Authors: Delle Jacobs
– Twenty-seven.
Standing on the gritty cavern floor, Melisande bundled her fears into a tight little knot and shoved them deep inside her, too deep for her to feel. Deliberately she stretched each finger out from the tight balls made by her fists. She squared her shoulders.
She wished she'd had more time to plan, but the word of the Normans' approach had come only the day before. And only then had she learned of the English king’s intent to wed her to the new lord. She was fortunate her hastily conceived plan had achieved as much as it had, for at his worst, the Norman could not be as terrible a lord as Fyren had been.
For herself, she had little hope. Perhaps, given more time she might have also succeeded in her own escape. But she had no place to go, so she must hide under the Norman's very nose. But at least Fyren was dead, and his evil cloak would be buried with him. The destruction of the Devil himself could not please her more.