Page 33 of Reign of Wicked Temptation

“Back against the wall.” She stepped into the cell. Two guards filled the gaping doorway their hands on their hilts, waiting for her instructions. Ivy gestured toward the wall. “Now.”

With measured steps, Crispin did as she commanded. His one hand braced against the wall and the other raised high.

Ivy’s gaze remained fixed on Crispin. “’Tis wise to know when you have been beaten,Your Majesty.” Her sneering emphasis on his formal address showed her disdain for the man before her.

How could he have loved someone with such hatred in their soul? Even worse, how had he not seen beyond the obvious lies? Shame washed over him. He pinched his eyes closed. Another burst of tension pulled at his skull. He gripped his head, wishing he could remove it and ease the pressure. When he opened his eyes, they encountered her luminous green gaze.

For the briefest moment, he glimpsed the heart beneath the layers of steel. The heart he once held in his hands. Or so he thought.

“Ivy.” Her name caressed his lips as a prayer whispered to the heavens. If this were the end, it would only be fitting she be the one to do so. One merciful stroke would end his suffering. No strength to plead or beg remained. Surrender came easily knowing she held the blade.

“Henry...I...” The flash of sympathy in her eyes dissipated like rose petals amid a raging storm.

A blur of movement forced Henry to right himself. Crispin lunged forward, catching Ivy by the arm. The struggle for the dagger lasted a breath. Henry gasped at the small blade pressed against Ivy’s throat. Her weapon clattered to the floor. Moving quickly, Henry bent to retrieve it before the two guards burst into the room.

“Drop your weapons.” Crispin’s demand cut through the scuffle. “Drop them or I slit her throat.”

“Kill her.” The first guard snapped. That voice. Henry strained to get a better look at the guards.

He gasped. “Donnal? Richard? It cannot be.” Henry staggered to his feet, bracing his hand against the wall until the ground ceased swaying beneath him.

His eldest brother sneered. “We should kill them now. Save us the trouble.”

“Those were not our instructions,” Ivy barked, struggling against Crispin’s hold. His grip on her tightened. A trickle of blood slid down her throat. She stilled, but her focus remained on his brothers.

He should have known after the ceremony when they disappeared. They would ally with the one person who could absolve them.

“Traitorous bastards,” Henry spat. “I hope you burn in hell.”

“I will not tell you again,” Crispin interjected, steering the conversation back. “Drop. Your. Weapons. Do not test my resolve.”

“Do as he says, damn you! ’Twill be your hide if he kills me.” Ivy speared them with an icy glare. “My master has not released me from his service. He will be most displeased if he finds his most prized possession slaughtered at the hands of your prisoner.”

Henry’s brothers hesitated for a moment before tossing aside their weapons. The satisfaction of hearing the steel clatter on the stone bolstered Henry’s courage.

“Can you make it?” Crispin whispered.

Henry met Crispin’s gaze and nodded. Ivy remained still, her attention riveted on Henry’s brothers in the doorway. Mustering whatever reserves he possessed, Henry rose to his full height and gripped the dagger in his fist.

“Out of the way.” Henry led the way, shoving aside his brothers. He searched them for any remaining weapons and then pushed them into the cell. A thrill of satisfaction burned through him when he slid the bolt home and removed the key from the padlock.

The two men beat on the door, their shouts muffled by the thick wood. Henry hazarded a smile, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. ’Twas too simple. Far too simple. He slid the slat closed with a thud and turned to face Crispin.

“What?” His friend searched his face, his grip still firm on their prisoner.

“That was far too simple.” Henry shifted his attention to Ivy. “How many remain?” When she refused to respond, he grasped her chin in his hand, bringing her close. “Tell me or I will kill you myself.”

The face he once loved revealed not a flicker of emotion. A piece of his soul died at the realization she did not care for him and never did. He shook her but she refused to reply.

“Where is the queen?” Crispin tightened his grip, making Ivy gasp at the pressure of the blade against her throat.

“Gone.”

“Where?”

“Culver.”

“Gather the weapons,” Crispin interjected. “We shall rid ourselves of this burden and make our own escape.”

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