Promising Hope (27 page)

Silently, he came back with another pitcher and
filled both their glasses. He bent down, putting one hand on the
table and another on the back of her chair. She gritted her teeth,
looking at him sideways. “And to be perfectly honest, I think
you’re too calm, too composed. The only true emotion I’ve ever seen
from you is when Lesado was torturing Dar…” He leaned closer, and
his fingers trailed across her neck. Her breath caught, and she had
to force herself to breathe. “And when I had my hands around your
throat.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered.

“No?” His breath was hot in her ear.

“No… everything in Nyad was true emotion. I didn’t
lie to you about anything then.” She turned to face him, meeting
his eyes full-on. “And the ride in Kleisade, when you tried to
bring me back home. I meant everything I said then.”

“But this isn’t about honesty or dishonesty.” His
hand lingered on her neck. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could
feel her heartbeat. “It’s about hiding your real emotions.” His
hand moved lower towards her chest.

She abruptly stood up, putting the chair between
them. “No, it’s not. If I showed you any emotion that didn’t please
you, you’d kill me.”

“No,” he said, stepping around her chair, “I’d kill
Dar.”

“See?” Her voice hitched. “You don’t care if I’m
hiding what I really feel. You’re just trying to intimidate
me.”

She took a step back from him, but not quickly
enough. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.
She put her arms up between them, breathless as though she’d just
been running. A flash of memory: he’d held her back from Dar when
Lesado was hurting him, and she’d had bruises on her arm later.

“And it’s so easy,” he said in a low voice.

Tears stung her eyes, and she looked away from him,
determined that he wouldn’t see them.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. He
smirked when he saw her tears, and anger flared through her. She
shoved his hand away from her chin. His fingers slipped from her
face, and she thrashed against his other arm.

He suddenly struck her across the face with his hand.
She nearly stumbled out of his arms, but he pulled her close and
shoved her face into his shoulder. Her ears rang, and her face
throbbed with pain. The room spun around her. Unbidden tears came
again.

He stroked her hair, muttering something
unintelligible.

She jerked against him. “Don’t.” Her voice sounded
strange to her ears.

“I could make his death look like an accident,” he
said in a harsh whisper. “My father would never know.”

She froze, swallowing hard. She closed her eyes
tightly, and a few tears trickled down her face. “What do you want
from me?”

“I want you to be a completely different person. But
since you’re never going to change, I’ll just have to settle for
something else.”

She had to get out of here. She pulled away from him,
but her movements were sluggish. Too much wine… her legs felt
heavy. William eased her onto a couch, laying her down. She tried
to speak, but he put a finger over her mouth. “Shhhh,” he said.

His body pressed against hers. His hand went to her
chest, feeling her breasts. He leaned down and kissed her roughly
on the mouth. She moaned and turned her face from him. His lips
went to her neck instead. Her stomach stirred, and the room spun
again. She was so dizzy. Had he put something in the wine? Some
kind of Mahri potion? But he’d drunk it, too. Just not nearly as
much as her.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her chest. His other
hand went to her skirts, reaching past her dress, her slip, her
chemise. His cold fingers touched her knee, and she jerked away
from him. He looked at her, his cheeks red. “Don’t move,” he said
quietly. His gaze kept hers as he moved his hand up her leg.

Her chest felt funny. The smell of those meats and
vegetables still hung in the room, filling her nostrils, making her
sick.
Sick.
She was going to be sick.

She pushed William’s face away just as the vomit was
coming up her throat. He shirked away, yelling out in disgust, and
she threw up all over herself. Some of it fell on the floor.
William jumped up, taking several steps from her.

The room was suddenly clear, and the haze lifted. She
stumbled off of the couch and wiped her mouth. Chunks of meat and
vegetables slid down her dress, but most of what she’d thrown up
had been wine. She backed away from him. “What did you put in the
wine?”

He gaped at her. He motioned to her dress and the
ground. “I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Did you even drink any of it?” she yelled. “Was all
that drinking fake?”

“What are you talking about?” William shouted.

