Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,74
mind, wondering if he could reach out to her from such a long distance. Her name repeated itself in his mind, and he seemed to hear her voice, soft and low, whispering that all would be well. He felt her hands soothing his brow, massaging the tension from his back and shoulders.
Kylene. Fervently, he prayed for her safety and for that of his family.
A short time later, one of the guards appeared. For a moment, the man stood staring through the bars. Keeping a wary eye on Hardane, he slid a loaf of hard black bread and a bowl of water into the cell, and then he hurried away, as if the devil himself were snapping at his heels.
Hardane stared at the coarse bread with distaste, remembering the rich pastries and rolls that Old Nan had prepared, but he was in no position to be choosy. He ate the bread slowly, drained the bowl of water, wishing it were wine.
He’d no sooner finished eating than Renick appeared, followed by four heavily armed guards.
Hardane struggled to his feet, wondering what Renick had in store for him now. He didn’t have long to wait.
“Chain him up,” Renick ordered, and the four guards entered the cell. One remained in the doorway, his lance at the ready.
Hardane fought them as best he could, but, unarmed and wounded, he was no match for three brawny men. Still, he managed to hold his own until one of the guards kicked his wounded leg out from under him.
Pain exploded in his thigh and he reeled back, fighting the nausea that rose in his throat.
In minutes, his arms were drawn behind his back and chained to the wall behind him. A thick iron collar was fitted around his neck, and then one of the guards dropped a noose over his head and snugged it tight before securing the other end to an iron ring set high above Hardane’s head.
A muscle worked in Hardane’s jaw. If he tried to change into the wolf, in an effort to slip his bonds, the noose would be drawn tight around his throat, slowly strangling him.
The Interrogator watched it all with an expression of supreme satisfaction. He chuckled softly as he left the dungeon. Soon, everything he’d ever wanted would be within his grasp.
Unable to sit down because of the noose, Hardane sagged back against the wall and shifted his weight to his left leg in an effort to ease the ache in his right thigh.
Alone, he stared into the darkness, fighting the urge to transform into the wolf, knowing that to do so would bring slow, strangling death. He knew of tales of Wolffan turning into everything from lizards to birds, but there was no truth to such stories. Wizards and magicians might turn into frogs or flowers, but the only inhuman shape the Wolffan could assume was that of the wolf.
He sighed as he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
And then he heard the swish of skirts.
Curious, he opened his eyes, gasping when he saw the woman standing in the corridor.
For one heart-stopping moment, he thought it was Kylene. But his bride radiated goodness and light, while the woman before him seemed shadowed in endless darkness.
The woman smiled at him as she unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.
“So, my Lord of Argone, we meet again.”
“Selene.” He spoke her name as if it tasted bad in his mouth.
She nodded. “It’s useless to fight him, you know. The Interrogator will have what he wants, and he cares not who he hurts to get it.”
“It seems you have much in common.”
Selene shrugged, untouched by his scorn.
Hardane stared at her, wishing it were Kylene who stood before him. Selene’s eyes might be the same shade of brown, but they were as hard and cold as frozen earth. Her hair was as red as Kylene’s, her skin the same creamy hue, her mouth as full and ripe, and yet she might have been as old and bent as Druidia for all the desire she sparked within him.
“What do you want, Selene?” he asked wearily. “Why have you come here?”
She stepped forward, close enough that her skirts brushed his legs as she traced the gash in his cheek.
“To gloat, of course. To see for myself that the prophesy will never come true, to assure myself that Kylene will never share your throne, or bear your children.”
“She’s your own flesh and blood. Why do you hate her so?”