Again he surprised her, as he neither confirmed nor denied what she said. Instead, he told her soberly, “Sidonie, you must stop asking these kinds of questions.”
She uncurled and swiveled to face him, or at least face in the direction of where he sat beside her. “Why?”
His hand came down on one of her knees, long fingers tightening. She had gotten so used to him touching her in the dark, she didn’t flinch at the contact. “Because they’re not only dangerous for you. They’re dangerous for me. You know too much already.”
She snorted in derision. She didn’t know anything. If she had bothered to take any time to read about the Elder Races demesnes before her world tour had reached Great Britain, she might have been able to puzzle out his identity. The way Robin had spoken about him indicated he was important somehow, and deadly. Her own ignorance and disinterest had trapped her in this situation as much as anything else had.
He muttered, “I wish I could take back the things we said to each other last night. If I’d not been so depleted after your healing, I would have thrown a spell of forgetfulness over you. Now it’s too late. The experience has settled too firmly into your mind.”
She flinched and pulled her knee away from his grasp. “Obviously I can’t stop you from doing something like that, but if I ever discover you’ve used magic on me without my permission again, I’ll do everything I can to find a way to hurt you back. Because that’s what you’re doing when you spell someone without their consent. You’re hurting them. There’s a reason why it’s illegal in virtually every country on Earth. It’s a rape of someone’s will.”
The volcanic charge was back in the air, threading the darkness with a sense of imminent danger. When he replied, his whisper was as forceful and edged as hers had been. “I know all too well what a rape of the will magic can be to those who don’t consent to it. Nevertheless, if I could have done it last night, I would have, since causing you to forget might have meant saving your life. I’m trying to protect you by not telling you who I am. You have an inkling of what Isabeau might do if she’s angered or crossed.”
Yes, she did. Huddling away from him, she wrapped her arms around herself. After a moment, she said with dogged determination, “You said you can’t help me escape. Can’t, not won’t.”
“Sidonie,” he said in warning.
She plowed on. “Does that mean you’re too scared to do any more than what you’ve already done? You’re afraid you might be punished?”
Even as she asked, the questions didn’t ring true. If he was so afraid of being punished, he would never have helped her in the first place.
But she had to try to figure this out. She had to get a better understanding of what was really going on around her if she was going to have any hope of getting out of here. Besides, not knowing anything was driving her crazy.
This time when he said her name, it was through gritted teeth. “Sidonie!”
Blindly she reached out. Her fingers caught on the folds of his shirt as it pulled tight across his chest. She fisted both hands in the material.
“Can’t, you said,” she pressed. “Not won’t. You said you were constrained. What does that mean?”
She felt the tension thrumming through his long body. “I am. Unable. To tell you.”
Again, her hearing was all she had to rely on, and his voice hitched on the words in a way they never had before.
Unable. Can’t. Not won’t. Constrained.
Those were all his words, not hers.
And also, there had been this:
I know all too well what a rape of the will magic can be to those who don’t consent to it.
She whispered, “Are you under some kind of magic compulsion?”
His hands circled her wrists in a bruising hold, but he didn’t answer.
He didn’t deny it either.
Her heart pounded. Licking her lips, she asked, “Are you forbidden to talk about it?”
His fingers tightened painfully. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing, because his grip relaxed. But he didn’t deny it. His pulse drummed against her fingertips. His heart was pounding hard.
“And you’re forbidden to help any prisoners escape,” she said.
Again his hands tightened on her wrists, then loosened. Without using words, it was still unmistakably an affirmative.
She let go of his shirt and smoothed the material over his chest. “All right,” she whispered. “I think I’m beginning to get it. If they find out you’ve been helping me, they might order you to stop. And you would have to stop, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t have any choice.”
“Think further,” he replied softly. “If I’m ordered to hurt or kill you, I will. They must never know who helped you. Do you understand? They must never discover our connection. If you’re questioned, do everything you can to keep from giving them any information. Don’t lie—that would be the worst thing you could do—and you would have to tell them something, but think of ways to misdirect them. Practice those answers until they come out naturally and easily. Create your own version of truth, and stop trying to discover who I am.”
Her heart was hammering as hard as his. She swallowed and managed to reply, “Understood. It took me a while, but I get it now.”
His chest moved under her hands as he took a deep breath. “I’ve got to leave. I got here late, and I’ve stayed as long as I can.”
Her heart sank. Despite her doubts and fears, his presence was so vivid and comforting he pushed back the cold darkness while he was here. She could even feel his body warmth as they sat beside each other on the cot. The thought of him leaving again was almost unbearable.
In an attempt at lightness, she asked, “You sure you can’t accidentally leave the door unlocked when you go?”
That came out a lot more taut and desperate than she had meant for it to.
He cupped the side of her head. His touch was warm and gentle. “Believe me, if I could, I would.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. Biting her lip, she was grateful for the concealment of the darkness as she swiped it away. “Eh, well, had to ask.”
He stroked her hair once, a light, passing caress, and then he gathered up the canvas bag at their feet and stood.
Slipping off the cot as well, she followed him to the door. When he paused, she stumbled into him. As she felt him turn to face her, she stepped forward deliberately to wrap her arms around his waist.
She whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done, so very much. I especially appreciate that you’ve done it despite the danger to you.”
His body went rigid as she hugged him. Then, slowly, his arms came around her. As they tightened, she let her head rest against him for a moment.
She had already known he was bigger than she, but that was no surprise since most men were. Now, coming flush against him, she got a real sense of the size and breadth of his long body. He was tall and powerfully built. The chest under her cheek was broad and thick with muscle, and so were his biceps. Her head fit neatly underneath his chin.
A weight came down on her. She thought it must be his cheek.
“You’re welcome, Sidonie. After the guard brings your breakfast, try to get some sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can after the evening round.”
As she gave him a quick squeeze, she felt an odd thickness underneath his shirt near his waist and ran her fingers lightly over it. It felt like a bandage, as if he had taped his ribs. She thought back to how she had struck him, and his response.
He had said he wasn’t well. It appeared he was injured in some way, and she had struck him there, twice. She felt a brief remorse then shoved it aside. At the time, she had believed she was fighting in self-defense.
Stepping back, she whispered, “See you tonight. Be careful.”
“Always.” He slipped out the door.
As she heard a small mechanical snick when he turned the lock, she put her hands on the door.
He might be forbidden to help any prisoners escape, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t escape on her own. If only she had some way to block the bolt from sliding into the hole in the frame when he locked the cell door.