I was dreaming of Otto. His hands—always warm, even in winter—slowly eased my dress from my shoulders, pulling it down the length of my body. His fingers, touching me everywhere, were roughly callused but infinitely tender. Desire burned beneath my skin, hot as flames. He was whispering, but I couldn’t make out the words—
“Rise and thank the baron for his mercy!”
The beautiful dream vanished. I lurched to my feet. “Is mercy what you call it—to bring me back to the dungeon and leave me here to die? The baron should have had me hung,” I said.
“Well, that remains a possibility,” came the smooth voice.
I felt a jolt of sickening surprise. On the other side of the cell door, the baron stepped into view, the torch he held illuminating his haughty face.
I would’ve torn out his eyes if I could have. Instead I spit out my words like poison. “How dare you come here and think I will thank you! Mercy? You have no mercy. You killed my sister, and you killed Otto!”
“I did not kill them. Others did.”
“Under your orders.”
“I was only protecting my castle,” he said, “and the resources within it. Surely even your limited mind can understand that.”
“Being born poor doesn’t make me stupid,” I hissed.
“It does seem to make you defiant, however. I had hoped for a touch of gratitude for sparing your life and those of your friends, not to mention an apology for the inconvenience you and your unwashed companions caused my men by ransacking my kitchens in the middle of the night. But since I’m obviously not going to get what I want, perhaps I should take you back to the courtyard gallows.”
“Do it, if it pleases you.”
He sighed as his fingers ran up and down one of the window’s iron bars. “There is often little pleasure in duty.”
“So you would look at it as a duty to kill me? Tell me, why was it not your duty to help the people in my village? Why have you let us starve and die?”
“Surely thievery was not your only option.”
“Imagine being so hungry that you’d want to eat meat you knew was rotten, just to fill your belly for an hour before you retched it up again!” I said. “But you can’t, can you? You are castle born and castle bred. You wouldn’t last a day living the way I have. You can’t even fathom it.”
The baron lifted an eyebrow. “If village life is so difficult, my dungeon should be a pleasant change.”
“I’d rather starve in freedom than dine like a king in your dungeon. But it isn’t up to me, is it?”
He gave a low, silky chuckle. “No, it is not. But I don’t make a habit of keeping people in underground cells, no matter how mutinous they are. As a punishment for wrongdoing, hanging is much more efficient. Even if you add in a little torture beforehand, it’s all over very quickly.”
I had the distinct feeling that the baron was mocking me. Once again, I wanted to do him grievous bodily harm. “Is that what you’ve done to my friends?”
“No,” he said. “I have freed them, as I said I would.”
Please God, let him be telling the truth.
“What about me, then? Will you free me, too?”
“No, I have something else in mind.” He turned and began to walk away, but he hadn’t taken ten steps before he was suddenly back. “Oh, look,” he said, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, “I found this in my pocket.” He dangled a narrow strip of dried meat through the bars. “Fallow deer, if I’m not mistaken.”
I didn’t want to take it from him—I was too proud. But my hand shot out and snatched it from his grip, and I’d shoved it into my mouth before I even knew what I was doing. The meat was tough and salty, and nearly impossible to chew. It didn’t matter. It was food.
“That was meant for my hound,” the baron said. He sounded amused. “Who, I might add, has better manners than you.”
My mouth was full, but I managed to speak around the gristly strands. “I’ll gladly show you my manners,” I said furiously. “All you have to do is let me out.”
The baron merely bowed, and then he walked away without turning back.