The only mistake he made was when he slipped and reverted from calling her Isabel and began using her presumably real name in the middle of the story.
The marshal stared at him, pure malice in his eyes. “Your story is so improbable that it makes me want to laugh, but for one fact. You slipped up and gave yourself away when you called her Selene.”
Uncertain, Will asked, “Is that a bad thing, Your Grace?”
“It means you knew very well what her true identity was. It also gives you an excellent motive for kidnapping or murder. Whichever is the case, you’ll hang for treason against the crown.” He paused for a moment, then addressed the lieutenant. “Wait, that doesn’t sound right. What’s the punishment for treason against the crown?”
“Death by flogging,” answered the lieutenant.
“But I told the truth!” shouted Will. “You can check for yourself. Their entire camp is destroyed. They’re probably already starving!”
The previously somewhat friendly guard kicked him this time, so hard that his head rattled when it hit the ground. Will mumbled into the dirt, “Your Grace.”
The Marshall was on his feet, and he stared down at Will. “You make me sick. You lured Selene Maligant from the safety of this camp and kidnapped her. Beyond that it’s impossible to say, but I would not doubt for a second that you either raped and murdered her or sold her to the Patriarch’s men.”
“But I’m innocent,” said Will desperately. “She said she left orders.” Maligant? She’s the king’s daughter! At last he understood how well and truly damned he had become.
“There were no orders!” screamed the marshal, spittle flying from his lips. “For the love of all that is holy, the only thing I don’t understand is why you thought you could come back here! I’d kill you myself if it were allowed.”
“Lock him in the stockade,” said the marshal.
One of the guards smiled and the marshal turned back. “Don’t touch him. The king will want him in perfect condition so he can see justice done himself.”
Will wanted to cry as they dragged him away, but the hysteria rising up within him had different ideas. “We have a stockade now? That’s new.” He almost welcomed the blow that followed. I kidnapped a princess—fuck me! Then he thought about the night she had kissed him. And I told her off for kissing me. Gods above, I’m the biggest idiot in the world.
The next morning, he was loaded into a wagon, and the journey to Cerria began. Since there was an honest-to-goodness paved road and the weather was good, they made the trip in four days. Along the way, one of his guards informed him he was lucky it was treason he was charged with, otherwise he’d have already been executed by the military.
Small blessings, thought Will wryly. He was too glum to appreciate the high stone arches and soaring towers of Cerria as they rolled into the capital city of Terabinia. The city was a marvel of stonework and artisanship. It predated Terabinia itself, having been one of the two greatest cities of Greater Darrow before the war for independence.
But Will counted himself fortunate. He would get to experience the city from a vantage point few ever saw, the inside of the royal dungeons. He hoped the food would be better than what they served in the lockup in Branscombe, otherwise death might be preferable. He snickered to himself, wishing he could have told Arrogan his joke.
It turned out he was wrong, however. After they marched him down the long, winding stairs he was pushed into a tiny, damp cell and chained to a wall. When the door shut, moments later, there was no light to be seen. Days of absolute darkness without food or water taught him that there were indeed things worse than the food in the Branscombe lockup.
Epilogue
The door to his cell opened, and the rush of light that entered brought tears to his eyes. Two men, ordinary servants by the look of them, entered and unchained him from the wall. They grunted when they pulled him to his feet.
“This is a shame,” said one of them. “They should have taken it off him.”
Will clutched his right hand, trying desperately to hide his ring, but a second later he realized they were talking about his mail. Looking down, he could see that it had gone brown with rust. One of the men lifted his arms, and they carefully helped him out of the armor. Then they carried him along, helping him with the stairs, for his legs had gone wobbly.
“How long was I in there?” he asked.
“Three days,” said one of the men.
“Am I to be whipped to death now?” asked Will, almost hopeful. Anything had to be better than the endless, gnawing darkness he had endured.
The other man chuckled, “Not until you meet the king.”
Will squeezed his eyes shut. “That’ll be nice,” he droned sarcastically.
From there he was taken for a bath. His clothing was taken, and he heard one of the servants instructing the other to have it burned. He wanted to ask about his mail. It still meant something to him, but he supposed that since he was about to die, he would have to let it go. As before, no one mentioned the ring on his finger, but he was past wondering about it by then.
Scrubbed and washed, he was toweled dry by several older women who seemed used to the task. They combed his hair, and one of them produced a pair of scissors to trim it for him. At least I’ll die clean, thought Will. They dressed him in the finest tunic and trousers he had ever worn.
They were dyed in shades of red and gray. “What are these made of?” Will asked, marveling at the softness of the fabric.
“Linen,” one of the women told him. He didn’t believe her, though. Linen couldn’t be that soft and fine. He knew better.
He was given warm wool socks and cloth shoes were put on his feet. Will liked the feel of them, but they weren’t very practical. One step outdoors and they would be quickly ruined. He said as much, but no one was listening to him.
Next they fed him and offered him his choice of either small beer or water. He chose the water, since he was so thirsty, he felt sure he was about to die, and he didn’t think his stomach could have tolerated much else. After a small meal a guard led him into a sumptuous room with cushioned chairs and left him to his own devices.
The chairs were more comfortable than anything he had ever sat upon, but he was tired, so he curled up on the rug and within moments, he was asleep. After an unknown period, he heard a sound, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a man standing over him.
The man was dressed in a similar fashion to Will, though his clothing had embroidery around the edges and a massive gold chain hung around his neck. His hair and beard were a glossy brown, and when he smiled Will couldn’t help but think he had rarely seen someone so good looking, of either gender.
Except Selene.
“Hello,” Will said muzzily.
“Are you comfortable?” asked the man. “Should I get you a pillow?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Will. “This rug is more comfortable than you might think.”
The man began to laugh, long and loud, his voice resonant and hearty. “Might I ask why you are on the floor?”
Will’s brain was beginning to work properly, thanks to the food he had eaten, but he wasn’t ready to give up hope. “I’m waiting on the king,” he answered.