“Was it in my food? What did you give me?” She nearly
screamed the last few words. She knew she shouldn’t be, knew that
if she upset him, he could kill Dar, and she took a deep breath.
“I’m—I’m sorry. I took a Mahri potion—”

William ran his hands through his hair, making it
stand on end. “You did
what
?”

“It was supposed to make my body reject certain Mahri
potions. I didn’t want to get under another love potion, and… I’m
sorry.” The last two words came out weak, but his eyes were
widening, his nostrils flaring. He was beginning to look as he had
when he’d stormed in and nearly killed her. “William, I—”

“Shut up!” he snapped. He strode towards the
door.

Grace ran for him, grabbing his arm. “No, please! I’m
sorry. William, we can—I can—I’ll do anything you want, all
right?”

He pushed her off of him, his face screwing up in
disgust again. “Because you think I’m going to go hurt Dar?”

She sputtered and shook her head.

“I didn’t put anything in your damn dish! But I
wouldn’t be surprised if it was your shape changer friend.” He
grabbed Grace’s food and walked back to the door. “Wait here.”

“Wait, I—” she began.

He slammed the door shut, and she heard a lock slide
into place. She tried to unlock it from the inside, but it needed a
key. It locked from the outside? Strange. Letting out a breath, she
picked up a napkin and started cleaning the vomit off her dress.
Disgusting.

After she was clean, she began to wonder if he kept
an extra key somewhere. She looked under the couch curtains, in
extra spaces in the wall, but found nothing.

She went to the door he’d come from at the beginning
of the night and walked into a study. A large desk lined one wall,
the windows opposite it. Two of the drawers were locked, and the
others had no key. Parchment, quills, ink, books, but no keys. She
turned to look at the bookshelves lining two of the walls. A key
could be anywhere in them. She straightened her shoulders and began
searching.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Dar had been called to the kitchen not long before
dinner. Grace would never pass the kitchens on her way out, so this
was a perfect spot for him according to Tisha and Kilar. Tomorrow,
he’d remind Jon how useful he’d been in the stables.

In the meantime, he was washing dishes with Jill. He
was the only man in the kitchens at the moment, and he felt eyes
linger on him during whispered conversations. Perhaps theorizing
what Sir Dar had gone to become a prisoner in the palace.

Jill and Dar stood by tubs of water and the dirty
dishes from dinner. In the opposite corner, the head cook and a few
of her assistants were putting away old food and preparing bread
for the morning. The scents of flour, beef, and soap floated
through the air.

“It’s not so bad in here, is it?” Jill asked. Her
hair was pulled back to reveal her slender neck.

Dar shook his head. “It’s warmer. That’s nice.”

“The nicest place to go during the dead of winter is
the laundry rooms,” Jill said. “Steaming hot water to clean
everyone’s sheets and dresses and slips.” She shook her head. “I
can’t believe how many clothes royals wear.”

He chuckled. Since joining her in the kitchen today,
she wasn’t nearly as quiet.

The door suddenly flung open, slamming against the
wall. Jill jumped and dropped the plate in her hand, but Dar caught
it before it fell to the ground.

The prince stood in the doorway, his jaw tight, his
eyes narrowed in anger. Conversations froze in the air. He held a
plate in his hands, and he threw it on the ground. Glass shattered,
and food flew everywhere.

Jill gasped, backing up into Dar. He quickly averted
his eyes down to the tub of soapy water in front of him.

“Your Highness!” Delilah said. “My lord, is something
wrong?”

William’s shoes clicked across the floor as he walked
inside. Dar glanced at the prince sideways. He’d done nothing
wrong, and yet his muscles were tightening simply being in the
prince’s presence.

“How long has he been in here?” William asked.

Dar held his breath. He glanced up at Delilah and
William. Delilah shrugged. “Um, since lunch.”

“Has he had access to our meals?”

“No,” she answered. “He’s been cleaning dishes.”

“But you prepare our meals here, don’t you?” William
motioned to the tables around the kitchen.

“Uh, yes, we do, but—”

“So, he could have easily had access to our
meals.”

Delilah glanced at Dar. “He’s been in that corner for
nearly an hour, your Highness.”

