Page 97 of The Noble Servant

Steffan placed his body between Lord Hazen and Magdalen, heat flowing through his veins, setting every muscle and nerve on alert.

“My mother is here,” Magdalen said. “You had better not think of harming us. And Lord Thornbeck. He will—”

“Guards,” Lord Hazen growled.

The guards moved toward them. Magdalen screamed. One guard grabbed her and placed a hand over her mouth. Steffan eluded a second guard and leapt at the one holding Magdalen. He slammed his fist into the guard’s face.

A third guard landed a blow to Steffan’s head. He fell back, the room going black for a moment. Then the guard grabbed his shirt front and dragged him across the floor.

Magdalen was fighting and clawing the guard holding on to her. Steffan opened his mouth to tell the guard he would kill him if he injured her, but another guard stuffed something in his mouth and held his hands behind his back. Steffan, with one great effort, surged to his feet and fell on top of the guard.

The guard scrambled up, still holding Steffan’s wrists in apainful grip, and slammed Steffan’s head on the floor. The blackness returned. He was losing consciousness.God, please. Save Magdalen.

Magdalen watched in horror as the guard took hold of Steffan and slammed his head on the floor. Steffan went still.

She tried to scream, but the guard’s hand was clamped over her mouth. She struck at him with her fists. Another guard grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back. Then the first guard took his hand from her face and stuffed a cloth in her mouth.

She tried to kick him but missed. Still holding her wrists with one hand, the second guard picked her up by her waist and carried her across the room.

Lord Hazen was opening the trapdoor. He must have known about it after all. The other two guards were carrying Steffan toward the trapdoor as well.

“Now you cannot trouble me. You can stay down there until you rot.”

While she struggled against her guard, they lifted Steffan’s limp body over the dark hole, then dropped him inside. Magdalen’s stomach sank as she watched him fall.

The guard lifted Magdalen and lowered her in. When her feet touched the ladder inside, the man let her wrists go, and she scrambled to take the gag out of her mouth. She took a breath and screamed as loud as she could, just as the trapdoor came down and shut out every glimmer of light.

A groan came from below her. She hurried down the ladder,which was only a couple more rungs, before her foot touched the bottom, then brushed against Steffan’s body.

She fell to her knees, grasping in the dark for Steffan, following the sounds of his groans.

“Steffan, are you all right? Tell me what hurts.”

“Where are we?”

She touched his bearded chin and managed to lift his head and shoulders and set them in her lap. “We are in the room under the trapdoor.”

He moaned. “My worst nightmare. To die in a dark hole.” He was breathing hard.

“We will not die here. Someone will find us. Don’t worry.” That was what he was always telling her—don’t worry. “Everything will be all right. Now tell me how badly you’re injured. Are you bleeding anywhere?”

His breathing became calmer and more controlled. “No, no, not much.”

She felt stickiness on the back of his head, but it was hard to tell how much blood he was losing.

“Are any limbs broken?”

She heard the movement of his legs on the floor.

“I think I am well. Just a headache.”

She remembered she had a cloth in her pocket, pulled it out, and pressed it to his head. She exhaled a long breath.

“We should see if we can open the trapdoor.” He sat up, then moaned. “I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

“No, I am well.” The truth was, she had hurt her ankle in all her struggling with the guard. It was throbbing, but she would be well enough, as long as they were able to escape.

Hazen eyed Agnes. “You did well, telling me where the duke and Lady Magdalen were hiding.”