A Knight's Persuasion (27 page)

Into . . . icy water.

She gasped, eighteen years old again, the well’s coldness swallowing her.

“Juliana.”

Was that Edouard’s voice, as he called down to her from the rim of the well?

Nay, not his voice. Tye’s.

She realized once again that she stood on the wall walk. The breeze stirred her gown and she shivered, hugged herself tight, for she still felt the frigid water sucking her down. The chill seeped into her skin, her heart, her bones . . .
Deathly
coldness.

Tye was beside her now. “What is wrong, Juliana?”

She held up a hand, staying Tye before he tried to catch her arm. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. With each painful beat, she sensed the onslaught of more insight.

The wind gusted through the space between the nearby merlons; the sound was like a wail.

Like an infant’s cry.

An image flashed into her thoughts.
A baby, crying. Struggling in her arms
.

Rosemary!

“You look very pale,” Tye said. “Are your memories returning? Do you recall what took place here?”

Beware, Juliana. Tye is a part of what happened
.

Rubbing her brow, she forced her lips into a weak smile. “My head aches very badly. ’Tis almost unbearable.”

“I will tell Mother, so Azarel can prepare another potion.”

“Hopefully after I have breathed the morning air awhile, the pain will ease.”

His stare sharpened, as though he suspected she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but then he nodded and glanced away. While she blew out a relieved breath, she became aware of conversation carrying from down the wall walk. The sentry’s head turned as he spoke to someone standing beside him, blocked from Juliana’s view.

Darkness suddenly whirled into Juliana’s mind, rousing the sense of nighttime.
Raised voices. Landon and Mayda arguing on the wall walk. Mayda cradling her face, as again they fought
.

Juliana swallowed hard. What had she witnessed?

Landon’s fist slammed into Mayda’s head. She fell against the merlon. Tried to get away, but Landon shoved her. She fell, screaming, over the side. To her death
.

“Oh, God,” Juliana moaned.

“Juliana,” Tye snapped. “If you are lying to me—”

She clawed her hand into her hair. “My . . . head,” she managed to say, despite the grief and panic swarming inside her. She mustn’t let Tye know she remembered Mayda’s murder. If he guessed her memories were starting to come back, he and Veronique would force her to reveal the location of the gold ring. Then Edouard would die for certain.

She fought to steady her tattered nerves. But then Veronique strolled from behind the sentry, her hair a garish hue in the sunlight.

“Well?” Veronique called. “Has she remembered anything?”

Juliana froze, captured by the memory of moonglow on Veronique’s red locks as she stepped out of the night shadows, applauding Landon’s actions. More memories careened, one after another: Veronique blocking the passageway by the solar so Juliana couldn’t escape with Rosemary; Veronique smiling while the armed thugs seized Juliana; Veronique grabbing the baby from Juliana’s arms and thrusting her at a mercenary to be slaughtered.

Anguish and hatred boiled up inside Juliana. She wanted to scream at Veronique, scratch her painted face, rip out handfuls of red hair. But that would help no one, especially Edouard.

She shook, struggling to keep her emotions from being discovered. She mustn’t fail Mayda, Edouard, everyone she cared about.

“Juliana?” Veronique’s eyes narrowed.

Oh, God, did Veronique guess? Did she know?

“She claims she has a bad headache,” Tye said.

A rasp echoed. The scrape, Juliana vaguely realized, of Tye’s heel, but her mind filled with an image of Landon, his lip curled, his sword aimed at her, while thugs spun her around.

“She is fainting,” Veronique shrieked.

In her darkening mind, Juliana saw Landon’s sword slam into the back of her head.

Chapter Eighteen

“Juliana,” Edouard said in a gentle voice. Squatting on his pallet, he studied her ashen face, watching for the tiniest response. She lay on her side on her bed, where Tye had left her moments ago.

The sight of her unconscious in Tye’s arms had sent fear lancing through Edouard. From the moment she’d left the cell, he’d worried. Tye and Veronique might use any means to get the information they wanted from her, including threats and the infliction of pain. His imagination had refused to give him a moment’s rest. Unable to focus on digging out the bolts, he’d counted the torturous moments until her return.

When the door had opened and Tye had carried her in, a lethal roar had torn from Edouard. Rising to his feet, he shouted, “What have you done to her?”

