Chained (Chained Trilogy) (27 page)

He
muffled her protests, crushing her lips with a bruising kiss. Fury welled up in her swiftly, and Gwen reacted before she could think. In a blink, she’d drawn her knee up swiftly the way Evrain had taught her, making contact with the tender flesh between his thighs. Gaiwan’s yelp echoed from her high ceilings and he went limp on top of her, allowing Gwen to shove his heavy body aside and scramble away from him. He fell from the bed, groaning and writhing in agony as she leaned back against the headboard, one hand clapped over her mouth when she realized what she had just done.

Gaiwan’s cries ended with a strangled gasp
as his body was dragged away, disappearing into the shadows.

Eyes wide, breath coming in loud gasps, Gwen leap
t from the bed and searched the darkness for any sign of movement. For the moment, all she could hear were the sounds of Gaiwan gasping and choking, and the scrape of feet on the stones below. The commotion had brought Lynet running from her little alcove, fumbling in the dark with a taper as she struggled to light it. A yellow circle of light finally illuminated her face, which mirrored Gwen’s shock as she held it before her, casting its light upon the two struggling figures.

Gaiwan was on his knees, his face rapidly turning purple as he clawed at his throat, growing weaker by the second. Standing behind him was Caden, the ends of his thick ch
ain wrapped around his knuckles. His teeth gritted and his blue eyes glittering with rage, he pulled back against the chain with all his might … the chain which was wrapped around Gaiwan’s throat.

Caden had killed many men. He’d
first bloodied his sword at the age of fifteen, and had never shied away from doing what had to be done. Daleraians were warriors, and it was said that the very first Daleraian male was born with a dirk in his hand, promptly burying in the neck of the midwife who’d dared to slap his round, red little bottom. Still, that was just a legend. Caden Maignart was legend come to life, and he’d earned his reputation proudly.

Caden did not think he’d
ever been as angry as he was the moment he’d realized what was happening in Gwen’s bed. At first, from his dark corner of the room, it had seemed as if the betrothed couple were whispering to each other, locked in a passionate embrace. It became increasingly clear to Caden that this was not the case.

With that realization came anger. Caden could never
respect a man who would force a woman; not when there was a world full of them more than willing to spread their legs. Whether for coin, for love, or for the simple enjoyment of the act, there was always a willing woman to be found.

When Gwen
had ordered him returned to her room, she had also commanded that the shackle binding his neck be left off. At the time Caden had teased her, accusing her of softening toward him. In truth, he’d been grateful; the shackle had left his neck chafed and raw, the skin pink and tender. The guards had left the chain—which had bound the neck shackle to the ones running between his wrists—in a coil on the floor. Caden had kicked it beneath his pallet when they weren’t looking, thinking it might be useful later … how, he was not sure, but he refused to call attention to their folly. When Gaiwan had gone stumbling from Gwen’s bed, it was just long enough. Caden had lashed out with it like a whip, coiling it around Gaiwan’s throat, yanking him to the floor, and dragging him back into his corner of the room. By the time Lynet had lit her taper, Caden was choking the life out of him.

“Caden! Caden, you must stop!”

He faintly heard Gwen’s raised voice, but chose to ignore it. His grip tightened on the chain and he pulled harder, causing Gaiwan’s pitiful, strangled cries to die away into gurgles of despair. He would not last much longer. Gwen’s arms wrapped around his bicep, tugging insistently.

“Please, you cannot kill him, they will execute you for it! Caden, stop!”

Her words penetrated the haze of his anger, and Caden felt his grip slackening. She was right about that, damn her. The Bainards would flay him alive,
then
execute him for killing their crowned prince. While it might be worth it to take Gaiwan with him, he could never hurt his parents by causing them to lose two of their three sons. His capture had probably already worried them enough. Besides, he still had work to do in helping repair the rift between Dinasdale and Daleraia.

Gaiwan fell to the floor in a heap, his rasping breaths a discordant note in the otherwise silent room.
Dropping the chain into a coil at his feet, Caden stared into Gwen’s eyes, which were wide with fear and awe. Trembling, she backed away from him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gruffly.

She shook her head silently.

He indicated Gaiwan
with a slight nod of his head. “Is he dead?”

The prince had gone silent and still, his back turned to Caden and his body curled in on itsel
f. Lynet knelt beside him, her fingers pressed to his throat.

“He’s alive,” she whispered. “Just unconscious.” She
glanced up at Caden from where she knelt. “You are not the person I thought you were, Sir Caden,” she said gently. “Thank the gods you were here.”

“There is no need to thank me, or your gods,” Caden
insisted, his eyes locked on Gwen. “Your lady can defend herself. I doubt the prince will be able to piss straight after she nearly unmanned him.”

Gwen’s mouth fell open in surprise. “It was dark,
you couldn’t have possibly seen that!” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”

Caden couldn’t help the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I know the sound of knee to groin, milady, as well as
that of a man’s balls being knocked up into his throat.”

“
What will we do with him?” Lynet asked, rising slowly watching Gaiwan’s prone form as if afraid that he would leap to his feet at any moment and resume his attack upon her lady.

“Leave him,” Gwen said, coming toward him purposefully. She had
quickly recovered from her attack, and was once more the perfect picture of a lady. No, she was not like other ladies, he decided. She was Gwen. “I have other business tonight that does not concern him.” She reached out toward him and Caden recoiled, unsure of her intent. She sighed in exasperation and grasped the chain connecting his wrist shackles. Pulling him roughly toward her, she stared up at him, her jaw clenched in determination. “I need your help,” she insisted.

He was disarmed by her nearness, but fought not to show it. “My willingness will depend
upon the manner of your request. I have already assisted you once tonight and it might have cost me my life.”

