"It might interest you to know that there are several people attempting to discover the whereabouts of your Number Four. The Romarians are searching for him. One of their commanders, Drade, I believe his name is, seems very anxious to find him." Niklaus drew the controller from his pocket and ran his thumb over the activation panel. "It seems Commander Casman also wants him. Dead or alive."
She looked at Niklaus, and felt suddenly sick. "You wouldn't."
"It's up to you, my dear."
"Why are you doing this?"
"You needn't worry your pretty little head about that. Shall I tell my parents the wedding is off?"
She stared at the controller nestled in his hand, the memory of the last time Niklaus had activated it vivid in her mind. "No."
Niklaus smiled at her as he slid the controller into the pocket of his trousers. It was a decidedly triumphant smile.
"Now, I think it's time you went up to bed, my dear. Mother is planning a party for tomorrow night. You'll want to look your best."
The party was nothing short of a nightmare.
Ashlynne stood beside Niklaus, a fake smile on her face as she greeted their guests, but all she could think of was Falkon. She had gone to the barn that afternoon, but he hadn't been there. She had gone to his hut, her stomach churning with fear when she saw that it was empty. She had questioned Bryson, but he claimed he didn't know Falkon's whereabouts. The giant, Moldaur, also claimed ignorance. At last, in desperation, she had gone to Niklaus, who had assured her that Falkon was in no danger, so long as she did as she was told. She'd had no choice but to believe him.
She sat across from Niklaus at dinner, smiling and making polite conversation with the people seated on either side of her, and all the while she was heartsick. Where was Falkon?
There was dancing after dinner. Niklaus claimed the first dance, his father the second. Knowing Falkon's fate depended on her, Ashlynne played her part well. She laughed and smiled and pretended to be the happiest woman in the galaxy, and all the while her stomach was churning and her heart was sick with worry.
When Niklaus claimed her for another dance, she pleaded a headache and asked to go outside. As soon as they were alone, she turned on him. "Where is he? I won't go on with this charade for another minute until I know he's all right."
Niklaus made a tsking sound. "You really care for him, don't you? How unfortunate. What would your father think, I wonder, if he knew?"
"I want to see Falkon. Now."
"Ah, so he has a name, does he?"
"Now, Niklaus."
"Very well." He went to speak to his mother, then motioned for Ashlynne to follow him.
Heart pounding, she followed Niklaus down three flights of narrow, winding stairs. The air grew colder as they descended. At each landing, lights came on automatically, illuminating their way.
She was shivering when Niklaus paused before a stout wooden door. He punched the code into the keypad and the door swung open. A light came on inside the room as they crossed the threshold.
Ashlynne glanced around, her apprehension growing. The floor was made of stone, the walls were made of rock, cold and gray and damp. "What is this place?"
"It was a prison, in days long past."
"A prison?"
"Yes. My great great grandfather built the house on top of it. This way, my dear."
He led her down a narrow corridor and made a sharp right turn.
Ashlynne sucked in a deep breath. A large room opened off the corridor. Small, iron-barred cells lined both sides of the room. All were empty save one.
"Falkon." She breathed his name as he rose from the floor, blinking against the light.
"You see," Niklaus said. "He is unharmed, for the moment."
"What do you mean, for the moment?" she asked, though she knew the answer.
"I mean his continued good health depends entirely on you." Niklaus withdrew the controller from his pocket and activated it with a flick of his thumb.
Ashlynne cried out as Falkon dropped to the cold stone floor, his body convulsing violently. And when the tremors had almost ceased, Niklaus hit the controller again.
"Stop it!" She whirled around to face Niklaus. "Stop it! I'll do anything you want! Anything, I swear it. Only please stop."
Niklaus nodded, his expression smug. "Yes, I thought you would see things my way."
Ashlynne ran toward the cell. "Falkon. Falkon." Reaching through the bars, she clutched his shoulder. She could feel the tremors coursing through him. She gasped as a sharp pain exploded in her hand and sizzled up her arm. With an effort, Falkon rolled away from her, breaking her grip on his shoulder.
Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks, the pain in her own hand forgotten as she watched him writhing on the ground. How did he endure it? Her hand and arm still tingled from where she had touched him. She couldn't imagine how painful it must be for him.
A low moan escaped his lips as the controller's effects ended. White-faced and trembling, he grabbed hold of the bars and pulled himself to his feet.
Ashlynne stood up, her eyes filled with sympathy. And love. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry."
"Not… your fault." He took a deep breath. "Are you all right?"
She nodded.
Niklaus came up behind her. "It's time to go."
"No!"
"We have guests, my dear, remember?"
