Timeless (11 page)

And yet, as I looked in Damien’s eyes, which
seemed to glow in the moonlight, I could see the hurt in them,
which I knew my hesitation had caused.

“I…” I said, faltering. It was too weighty a
decision to make then; I needed more time.

“Emmeline, I will protect you. You need never
fear for your future, your safety,” he said earnestly.

“But I cannot leave my father to that,
that…witch!” I burst out.

Damien untied the cloth between us and turned
away from me, disappointed, I knew. But what could I say? He was
prepared to leave, had obviously begun making plans, while I had
had no more than a few minutes to think of an idea that would alter
the course of my life forever.

“You don’t really love me at all, do you?” he
asked mournfully, twisting the silken cloth in his hands.

“Oh Damien, don’t say that!” I burst out, not
bearing to hear the heartbreak in his voice.

He turned away from me. Coldness descended
upon my heart.

I ran over and put my arms around him.

“Of course I love you…how could I love anyone
else?” I assured him, anxious to show him my devotion.

“Then come away with me,” he urged, “Now.
It’s the perfect time. The tournament ends tomorrow, but no one
will even know we’re missing until midday. By then, we’ll be far
away from here,” he finished.

“How can you want us to leave without even
trying to ask my father?” I asked.

“Don’t you understand? We’ll never escape
once she knows,” he said, a chilling tone in his voice.

“What is she to us, Damien?” I asked.

I could tell that he struggled, as though
deciding whether or not to tell me something.

“Don’t cross her,” he finally said.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” I laughed,
faltering only when I read the seriousness in his eyes. “Let’s go
back, think about this. In the morning, we’ll ask my father…” I
explained.

He interrupted me.

“Emmeline, if we go back, there will be no
escape. There is something evil in that castle. She is evil. And
she’ll never let me go.”

“Never let you go?” I scoffed. “What do you
mean, never let you go?”

“Emmeline, there are things you cannot
imagine in your innocence.”

“Has she cast a spell over you too, then?” I
asked angrily.

“Not like you mean. But she is a force to be
reckoned with, and I don’t know that I can stop her,” he said.

This gave me pause. Damien was the strongest
knight in the castle. There was no force he could not overcome, and
so assured was I of his love for me, that I could not imagine any
spell that Lamia could cast breaking our bond.

I also still felt fairly safe in the
assurance of my father’s love. I hoped he could put my happiness
ahead of her wishes. Surely she could not break the tie between a
father and his daughter?

“We should go back. They’ll miss us soon,” I
said, afraid that someone had already noticed our absence. I also
needed some time to consider his proposal.

I took him by the hand and led him to Brutus,
normally so calm. Tonight he seemed wary and nervous. Damien
stroked his mane, speaking to him in a gentle voice only horses
understand, soothing him immediately. Damien’s talent to quiet any
horse had made him an instant favorite in the castle from his
earliest days.

Once he’d settled Brutus, Damien turned to
me, an acknowledgement that he understood my fears.

“I think we should still speak with my
father. If he refuses his permission, then we’ll speak with Father
Philip and make preparations,” I assured him, stroking his cheek.
Whatever happened with my father or Lamia, we’d both agreed to have
our priest, Father Philip marry us—publicly, we hoped, but secretly
if necessary.

Damien nodded his head, not arguing anymore.
He knew what he was asking me to give up, and he did not want to
force me to choose between him and my father.

The moon cast its melancholy glow over
Damien’s face, a picture of despair that I hadn’t seen before. I
knew he didn’t want to return to the castle, but he wouldn’t go
against my wishes.

“Dearest, don’t worry. ’Twill work out.
You’ll see,” I cried, wanting to assuage his concern even as I
suspected that he could be right, that our return to the castle
might end in disaster. I still trusted my father, however, still
believed that some essence of his love for me remained. And
besides, my absence would give Lamia complete control over
everyone, no longer conflicted in their loyalty to me and their
fear of her. That had to give her some satisfaction, if not
happiness.

