Page 55 of The Sword and the Damsel

He’d seen her face when his cousin had appeared at Guestling. She’d been scared. He could tell—it wasn’t an act. The look on her face after Robert’s insults was enough to prove she wouldn’t go with him voluntarily.

But they’d only been married two days, and he’d blundered so badly on their wedding night. Maybe she was having second thoughts. Maybe she regretted her decision.

Still, he didn’t think she’d go to Robert. Would she?

Reaching a fork in the road, Victor paused, squinting at the foggy darkness as he pondered which road his cousin was most likely to take.

“It’s eating at you, isn’t it?”

Victor’s sword was out of its sheath and pointed at the voice in the blink of an eye. Robert’s shape took shape out of the fog.

“You didn’t notice me because you were too busy wondering if she ran away with me. Even after all my insults, maybe she prefers me to you. Maybe she regrets marrying you enough to come with me. She only married you because I left her no choice. You said so yourself. No sooner were you out of the room than she came to me, begging me to save her from a lifetime married to you. She threw herself at me, and I admit I enjoyed myselfquite a bit. Such a sweet, tight little pussy she has. It’s a pity we had so little time.”

“She asked me not to kill you, but she didn’t say anything about serious maiming.” Victor moved closer to Robert.

“Serious maiming is not as satisfying as you’d think. Just look at you.”

Victor inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I meant to kill you in Spain and take Guestling. I’ve never been very good at living within my means, and I’ll admit to having enjoyed the thought of getting rid of my smug, perfect cousin. You’ve always been a pain in my arse. But Lord Amalric came riding by at the critical moment, and I had to make it look like I was saving you. I would have rather you died, but I thought at least with your new face, there was no chance of your producing an heir. Now, look where that’s gotten me.”

Victor blinked. The last year and a half rearranged itself in his mind through this new lens. So many things he’d forgiven Robert for took on a malevolent light. It wasn’t only the injury. It was also the extent to which his sense of himself and his circumstances was built on a lie.

His injury wasn’t an accident of luck. Robert had done this to him and then complained about his ingratitude and spread petty rumors about him, driving wedges between him and people he used to be close to. He lost so many friendships. He’d thought their distance was a reaction to his face and to other changes in him, but what role did Robert play?

And then there was Alais. He’d vouched for Robert as a match for her. But for her good sense, she would be Robert’s bride. He’d done nothing to prevent it. But if he’d tried to stand in the way, would it have worked? Would Alais have listened, or would she have seen him as jealous and needy, undermining Robert in a sad attempt to gain her attention? That was exactly the seed that Robert tried to plant with her, accusing him oftelling her lies to undermine his suit.Poor Victor, so sad and desperate.

He meant to follow Robert, not kill him. At least, not yet. He wanted Robert to lead him to Alais. But the last thread of his control snapped. He lunged with his sword, and Robert ducked, then struck back, cutting a shallow wound across Victor’s chest. The pain sharpened his senses.

He struck out once again at his cousin, making contact. Robert cried out in pain and took off again at a gallop. Victor tore after him, all caution discarded, determined not to lose him in the fog. He came up even with him and slashed once again. Robert yelped but didn’t slacken his pace. Instead, he made a sharp and careless turn to the right, his horse plunging into the woods.

Victor tore after him, heedless of the dangers of chasing through woods in the dark in the fog. Then Socorro let out a scream of pain and stopped short, throwing him from the saddle. Victor picked himself up off the ground with a deep growl of frustration. It was no good following a man in the dark, in the fog, in the woods on foot. Nonetheless, he followed the retreating sound of Robert as long as he could manage before he acquiesced to necessity and started up the road to Westfield for help.

Chapter Twenty-One

Blinding light streamedthrough the window as Alais awoke, sharpening the severe headache that throbbed behind her squinting eyes. She slowly became aware of her body, bound, and tied to a bed, her hands bound above her head to one bedpost and her feet bound to the diagonal opposite bedpost. Her hands were numb and tingling as she moved her fingers to bring back circulation.

She looked around the room, searching for some clue as to where she was. It was made of stone, with stone walls and a stone floor. It was sparsely furnished and bare of any adornment or personal items that might give her some hint. A thick layer of dust lay over everything. The room clearly hadn’t been used in a long time. There was no fire, and she ached with cold. She heard a seagull outside, so she knew she was near the ocean, but how far from Guestling? And how did she get here?

“Help,” she yelled as loudly as she could. No one came. She yelled again. Nothing.

She was freezing. Her whole body was trembling with the cold she was aware of now that she was conscious. She tried to find a way to escape her bonds, but they only pulled tighter. She wasn’t sure how long she went on like this, alternating between struggling with her bonds and yelling. Just when she was starting to lose her voice, she heard shuffling footsteps outside the door.

“Help me, please,” she croaked. A timid young housemaid peered around the door, saw Alais, and ran away without a word.

She groaned in frustration. She could only hope that the girl brought back help, though she suspected she would bring the opposite. Closing her eyes, she prayed.

Several minutes later, she heard footsteps again. The maid came back along with another servant, a man this time. “Stay still, my lady. If you promise not to run, I’ll untie you,” the man said. She nodded her agreement, too hoarse to speak. “His lordship said to see to it you were well tended to until he can return. You’re not to leave, but we’ll make your stay as comfortable as we can. I’ll bring up some food.”

As the man untied her bonds, blood rushed into her hands and feet, and they throbbed and prickled.

“Where am I?” she whispered, shivering violently. She grabbed the dusty bed cover and pulled it around herself.

“Our master said not to tell you anything, but that you’ll be safe here as long as you don’t try to leave.”

She had to get away, but it was no use running without a plan. First, she needed to observe her prison to decide how best to escape.

“I’ll cooperate,” she whispered, nodding meekly.

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