“She collapsed,” Tye said, his nonchalance fueling Edouard’s rage another notch.

“Why? What torture did you force upon her?” A vile taste flooded his mouth. “Did you . . . defile her?”

Tye raised his brows and knelt beside Juliana’s pallet. Her body slid down on the mattress, while her gown tangled about her legs. Standing again, Tye said, “Your fury is unwarranted, Brother. While we walked the passageway near the solar, she complained of a headache. I took her up to the wall walk in hopes the clear air would ease her discomfort. Whether pain caused her to swoon, or another reason, we will not know till she wakes.”

“Summon Azarel. She must examine Juliana’s injury again.”

Tye had glowered. “Mother is doing that. I will return shortly with the healer.” He’d stormed out, and the door had slammed and locked behind him.

“Juliana,” Edouard said again, then dragged his hand through his hair. She hadn’t yet stirred. What if she never woke?

He dropped his head into his hands. Guilt squeezed his conscience. If she perished, he was to blame; he couldn’t bear to live with that agony. “Please, bring her back to me.”

A soft inhalation snapped his gaze to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but a frown puckered her brow. A low groan broke from her, and then her eyes flickered open.

“Juliana!”

Her unfocused gaze fixed on him. Her stare sharpened before she pushed up to a seated position, hair falling around her shoulders. Her expression, though, remained filled with uncertainty. Her body shook. She still looked unnaturally pale, and, he realized, she avoided looking at him.

The joy within him dimmed. “Are you hurt? Tye said you had a headache.”

With a shaking hand, she swept fallen hair from her face. “My head feels a little better.”

“Good. Tye will be bringing Azarel here soon to tend you.” Trying to keep the roughness from his voice, Edouard asked, “What happened to you? Did Tye and Veronique catch you trying to find a way to free me?”

“Nay.” Her gaze slid to his pallet, and a blush stained her face. She seemed to be struggling with an inner dilemma, some kind of awkward memory . . .

And then he knew.

“Look at me, Juliana.”

She heaved a breath. Her shoulders stiffened, as though she planned to refuse. Slowly, her head tilted, and her stare met his. In her guarded gaze, he saw the Juliana he’d met long ago.

The woman he’d hurt more than once.

He sensed the turmoil battling inside her: the resentment from their past dealings, versus the need to ally with him to escape and survive. How he hoped he hadn’t lost the trust he’d earned from her in the past days and that she’d still consider him worthy of friendship.

Before he could venture to break the silence between them, she said, “I remembered, Edouard. Tye took me outside to the wall walk, and all of my memories flooded back.”

He managed a smile. “I am glad. I know ’tis what you wanted.”

He’d hoped for a hint of a smile in return. Instead, tears slid down her cheeks. “I, too, thought I would be delighted. What I recalled . . .” A tremor shook her. “’Tis too important to keep to myself. You must hear the truth, Edouard, so you can tell it to your lord father.”

You will live to tell him yourself
, Edouard silently vowed, before he said, “You know who wounded you days ago?”

“Aye, but ’tis only part . . . of what I must tell you.”

“Go on,” he coaxed.

“Tye took me to the passageway by the solar. I felt on the verge of remembering something horrendous. ’Tis when the headache started. He took me up to the wall walk. I later realized I had used those same stairs the night I was injured. Outside, my memories began rushing back. I saw again”—she paused, as though rallying her strength—“the treachery I had witnessed nights ago. ’Twas awful, Edouard. The horror, the fear, the sense of danger . . . I knew I couldn’t let Tye see that I had regained my memories, so I pretended my headache was severe. Then Veronique came toward us, and I knew she would see through my ruse. Panic overtook me, and I . . . fainted.”

“Tell me,” Edouard said. “What treachery did you see?”

“Mayda’s murder.”

“God above!” He could only imagine how ghastly it had been for her to see her best friend killed. “I am sorry, Juliana.” As she wiped at her eyes, he added tersely, “’Twas Veronique’s doing, aye?”

Sorrow etched Juliana’s features. “Nay. Landon murdered Mayda.”

“
Landon?
” Shock forced Edouard to drop down on his pallet. Surely Landon wasn’t corrupt; he’d tried to spare Edouard from Veronique. “How can that be? You and I attended Mayda and Landon’s wedding. They seemed very much in love.”