Damien hoisted me in the saddle, maintaining
a stoical silence that lasted the entire way back.

We wended our way through the forest and to
the castle. Richard had kept a watch for us and lowered the
drawbridge. We entered through the gate. Damien helped me to
dismount, and I took off my cloak, giving it to him. I slipped
across the courtyard and back inside the hall while Damien settled
Brutus for the evening in the stables. I knew we wouldn’t be able
to re-enter together.

I could see that no one had missed us—the
dancing had become rigorous, the drink having its effect on the
revelers, more careless now of Lamia’s presence than they had
been.

My father cast enamored eyes on my
stepmother, who spotted me and beckoned with her finger.

I walked up to the dais, glancing behind me
to see if Damien had returned to the hall. He’d already taken his
seat by two of the knights playing chess together in a corner,
choosing a spot not directly in Lamia’s line of sight.

“Yes, stepmother?” I said when I reached her,
bowing my head to hide the revulsion from my eyes. Lamia knew I
resented her.

“We have important tidings for you,
stepdaughter,” she began, eyeing me smugly.

She almost never called me Emmeline,
preferring ‘stepdaughter’ instead.

I looked at her askance.

She regarded me in triumph and then stood,
taking me by the hand. It took a moment for the revelers to quiet
down, but when she wanted it, Lamia could easily command the
attention of the entire room merely by her domineering
presence.

“We have found a husband for Emmeline,” she
said victoriously, knowing that I would resist the idea.

I began to shiver with apprehension and could
almost feel Damien tense from across the room.

Before I could ask, however, she answered the
question in my eyes: “Sir Roger Beauchamp.”

I closed my eyes in pain, opening them to
look at my father.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Father, please!” I
cried, more horrified than I could have imagined. At fifty, Sir
Roger was nearly as old as my father was.

Damien must have surmised something like this
all along. Oh, why hadn’t I listened to him? We could already be
gone!

My father refused to look at me, and I knew
this idea originated with Lamia. How long had she plotted? Had she
planned it the moment she arrived?

I turned to my stepmother, wrenching my hand
from hers.

“Do you hate me so much? Do I remind you of
my mother so much that you must marry me to a man over twice my
age?” I burst out.

She hissed, but it was under her breath, so
that only I heard her. She wiped the smile from her face and
regarded me with cold, inhuman eyes.

“It’s time you wed, Emmeline,” she began,
more quietly now. “You’re far too old as it is to still be a maiden
roaming the castle. Sir Roger is a knight we can trust. His loyalty
has ever been to your father. You’ll make him a lovely bride.”

She laughed, showing her small, white teeth,
bared now in a snarl.

I moaned as if in pain. Sir Roger was an
uncouth knight with decaying teeth and stale breath. She could not
have chosen a more loathly husband for me.

I looked to Damien in my panic. With
terrible, sudden clarity, I knew he’d been more right than I could
have ever believed. We had had the means to get away; we should
have taken the opportunity when we had it.

The hall became quiet, and I looked over to
my father, who averted his eyes from me. How could he have betrayed
me this way?

Lady Lamia had already begun her speech about
the wedding preparations—which were to begin following the last day
of the tournament tomorrow. So it was to be soon, I thought, nearly
hysterical in my rage and frustration.

As if reading my thoughts, Lamia again
grasped my arm, making sure I didn’t run. Surprised by her
adamantine grip, I missed her first few words to me, which sounded
only like a hiss. I wondered if she’d sprung directly from the
serpent, the great tempter who’d caused our first parents to
fall.

I felt faint, and the room began to swim in
front of me. But Lamia’s grip on me kept me from falling in a dead
faint.

Damien locked eyes with me. I knew with a
dreadful certainty that he would defend me, even if it meant his
death. He’d somehow foreseen this, knew what returning to the
castle would mean. If only I’d just listened, I thought, too
overcome to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.

Damien stood up suddenly, drawing attention
away from Lamia and me. His chair clattered to the ground, the
chess pieces scattering in a heap on the flagstones below.

