The Chateau (Chateau 1)

“I’m not a saint—trust me on that.”

“But you’re not evil either—trust me on that.” I’d seen evil with that guard. I’d seen evil with the executioner. I’d seen evil all over this place. But with Magnus…not really. He was guilty due to the fact that he worked here, but he didn’t get off on torture.

He stared at me again, his brown eyes warm like coffee that I hadn’t had in weeks. There were tendrils of vapor in his eyes, like the steam that rose from the surface of a freshly brewed cup of coffee on a cold morning.

I finished the mound of food on my plate, the most I’d eaten in any sitting, and set it to the side for him to take away when he left. I grabbed the mug of cocoa instead and brought it to my lips, feeling the warmth return to all my veins. “Help me.”

He stared me down without blinking. “I already did.”

“I know, and I’m grateful, but…please.”

He knew exactly what I was asking for. He regarded me stoically, like my request had no effect on his heart. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can—”

“I said, I can’t.” His voice turned sterner, hard like steel.

My lungs sucked in more air on their own, the devastation painful as if that knife really had pierced my belly. “I deserve more, and you know it.”

“Doesn’t matter what you deserve. A lot of people deserve a lot of things. It doesn’t mean they’re entitled to have them.”

He wasn’t a white knight in shining armor. He wasn’t a hero. He just wasn’t a villain. I didn’t understand his motivation for things, why he helped me in so many ways, but he wouldn’t help me in the way I needed most. “Please.”

“I’ve done a lot for you. The only thing I should be hearing is your gratitude.”

“And I am grateful—”

He abruptly got to his feet and headed to the door.

“Wait. Please.”

He sighed loudly, like he hated himself for turning back to me. “I’ve got to deal with the aftermath of all this, while you sit here and sleep soundly tonight. I’ve got to justify my actions and somehow make it convincing, because a lot of women have been hung before you, women I’ve guarded, and I didn’t do a damn thing.” His brown eyes burned into mine, like the brown trees of a forest on fire.

My palms squeezed the mug between my hands, the cocoa still warm but the marshmallows dissolved. “Why? Why did you help me?”

He stared me down, and it was obvious I wouldn’t get an answer.

“I’m going to get out of here whether you help me or not. But if you help me, I’m far more likely—”

“You won’t make it.” He dropped his hand from the knob and faced me. “The trip by wagon to get here is seven hours—and that’s if you know the way. You need to get it through your fucking head that there is no escape from this place—”

“I heard a bell.” I got to my feet and faced him, the mug still in my hands. “A church bell. I heard it on the wind… I know I did.”

He was still, his look cold.

“Tell me where it came from—”

“The wind likes to play tricks, especially in a place like this. Don’t put all your faith in a sound you may or may not have heard—”

“I heard it.”

He clenched his jaw tightly, like he was annoyed with this conversation.

“If you tell me the way, draw me a sketch—”

“They will hunt you down so goddamn fast, especially down the road they’ve trekked for years. Even on horseback, at a full sprint, you won’t make it. You can leave in the middle of the night, and it still wouldn’t make a difference. Do you understand what I’m saying? There’s nothing I can do for you.”

“You can tell me another way. Somewhere through the wilderness where it’ll be hard to find me—”

“You need to stop.” He raised his hand and regarded me coldly. Then he dropped his hand and pulled on his black gloves like he was about to depart. “There is no escape from this place. None.” He pulled up the hood to his cloak and grabbed the doorknob.

“If you won’t help me, please help my sister.”

He didn’t open the door, but he didn’t turn back to me either.

“This man came to the camp. I think he’s the boss, because he doesn’t wear your uniform and he doesn’t hide his face…”

He slowly turned back to me, but he didn’t pull down the hood again.

“They moved my sister out of her cabin. I think he took her. I think he’s…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “If you won’t help me escape, then help me get her out of there. Help me get her away from him.”

He was quiet for a long time, as if he was thinking about my request, or thinking about something else entirely. Then he released a quiet breath. “I’m sorry about your sister, but there’s nothing I can do about that either.”