Serene’s eyes rounded a second before Clare slammed into her, shoving them both against the wall. Clare swore she felt the whisper of the assassin’s blade as it flew past her neck, barely missing her.
Serene’s breath rattled out, her eyes burning Clare with a mix of fear and rage.
Before Clare could even open her mouth, a strangling hand caught her upper arm, shooting pain all the way to her fingertips. She cried out as she was ripped away from the princess, her shoulders cracking against the wall a second before a hand grasped her throat.
The pox-scarred soldier glared down at Clare, his hot breath searing her face. Fury blackened his fierce gaze and a muscle in his rigid jaw flexed as he squeezed, pinching off her breath.
Clare scratched the hand that crushed her entire neck. She kicked him, but his body was as immovable as the castle wall biting into her spine.
Her vision wavered and blood roared in her ears, muting the crash of steel that still filled the hall.
“Wilf!” the princess shouted. “They need you!”
The grip around Clare’s throat clenched fiercely, lancing pain through her neck and down her spine. He was going to snap her neck.
Through watering eyes, Clare caught sight of the blue-eyed soldier as he looked up from the body sliding off his long knife.
The young bodyguard's eyes widened. “No! Wilf!” He lunged toward them, but it was too late.
The giant drew back a fist and knuckles as solid as stone hit Clare’s temple.
Clare shivered awake, blinking against the pain in her aching head. The left side stabbed with agony. She swallowed, but that only made her cringe at the burn in her throat. She reached to feel her bruised neck and chains rattled, dragging at her wrists.
They were shackled in front of her.
Her heart stopped. Her eyes cut over her surroundings, her pulse tripping as she realized she was in a small cell. Torchlight flickered over the glaring emptiness. There wasn’t even a chamber pot. The stones were grimy and an unpleasant moistness clung to the air.
She was in a prison cell.
Horror washed over her as memories crashed into her. The ambush. The fact that she had slammed the princess into the wall. It would have looked like an attack, not a rescue. It would have looked like an attack, not a rescue. Especially if they hadn’t noticed the attacker sneaking up behind the princess.
Clare trembled, the cold stone floor leeching all warmth from her body. She needed to speak to someone. To tell them what had happened. That she was innocent.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, but it had been long enough. Her brothers would be worried. Thomas was barely thirteen and Mark only ten. They might even go to Eliot’s barracks, and her older brother couldn’t afford to be pulled into this.
The cell door grated open and the lone torch guttered. Clare hitched to her feet, nausea rolling in her gut as pain sparked in her head. The chains swung from her bound wrists and she stumbled from the dizziness that hit her. She leaned against the wall, jaw clenched and head pounding as she watched three men file into the cell.
The man in the lead had a gold rope on the shoulder of his uniform, marking him a commander. His lined face was indistinct in the flickering light, but Clare thought he was middle-aged. His hair was light brown with silver strands sprinkled throughout and his eyes cut to Clare, hard and cold.
Her stomach dropped.
The two men behind him fanned out on either side of her, raising the hairs at the back of her neck. The cell door clanked shut and she swallowed thickly. “Please.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat with a wince. “There’s been a mistake.”
The commander’s thick brows slammed down. He jerked his chinandthetwomengrabbedClare’sarms.Theyhauledhertoward the commander, putting them a mere pace apart. Hetowered over her and her breath stuttered but she bit back a whimper. She didn’t want to reveal her fear, even though she was exploding with it.
“You were the lookout, I presume.” His hard voice was chillingly quiet. “Once the princess passed, you gave the signal and the other rebels attacked.”
“No, I—”
He backhanded her and pain burst across her cheek, radiating through her aching head. Hard fingers dug into her arms, holding her upright as the commander glared down at her. “Don’t waste my time with denials.”
Clare blinked against the tears stinging her eyes. “I swear to the fates, I was only trying to save the princess. There was a man behind her with a knife. Just let me talk with her and—”
The commander grabbed her chin and forced her head back so their eyes met. “You’ll never get close to her again,” he sneered. “You failed. Your accomplices failed. So tell me everything about your friends.”
“I’m not one of them!”
His jaw flexed. “I have the power to make your death swift or agonizing. Now, answer me.”
A tremble shook her, but Clare tried to remain calm. It was hard with the commander breathing down on her, fingers digging into her chin, while the other two soldiers held her firmly. She swallowed hard but her voice still sounded too thin, too ragged, as it came up her abused throat. “I had nothing to do with the attack. I’m not a rebel. I work in the kitchen—I’ve worked there since I was a child. Ask Cook Towdy. He’ll tell you who I am.”
The commander’s face was unreadable as he studied her. Then, without warning, he shoved her face away and she would have stumbled if the guards hadn’t been holding her arms.
The commander took a step back and Clare would have felt relief, except for the darkness swimming in his eyes. “Very well. I will test your story.” His eyes bored into her, and she struggled to keep breathing as he continued. “I’m going to learn everythingabout you, girl. And you’re going