“I know.” Shaking her head, Juliana said, “Their marriage, happy at first, unraveled over the months. He and Mayda constantly argued. Mayda and I had hoped that the newborn would help to revive their love, but Landon wanted a boy, and Mayda gave birth to a girl. As if that were not unfavorable enough, Landon invited Veronique and Tye to live as guests in the keep. Veronique and Landon soon became lovers.”

“That deceitful bitch,” Edouard muttered.

“Landon and Mayda fought the night she died,” Juliana went on, each word heavy with anguish. “’Twas a terrifying disagreement. When I caught their angry voices coming down from the wall walk, I sensed Mayda was in grave danger. She had feared, since Rosemary’s birth, that Landon might try to harm her and the babe. I thought she was imagining that, but when I heard them fighting, heard him say how he desired Veronique, I knew Mayda had spoken the truth. I hurried up to the wall walk with the baby. I tried to call out to Mayda, to bring her back to the solar to nurse Rosemary. But Mayda did not hear me. Landon struck her again—”

“Nay,” Edouard whispered. Landon had hit his wife more than once? What kind of beast had Landon become, to hurt a woman?

“—and, just as Mayda saw me, Landon hit her hard enough that she fell against a merlon. She tried to regain her balance, to save herself. In his rage, he shoved her again, and she”—Juliana’s voice wobbled—“fell off the battlement. To her death.”

His innards twisted with the pain binding together Juliana’s account. Damnation, how helpless he felt. How he longed to offer her the comfort of his embrace, but she likely wouldn’t accept it. “I am sorry,” he finally said. “Truly sorry.”

Nodding, Juliana said quietly, “I did not know Veronique was also on the wall walk, until she appeared, gloating over Landon’s actions. They had both, however, seen me. In that moment, I realized I was the only other witness to what had befallen Mayda. If I died, the truth about her demise would die, too. So I ran. Oh, Edouard, I tried to keep my promise to Mayda, to keep Rosemary safe”—a moan tore from her—“but Veronique’s thugs trapped me. They grabbed me, and forced me to turn my back to Landon. The last thing I remember of that night is the blow of his sword.”

Edouard scowled. “They thought you were dead. Until I found you in the river, and, fool that I am, brought you right back here.

Self-condemnation darkened Juliana’s expression. “Mayda should never have perished. I should have acted sooner to get her attention. I should have shouted to distract Landon.
Anything
. I failed her, and now she is dead, and Rosemary will grow up without her mother.”

“Juliana, I vow you did all you could to save Mayda. Veronique obviously wanted Mayda killed and manipulated Landon so he would accomplish the deed for her. If Landon hadn’t succeeded, Veronique would have found another way to have gotten rid of Mayda.”

Juliana dried her eyes on the edge of her sleeve. “She was my best friend. I should have—”

“Should have,” he cut in. “You cannot allow yourself to believe that, Juliana. The guilt will eat at your soul, day after day, if you allow it.”

Her wet lashes flickered. Anger defined the line of her jaw. Did she not believe he knew of what he spoke?

“I know,” he said, drawing on the torment he’d tried to suppress, “because I have lived with guilt ever since that day at Sherstowe, when you fell into the well.”

Her eyes sparked. “When you pushed me in!”

Shaking his head, he sighed. “When you leaned forward, trying to rescue your sketchbook, I grabbed hold of your waist. I meant to pull you out, but Nara kicked my boot and dislodged my balance. My falling against you caused you to tumble in.”

Shock glistened in her gaze. “You dare to blame the mishap on Nara?”

He refused to break her stare. “I do. Kaine witnessed what happened. Ask him, if you do not believe I am telling the truth. Better yet, ask Nara.”

***

Juliana held Edouard’s determined gaze. He didn’t look away. Not the slightest trace of guilt stole into his warrior-tough expression, not even when he blinked, and a sickly sensation wended its way through her.

All these months, she’d despised him for being reckless. She’d believed him wholly responsible for the frightening plunge into the well that had endangered her life.

What if he wasn’t to blame?

“If you knew Nara had caused me to fall in,” she said carefully, “why did you not tell our fathers that day? Why did you choose to keep silent?”

He shrugged and his lips formed a crooked grin. “I dared not cause offense. My sire made it clear to me that he wanted an alliance between our families, for important reasons. ’Twas simplest for me to take the blame, especially when the day ended up a disaster.”