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Heath wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or more frightened by the change in their circumstance as he moved forward slowly. His body cooled, and he was sure he shivered as much as Grace did. The room was small and dim and contained little more than the two narrow beds against opposite walls. He sat down slowly on the edge of one, pulling Grace down with him. He held her close, hoping it would warm them both. The bed squeaked loudly beneath him. He wasn’t sure if he could hear a clattering or if his body was making the noise.
“What now, sire?” the soldier asked, the light of the single candle reflecting oddly off his armour.
Heath couldn’t understand how they had managed to find themselves in such a position. And one that was becoming stranger by the moment. His mother would never believe him if he tried to tell her, but he was being hidden by the king with the witches he claimed to kill on sight. Frayne sat down opposite him, Nelda still held in his arms. Although Heath had thought she had woken, her eyes were closed now as she rested her head on Frayne’s chest.
He pulled her closer, but she appeared to be the only one in the party not shivering.
“This is insanity,” the king murmured.
“He will find us,” Grace whispered, pulling herself against Heath. He couldn’t respond, for he wanted to help and yet was fairly sure she was right. The strange man would find a way to kill them.
The king appeared frozen in uncertainty. In the throne room, he had appeared to know exactly what he wanted and what was to occur, and no one was to question that. But now he looked lost, and there was something familiar about him. He chanced to glance at Frayne, who was still holding Nelda and staring at some fixed point. He would know what to do—he would have a feeling about where things would go.
The room appeared almost as tight as the coffin had been. Heath could have reached out and touched Nelda in Frayne’s arms. He longed for the cool cell. The idea made him shiver, yet he needed the space around him. How had they ended up here? Frayne had been so sure they should come south, and that had gotten them captured in the first place. Maybe he had done that because he needed to be here. Needed to find his family. The fear of losing him overwhelmed Heath for a moment. As he wiped at the tears forming before they could betray him, Frayne’s focus shifted to him, and he gave Heath a small nod. Heath was sure it was to reassure him, but in some ways it felt as though he was agreeing with Heath’s thoughts. He sucked in a shaky breath.
“Do you think we will die?” Grace whispered, too close to his ear. Heath dragged his gaze from his brother and pulled her tight against his chest, and she too started to cry.
The king stepped into the narrow space between the beds and shook Nelda by the shoulder. “Your children need you,” he said, his voice too loud for the small space.
Heath looked to the door, certain others would rush in. Nelda hadn’t woken. When he looked back at the king leaning over her, and Frayne so close to him in the dim light, there were similarities he was sure must be obvious to all.
“Nelda.” The king shook her again. “Come on girl—no time for games.”
“Dunstan?” she murmured, and he stepped back.
“She has spent twenty years running from you,” Frayne said, his voice steady. “She is tired. Let her rest.”
“I don’t know what to do,” the king whispered.
“And you want her to tell you?” Frayne asked, the certainty gone from his voice. “Why would you trust her?”
The king shook his head and walked towards the door. Nelda had grown up in the castle, as his father had done. She’d said she had worked with the queen, looked after her unborn children, although she hadn’t realised there were two. She must also have known the king, and Heath wondered just how well. Despite his claim of wanting to kill her because she was a witch, he hadn’t yet.
The king turned to the soldier and talked in hushed tones. Heath tried but couldn’t make out the words. Although he wanted to ask what their relationship might have been and if that would be enough to save them, this man was king and Heath had no place.
Grace had stopped crying and rested against him. He stood carefully, laying her down along the bed and pulling the thin blanket up and over her. She shivered and curled in on herself. He ran his hand through his hair. He had only wanted to save her, protect her, and now they were all in far more danger than he had ever imagined.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, only to open them almost immediately at the idea he was trapped in the hot metal coffin again. The smell of the metal was so thick he could taste it.
“Heath,” a quiet voice said behind him, and he turned to Frayne standing with Nelda still in his arms. He stepped to the side and allowed Frayne to lay her down beside Grace. He took the blanket from the other bed and spread it carefully over them both. “She’ll keep Grace warm.”
Heath nodded, but he didn’t have words. Then Frayne’s strong arms closed around him, holding him close, and he couldn’t remember them holding each other in such a way since they were children. Heath closed his arms around him. “What will we do?”
“What the king directs, for now,” Frayne returned, his voice low. And Heath realised that Frayne was damp with sweat as well—and shivering, despite his best efforts.
“I’ll send hot water and blankets,” the king said.
“How?” Frayne asked.
The king looked to the soldier, who nodded once and left.
“Do you have a plan at all? The people will start to ask questions.”
“The people don’t know that we have three witches protected inside the castle walls.”
“Protected?” Frayne asked.
“Three?” Heath asked.
“The child,” Frayne answered.
“Oh.”
“You know the child?” the king asked.
Frayne’s hold was still tight around Heath as he shook his head. The king looked at them closely, as though trying to read whether they were telling the truth, and then he nodded slowly.
“We are hardly safe,” Frayne said. “And where would you keep a witch child?”
Heath shivered at the idea. No matter what he thought they could do, she too might be locked away somewhere, alone in some dark room. At least they had each other.
“The general,” the king murmured.
