“Aye, milord.”
“But first we need to find her.” Ian rose to his feet. “Come. Let’s see what Llywelyn has to say about this.”
The prince had yet to leave his chamber for supper, which suited Ian’s purpose. He’d rather not discuss the mysterious Lily before all and sundry in the hall.
Once the meal ended, the revelry would begin. And when the wine began to flow, any kind of conversation would be impossible.
“May we speak with you privately, milord?” Ian asked. At Llywelyn’s nod, he ushered Dai into the chamber. “I’ve matters of importance to discuss.”
Llywelyn returned his attention to a basin of water as Ian pulled the door closed with a sharp snap. His expression revealed nothing but impatience as he took his time drying his hands on a strip of fine linen.
Tossing the towel aside, he crossed the room to a table in the center and picked up a jeweled chalice. “Would you care for wine?” He poured the deep red liquid from a pitcher, sending the scent of spices wafting through the air.
Ian declined the wine and the offer of a chair, then waited impatiently as Dai accepted a goblet and joined the prince at the table. Finally the niceties were satisfied, and Ian got down to business.
“I went back to see the girl, to tell her you would deal with her once you had more time.” He watched his kinsman’s face with interest, although he kept his own expression casual, disinterested. “I planned to release her from the cell, since she poses no threat to anyone.” He toyed with a thread on the sleeve of his tunic, continuing to observe Llywelyn from beneath lowered brows. “I was surprised to find she wasn’t there.”
All Llywelyn’s attention seemed focused upon his wine. Then he glanced up and met Ian’s gaze. Ian could see nothing in the other man’s face but a mild annoyance, gone so swiftly he might have imagined it.
“You needn’t have bothered,” Llywelyn said. “Any more than you should have bothered me with her tale in the first place. I know nothing of her or her mother, and so I told her.”
“Then where is she?” Ian demanded.
“She had no wish to stay, once she saw I could not help her. A guard escorted her from the castle.” Llywelyn raised the goblet to his lips and avoided Ian’s scrutiny. “She’s here no longer. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
A light glowed before her, shining through a small slit set high in the door. She had to be dreaming. Lily raised her head from her updrawn knees and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked again, but the light didn’t disappear. Instead, it shone brighter.
“Who’s there?” she called, slowly rising to her feet. A strange shuffling noise, accompanied by the rustle of fabric, came from the corridor. No one answered.
She had no way to mark the passage of time, but her rumbling stomach told her that many hours had passed since she’d broken her fast. Perhaps one of the guards had returned with food. They had to feed her sometime—didn’t they?
Though her body protested with every step, she made her way toward the door. The wide, metal-banded planks felt solid and impenetrable when she leaned her weight against them. She ran her hand along the edge, where the door met rough plaster and stone, but she couldn’t find a handle. Anyone lodged here was meant to stay.
She had to crane her neck to see out the window. The glare from a torch blinded her, but her nose worked all too well. Coughing, she moved down from the opening and slumped back against the wall.
She couldn’t imagine anything that could cause such an indescribable stench. Whatever it was had to be on the other side of the door. Even the dank, fetid air of her cell smelled better.
She filled her lungs before rising on tiptoe to peer out once more. She blinked several times, until her vision adjusted to the brightness.
The sight that met her eyes had to be a fiend of Satan. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could suffer such injuries and live. She’d seen cripples before—many had come to the abbey for help—but never had she encountered such a horrifying combination of infirmities.
Bent almost double, he leaned on a rough stick, one misshapen foot twisted at an unnatural angle. A scraggly beard covered most of his face, but through the silver-shot hair she could see that his nose and one cheek had been smashed nearly flat. His left eyelid drooped closed. His forehead, and the hand that held the torch in an unsteady grip, were covered with scars.
“Might not want to look,” he rasped. “I’m not a pretty sight.” His laugh had a maniacal quality to it, sending a shiver down Lily’s spine. She crossed herself, thanking God this unfortunate creature couldn’t see her—or the loathing and pity she couldn’t hide.
“Who are you? Why have you come here?” she asked when she found her voice. She backed away from the door to catch a breath. “Are you here to let me out?”
“Nay. I saw the guards bring you here. ’Tis the first chance I’ve had to follow. I wanted to see for myself.” He shuffled away from the door and placed the torch in a bracket on the wall. “A shame I can’t reach the window —I didn’t get a good look when they dragged you from the other cell. But I heard about you.”
He’d heard about her? Was his mind as twisted as his body? Even if she had the Dragon to thank for her new accommodations, she couldn’t believe he’d discussed her with that…creature out there.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
He laughed again, a humorless sound. “I had a noble name, and power, once, not so long ago. But that man is dead—or so I hear.” He coughed, sounding as if he were choking. “Until I can prove them wrong. You can call me Toad. ’Tis as good a name as any, for now.”
She stared at him again, forcing herself to take in every wretched detail. He must be a madman. He could no more be noble than she.
But even a madman deserved pity, as long as he did no harm. And from the sound of him, he wasn’t long for this world—a blessing, she had no doubt. She’d listen to him ramble, just to hear another human voice. But she didn’t have to look at him.
She stepped away from the door. Sweet Mary, his image was already etched upon her mind’s eye. And he wouldn’t know whether she could see him or not.
She moved to the middle of the floor and sank down upon the cold stones, drawing her knees to her chest and gulping great breaths of fresher air. “So tell me, Toad, what have you heard of me? I’ve been here but a day—hardly anyone knows I’m here.”
“My honored kinsman knows. Though he isn’t quite certain what to do with you. Have a care, girl—you’ve upset his schemes. He doesn’t like it when that happens.”
Did all madmen speak in riddles? Just so had her mother rambled on. Their words made no sense to any but themselves, and woe betide those who tried to understand them. She’d found ‘twas best to let them wander. It harmed no one—although it frustrated Lily no end not to understand.
“Should I fear for my life, then?” God knew, she’d thought of little else since the cell door had slammed shut behind her.
He chuckled again, an evil sound over the restless shuffling as he moved about. “Perhaps.”
She’d kept her gaze on the window while they spoke, grateful for even the dim glow from the corridor. But suddenly the light faded. “Wait!” She sprang to her feet and rushed to the door. “You cannot leave!”
Especially