Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,3

me that which I desired to know, princess.”

With a courtly bow, he left the room, closing the door behind him. He had hoped to locate Hardane’s whereabouts that he might procure for himself the secret of shape shifting, but he dared not wait longer to dispose of the Princess Selene, if indeed that was who she was. It seemed unlikely now. Perhaps her resemblance to Selene was mere happenstance. Perhaps not.

Still, he could take no chances. Better the woman die now and forever put an end to the possibility of her bearing the twin sons that had been prophesied. Each day she lived put Bourke that much closer to being deposed.

The Interrogator smiled faintly. There was still a chance that they would discover Hardane’s whereabouts. He fingered the ugly scar that puckered the skin on his left cheek. It would give him great pleasure to slay Argone’s heir to the throne. But before he took Hardane’s life, he would discover the shape shifter’s secrets.

Chapter 5

Kylene closed her eyes, her fingers curling around the iron bar over her head as she waited for the lash to fall. How many strokes before the pain would drive her to unconsciousness? she wondered morbidly. How many strokes would it take to steal the breath, the very life, from her body?

Why didn’t he begin?

She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder. The Executioner was standing motionless, his head cocked to one side, as if he were listening to voices only he could hear.

He was perhaps the ugliest man she had ever seen. His hair was lank and brown, his face scarred by the pox. His lips were thick, his nose decidedly crooked. He had massive shoulders, a bull-like neck, and huge, hairy hands that could break her in half as easily as she might snap a twig.

She stared at him, wondering why he didn’t begin and get it over with. He nodded once, briefly, and then released her hands from the bar, though her wrists were still bound together by a narrow cord.

“Follow me,” he said.

She hesitated only a moment. Perhaps he still meant to take her life, but, be that as it may, she was grateful for the reprieve, however short it might be.

He opened the heavy, iron-barred door, turned left, and started down the narrow corridor, his footsteps as wary as a wolf on the prowl. Not once did he turn to see if she followed, yet she knew he was aware of her every move, her every breath.

Swift and sure, he made his way along the corridor and up a winding staircase until they reached the rear entrance of the dungeon. Without hesitation, he opened the heavy iron door and stepped outside.

Kylene drew a deep breath as she crossed the threshhold, feeling as if she had just crossed the boundary from death to life as she breathed in the sweet, clean scent of fresh air, of trees and earth.

“Hurry,” the Executioner said.

Kylene hastened after him, wishing he would stop long enough to free her hands. But then, perhaps he didn’t mean to free her at all. Perhaps he only meant to use her for his own amusement before carrying out the Interrogator’s orders.

The thought brought her to an abrupt halt.

Immediately, he whirled around to face her. “What is it?” he demanded curtly. “Why do you tarry? Is it your wish to die at the hands of the Executioner?”

Odd, Kylene thought, that he should speak of himself in such a way.

“No,” she replied. “I have no wish to die at your hands, nor anyone else’s.”

“You will not die by my hand, lady.” He glanced at her bound wrists as if noticing them for the first time. Muttering an oath, he drew his knife and cut her hands free. “Hurry now, before our escape is discovered.”

“Our escape?”

“Trust me a few more minutes,” he urged, “and all will be explained.” He cocked his head to one side. “They’re coming,” he said, and he held out his hand.

In that instant, Kylene knew that she did trust him, though she couldn’t help shuddering with revulsion as his thick, hairy hand closed over hers; then they were running up the hill, over the crest, and down the other side.

Two horses, saddled and bridled, awaited them.

“You can ride, can’t you?” the Executioner asked.

“Of course I can ride,” she said quickly, fearing that if she told the truth, he would leave her behind.

The Executioner looked skeptical; then, with a shrug, he lifted her onto the back of a long-legged