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I don’t need him, Arianne assured herself as she unlatched the stable door.My plan will succeed, and Marcus will be safe. I will get him out this very night.
Her throat tightened as she stepped into the dim stable. One torch flickered feeble amber light against the wall, revealing that he was here already, the dungeon guard she had met at the Jug and Spoon, the one she’d been discreetly questioning for bits of information, the one who had let it be known that he was not above accepting bribes.
“There you are, wench. Bretta, is it not?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice low and only a little tremulous. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she walked toward him with what she hoped was a confident stride. “You are ready to strike a bargain, Galdain?”
“Not so quick, eh? The night is young. Sit yourself down, lass, and share a tankard with me.”
He’d been drinking already, Arianne noted with disgust as he tilted the tankard to his fat, moist lips and took a swig. The man was hairy as a goat and smelled like one too. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, trying to focus on the scent of the hay instead. The woolen tunic covering Galdain’s broad form was frayed and grease-stained, and blood spattered the front of it. Who had the man been beating tonight? She fought her revulsion and forced herself to meet his oily black eyes with outward equanimity.
“I have little time,” she continued briskly. “They’re expecting me back at the inn. Quickly now, tell me—your keys will open all of the cells in the dungeon?”
“That they will, wench.” His crude laughter rang out as he dug in his pocket and produced a large silver ring of keys. He dangled it before her, the keys clanging together discordantly. “See—I’m a very important man in the duke’s service.”
“If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be here at this moment,” she snapped, then quickly switched to a sweeter, more coaxing tone as she saw his eyes widen. She needed this brute, whether she liked it or not. Scalding him with her tongue wouldn’t bring him to heel, but gold and a honeyed smile would.
“I can meet your price, Galdain.” She withdrew three gold coins from the pocket of her cloak. “I’ll give you one now and the other two when Count Marcus is freed.”
“Count Marcus! Eh, what’s this? You never said he was the one you wanted me to let go.” Galdain frowned and took another deep swig of his ale, then wiped his sleeve across his dripping lips. “I don’t know about that. I’d be risking my neck. The archduke might well hang me in the count’s stead if that one gets away.”
“Five coins,” Arianne said, producing the additional coins like a magician and waving them under his nose. “Three now and two later—“
“Ten.”
Tension ripped through Arianne’s stomach. She didn’t have ten. If she gave this man five pieces of gold, it would leave her with only one—one that she might need to smuggle herself and Marcus across the border.
“I don’t have ten. You had agreed to three.”
“That was before you wanted Count Marcus. What’s he to you, eh?” he asked suddenly, suspicion darkening his beefy features. “Why are you trying to help that foreigner anyway?”
“That’s not your concern.” She heard the royal haughtiness in her voice and hastened to amend her tone. She opened her eyes very wide and reached out to touch his arm. “Galdain, please. Five coins is all I have. They’re yours if you will only keep your end of the bargain. Open the cell door and look the other way. Count Marcus will make his own way out of the castle.”
“The duke will have my head if I’m caught,” he growled. Sharp eyes studied the fine bones of her face, the beautiful violet eyes that shone from beneath slim auburn brows, the soft, full mouth, parted now as she stared at him. “You’ll have to make it worth my while,” he said slowly. “Five coins won’t free a rat, much less Count Marcus.”
Arianne drew in her breath. She wanted to strike this scoundrel, to draw her dagger and hold it to his throat and force him to agree, but that wouldn’t serve. Once he went back to the castle, there was no guarantee that he would comply with the plan. What could she do? She had precious little money, for she’d had to flee Castle Galeron quickly when Julian’s men had sprung their attack. There’d been no time to gather gold or jewels or even a parcel of her belongings.
All she had was the amethyst necklace and ring that had once belonged to her mother, both of which she’d been wearing the night of the attack. They were hidden now, deep in the pocket of her cloak. Should she give them over to this greedy, disgusting oaf?
Tears stung her eyes. “I have this ring. Here.” She produced it, her hands shaking. “You may have it when Count Marcus is freed.”
“How’d the likes of you get a beauty like this?” Galdain studied the warm, dark flash of the amethyst in the dim stable. His eyes glinted.
“Never you mind. It was lost, and I found it. That’s all you need to know.” She shoved the ring back inside her pocket. “Now, will you go back to the castle and keep your end of the bargain or not?”
“By the saints, I will. And I’ll take the coins with me. All of ‘em. And the ring. I don’t believe for a minute it’s real, but it’s a pretty bauble and could fetch a fair price in the village. I’ll also take you, sweet lady,” he sneered, licking his lips. “Come and persuade me, wench. Show me why I should let the damned count go free, and just maybe I’ll risk my neck to oblige you.”
He lunged toward her, but Arianne jumped nimbly out of reach. “Don’t you touch me!” she cried.
“You’re too pretty not to touch. Come, the hay is warm.” He sprang toward her again, and this time he was too quick for her. Arianne felt heavy arms imprison her, smelled the liquor and garlic on his breath, the stench of sweat permeating his thick body.
She kicked his shin, and her hand slid toward her dagger. “Let me go or pay with your life,” she warned breathlessly, her fingers closing over the hilt.
Then the dagger was free, and as Galdain groped for her breast beneath the cloak, she stabbed at him with all her might.
But the guard was lucky. He wrenched aside just in time, and the blade missed his heart. It slashed through his shoulder, and he drew back with a grunt of pain, glaring at her.
“I’ll teach you to try to murder me!” he bellowed, and with brute strength struck her full across the face. Arianne went spinning onto the stable floor, and while she lay there, dizzy, he kicked the dagger out of her hand.