For a moment there was no sound except Avelina’s breathing, which was a bit labored, no doubt from running to warn him.
“Search the room,” came the command from the other side of the bookcase.
The men stomped across the floor, followed by a loud crash—they must have upended his desk. Footsteps came toward them. Did they know of their hiding place? They came closer. At any moment they would yank open the bookcase-wall. He tensed, preparing to defend Avelina.
The steps moved away.
More voices, but this time they were too quiet to make out any words. The sounds gradually died out.
He whispered, “You should not have been running on that ankle.”
“I did not want them to hurt you.” Her voice was strained.
“We are only prolonging the inevitable.” He shook his head, but of course, she could not see him in the dark room. Not even her outline was visible.
“What are you saying? Are you going to let Geitbart take you? He wants to kill you.”
“Be calm and tell me what you heard.”
“I heard the Duke of Geitbart tell four of his guards to come here to the library and take you. He said if—” Her voice hitched and she stopped talking. After a few moments she went on. “If you resisted, they were to kill you.”
Her hands tightened around his arm. Did she care so much for him?
“I wish you would leave this place and go to the king.”
“A margrave running away from danger? That would not impress the king.”
“Your men can fight. They can defeat Geitbart’s guards.”
“He has a larger force of men nearby. My scouts have seen them. If I had known of his treachery I could have gathered enough men to defeat him. But if my men were to fight now, they would be slaughtered.” And maimed, like me. And a soldier who could no longer fight would rather have died fighting than to be crippled for the rest of his life.
She said nothing. Her breathing had calmed. He could smell the lavender she used to wash her hair, bringing back the memories of the two times he had held her in his arms. How he longed to hold her again . . .
“You should go back to your chamber.” His voice was harsh and more abrupt than he meant.
He placed his hand on the bookcase to push it forward and send her away.
Geitbart’s voice barked, “Search the castle. He is here somewhere.”
He pulled the bookcase closed, leaving one inch for him to look through.
Footsteps entered the room again. “I want two guards posted here in the library at all times. Search his papers. Bring to me anything that looks important.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Reinhart peered through the crack. A single guard knelt by his overturned desk, picking up the papers scattered on the floor.
Avelina whispered, “I have something else I need to tell you.”
He turned. With the crack of light coming in, he could just make out her eyes and mouth. “Sit down,” he whispered.
“I will sit, but only if you listen to what I have to say.”
He imagined the sparks that were shooting from those pretty blue eyes. “We shall both sit. Put your back against that wall.”
She probably could not see where he was pointing, so he touched her shoulder and nudged her until her back was against the shorter wall. He held on to her arm while she slid slowly to the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her. He leaned against the wall and slid down beside her.
The tiny chamber was only about three feet wide and seven feet long, and they were sitting shoulder to shoulder at one end.
“What is this room?” she asked.
“My father used it to store valuables, until some things went missing. My brother and I also played in here. But I don’t think anyone has used it for years.” He combed a spiderweb out of his hair with his fingers.
“Is there another way out?”
“There is only one way in and out. We shall wait until the guards fall asleep or leave. Now what did you want to tell me?”
She sighed. “It is rather somber news. But I was speaking with a maidservant, Gerhaws, while we were churning butter—”
“What were you doing churning butter? Did someone say you had to work?”
“No. I did it to see if I could find out something about what Geitbart was plotting against you. And I did find out something, as it turned out. But first . . . Gerhaws was very drunk. I don’t know where she got such strong drink, but she was crying and saying that Geitbart told her to . . . kill your brother, the margrave.”
Reinhart’s blood went cold in his veins. “Explain.”