“And when did you prepare mine and Lady Grace’s
dishes?”

Grace’s dish? Was she all right? Dar watched more
intently, but William stared at Delilah as though she was the only
person in the room.

“About half an hour ago, your Highness,” Delilah
said.

“Who else had access to our meals?” William
asked.

“Were you unsatisfied with the food, your Highness? I
can—”

“Answer the question,” he said in a low voice.

Delilah nodded, her cheeks coloring. She looked
around the room. “I suppose everyone in this room. Your Highness,
if I knew what was the matter, I can help correct it.”

William turned and strode up to Dar. He stopped
inches from his face, glaring at him. “I’ll find out it was you,
and I will finally be rid of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dar said.
He didn’t back away, didn’t slouch. He looked straight into
William’s eyes, his teeth clenched.

“You must have assumed she’d go find the counter
potion with Sashe. You knew my plans, and you knew if you put
something in her food, it would ruin the night.”

Dar shook his head, trying to decipher what could
have happened. He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking. “If
you hurt her…”

William smirked. “What? If I hurt her, what would you
do?”

He would hurt him in return. He’d do anything to
prevent it again, even if he had to kill him. Just the thought of
him touching Grace against her will made him furious. Whatever had
happened, things hadn’t gone well tonight, and the prince would be
upset with her. “Just let her go,” Dar said through clenched
teeth.

William’s hand shot out and grabbed Dar’s collar,
pulling him towards him. “I’ll do whatever I want with her, do you
understand me?”

“I understand you’ll try, but the second you—”

The sound of someone clearing his throat in the
doorway cut Dar off. Kilar stood at the door of the kitchen, his
eyebrows raised. “William, I had no idea you had such a temper
before Lady Grace came to the castle.”

William shoved Dar away, and Dar’s back hit the sink.
William ignored him, striding to Kilar. “I need to speak to you
about Cobb.”

Jill touched Dar’s arm softly. He glared at William.
Maybe he could find a way to check on Grace tonight. He’d asked the
maidservants about her whenever he could, but that wasn’t nearly
enough.

“Delilah, bring everyone who had access to our food
to Kilar’s room in the basement right away,” William ordered. He
left with Kilar, who was smiling unpleasantly.

Delilah swore under her breath, throwing a towel over
her dough. “Well, you heard him. Let’s go.”

They silently shuffled out, gazes either openly
scrutinizing Dar or avoiding him. The servants avoided Kilar’s room
as much as they possibly could. It wasn’t his chambers, of course,
but it was a room Mahris and Cosas came in and out of. When Kilar
called servants in there, they didn’t reappear. It’d happened with
four servants in the time since Dar had arrived as a prisoner,
though Dar had not known any of them closely.

Just as Dar walked out of the kitchen, William and
Kilar went into another room. The women’s footsteps echoed around
them as they walked to the steps. The women talked quietly, trying
to theorize what this meeting could be about.

“Do you know what happened?” Jill asked.

Dar shook his head. “No. Did something happen during
dinner?”

“You mean… with the prince and Lady Grace?”

He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “That’s who
he seems to be upset about.”

“I don’t know. They had a private dinner in his
chambers.”

His stomach sunk, then twisted into something sour. A
private dinner… but what had gone wrong? Why had he stormed
downstairs?

Jill let out a small whimper and clamped her mouth
shut. As they descended into the basement, she whispered, “When he
called Lia to his room, we never saw her again.”

“Don’t worry,” Dar said, touching her arm softly.
“He’ll find out you didn’t do anything, and he’ll let you go.”

She nodded as she exhaled. He pulled his hand away
and shoved it into his pocket. He tried to piece together William’s
words, tried to figure out what had happened. Something with
Grace’s food… ruining William’s plans…

The servants’ quarters were on the north wing of the
basement, but the part they all avoided was the south wing. Where
they headed now. Dar’s muscles tensed as they grew closer to
Kilar’s room. It hadn’t been Kilar’s room for long. He’d only been
at the castle for three weeks. This was where he’d met with Lesado,
where Lesado had tortured him to figure out where Grace was
going.