But she wouldn’t be with them.
An ache pierced her heart, because she knew what she was going to choose. What she had to choose. There wasn’t a real choice. She could die, or she could provide for her family.
She would do what she’d always done.
Clare cleared her throat, hating how brittle and weak it sounded in the awful silence of the shadowed cell. “I’ll do it.”
The bearded man lifted his chin. “You’ll swear an oath?”
“Yes.”
His eyes flashed with triumph. He straightened, his voice deepening. “Do you, Clare Ellington, willingly give your oath to serve King Newlan Demoi until your death and keep his secrets as your own?”
Her mouth had dried, but she forced herself to speak. “I do.”
He stretched out his hand, the one with the gold ring she’d noticed before. When the crest caught the flickering light, instinct overcame her and she fell to her knees.
“Seal your oath,” King Newlan ordered.
Dizziness stole her breath but Clare leaned forward, pulsepounding in her ears as she kissed the royal crest. The stonebeneath her knees was hard and cold. She fought back a shiver. The man who’d ordered her father’s death and would have looked on as the commander killed her in this cell now owned her completely.
Newlan’s deep voice boomed in the small cell. “Stand.”
She pushed up from the floor, avoiding the king’s eyes.
“Take those chains off her.”
The commander fished a key from his pocket and obeyed the royal order. But even when the chains fell and Clare fingered her sore wrists, she knew she wasn’t free.
The torchlight brushed the king’s face as he viewed her. “Inthe morning you’ll go home and tell your family you’ve been promoted to serve as one of the princess’s maids and that you’ll live at the castle now.”
So many emotions roiled inside her, but the thought of going home—even briefly—was a lifeline and she clung to it.
“The visit will be short,” the king continued. “You will need to be prepared to attend a private dinner tomorrow night. I want to show you to those few who will be aware of your role. Not many will be told the truth. You’re only useful if our enemies don’t know about you.” He glanced at the commander. “See she’s given whatever she requires—for herself and her family—and keep her secure. I want her in your suite tonight.” Without another word, the king lifted his hood and strode from the cell. In the torch-lit corridor, a group of soldiers took up positions around him, following him out of sight.
Clare stood rooted to the floor. Each heartbeat thudded through her entire body and a chill snaked down her spine. She’d had no real choice, but she still wondered if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.
The commander held the cell door open and Clare duckedher head as she stepped out. He led her down a long hall, then up a flight of stairs. They kept to side passages, encountering no one as they ghosted through the sleeping castle. Clare’s eyes snagged on the fine carpets, oil paintings, and antique side tables all gleamingly polished and holding vases of fresh flowers. The finery of the upper castle was unfamiliar to her, making this night feel even more surreal.
The commander finally stopped and opened the door to alarge suite. The sitting room held a long settee, a couple armchairs near a dead fire, and several tidy bookshelves. A short hall led to four closed doors, though the closest one opened and a maid peeked out, irritation tightening her features. She softly closed the door behind her and kept her voice low as she strode toward them. “The lady just drifted off. She needs quiet.”
The commander didn’t acknowledge the maid’s words, though his voice was low as he gestured to Clare. “You will attend this young woman, Millie. She’s staying the night.”
The woman’s eyes dragged over Clare’s mussed braid and worn dress, her lip curling. “Who is she?”
“Millie.” Warning lived in the commander’s voice.
The middle-aged woman huffed. “But where will she sleep?”
“Put her in the spare room.”
“The spare—?”
“Don’t argue with me,” he snapped.
“Sir, the lady will—”
“My wife doesn’t need to know she’s here.” His voice dropped low. “She won’t know, Millie. Do you understand?”
The unspoken threat hung in the air until finally Millie’s head dipped. “As you will, Commander.”
The commander turned his razor gaze on Clare.“Go withher.”
Clare took a step forward on instinct, but halted and forced her eyes to meet the commander’s. “My brothers will need a caretaker.”
His flat stare was intimidating, but she forced herself to continue. “I was promised that I could have whatever I needed, and I require a caretaker of my choosing.”
A muscle in the commander’s cheek jumped and Clare was sure she’d pushed him too far, but his voice was level when he spoke. “I will have candidates selected before dawn.”
Surprise and relief rushed through her. It was a small victory after everything she’d lost, but a victory all the same.
Without another word the commander strode from the suite and Clare was left to follow Millie down the hall and to the last room on the right. The maid left her in the doorway, muttering about fetching a nightgown.
Clare stepped into the room, a musty smell itching her nose. There was no window since they were in the depths of the castle, but the lamp from the hall cast enough of a glow to see colorful tapestries of sunny landscapes and rolling mountains on the stone walls. The furniture was made of dark