“The Lady Emmeline has plighted her troth
already. She has agreed to be my wife, and she is bound to the
oath,” he announced, daring Lamia or my father to defy him.

Confusion reigned throughout the hall at his
announcement, but then a rousing cheer went up, drowning Lamia’s
furious scream. Her grip tightened on my arm, and she looked at me,
asking in a contemptuous voice, “What have you done?”

Damien knew that Lamia likely had more in
store for me. He made his way to the dais, his height towering over
those extending congratulating hands, which eagerly clapped him on
the back, slowing his progress.

Only my father’s voice stopped him.

“Silence!” he ordered everyone.

The hall instantly quieted, and I read
bafflement on the faces below us.

My father stood slowly, eyeing Damien, who’d
almost reached us.

“Stand back!” he ordered him.

I’d never heard my father, normally so
gentle, regard Damien with such coldness or speak so fiercely.

“Who are you to marry my daughter without my
permission? You, a guttersnipe I found on the streets, cowering
beneath the skirts of a wise woman selling herbs—you think to marry
my daughter?” he spat out.

Damien’s face never wavered, his eyes locking
steadfastly on my father’s face, the face he’d seen a thousand
times look at him kindly, treating him as a beloved son.

Shock and silence greeted my father’s speech,
and Lamia’s grip lessened somewhat on my arm, the smile twisting
her features into a cruel and leering grin. Never had my father
spoken a hard word even to the least of his servants. Never had he
raised his voice or hand to any of them. I knew, without a doubt,
that she had bewitched him.

“Father,” I began, tears in my eyes.

“Quiet, Emmeline, I’ll deal with you later,”
he said unfeelingly. He turned his cold eyes briefly on me, and a
strange glow seemed to have taken hold of him. I knew that the man
I saw before me was not my father.

Tears filled my eyes as I looked helplessly
to Damien. Lamia jerked her head towards me, looking into my eyes
with hatred.

“I’ll see you locked in the North Tower until
you’re more amenable, stepdaughter,” she spat out, nodding to a
group of armed knights that seemed to appear from nowhere. They
headed in Damien’s direction.

Chaos broke out, as chairs were overturned
and voices were raised.

The knights muscled their way to Damien,
knocking over anyone in their path. Once they reached him, they
tried to take him by the arms to bind him, but he was too strong.
It finally took all of them to overpower him, forcing him first to
his knees before they dragged him through the melee below me. I
could only watch in horror, as Lamia had me in a death grip.

She turned her vicious gaze to me once she
saw that Damien had been subdued. Strengthening her hold, she began
to half-drag me behind her out of the hall.

“Damien!” I screamed, unable to break
through.

I looked helplessly at him across the hall.
We were being pulled in opposite directions.

I will find you, I thought he mouthed to
me.

There wasn’t much space between the dais and
the inner door leading to the North Tower, which we quickly
reached. Lamia nearly broke it down in her fury. She seemed to have
superhuman strength, confirming my fears of her dark powers. She
half-carried me up the winding stairs, barely wide enough to fit
both of us.

Upon reaching the uppermost chamber, she
threw me inside, slapping me for good measure and slamming the door
behind her.

I reeled from the blow, which left me
insensible for a time.

I must have lost consciousness, for I awoke
much later in the dark, alone, hungry, frightened, and cold. I
shivered, wondering what she had in store for me. Trying the door,
I banged loudly, hoping someone would take pity on me. No one
did.

I waited, but she never came back. The hours
dragged on, and the cold began to creep into my bones. I knelt on
the unyielding stone floor, clutching the rosary I kept in the
inner folds of my gown as I prayed for deliverance.

If He could just help me to see my way
out…please, I repeated over and over again, too traumatized even to
speak coherently. All the prayers I’d repeated since my girlhood
fled in my terror, as I imagined all kinds of terrible fates she
had in store for Damien.

Slowly, my sobbing subsided, and silence
filled the night. I waited for dawn to break, and when it did, the
key turned in the lock.

“Emmeline,” I heard someone whisper.
Millicent! And she had brought food with her.