Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile and he breathed a little easier. This would go much faster if he could rekindle their ease from the tavern.
‘I am sorry to say that I cannot.’ She looked down at the food she had brought, a bowl of some sort of stew in a thin broth. ‘Here. I do not intend for you to go hungry.’
The bowl was just small enough to fit between the bars. She did not seem to worry that he might grab her hand or otherwise harm her. Whether that was from sheer arrogance, or inexperience, he did not know. Though harming her while still being locked inside would hardly get him anywhere, so perhaps she merely took him for a reasonable man.
A memory came to him from several years ago, long before the massacre. He and his twin had been sent on a mission by their father to a kingdom in the south. The purpose of the voyage had been so minor that Rurik could not recall the specific details, but one of their stops along the way had been at a farm where they had spent the night. The home had been crowded with several families living there and several of the various daughters had taken a liking to them. Danr, however, had only wanted the haughty one who also happened to be the most beautiful. Likely because of her disinterest, she had been sent to serve them their meal and Danr had set about charming her. The girl had stood little chance and, before the night was over, she had figured out a way to disappear with him outside.
Rurik stared into Annis’s eyes and, when he reached forward, he allowed his fingertips to brush over the tender inside of her wrist. It was a gentle touch, but it was enough. Just as the haughty daughter had reacted to Danr’s touch, so Annis did to his. Her lips parted silently and she dropped her gaze to his touch. Most tellingly, she stepped back as he took the bowl from her. Rurik found himself swallowing the tiny flame of awareness that warmed his own hand. Disgust at himself mingled with that attraction and he did not know what to do with the competing notions.
‘I need you to tell me why you demand to see Wilfrid.’ She spoke as if the moment had not happened.
Shaking his head, he said, ‘I must talk to him myself. I misspoke last night. It has nothing to do with you being a woman and more to do with the fact that the matter is private. I would determine whether he is the Wilfrid I seek before casting public accusations.’ He did intend to verify the man had been at the wedding before killing him. He had resolved not to involve any more innocents if it could be avoided.
‘I am his only relation and a trusted advisor. You can tell me and I can assure you it will not become public.’
Rurik shook his head. ‘I will not speak to anyone but Wilfrid.’
If he spoke about the massacre to anyone, Rurik was certain he wouldn’t live to draw his next breath. His only hope was to try to talk himself out of this somehow.
‘As you will. Enjoy your day.’ She turned on her heel and stormed out, much as she had before.
Rurik lingered at the bars, gratified the touch had worked. It would be like chipping away at the stone of a mountain to make a path through, but she would soften towards him. He need not seduce her. Merely making her see him as a man and not an enemy would be enough to assure his survival...for a while.
The difficult part would be not falling under her spell as he did so. She was beautiful and there was something in her eyes that he had never seen before. It called to him to match wits with her. However, that was a dangerous proposition. He did not believe that she had knowledge of the events in Maerr and Wilfrid’s hand in them—he hoped she was not involved—but the fact that she was a relation of Wilfrid’s was enough. His sham of a flirtation could not lead to more.
Letting out a curse that was absorbed into the damp stone walls, Rurik evaluated his options. Unfortunately, he was left with the same conclusion he had already come to. He had to befriend the woman. It was the only way he could think to get himself out of this. The very idea of befriending anyone related to Wilfrid set his teeth on edge. The bastard had led men into Maerr with the intention of killing Sigurd, or so Rurik was left to assume, except Ingrid and Gilla and many other innocents had died alongside his father. They had done nothing to deserve their fate and yet Wilfrid had delivered it to them regardless.
Many would say he would be justified in visiting vengeance upon Wilfrid in kind. If his father had lived, he would have led men to Glannoventa’s shores and burned the whole village, slaughtering all who stood between him and revenge. Rurik could not condone the slaughter of innocents, so he would use Annis and whomever else he needed to get to the men who had committed the unforgivable crimes.
Chapter Three
‘Annis?’
The sharp sound of her name caught her off guard as she locked the door to the cellar behind her. Letting the key fall back in place on the ring at her waist, she took in a breath and turned to face Cedric, the man in charge of Wilfrid’s warriors. His old and dear face was lined with concern as he approached her.
Her parents had sent her to be raised by Wilfrid at the age of eight after their home had been invaded by Danes. They had deemed it safer in the west and, since she had been betrothed to Wilfrid’s son, Grim, moving here had been a logical measure. As