She came even closer, the
scent of lavender enveloping him as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “This request will endanger only one life … mine.”

He frowned, intrigued now. “What would you ask of me, milady?”

“I need you to help me smuggle something out of Seahaven,” she said. “I thought we had more time, but after what just happened it must be now.”

Caden chuckled. “
What are we smuggling?” he teased. “A sack of potatoes? A priceless gem? Oh, I do love a good mystery.”

Gwen did not smile, nor did she laugh when she answered him.

“You,” she said.

***

Gwen inhaled deeply the salty fragrance of the sea, unsure of when she would ever smell it again. Soon, the balmy air of the seaside would be a distant memory, and the biting winds atop the Radaughorm Mountains would chill her blood.

It must be done
, she told herself as she took Caden’s arm, leading him through the dark barbican with only the meager yellow light of a torch to guide them.
If Dinasdale has any hope of peace, Sir Caden must be returned to Minas Bothe.

Gwen could only hope she was not too late. If Lord Theodric had already marched against Seahaven, Gwen could never hope to stop
him.

“Lorimis, give me wisdom,” she whispered to the night, for the
Goddess of Earth was also the Goddess of Knowledge and Wisdom.

Caden was surprisingly quiet as they traversed the twisting and winding barbican, which was built into the postern wall of the castle, and would lead them out onto the shores of the Elyri Sea. Her father had told her of the postern gate when she was only a child.

“Your great, great, great grandfather, King Galahad Toustain, was the one who reinforced Seahaven with a second curtain wall,” he’d told her, speaking proudly of his ancestor. “He wanted an escape route in times of war for himself and the royal family, so he had passages and hidden doorways built as well. This way leads right onto the coast, where boats wait along the wall, to be pushed into the sea and rowed to safety.”

In the past, Dinasdale’s attackers had come
overland from Daleraia. Escape by sea was the wisest choice, and Gwen had always thought her forebear ingenious for having thought of it.

“Will we ever have cause to use it, Papa?” she’d asked, her young heart pounding at the thought of riders marching against her beloved home.

Lord Clarion had simply smiled and hugged her tight, kissing her brow. “No, my sweet,” he’d assured her. “Alemere is at peace now. We shall never have cause to go to war again.”

He’d never truly meant it, Gwen realized now. His promise had been one fabricated to placate a curious child. Her father had to
have known, as Lord Theodric undoubtedly did, that peace could not possibly last. The long history of war between them had taken too many lives and caused far too much bitterness. The thought of even more loss—her brothers in particular—only filled Gwen with determination.

“Come,”
she said, releasing his arm as she found the door leading to sea and sand. “We are here.”

Moonlight
shone faintly from behind the clouds, the tide a dull roar as it ebbed and flowed. Caden brushed past her, his feet kicking up sand as he raced toward the water. His cry of joy echoed as he spread his arms to the night, embracing it as if it were a long lost relative. Gwen followed, her eyes darting left to right for any sign of approaching men-at-arms, or even the personal guard of the Bainards. Fear had been churning in her gut since the moment she’d given utterance to her plans. As she’d traded her gown for worn breeches, tunic, and mantle, she’d prayed to Tinitas for strength and Rothgar for courage. She’d also hoped beyond all hope that she had not made a terrible mistake.

“Have you lost your mind?”
Gwen hissed as she followed. He turned to face her, a wide smile on his face. “Someone could hear us, or see us!”

“I am sorry, wench,” he murmured, “but after being in shackles for so long, I’d forgotten the feel of the wind on my face. You cannot know how marvelous it feels to be free again.”

Gwen averted her gaze and tried not to dwell on how his black hair glowed almost blue in the light of the moon, or how the bruising was beginning to fade, revealing how truly devastating his face was. “I would not know,” she said truthfully, unsure of what prompted the confession. “I have never been free.”

She could feel Caden’s eyes upon her. Even without looking, Gwen knew they were filled with pity.
“Help me with the boat,” she snapped, turning away from him before he could speak. She abhorred his pitying expression, as much as she hated feeling like a captive to the desires of her mother, father, and the Bainards. She did not want to think about it now, not when she was free for a time with the sea within her reach and her bow at her back. A sheath of arrows swung at her waist, a reminder that she was not helpless—not here beneath the open sky with all of Alemere before her.

They were swift and silent as they pushed one of the many longboats pressed against the outer wall toward the lapping water. Once it was in the water, they leapt in and sat at the oar
s, their backs to the horizon with Gwen fore and Caden aft. They’d agreed that it would be best to travel around Dinasdale’s coast by water, as opposed to through it overland. Once it was discovered that they were missing, Espan would free Orrick, and he would spread the word far and wide. They would never make it past Vor’shy once Orrick sent his riders after them. Gwen held no delusions when it came to her uncle. While he loved and doted on her, he was going to be furious with her for what she’d done. He would not hesitate to have Caden imprisoned again, and her punished for treason.

Between them was the burlap sack Lynet had hastily filled with provisions before they’d departed the keep. The maid had cried, clinging to Gwen and promising to do everything she could to keep Orrick and his men from knowing she was missing.

“I will tell them your woman’s time is upon you,” she’d said. “That should hold them back for a few days at least. After that …”

Gwen had simply smiled and accepted the sack from Lynet. “I know, we are on our own. How can I eve
r thank you for being such a faithful friend?”

Lynet had simply swiped a tear from her eye and smiled. “Be the lady I know you can be. Strong, brave, and true. If
anyone can set this mess right, ’tis you, m’lady.”

Gwen became emotional again at the memory. Since her
thirteenth year, she’d never been a day without Lynet. The maid could be severely punished for her part in their escape, and Gwen may never know what her fate had been. The thought caused a tear to slide, unchecked, down one cheek.