Frayne tensed, as though he understood just what such a man might do to a child. But then, he had helped in some ways, insisted that they eat. Although when Heath had woken in that coffin, he was sure that the very bread the general insisted they be fed was the reason they’d ended up as they had. He would have preferred the dungeon, even to this. They’d had some understanding of their place in the world and the possible outcomes, being locked away in such a place. In this room, he couldn’t guess.
“He will treat her as he should,” the king continued.
“That doesn’t reassure me at all,” Heath returned.
The king sighed. “I don’t care what you think,” he said. “I don’t even care if you all die in this room.”
“Then why bring us here?” Heath demanded, stepping away from his brother only to have the cold close around him. He started to shiver uncontrollably.
“I can’t let the cardinal think he is in control.” It was odd that he had answered so honestly, or at least unexpectedly. But as he said the words, his focus was on Nelda. “Who is your father?” he asked, his gazed still fixed on her.
Heath looked to Frayne, who shook his head.
In the silence, the king looked back towards them, his features creasing into something dark. Heath hoped Frayne would never have to be connected to such a man.
“He worked in the woods,” Frayne answered, “foraging, wood cutting. We grew what we could.”
“He supported such a large family in such a way?” The king smirked.
“It was all we needed,” Frayne said, and the king stepped towards Nelda. Frayne reached out to stop him, but Heath took his arm.
The king reached out as though to brush his fingers over her face or through her hair, then stopped before he reached her.
“Let her rest,” Frayne demanded. His voice low, yet even Heath wanted to take a step back. The king paused, looking at Frayne as though he knew something of him but wasn’t sure what. And then he straightened.
“You are not to leave this room,” he said.
Frayne bowed his head.
“Any of you, for any reason.”
Heath was sure he could think of several reasons already, but he remained unmoving and silent.
The king turned without acknowledging any of them further and opened the door. He paused for a moment, as though checking there was no one about, and then left them.
When the door closed behind him, Frayne sagged as though he had only just managed to hold himself together. Heath helped him sit back on the narrow cot.
“I don’t want him as a father,” Frayne whispered.
“He isn’t your father—Papa is.”
Frayne nodded, but he wasn’t the strong and sure brother Heath needed him to be.
“I’m scared to close my eyes,” Heath admitted.
“Me too,” Frayne said, pulling him down to sit beside him, and they leaned against each other watching the women sleep.
They sat in silence for some time. Heath had given up trying to think of a way out because he couldn’t find one. They were at the mercy of the king and his plans. If they were lucky, he would let them live, but Heath couldn’t guess how that would look in the long term. They might live out their days in a different form of captivity or some kind of service.
He only hoped the cardinal didn’t find them, as Heath couldn’t imagine what he would do to them. They might experiment on Nelda and Grace, but why he needed them Heath wasn’t sure. Maybe the cardinal planned to use them to get Nelda to do as he asked, or as some part of their experiments. Heath shivered at the idea as the door opened.
He leaned back into Frayne, not wanting to be alarmed despite being startled by the movement and noise of the door. The soldier reappeared, his arms loaded with blankets. Surely anyone seeing him move through the castle would be alert to the oddity of a soldier with blankets.
A younger woman followed him in, and Frayne was on his feet. She held out a bucket and looked at the floor. The steam smelt sweet.
“Servants talk,” Frayne said.
“Not this one,” the soldier said.
Heath looked at the young woman, thinking she was a similar age to them. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly, her clothes far finer than his own. He wondered if even the servants did better here. She maintained her hold on the bucket and her gaze fixed on the floor. Heath stood and took the bucket from her.
“Thank you,” he said. She nodded once but didn’t raise her eyes. She looked up at the soldier, who looked towards the door, and with another silent nod she left the room. Heath couldn’t help but cringe at the sound of the metal rubbing.
“She will return with food and water. She will know when it is safe.”
Heath wanted desperately to know who she was to this man, that she could be trusted. But looking at Nelda, still sound asleep with her body curled around Grace, he didn’t know what relationship guaranteed loyalty.
Frayne was his brother, if not by birth, and he trusted him with his life. Nelda’s own twin was determined to kill her.
“How long are we to remain here?” Heath asked, certain the soldier wouldn’t even take the time to respond. But he wasn’t sure where he was, or why he was, or whether it would be the last place he knew. And he wasn’t sure why the idea was suddenly so overwhelming. This wasn’t new. His life hadn’t been the same since he’d found Nelda in the forest, clutching the dead child to her chest. Something deep inside him had told him he needed to help her, no matter what that meant. He had thought at the time that it was something like what Frayne must feel when he was so certain of what they should or shouldn’t do.
When Heath refocused, the soldier had gone, and Frayne was sitting on the cot once more. He stepped over and gently shook Grace.
She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, as though not sure where she was.
“There is hot water,” Heath said, his voice soft. “You should use it while it is hot.”
“I can warm it,” Nelda murmured. “Let us sleep.”
“What did he do to you?” Heath asked, leaning over her.
Grace closed her eyes, so still for a moment he wasn’t sure if she was breathing. He had thought they’d just been trapped, but had the cardinal already done something to the women while they were locked away? He hadn’t been able to hear anything but banging. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept or how long he had been conscious of the hot metal surrounding him before he had heard the king’s voice.
Fear seemed to override everything else. The silence of the room closed in on him. He couldn’t even make out the soft sounds of sleep in the women before him, the sweet scent of the water the only thing that seemed to penetrate his senses.