Page 18 of Reign of Wicked Temptation

“The Guild forbids any and all attachment.” Her words are spoken with such firm conviction, Crispin nearly winced at her naïve and blind obedience.

“When did you join the Guild?” Crispin asked, relenting to his curiosity.

“One does not join the Guild,” Ivy spoke softly, but her words were clear and haunting. “I was an orphan caught picking the pocket of a wealthy lord. Instead of locking me in a cell, they sold me. I was not the first. Nor the last. Children are easier to train.”

Horrified, Crispin listened to her tale. His privileged life bore a poor comparison to her troubling past. He tugged at an unraveling thread on his cloak, willing himself to remain quiet and listen.

“I attempted to escape the first night in their care. They beat me until I could not walk, then chained me in a dungeon until I vowed to obey.” Her calm tone lay in stark contrast to the ominous words. “They trained me. As a thief, a spy, an assassin—whatever they required, I was obligated to obey my master. When I finished my training, I was sold.”

“To whom?” Crispin dared to break the flow of her tale.

“My master.” Ivy’s glassy eyes met his. “I must submit without question until my duty is fulfilled and my master releases me from my bond.”

An icy dread settled around him. He shivered against the unexpected chill. The terrifying tales he heard about the Guild could not begin to compare to Ivy’s recounting. She suffered at the hands of the Guild, this much was certain. Was it possible to save someone so entrenched in something so evil?

Crispin swallowed hard. They had been gone too long. With this new information, he knew he would be unable to face this unknown foe without someone to fight alongside him. Ivy could be a liability.

He quietly gathered their items and rose to his feet. As he worked packing the gear, Ivy watched him. When her attention shifted to the meadow below, Crispin stilled.

“He has come.” Her reverent words made his skin prickle.

A glance confirmed the presence of a horse and rider entering the meadow.

“Shit.” Crispin grabbed the rag and gagged Ivy before ensuring she remained securely bound to the tree. She offered no resistance.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the already hazy twilight. Crispin pulled up his hood and drew the dagger from his belt sheath. He carefully wove down the hill through the trees to the narrow entrance of the meadow.

His gaze skimmed the trees nearby. It seemed the rider arrived alone, which bode well for his ability to subdue the man. A horse grazed in the tall grass. Crispin moved with stealth to not spook the animal.

The rider knelt before the tree, a deep hood pulled over his head. Judging from the breadth of their shoulders, it could not be a woman. The man reached into the same hole where Ivy left the message several days prior. As he removed the leather pouch, Crispin seized his opportunity and rushed forward with his weapon at the ready.

With a cry, he tackled the rider to the ground and pinned him down. His body went limp beneath the pressure of Crispin atop him. In the encroaching darkness, Crispin could not make out the face of his enemy. He pressed the blade to the man’s throat.

“Who are you?” His demand rang through the small glen, making the horse sidestep with agitation.

“Flee. Quickly.” The ominous warning came from a familiar voice.

“Henry?” Crispin dropped the blade and ripped the hood from the man’s head. In the dying twilight, Henry’s battered visage filled Crispin with equal measures of hope and horror.

“What did you say?” He shook Henry, but the man lay limp against the thick grass. He leaned close, feeling Henry’s breath on his cheek, and sighed in relief. He was not dead. But judging from the bruises and swollen, bloody eye, he soon would be if the wounds were not treated with haste.

“Henry.” Crispin shook him. “Wake up.” Nothing roused him.Shit.

Somehow he needed to get Henry back to the castle. Perhaps he could appeal to Ivy’s softer nature. She confessed her affinity for Henry. If she saw him in such a state, surely she would come to his aid. He could not tend to an injured man and mind a prisoner simultaneously. He swore and raked his hand through his hair.

Message forgotten, Crispin slowly rose and retrieved the horse from the other side of the meadow. He tied the reins to a twisted branch of the old oak. With all the strength he could muster, he lifted Henry. He staggered under the weight of his friend and clung tighter, willing himself to hold steady.

With agonizing steps, Crispin made his way to the horse and managed to pull Henry across the saddle. He leaned against the horse’s neck and took several deep breaths. How the hell was Henry so damned heavy?

After ensuring his friend was secure, he untied the horse and led it out of the meadow. Darkness had fully descended on the forest. Crispin swore. Even if they left now, ’twould be damned near impossible to weave through the thick brush and trees and reached a passable road.

Henry needed a healer. Even if he attempted to reach Marian’s cottage, the same issues would hinder their progress sacrificing valuable time fumbling around in the darkness. He slowly led the horse up the hill to where he and Ivy had sat in wait.

Only the spot where he tied Ivy to the tree lay vacant. There was no sign of his prisoner.

“God’s blood, teeth, and bones!” Crispin swore, spinning around. Panic suffused him, causing his blood to race. How in the devil had she escaped?

He searched for Ghost, who had been tethered nearby, but there was no glimpse of his glossy gray coat in the rising moonlight. Resigned, Crispin tied the horse Henry had ridden to a nearby tree and gathered whatever supplies remained scattered on the ground.

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