Testament (18 page)

I shook my head. “Richard knows how popular our marriage would be. Did you miss his speech today? Kellan and I being married will give people hope in the future.” I hesitated before I spoke the next part. “Especially if I get pregnant.”

He licked his lips and leaned forward. “Now that sounds like a promising idea.”

“I’ll ask you to remember yourself once more sir, or I will scream,” I threatened.

“You scream, and I’ll show the tapes of your closet romp to Richard and Kellan.” Bile rose in my throat at his implication. “But, if you do what I want, it’ll be our little secret, Cadence.”

I tried stepping back again, but I bumped into the wall. “Please stop.”

Roarke ignored me by crushing his lips against mine. I squirmed as the weight of his body pressed me into the wall. His mouth muffled my screams as I beat against his chest. When his fingers found the straps of my tank top, he jerked them. The flimsy fabric ripped, and I tried covering myself.

A bang came at the door, and Roarke jerked his lips from mine. “Who is it?” he demanded.

Micah burst into the room with Kellan and Richard on his heels. “What the hell is going on here?” Richard demanded.

Seeing a moment of escape, I flew across the room to where they were. All three of them stared wide-eyed at my disheveled appearance. The tattered shreds of my shirt hung around my waist. Under their intense scrutiny, I crisscrossed my arms tighter over my chest, desperately trying to cover myself.

Sensing my mortification, Micah whisked off his shirt. Shielding me from the others, he brought it over my head and then pulled my arms through until I was covered. I smiled weakly up at him. “Thanks,” I whispered.

“Roarke, can you explain what the hell you’re doing alone with Cadence?” Kellan demanded.

Roarke’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have to answer to you about what I do in my private hours.”

Kellan’s face reddened. “You will give me an explanation this instant!”

“She came up here on her own volition, the little whore.”

“That’s a lie!” Micah shouted, stalking towards Roarke.

“No Micah!” I cried, jerking him back.

He whirled around to face Richard and Kellan. “I swear to you it’s like I told you. He had me bring Cadence to him under the pretense he needed a dream interpreted.”

Richard surveyed Micah before glancing at Roarke. “Is this true?”

“Are you going to believe this boy from the gutter over someone you’ve known your entire life?”

“One only has to look at Cadence to realize the truth,” Kellan hissed.

Just when Roarke appeared to be done for, a cold smirk etched across his face. “I only did this to save our world, sir.” He stepped in front of Micah. They stared at each other a moment before he spoke. “I have just confirmed what I feared all along. Believers have infiltrated the palace.”

My heart shuddered to a stop. I stared wildly at Micah whose face drained of color. “What are you talking about?” Kellan demanded.

“I’m talking about the fact that Micah and Cadence are Believers.”

Kellan snorted. “Oh, that’s rich. Try to change the subject to get yourself out of trouble.”

Roarke ignored him. “I have believed these past few days it might be possible that these two were working together with the Abir to infiltrate the palace and overthrow you, Richard. I had Cadence brought to me tonight, so I could gain physical proof.”

“And to gain this physical proof, you had to pin her up against a wall and rip off her clothes?” Kellan demanded.

“Silence!” Richard shouted. All of us swiveled our heads and stared at him. Roarke seized the moment and grabbed Micah by the shoulders, jerking him around to where his back was in Richard’s view. “This scar is proof his tattoo was burned away.”

Micah whirled around. “That’s not true! I got that scar in an accident,” he argued.

By the look on Richard’s face, anything Micah said didn’t matter. “And Cadence also has a tattoo?”

Roarke nodded. “Yes, she does.”

Kellan stared from Roarke to me. “Tell them it isn’t true. Tell them you’re not a Believer.”

Time crawled by in extreme slow motion. I drew in a ragged breath and said, “It’s true.”

The words had barely left my lips when Roarke’s fingers pierced my skin. He jerked the neck of my shirt down. My eyes squeezed shut at the sound of Kellan’s gasp. When Roarke whirled me back around, I still couldn’t open them. I couldn’t bear to see the expression on Kellan’s face.

“This is unbelievable! Completely and totally unbelievable!” Richard said. I opened my eyes when he rushed past me to a phone on Roarke’s desk. He pressed a red button and shouted into the phone, “Send the guard up here. I have prisoners to be detained!”

I gasped. “What about the dream? You know he’s trying to overthrow you. Besides, there’s no evidence we were conspiring with anyone.”

Richard sent a stinging slap across my cheek. Micah rushed forward to defend me, and when the guard burst through the door, they saw Micah about to hit Richard. They rushed forward, knocking Micah to the ground. He fought and writhed against them until one butted him in the head with his rifle. Blood poured onto the marble floor.

Tears stung my eyes at the sight of his limp form being dragged out of Roarke’s suite. I followed behind willingly with the guard barely touching my shoulder. Kellan’s face was the last thing I saw before the door slammed shut. It was a mixture of agony and anger.

Micah slipped in and out of consciousness on the elevator ride down to the basement. Memories of my date with Kellan hit me the moment I was pushed off the elevator. But this time, I wasn’t stopping at the locked music room. Instead, we were led down the corridor and down a flight of concrete steps.

The air felt damp, and a musty smell filled my nostrils. A small holding cell stood in the middle of the corridor. They slung us inside and locked the door. Micah collapsed into a fetal position on the concrete.

