“They also have orders to throw you in the dungeon if they find you,” she said to Reinhart.
“Where are Jorgen and Sir Klas?”
“Sir Klas has not been seen for the last two days. We suspect he is in the dungeon, which Geitbart’s guards are guarding, or possibly killed. Jorgen is being closely watched, but he has not been approached by Geitbart or his guards.”
“I had hoped to rally some men to fight the duke.”
“That is what Jorgen is doing, but he is having to be very careful. He does not want you to allow yourself to be seen, my lord. Geitbart will throw you in the dungeon, at best, and kill you with very little provocation. They are probably watching me too, so I should go. Give me time to get out of sight.”
He thanked her, then Odette left.
Reinhart stared out the window. He needed a plan. Geitbart had already taken over, with his guards everywhere.
He was trapped inside his own castle.
An angry scowl on his face, Lord Thornbeck was standing by the door of the storage room. She was almost afraid to speak, but he seemed to like hearing her honest thoughts.
“I am very sorry for what Geitbart told the king. I feel to blame.”
“To blame? For Geitbart’s treachery? Oh, you mean about his saying I wanted to marry a maidservant.”
Avelina’s stomach twisted at his offhand mention of her as a “maidservant.”
“Look at me,” he ordered.
She turned and let him capture her with his intense gaze.
“You are not to blame. Geitbart is only grasping for excuses to take Thornbeck. If you had not come, Lord Plimmwald would have sent someone else. But . . . I am glad he sent you. Now let us go. Odette should have had time to get well away.”
He was glad she had come?
She would dwell on that and not on the fact that he could never marry her. But . . . How can I ever be content married to anyone else but him?
“Foolish, foolish girl.” As Irma had scorned her for believing she truly was as noble as a noble-born lady, Avelina had let herself aspire to something that was forever beyond her reach.
They went toward the castle. Two of Geitbart’s guards were standing at the back entrance. Would they recognize Lord Thornbeck? They were talking to each other and did not even look at Avelina or Lord Thornbeck as they went inside.
They passed to the servants’ stairs and started up.
“I want to get my sword from my room,” he said in the deserted stairwell.
“What if the door to your chamber is locked? You don’t have the key, do you?”
“No.”
“Then come with me first to my chamber, if it’s not guarded. I have something that might help us get in.”
They reached the floor of Avelina’s bedchamber. They both slipped inside. She went to take a small bag out of the trunk against the wall. From inside it she withdrew a metal rod that had a crook at one end. “I may be able to get into the room with this.”
He had a confused look on his face, so she said, “I am rather good at getting into locked rooms and locked trunks. It was sometimes necessary, especially when Lady Dorothea wanted something her father did not want her to have.”
“I see.”
They left and made it nearly to his room when she saw two guards clad in red and black standing near his chamber door.
“Stay here,” she whispered to Lord Thornbeck. Before he could protest, she hurried up to the guards. “Oh, please help! My friend was cleaning in the west wing and she fell. She’s hanging off the burned-out balcony and I can’t pull her up. If you don’t hurry, she will lose her grip and fall to her death.”
Avelina’s high-pitched, panicked voice must have convinced them, because they hurried in the direction of the west wing.
As soon as they were out of sight, she started working at the lock on Lord Thornbeck’s door with her little tool. In a matter of moments she had it open.
Lord Thornbeck rushed toward her, his limp barely even noticeable, and entered his room. She closed the door behind them. With God’s favor, the guards would not even realize the door had been opened.
Lord Thornbeck stopped short. The room was turned upside down, with furniture overturned, his bedding slashed. When Lord Thornbeck went to find his sword, it was not there.
His face was thunderous and he clenched his fists.
Suddenly they heard a herald’s bugle.
Lord Thornbeck went to the window and threw open the shutter, letting in the cold air. Avelina went to stand beside him, and they both peered out.
A man wearing Geitbart’s livery blew upon his bugle, loud and long. The Duke of Geitbart was standing beside him. The herald shouted, “Attention all! His Grace, the Duke of Geitbart.”