded in the boat. If Devin saw the boat, he would have known something was wrong. Thank the gods they weren’t with us.”

Emara pushed herself up slowly to a sitting position and felt the lump on the back of her head. “Now what do we do?”

“I don’t know. We can only hope someone gets to Wyndham, and soon. I don’t think Jariath will kill us, but he can surely make us miserable.” Gwen looked around the dungeon. It was cold, damp and filthy. Straw littered the floor of their cell, and there were precious few blankets. If Emara thought the cave was bad, she would complain without end about this.

But Emara said nothing. She seemed content to let Gwen hold her under the blanket, and the two of them sat quietly in the darkness.

Jariath sat in the throne room of the manor house, getting drunker by the minute. He’d missed her again. He’d captured the arrogant old Queen Mother and Fionn’s skinny, worthless widow instead. He was still mystified as to how Aislin continually eluded him, but now he had a bigger problem. The army of Wyndham.

He’d been fearless in front of Brock and his men, but he knew Stanis’s army was formidable. Aislin was very clever, and he knew Wyndham would have been the first place she thought of as she made her escape. The only thing he could hope for was that Aislin wouldn’t make it that far, that she would come back to him on her knees when she found out he had her mother and sister-in-law in the dungeon. He knew he was leaving things up to chance, and he’d never had that kind of good fortune. Still, he refused to believe his carefully made plans would unravel.

He thought about the women in the dungeon, and his thoughts immediately went to his father, King Boru. Jariath hated him with a passion, but he needed to stay in favor to remain his heir. He wondered if he could appease the miserable bastard by sending the old queen north to his father. He knew some things... and it just might work.

Drunk and angry, Jariath grabbed a torch and made his way to the dungeon.

Gwen was aghast to see Jariath standing in front of their cell. She was even more horrified when he opened the door and stepped in. She pulled Emara close to her.

Jariath got down on his haunches in front of Emara, and stared at her for a few minutes before he began to laugh softly. The sound was sickening, and Gwen shivered.

“So this is the beautiful Emara, former queen of Arianrhod.” His eyes glittered in the gloom of the cell. “I wonder what my father would think if he knew I held you here.”

With a whimper, Emara tucked in closer to Gwen.

“My father has often said how much he misses you. His biggest regret was losing you. He’d be delighted to have you back, I’m sure. No one to come for you now, is there?”

Emara lifted her head to look at Jariath. “I would kill myself before I would go back to your father. You can count on that. I’d love nothing more than to stick a knife in his ribs. It’s what he deserves.”

Jariath laughed again. “I think I’ll keep you a secret for a little while longer. I need you here as bait for Aislin. But rest assured, you’ll be sent north to my father once this is over.” He stood up and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

“What was
that
about?” Gwen asked.

Emara started to weep, her whole body trembling as she buried her face in Gwen’s shoulder. Gwen held her, confused. “Emara...?”

“I can’t tell you!” she wailed against Gwen. “Don’t ask me!”

“Shhh. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gwen stroked her hair and tried to comfort the sobbing woman.

“Please don’t tell Aislin what happened here.”

“I won’t, but I think
you
should. I don’t know what happened to you, but if you have some kind of secret where Morrigan is concerned, Aislin needs to know. And she needs to hear it from
you
.”

“I know. But I may never get the chance to tell her.”

“Don’t ever doubt her, Emara. Your daughter is a wonder. She’s as tough as they come,” Gwen said. “Aislin will make it to Wyndham, and Bryce will rescue us. You’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty Two

T
HE PIT IS NARROW AND deep, but I can see the light at the top. It’s so far to climb though, and the walls are wet and slippery. How did I get here? I’m so very tired, my body sluggish and heavy. I want to climb out of here, but I can’t hold onto the slimy rocks. I keep falling back to the wet ground. I’m dying...somebody help me! Help me!

“Wake up.” There was an insistent hand on Aislin’s shoulder, nudging her, and the scream died on her lips. “I have your breakfast here.”

The sound of Tristan’s voice rescued her from one nightmare only to drop her into another. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the wall away from him. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to talk to him, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any opportunity to flash that brilliant smile at her and try to smooth things over. What he’d done to her was unforgivable.

Aislin felt him gently remove the gag, and then he released her ankles and wrists from the chains. He lingered a moment over her bloody wrists, and she heard him mutter something under his breath. She pulled her hands away from him, curled herself into a ball and slumped against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest.

She could sense him standing over her, could smell the food he had for her.
Go away, just please go away and leave me alone
, she silently willed.

Tears gathered behind her eyes as several more minutes passed.
Will you just get out of here so I don’t have to look at your ridiculously handsome face?

An aching, destructive rage tore at her. She’d been given no choice.
No choice at all.
She’d been kept here without explanation, lied to, treated as though what she wanted didn’t matter. And she was terrified of what the future held for her.

Tristan sighed, and it sounded painful. Aislin felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she held tight to her anger. He had no one to blame but himself for the standoff that existed between them now.

The trencher chimed softly as Tristan placed it on the marble floor. The door of the cell slammed and locked behind him.

Aislin waited until the sound of his footsteps died away before she opened her eyes. She tried to get to her feet. The wounds on her wrists and ankles burned like fire, and spending the night on the cold floor had left her stiff and achy. She whimpered as she stood and limped to the pile of blankets. She quickly ate the breakfast and, still emotionally exhausted, collapsed into the welcoming softness, falling asleep within minutes.

It was much later when the jarring sound of metal on metal jolted Aislin out of a sound slumber. She looked around in confusion and realized it was the middle of the night. She blinked, trying to clear the fog of sleep. Footsteps out in the hall brought her to a full state of alertness.

Moonlight flooded the hall outside, and as she looked around, she noticed a full trencher of food that had been left on the floor for her. Would Tristan be coming to check on her at this hour? Somehow, she didn’t think so. She was quickly out of the blankets and on her feet.

The footsteps drew closer until a shadowy figure materialized at the door of her cell.