inthese quarters—if her grandfather hadn’t been groggy from being awakened and distracted by his anger at the prince’s escape, he’d never have let her inside.
She spotted the jewels her grandfather had stolen from her lying near his crown. The signet ring, the brooch, the medallion—all were gifts Garren had given to Evelyn’s grandmother Mathilde when he’d married her. Mathilde had borne hima son, Rabertus, and they’d lived together as a family for several years until Garren had traveled to his homeland and found the Illyrians in rebellion against his older brother, who was then king.
Garren had sided with the rebellion, killed his brother and married the widowed queen, abandoning Mathilde and Rabertus without a word. Rabertus had run away in search of his father and fallenin with bands of rogue outlaws, who’d taught him many things Evelyn wished her father had never learned. It wasn’t until Rabertus was a grown man with children of his own that he’d found the Illyrian kingdom of the Dometians and returned with the signet ring that proved his parentage, along with the other valuable treasures.
But Garren had denied Rabertus any standing in his household, insteadsending him on quests to prove his worth, always favoring his much younger son, Warrick, borne to him by his second wife, the widow of the brother he’d murdered. Evelyn’s father had recruited a band of outlaws and launched many successful campaigns, extending Garren’s borders and bringing him wealth.
Still Rabertus was never accepted by his father and died an outlaw, unacknowledged. And whileall of the king’s household knew Evelyn and Bertie were Garren’s grandchildren, they treated them with no more respect than any other slave. The king withheld the jewels that rightfully belonged to Evelyn and her brother, instead forcing them to work long hours of hard labor to pay back their father’s supposed debts.
Precisely what those debts were Evelyn had never been told. It had somethingto do with her father’s activities as an outlaw and the crimes he’d committed in his efforts to win Garren’s approval. In her grandfather’s hypocritical way, he held against Rabertus the very assignments he himself had given him.
“Go, then! Find the prince and bring him back—alive or dead, I care not which this time. If we can’t hold him as a hostage, we must at least eliminate him as a threat,especially now when he could use his imprisonment against us.” The king shoved Omar back down the hall.
The head of the night watch disappeared around the corner, taking the light of his torch with him.
Evelyn stepped after him into the corridor and stood still to the side of the doorway while her grandfather muttered angry words to himself. She didn’t dare move for fear of drawing attentionto herself. To her relief, a moment later King Garren slammed the door shut.
She’d been forgotten. She could only pray Omar had forgotten her brother, as well.
Hurrying back down the stairs, she paused in the kitchen just long enough to stoke the fire and light the rag wick of a clay lamp. Then she tucked a knife into the band of her apron and protected the fragile open flame, guardingit with her hand as she crept as quickly as she dared down the stairs.
As she’d hoped, Omar had left the dungeon door ajar in his haste. Bertie lay all alone on the dungeon floor, forgotten. She rushed to his side and pulled the gag from his mouth, then placed the clay lamp on the floor while she hastily sawed through the bands that held him.
She’d expected her brother to be angry, buthe didn’t say a word, worrying her. When she finally cut through the last of the ropes, she warmed his cold hands in hers, drawing him closer to the lamplight. “Are you okay?”
“I’m cold.” Bertie shivered horribly, and Evelyn realized he’d been wearing only the thinnest, most raggedy clothes as he lay in the dank chill of the dungeon.
“Let’s get you upstairs by the