"Please let me stay. Just a few more minutes."
"No."
She turned to face him. "Please, Niklaus. Give us a few minutes alone." He was going to refuse. She saw it in his eyes. "I'll beg if I have to." Dropping to her knees, she clasped his hand in both of hers. "Please?"
He jerked his hand from hers, his expression one of disgust. "Very well. Five minutes should be time enough to say goodbye. I'll wait by the door."
"Thank you."
Niklaus didn't reply as he turned and walked away.
"Dammit, Ashlynne, don't you ever go down on your knees to that bastard again."
"It was worth it." She reached for him through the bars, her arms wrapping around his waist. "I told him I didn't want to marry him. I even told him about the baby, but he said it doesn't matter, we're getting married as planned."
"And if you refuse?"
She looked up at him, the answer there in her eyes.
"Yeah," he muttered. "That's what I thought."
"I can't let him kill you."
"He will anyway. You must know that."
"No!"
With a sigh, he lowered his head and kissed her. His lips moved over hers. Sweet, so sweet.
She looked up at him when he drew away, her eyes searching his. "Falkon…"
"Do what he wants, Ashlynne. Don't defy him. It will only cause you pain and unhappiness."
"What are you saying?"
"I want you to forget about me when you walk out that door. You have the baby to think of now. Nothing else matters."
"You can't mean that!"
"I've brought you nothing but trouble, princess. You'll be better off without me."
"That's not true!"
He placed his hand over her belly. "Take care of yourself. And the little one. Don't give Hassrick any reason to hurt either of you."
He backed away from her, and she reached for him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Falkon!"
"Ready, my dear?"
She froze at the sound of Niklaus's voice behind her. Heart aching, she looked at Falkon. "I love you." She mouthed the words, blinking back her tears as Niklaus took her by the arm and led her away.
Falkon stared after Ashlynne, knowing he would never see her again. Hassrick had informed him that the two of them would be returning to Tierde immediately after the wedding. Hassrick would take over the running of the mine. Falkon's fate would be decided by Drade.
He laughed softly. His fate had been decided long ago.
Chapter Twenty-four
Ashlynne moved through the next few days like a sleepwalker. She was nauseous
in the morning, tired all the time. Every time she thought of Falkon, locked up in a cold, dark cell, she wanted to cry. And she did cry. Constantly. She wept for him, for herself, for her unborn child, for the loss of her parents, who would never see their grandchild. Hassrick had little patience with her tears. Sometimes, when he looked at her, she was certain he hated her.
She counted the days until the wedding, trying desperately to think of a way to make him change his mind. Unable to sleep, she prowled the house in the dark of night. One night she had gone down to the dungeon in hopes of seeing Falkon, but the door had been locked. She had spent an hour punching random numbers into the keypad, hoping she might hit the right sequence, but to no avail. Defeated, she had returned to her room and cried herself to sleep.
Her initial dislike for Niklaus was quickly turning to hate. She had no choice but to accede to anything he desired, knowing that, if she refused, Falkon would be made to suffer for her disobedience.
There were parties and gatherings almost every night in the month before the wedding. Ashlynne would have much preferred to stay in her room. She was nauseous almost constantly and wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and be left alone. Niklaus was coldly unsympathetic. He didn't care that food and wine made her sick to her stomach or that dancing made her dizzy. Putting up a good appearance was everything to Niklaus. She was his fiancée, and she had to play the part, had to pretend she was happy and eager to wed him. She must smile and laugh as if her whole world wasn't falling apart. Dance with Niklaus's friends. Listen politely to conversation that bored her to tears. Be agreeable to his mother, respectful to his father.
The days passed quickly, too quickly. And soon the day of the wedding was upon her.
Ashlynne looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. The dress Zahara had chosen was green. Puke-green, she thought, with a shoulder-length veil and soft-soled slippers.
A short time later, she stood beside Niklaus, fighting the urge to vomit as she spoke the words that made her his wife. It was like a nightmare, only worse. There would be no waking up from this one. Tomorrow and for all tomorrows she would still belong to Niklaus.
It would have been the happiest day of her life if the man standing beside her had been Falkon.
Falkon. Pain twisted through her heart whenever she thought of him. She had begged Niklaus to let her see him again, but he had adamantly refused. The last time she had asked, he had threatened to activate the controller if she bothered him about "that man" again.
And now she was Mrs. Niklaus Hassrick. She stood in his arms, stiff and unyielding, as he lifted her veil and claimed his first kiss as her lord and husband.
"Smile." He hissed the word at her as they left the church.
She did as he told her, smiling and laughing like a robot as she accepted the congratulations of the wedding guests.