I eased down on the floor beside him and pulled his head into my lap. He moaned as he went in and out of consciousness. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re all right,” I said, desperately wanting to ease his pain. Tenderly, I brushed my hand against his cheek. His handsome face was already bruising in a flourish of green and purple.

Leaning over, I pressed my cheek against his. His stubble scratched against my face. “Oh Micah, I’m so sorry. I should have run away with you the first time you ever offered, and then we wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered.

“As long as I’m with you, none of this matters,” he croaked.

Raising my head up, I met his gaze. Such love radiated in his eyes that I felt overwhelmed. Any confusion I had over my feelings vanished. It was like I was seeing Micah for the first time, and I was truly and deeply in love.

“If we ever get out of here, I’ll run away with you and never look back. No more doubt, ever, ever again,” I vowed.

He brought his lips to mine.

A club banged against the bars, and we both jumped. A dark haired man with black, hollow eyes grinned at us. “And just what do we have here? Two jail-bird lovers?” Micah and I didn’t respond. “So sorry to interrupt your love fest, but we want a word with you.” He pointed a finger at Micah, and the guards opened the door. Micah was ripped from me as they dragged him out of the cell and into another room.

Without him, I paced back and forth, wringing my hands. I froze when I heard the man talking to Micah through the air vent.

“So, we’ve got us another Believer, huh? Which faith were you?”

When Micah didn’t respond, I heard a smack and then a groan. “Jewish,” came his pained reply.

“Ah, so you know a little about suffering, don’t you?”

Micah didn’t respond, and the man continued on. “You see, even though we banished religion, marked all the Believers, and rounded them up to the outmost province, you all just keep coming back, like ants at a picnic. Annoying ants that have to be stomped out by a strong boot heel.”

When Micah continued to remain silent, I heard the man sigh. The sound of him pushing his chair back scraped along the floor. “For the last six months, we’ve been fighting off the Abir. We’ve managed to capture some of them, but even after torture, they would not give up any information.” An agonizing silence followed. “Now boy, let’s see if you talk after torture.”

The harsh crack of a whip reverberated around me followed by Micah’s agonizing scream. It pierced through chest and broke my heart. I pressed myself against the bars. “Stop it! He doesn’t know anything. Don’t torture him!” I cried, banging my hands on the bars until they started to bleed.

“Tell us where the Abir’s headquarters!” the man shouted.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK came from the room, and Micah’s screams went on and on. I covered my blood soaked hands over my ears, trying to block out Micah’s pain. “PLEASE STOP!” I shouted over and over.

A guard opened the cell door, and I rushed forward. They caught me by the arms, but I thrashed against them, desperate to get to Micah—desperate to stop his agony.

I only felt the prick of the needle for a moment before everything faded to black.

I felt like I was floating outside my body. I couldn’t feel my arms and legs. All around me there was music—more importantly, it was a woman’s voice. I tried turning my head toward her song. As my mind wrapped around the lyrics, warmth filled me.
“Our love grew with the spring. We had dreams and songs to sing as we wandered through the fields of Athenry.”

A song of Ireland—my mother’s homeland and one she used to frequently sing. Most oftenm she reserved it for when I was sick or sad. She would come to my room, gather me into her arms, and begin singing
Fields of Athenry
just like her mother had done for her before.

My voice felt faraway and buried deep under a mound of sawdust. I tried moving my lips, but nothing seemed to come out. Finally, I croaked, “Mama?”

The singing stopped. “Mama, is it you? Am I in Heaven, Mama?”

Someone eased down beside me and took my hand in theirs. With their fingers, they stroked delicate circles on the tops of my hand as if they were prolonging speaking as long as they could. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not your mother.”

My eyelids fluttered as I tried to take the person beside me. When I finally focused on a face, I gasped. Kellan’s eyes stared out at me from a woman’s face, and I knew it had to be Maureen, his mother. It wasn’t just her eyes that Kellan had inherited. He had her nose, and the color of her hair. It was almost like seeing him in her.

“Glad to see you’re awake. You had me a little worried there. I was afraid they might have given you too much sedative.”

Frantically, I scanned the room. “Where am I?”

“One of the holding cells in the palace.” She must have read my surprise because she said, “I know it doesn’t look like a prison cell, does it?”

I nodded. The fact was the room with its four poster bed and couch and it looked almost as good as my bedroom back home. Maybe better.

“All of the cells down here look like this. It’s thought to be a kindness afforded to certain political prisoners.”

Laying my head back on the pillow, I sighed. “For a moment, I thought I was in Heaven…with my mother.”

While she gave me a comforting smile, sadness filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m not your mother. But I am a mother, if it helps.”

“You’re Kellan’s mother.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You know my son?”

I nodded. “I, uh, well, you might could say I am his fiancée.”

Her eyes brightened. “You are?”

“I was a couple of hours ago, but I’m not sure of it anymore.” I slowly related previous night’s events in agonizing detail.

Maureen appeared horrified. “But how could Kellan just stand by and let them haul you off to prison like that? And not to do anything when Richard struck you!”

“I don’t suppose he had a choice with his father and Roarke there.”

Tears welled in Maureen’s eyes. “It’s been my hope these four long years of imprisonment that somehow the values I tried to instill in Kellan would take hold, and he would see his father for the monster he is.” She shook her head sadly. “But now, I see it didn’t matter. He’s his father’s son.”