She had thought he would be willing to let her offer a defense. But apparently she was wrong. He had not come once, had not sent word, had done nothing to contact her since her imprisonment.
She bent to the bowl and splashed water on her face. She did this more often than she liked to admit, trying to wash off the grit and dust that seemed to attach itself to her body even though she mostly just sat in one place. It was becoming a habit she couldn’t seem to break, a response to the way her skin was tightening and her nerves were always on edge. Being shut away like this was beginning to affect her in unpleasant ways. Washing herself seemed to help, but in the end, she knew, it might not be enough to keep her sane.
Finished with her ritual, she sat thinking about the world outside the walls of her prison, about sunlight and fresh air, about the sound of children’s voices, and all at once she was crying. She didn’t try to stop, letting it go, wanting to try to get it out of her system. At some point, she was going to need to be strong enough to deal with whatever her jailors had planned for her. Because if there was one thing she was sure about, it was that she wasn’t going to escape further punishment.
Even so, she was surprised when the lock to the storeroom door released, the door swung open, and Pogue Kray walked in.
She rose to meet him. She had given up expecting anyone other than the guards who kept watch on her, least of all her husband. To her surprise, she was pleased to see him, relieved that he had come to her at last. Better late than never, and maybe now he could be made to see the wrong that had been done to her.
Although nothing in the hard set of his face suggested that this would be the way things went.
“Aislinne.”
He spoke her name not as a greeting but as an expression of distaste. He did not approach her, made no attempt to embrace her. Instead, he moved off to one side, allowing the guard to pull the door closed behind him. He stood in the shadows, just barely at the edge of the candlelight, arms folded over his chest.
Suddenly angry, she said, “Why have you waited so long to come to see me? Am I that loathsome to you?”
He nodded slowly. “Worse, Aislinne. You have betrayed me as a husband and as leader of this village and its council. You have shamed me with your actions—not only now, but before, over and over again.”
“You speak of Sider Ament. I never betrayed you with him, not ever. Nor did I do anything to help free the Drouj. He is no friend of mine.”
Her husband turned away from her and spat. “He was your lover. Most likely, they both were.”
Aislinne was astonished. “That is not true! That doesn’t even make any sense! I can understand your suspicions about Sider, unfounded though they are. But the Drouj? Why would you think something like that?”
“Because you were seen!” he roared, causing her to flinch in spite of herself. “Because it was reported, and now everyone knows!”
“Seen? Seen by whom?”
He made a dismissive motion with one hand. “What does it matter? You were seen, your actions reported, your betrayal revealed. You must have thought I wouldn’t care, since our marriage flounders and our time together no longer means anything. You must have been attracted to the Drouj and acted in your impulsive way.”
“Pogue, this is nonsense …”
“But setting him free?” Her husband ignored her efforts to interrupt. “Letting him loose knowing he will go back to his people and bring them through the passes and into the valley to kill us all? Did he promise he would come back to save you if you helped him? Did you believe him?”
He was almost in tears, this big, burly man who could crush her with barely a thought.
He stopped abruptly, putting his hands over his face in an effort to hide it from her.
“Pogue, no.”
With complete disregard for what he might do to her, she walked to him and put her hands on his shoulders and held fast to him. “These accusations are all lies,” she said quietly. “I don’t care who spoke them or who repeated them afterward. I have never even spoken with the Drouj. I have never been in the same room with him. I have not betrayed you in any way. I did not set him free. I would never do anything like that, not for any reason. Certainly not because of an attraction to him. Look at me, Pogue.”
He dropped his hands and faced her.
“I will say it again. I did not set him free. My word on this as your wife. My most sacred word.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” he said finally. “Not anymore.”
“Look at me,” she said again. He had shifted his gaze downward, but now he lifted it and stared into her eyes once more. “Believe in me. Just on this, if nothing else. Believe what I am telling you. Do not abandon me. Do not let them do this to me. Let me face my accusers. Make them bring my accusers forward to condemn me to my face. I ask nothing more. Just that.”