Later, she sat beside him at the lavish twelve-course dinner that followed the ceremony, danced the first dance with him, the second with her new father-in-law. She accepted more congratulations and good wishes, and all the while she was dying inside.
It was near dawn when the party ended. Exhausted and sick at heart, Ashlynne followed Niklaus up the stairs to his chambers, which occupied the third floor of the house.
She stood in the middle of the sitting room. It was a masculine room, decorated in shades of dark brown and rust. There was a telescreen on one wall, a shelf filled with old books and an antique clock. There was a large basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne on the marble-topped table beside the sofa.
"Sit down, my dear," Niklaus said. He removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair.
She sat on the edge of the luxurious leather couch, unable to still the trembling in her hands.
Niklaus sat down across from her. Opening the wine, he poured a glass and handed it to her.
She didn't want it, but she drank it anyway, hoping it would calm her nerves.
"Relax, my dear." He leaned back, his legs stretched before him, one arm flung over the back of the chair. "You needn't worry. I've no intention of bedding you."
Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he laughed softly. "I'm afraid I've no taste for another man's leavings."
"Then why did you marry me?"
"All in good time, my dear. You look tired. Why don't you go to bed?"
She didn't question him, didn't care, at that moment, why he had been so determined to marry her. All she wanted was to be alone. She put her glass on the table and stood up, then hesitated. "Where should I sleep?"
"Never let it be said that my manners are lacking where my new bride is concerned. Please, take my bed. I'll use the couch."
With a nod, she left the room.
Falkon paced the dark cell. Today was Ashlynne's wedding day. Hassrick had visited him earlier to make sure he knew.
He stared into the darkness, wondering if Hassrick intended to leave him down here in isolation until he went slowly insane. Weeks and weeks of darkness, relieved only when one of the servants brought his meals. Oppressive darkness, so heavy he felt as though it were smothering him. Nothing to see. Nothing to do. He had lost track of time, didn't know if it was day or night. Only the arrival of food broke the endless monotony, and even then he was left to eat in darkness.
It was her wedding day. Was she alone with her new husband now? Sharing his bed? The thought burned through him, eating at his soul like acid. She was his. His, dammit! She carried his child. What right did Hassrick have to marry her?
He drove his fist into the wall again and again, a wordless cry of jealousy and rage rising in his throat, emptying into the darkness.
The sound of his own scream jolted him back to sanity. Pain exploded through his hand, up his arm. He cradled his wounded hand, feeling the warmth of his blood fill his palm. Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Filled with bitter despair, he sank down on the floor and closed his eyes. Ashlynne, forever lost to him.
Her hands were still trembling as she removed her wedding gown. In spite of Niklaus's declaration that he didn't want her, she had locked the door.
Naked, she stood in front of the mirror, one hand splayed across her belly. Falkon's child was in there. Falkon. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would ever see him again. Niklaus intended to use Falkon to keep her in line. She stared at her reflection, her eyes widening as a new thought occurred to her. She would do what Niklaus asked, but with one proviso. She would insist on seeing Falkon. She would tell Niklaus that she had to see Falkon so that she would know he was still alive. She would insist on seeing him once a week, just to make sure.
The thought of seeing Falkon again made her smile. She had thought of him all day, wished it had been he standing beside her when she spoke her vows.
Slipping on the pale blue nightgown Zahara had chosen for her bridal night, Ashlynne crawled under the covers and closed her eyes, and in her mind Falkon was there beside her, his arms warm around her, his eyes dark with desire….
She woke to find her bags packed and breakfast waiting.
"You'll have to hurry," Hassrick said. "Our flight leaves in an hour."
She blinked up at him. He hadn't made any mention of a honeymoon, nor did she want one. "Where are we going?"
"Tierde."
"Today?"
He nodded. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
"Wait." She sat up, holding the covers over her breasts. "What about Number Four?"
"What about him?"
"Is he going with us?"
"No."
"I won't go without him."
"You are my wife now," he reminded her. "And you will do as I say."
"He belongs to me, and I won't go without him."
He regarded her thoughtfully for several moments, and then nodded. "Perhaps it would be wise to bring him along. Hurry now."
Falkon blinked against the morning light. For the first time in weeks, he was outside again. He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with th
e scent of fresh air, of earth and grass. He didn't know what Hassrick had planned for him, and at the moment, he didn't care as long as it got him out of that dark hole.
A shuttle waited in front of the house. Hassrick's bodyguards stood nearby.
One of them opened the back door and motioned Falkon inside.
He glanced over his shoulder at Hassrick. "Where are we going?"
"Get in."