The Wolf's Captive Ch. 04

"You mean to say that King Edward and his court-"

"Know nothing of our existence. It would be a dangerous thing if word was ever to be spilled. Nay, he does not know but there is still an...an understanding, if you will. Perhaps, long ago, when things were cruder, darker, the old kings made a pact. But whatever happened, there is now a social understanding. We have lent the kings strength, support, wealth, and allegiance in battle over the years. What I try to tell you is that my nephew does indeed have the king's ear. The king will not interfere, no matter that you are a baron's son, no matter that the punishment and trial you receive in the next few days is unorthodox. Do you, perhaps, now begin to understand if only slightly, why you have been captured and imprisoned thusly?"

"Do you try to gently tell me that I am doomed," Edwin whispered.

"The baron is a fair man -- far, far fairer than his father ever was. I believe that if-"

She stopped abruptly and glanced behind her as heavy footsteps approached.

"Lady."

"Thomas," she said, shooting Edwin a reassuring look before coming to her feet as the burly guard who had hauled Edwin here stopped before them. "I take it my time with the prisoner has come to an end?"

The guard's rough features developed a slight flush at her flippancy. "Nay, lady, 'tis not that..." he threw Edwin a cold look. "The lady your sister has called for you."

Edwin watched as this mysterious conspirator of his gnawed at her lush lips. "I see. Very well."

"Wait," Edwin struggled feebly, his head brushing against her legs as he tried to move towards her, fearful that she would leave even while he was desperate for her to leave him to his demons, to suffer in peace.

"Filthy cur!" the guard hissed, his foot coming out to bash him in the face before his saviour cried out in censure:

"The prisoner is not to be abused, Thomas! You would do well to take up your duty and stand guard. Go, leave us."

"There is nothing more that can be done tonight. The wine I gave you before contained a mix of herbs that should help you pass a good night," and then she was moving off, out of his line of vision.

"You did not tell me," Edwin said into the darkness where she dwelt. "How it is you came to know my father. Come madam, do not leave me in suspense this night, mulling it over as I fester here awaiting my fate come the morn," he sighed, annoyed when she remained silent, no longer quite so in awe of her beauty, associating her in this moment with the pain of her past healing and the unwelcome knowledge that she had brought him of his captor's omnipotence.

At first, he thought he had merely spoken to dead air, and his lids began to droop despite themselves as he gave into his weariness. But then that soft voice floated over to him.

"Nay, I will let you think upon it. For I am certain that you already know."

And so saying, she departed, taking the air away with her, leaving the cell stifling and without hope once more.

*

"I would have a word with you."

Rowena started, her hands dropping the small garment she had been examining, an embroidered delicate blanket that had seen better days.

After lingering in the garden, waiting on the maid, the young girl had eventually approached and declared she did not know which of Lady Margaret's herb's to bring before tugging on Rowena's arm, insisting rudely that she get them herself.

Rowena had blindly obeyed, surprised and relieved to find the hall empty as she made her way above stairs to one of the few chambers the maid gestured to. Of course, she had known. She had guessed that this -- He -- may be the reason behind the maid's flimsy excuse and her heart had throbbed at the knowledge as she had walked that unfamiliar path back to the magnificent keep. It was as if conscious thought had left her as she had followed behind the maid, so eager -- desperate -- was she to see Him again. The knowledge that he had sent for her had thrilled her as much as it shamed and disgusted her.

After a steadying breath, she looked over her shoulder, peering through the darkness of the room to the open door.

"You may go, Ingrid."

The maid quickly scurried from the darkened room at the dictate, bobbing a hurried curtsey towards the doorway as she left.

Cedric appeared to hesitate at the door, the light from the hall illumining the right side of his handsome face, the left side hidden in the darkness of the chamber. It was an inscrutable mask.

"I wished a quiet moment to speak alone for I doubt there will be the need or opportunity for it again. I wanted you to know that I was in ignorance. Complete ignorance," his voice had a hard edge to it, but rang with sincerity, and she did not have to ask to what he referred.

Feeling her face warm in shame, Rowena dismissed his words with an embarrassed shake of the head.

She retrieved the tray of herbs she had come for, her hands slippery and slightly unsteady at his nearness as she approached him to leave the room, thinking the matter done.

"You are tending him."

"Do you object?" Rowena tried to search his eyes but they were closed to her.

"If I objected, you would not have been permitted to wander so freely about my demesne," Cedric declared, with all the arrogance of his status as baron and leader. Still, the show of familiar clemency and consideration that had so endeared him to her from the first almost, but not quite, softened her to him. But she was still bitter of his earlier treatment -- and of his treatment of her these past few days-- and that, coupled with her new knowledge of their relationship, kept her hardened.

As she made to leave the room, he made no effort to allow her space, and she threw him a frustrated look which he met with a veiled one of his own, holding her in place with those icy eyes alone- for try as she might to deny his pull, to walk away, Rowena found herself ensnared.

"We have committed a grave sin," she whispered the troubling thought that had been clouding her mind, but her voice sounded indistinct and vague to her ears as she revelled in his nearness, moving towards him.

"Nay -- we did not know," Cedric said vehemently, before adding with measured finality, "It does not matter for whatever there was is past. It was frivolous fancy, nothing more."

His words brought her thudding back to reality, her chest constricting as an almost unbearable pain throbbed within her. So acute the sensation that she thought she might cry out, say something foolish and touch him, to insist her take back his words.

Shaking at the perturbing inclination, at her body's resistance to obey her mind's objections, she cringed away from him in self-preservation as he took a step towards her, but he merely angled himself to allow her to pass.

"You are free to stay," he said stiffly. "For as long as you choose. Until the trial or thereafter if you so decide it. You are neither prisoner here nor serf."

She bristled at his words. "Why the change in manner? Do you perhaps feel guilt because of who my mother is?"

"Yes. The knowledge has undoubtedly changed everything."

Strangely annoyed that her goading hadn't ruffled him, she pressed, "Then to be clear, I am neither serf, nor prisoner...nor whore?"

To his credit, Cedric flinched at her words. "My intentions were marred by my anger. I wished to shield your association to your brother, lest you suffer for it-"

Rowena scoffed. "And you chose an interesting way of shielding me, marking me as strumpet, giving me the value of the very dirt beneath your feet. In fact the words rolled of your tongue quite smoothly-"

"Forgive me."

The apology rang loud and clear. She somehow doubted Cedric was a man who apologised freely, admitted his errors without demur.

"It matters not," Rowena said tersely, unable to bear his direct yet dispassionate look any longer. "There are things far greater than our meagre grudges and insignificant association at play."

After that, there was nothing more to be said for he turned and left her.

Rowena stood in the doorway for a moment, knowing that she would not linger at Haverton, no matter the ties she had here with the woman who had birthed her, for she was as unfamiliar to her as any stranger here. She would find some way to flee with Edwin - now that the two of them had a conspirator, it suddenly seemed entirely possible. The two of them would go on with their lives: Edwin would marry and she would hide herself within the walls of a convent, praying for her soiled soul - for even now when she knew the truth, now that she had been subjected to his cold indifference, she could not help but yearn for and lust desperately after the baron.