Page 98 of The Noble Servant

She lowered her gaze to the floor. Did she think she could fool him? He knew she hated him and that she gave him the information only because he threatened to kill Alexander. “Now go and find my son and tell him to come immediately to the Great Hall. He has to greet our surprise guests: the Baroness of Mallin and the Margrave of Thornbeck. And be sure to tell him that both your lives are forfeit if he breathes a word that is disloyal to me.”

She hurried away without even looking at him.

It was so laughably easy to manipulate people who were in love. He’d discovered that many years ago when his now-deceased wife had still loved him.

But there was no time for savoring past victories. Lord Thornbeck would be coming inside at any moment. Agnes could not fool Lady Magdalen’s mother, and probably not the margrave and his lady either. Which was why he would have to have Agnes disappear. He would also poison the baroness when she drank her first goblet of wine. They’d think she’d had an attack of the heart or some sort of apoplexy, and he’d have his physician attest to it.

Even now he had the vial of poison inside his waistcoat pocket, which he carried with him everywhere.

“Guards.”

Two of his soldiers stepped forward from where they were guarding the back door of the castle.

“Go to the north tower, to the very top. I have two prisoners under a trapdoor in the floor. You will see it when you move thetable that is sitting upside down on top of it. Kill the man and bring the woman to me.”

“Yes, Lord Hazen.”

He motioned to Tideke. “Take Alexander’s wife to the dungeon. If my son tries to stop you, knock him unconscious.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Steffan couldn’t stop thinking about the old well. He was five years old again, and his heart beat so fast it hurt his chest.

But he had to get control of himself. Magdalen’s life was at stake. He could not bear it if something bad happened to her.

He had to stay calm and save them both. He had to, for Magdalen.

When he sat up, he lost the knowledge of which way was up and which was down, but the dizziness gradually faded. Magdalen held on to his arm as he groped around for the ladder, which turned out to be a short but steep set of wooden steps.

Magdalen stayed beside him as they groped their way up on their hands and knees. They reached the top, and he put his hand on the wooden door above him. “Do you hear anything?” he whispered.

“They must be gone.”

“Help me push, but be careful.”

They both braced their shoulders against the door, and he pushed with all his might with both his hands.

Magdalen grunted. “It’s not moving at all. What should we do?”

“Beat on it.”

They pounded on it with their fists. He beat so hard his knuckles were probably bleeding, and his heart was pounding as hard as his fists.

“Nothing’s happening.”

“I have to get us out of here.” He growled at himself for saying that out loud and for letting the panic well up and threaten to overwhelm him. His heart raced, and sweat ran down his back.

Magdalen’s arms surrounded him, and he felt her hair brush his chin. “Don’t worry. We’ll get out.”

He felt her cheek against his, and his heart calmed. He buried his face in her hair. She was so small, so dear and fragile, and yet so strong. He took several deep breaths.

“Are you praying?” Magdalen said softly by his ear. “Because all I can think to say is, ‘God, please help us.’ ”

He laughed, a hoarse sound, but it filled the tiny room.

They sat on the steps holding each other, with Steffan’s back against the steps and Magdalen nestled against his chest, her forehead on his neck.

They took turns saying short, whispered prayers: “God, please let someone find us.”