The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(81)

Now she waited for the guards to leave their post in the dungeon. Since they’d already fed the prisoners their bread that morning, she was not sure when they would leave again. They might not leave until evening.

She pulled the stool where she had sat to churn butter up to the doorway so she would not miss the guards if they should go by. The room was cold and Avelina used the priest’s robe to cover herself.

“God,” she whispered, “please forgive me for using this priestly robe for something it was not consecrated for. But life is also sacred, and Lord Thornbeck’s life is in danger. And since I know the Holy Writ says You are compassionate, I will believe that You would want me to help him.” She paused a moment to get her thoughts together.

“God, if You will help me rescue Lord Thornbeck from the dungeon, I promise I will not ask him to marry me. Even though he kissed me—” She lost her breath at the thought of that kiss, savoring the memory. “I will not expect him to marry me. He is a margrave and it would be humiliating for him to marry a servant like me. But if You will allow him to live, I will be grateful, God, for the rest of my life. Forever and ever.” It was on her tongue to say that she loved him. But that seemed an improper thing to say to God. Still, didn’t God know all her thoughts?

“God, I love him, which is why I am willing to give him up and not expect anything of him when he gets out of the dungeon. Let the king realize that Geitbart is the evil one here and that Lord Thornbeck did nothing wrong. Restore the margravate and Thornbeck Castle to Lord Thornbeck.

“Although, if Lord Thornbeck was no longer a margrave he would be free to marry me. Oh God, forgive me for saying that! Such a selfish request. God, I take it back. If he is no longer margrave, my people, my family will be oppressed and possibly killed by Geitbart. Forgive me, God. Give Lord Thornbeck his rightful place. He doesn’t deserve to be stripped of his margravate and disgraced.” Besides, he might not even want to marry her.

After her prayer Avelina tried to do penance by forcing herself not to dwell on Lord Thornbeck’s kiss, but it was near impossible.

As she sat on the stool for hours with nothing to do, she found a churn and some milk that was being stored there and started churning. But the monotonous task did nothing to keep her mind off Lord Thornbeck. Memories of him would not leave her alone. Every interaction she’d had with him seemed to flit unbidden into her thoughts. She tried to tell herself he could never forgive her for deceiving him, but then the memory of his kiss flooded her senses and she had to close her eyes and relive it over again.

No, he definitely forgave her.

A few hours later Avelina’s stomach growled. Lord Thornbeck might be hungry, and if they were on the run, they would need food. Why had she not thought of that before?

Should she risk leaving where she was and go back to the kitchen for food? She had been sitting there for hours, and no one had gone in or out of the dungeon.

Avelina stood and peeked out the door. There was no one in either direction. She slipped out and hurried up the stairs to the outside. Quickly she made her way to the kitchen and asked Cook for some food.

Cook looked at her askance, but rather than questioning her, she gathered some fruit pastries and some bread and a small cheese round, wrapped them in a cloth, and tied the ends together.

“Thank you.” Impulsively, Avelina gave her a quick hug and smiled at her.

Cook’s eyes were wide, but then she smiled.

Avelina took a long drink from the ladle in the bucket of water in the kitchen, then ran out, hurrying back to her post.

Avelina sat on the stool and ate one of the small fruit pastries. She wrapped up the rest of the food and stuck it in her bag, along with the flask of wine Odette had given her.

Footsteps immediately broke through the silence.

Trying to stand perfectly still, Avelina held her breath as the voices and footsteps passed by the doorway. Thankfully, it was the two guards and they were going up.

As soon as she could not hear them anymore, she opened the door and ran down the steps to the dungeon.

At the bottom she whispered, “Lord Thornbeck?”

There were three corridors—one straight ahead, one to the left, and one to the right. She stood in the middle and called a little louder, “Lord Thornbeck? Where are you?”

Was he injured too badly to speak? Was he unconscious? She had to get to him. “Lord Thornbeck?” She started to go straight ahead when she heard a sound.

“What are you doing here?” came his voice.

“Keep talking.” She turned to the right and started walking carefully but quickly through the narrow corridor, bad smells assaulting her nose.

“You should not be here. It is too dangerous.”

Suddenly his hands wrapped around the bars in the cell at the end. She barely glanced at the men in the other cells as she hurried forward.

Finally, she came to Lord Thornbeck’s cell. “Take these.” She shoved the priest’s robe and the sack of straw through the bars. Then she put the gourd down on the floor and took the small metal tool from her pocket. “I am here to get you out.”

Lord Thornbeck leaned into the bars. “You must get out of here now. Geitbart was threatening to throw you in here with me. You must go, Avelina.” His tone was harsh and angry.

“No.” She was frantically trying to open the lock, but it was proving quite stubborn. What if the lock mechanism was too heavy and she could not turn it with her small tool? She kept trying.