Page 9 of Reign of Wicked Temptation

The knight shook his head. “They knew nothing of his intent nor his direction. His final words proclaimed he is on a mission from God.”

His shouted curse shook the rafters. To their merit, the knights did not blink or cower at his outburst. The page, however, trembled like a mouse cornered by a vicious cat. Crispin ignored the weakness and instead turned the possibilities over in his mind.

“Francis disappears the night before my bride and my most loyal Right Hand are taken in an ambush. This is no coincidence.” He growled before turning back to the knight. “Take your men to each village and question every soul. Leave no stone unturned. He cannot have vanished into the wind without a trace. Follow the trail.”

The knights bowed once more before taking their leave. Crispin dismissed the page and waiting servants. He paced the length of the throne room in silence. What underhanded game was Francis playing?

Irritated by this unwelcome turn of events, Crispin returned to his chamber and poured himself a glass of wine. The chill of the oncoming winter left its delicate print on the window glass. He settled in the oversized chair before the fire and lost himself in the flames.

The uneasy ache of loss twisted around his heart. He refused to relinquish hope. While he yet drew breath, he would not rest. He would find Ruby. If Henry were taken with her, then he would find them both. The bond tying him to them intensified this restlessness. He disliked being helpless. Not knowing whether they were alive or dead and unable to mount a rescue and save them.

Bitterness tarnished his thoughts. Francis, for all his pretty words and humility, lay coiled like an adder in the tall grass waiting to strike. It seemed Crispin was alone in this assessment of his long-lost brother. His council and his own mother were convinced of Francis’s sincerity. This knowledge left him adrift in the confinement of his mind.

Darkness settled beyond the glass. Three goblets of wine gave Crispin a reprieve from the endless torment of the inescapable horror surrounding him. The warmth of the fire and comfort of the wine compounded the exhaustion weighing heavily upon him. His eyes drifted closed and he slipped into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

A chill reached through the haze of his dreams and beneath the fabric of his sleeves, sliding across his bare arms. He woke with a shiver, finding the room cloaked in shadow. The fire burned down to embers in the hearth.

Unease surrounded him. His heartbeat echoed in the silence. Crispin reached for his dagger, but the sheath lay empty against his thigh. He bolt upright and scanned the darkness.

“Who goes there?” The question slipped from his lips making him question his own sanity. But he knew without a doubt, he was not alone.

A piercing light appeared in the corner of the room. Holding a shuttered lantern, the cloaked intruder stepped forward.

Unarmed, Crispin braced himself for an attack. “Speak your purpose.”

The intruder pulled back the hood. Ruby’s maid, Ivy, stood before him, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“What is the meaning of this?” He hissed, taking a step closer. His steps faltered, and he gripped the chair to keep himself upright. “What have you done to me?”

“A little something to help you sleep.” She set the lantern on the table against the wall. The glint of gold in her other hand revealed his dagger.

“You poisoned me?” He glared at the wench.

“Nothing fatal.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Had I wished you dead, I would have succeeded with very little effort.” She gestured to the chair. “Sit down before you fall over.”

Crispin gripped the chair tighter balking in pure stubbornness. “I will not take orders from a common whore.”

Ivy’s jaw clenched. “If you wish to know where your precious Ruby is being held, then you will bite your tongue and follow my instructions.”

Rage filled his vision with shades of spilled blood. “Where is she? What have you done with her, traitorous bitch?”

“What makes you think I had any part of her capture?” The woman seemed unshaken by his anger which infuriated him more.

Crispin took measured steps toward her. His gaze remained unwavering even though his legs threatened to give out from beneath him. “I doubt it mere coincidence upon learning of her disappearance, you abandoned your post. I have it on good authority you have a penchant for vanishing from the castle for days on end. If you are so quick to neglect your duties, perhaps it took very little to convince you to betray your queen.”

Her countenance flickered with indecision. Crispin seized the opportunity and lunged forward. He grasped her wrists with both hands and twisted. She cried out in surprise but did not relinquish the weapon.

They struggled, ramming into the chairs and overturning the table, spilling wine across the floor. She slipped in the liquid, and he seized her around the waist, slamming her into the wall. The maid clawed at his face with one hand as he attempted to wrench the dagger from the other fist.

He beat her clenched hand against the stone until the gold dagger slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. Heart beating wildly in his chest, Crispin leaned his weight against her, pinning his arm against her throat.

Ivy relinquished the fight. Her body remained tense beneath him, and Crispin refused to give her the opportunity to turn against him. He underestimated her once before, she would not get the opportunity to do so again.

“Where is she?” Crispin growled, his breaths harsh and uneven. The effects of whatever herb she used in his wine left lingering effects. He pushed through them and focused instead on the traitor at his mercy.

“I know not where they took her,” she hissed, gasping against the pressure of his arm on her throat.

“They?” Crispin pressed harder until she choked. “If you do not tell me by choice, then I will extract the information by force.” He eased back enough to allow her to speak.

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