Carroway paced his new prison, measuring the same steps. After the relative ease with which he slipped his guards at the Dragon's Rage Inn, it didn't surprise him that Harrtuck felt obliged to move him to a more secure cell in the guardhouse tower of Shekerishet's bailey. It was a cell made for prisoners of noble blood, and Carroway knew the legends of its former residents well. None of those imprisoned in this room had ever gone free, save at the end of a hangman's rope.
Harrtuck had been apologetic about returning him to custody, but they both understood the stakes. His belongings had been transported from the inn and thoroughly searched. He'd feared that they would find the evidence Paiva had stolen from Crevan and the book with the drawing of the blade in it among his things, sealing the case against him. To his relief, the letters, the book and the odd metal ring had disappeared.
A lack of evidence did not dissuade the mob that gathered by nightfall outside the tower. Led by one of Count Suphie's men, they had tried to storm the tower and take him by force to hang him for the attack on Kiara. Only Harrtuck's stalwart refusal to yield had prevented his murder. Grudgingly, the crowd had dispersed at swords' point. Now, Carroway looked out the thin slit of a window that was one of only two openings besides the locked door. The winter night was cold and still, and the clear sky shone with stars. The frigid air kept all but the duty-bound or the most intrepid indoors. He looked down at his crabbed left hand, still wrapped in the bandages.
Hanging would be a mercy, he thought. I can't play with a hand like this. Singing will earn me a pittance of what a good musician can beg. And those who fancied my face more than my music won't take a scarred lover to their beds. Banishment's as good as a death sentence. Harrtuck should have offered me up to the mob. It would have saved Tris the heartache and solved the problem. Kiara could save herself by saying that I forced myself on her. There's no future for me-here, or anywhere.
He tensed when he heard the heavy bolts draw back on the door, and steeled himself for the worst. Maybe Harrtuck's realized that sacrificing me is the best solution after all. If I'm to hang tonight, just please make sure someone knows how to tie a proper noose. I'd rather snap than strangle.
To his astonishment, Macaria slipped inside. The door slammed shut behind her and the bolts clanked into place. "How did you get in?" he asked, crossing to take her in his arms. The bruise on the side of her head where Crevan had hit her with the pitcher had faded, and the swelling had gone down considerably.
Macaria looked down, avoiding his eyes. "I lied to Harrtuck. Please forgive me." "What did you tell him?"
"I told him we'd made a secret handfasting, and I claimed a wife's right to visit." She lifted her head defiantly. "They have to allow it. It's old law. Even the condemned-" She broke off suddenly, as Carroway began to laugh.
"Forgive you? I'm only sorry that it's not the truth. I didn't think I'd see you again-this side of my hanging, anyhow." She cringed. "Don't say that."
He sighed and held her to him. "Came a heartbeat away from swinging a few candlemarks ago. Won't be surprised if the mob returns. Maybe it's for the best."
She pushed away and stared at him, aghast. "The best? You risked everything to save Kiara's life. You're innocent. How could that possibly be best?"
Carroway lifted his bandaged hand. "Innocent or guilty, there's no life for me without my music, and there's no music without my hand."
Macaria put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a glare. "Riordan Carroway! You have a voice like one of the Lady's consorts. You write the best ballads in the Winter Kingdoms, and you have invitations from four kingdoms to arrange their next holiday feasts. Cerise said the hand may heal-"
"And it may not," he finished for her. "I can't move it without terrible pain. I'm no use to anyone, Macaria."
Her eyes relented and she wrapped her arms around him. "I disagree, but I didn't come to
fight with you. I figured you'd want to know how Kiara is doing."
"And?"
"She's in and out of consciousness. She hasn't lost the baby, but she's not well. Cerise said it's the wormroot. Even if Kiara and the baby survive, Cerise has no idea what that high a
dose of wormroot might do. It's possible the baby could live and not be right." Carroway bowed his head. "I'm so sorry. If I'd just been faster-" "That you got there at all was amazing," Macaria interrupted him. "You're all that stopped Crevan from killing her-and probably the rest of us, too."
"Harrtuck said that's going to be hard to prove," Carroway said quietly. "When you look at it from what Harrtuck and his men saw, what's to say I didn't barge in there intending to kill Kiara and Crevan died trying to stop me?"
Macaria looked away. "Dame Nuray has already been spreading that version of the story." "Have you seen Paiva and Bandele?"
Macaria shook her head. "They're probably lying low, waiting for some of this to blow over." "If it comes to trial, they have the evidence against Crevan," Carroway said in a low voice only she could hear. "That's how I knew to come after him. They brought it to show me, and they must have smuggled it out of my room at the inn after I left. Without it, there's no reason why I would pick last night to escape or why Crevan intended to kill her on Candles Night." He paused. "What about Alle and the others? How are they?" Macaria shrugged. "Alle, the cook and the scullery maid are fine. Jae, too. Cerise was able to save two of the king's dogs, but the mastiff must have eaten the largest share of poisoned meat. He was already dead."
"What a mess," Carroway said. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair, wanting to remember how it felt to have her arms around him. "I can't believe you told Harrtuck we were handfasted." "Are you angry with me?"
Carroway chuckled. "Angry? Not at all. But I don't want my shame to taint you." Macaria stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him. "I don't care what anyone thinks." She took the heavy woolen scarf from around her neck and clasped his right hand with hers, winding the scarf around their wrists. "There. It's hardly official, but now it's not a lie. It's as fasted as my parents ever were. Will you have me, Riordan Carroway?"
He looked at her, astonished. "For all my days, however long or short that is. But why would you bind yourself to me now? I'm as good as dead."
"No one knows how many days are left. My dad didn't mean to drown in the river, and my mum didn't set out to die of pox. I'll take these days, however many there are, and be glad for
them," Macaria replied, meeting his eyes. "No regrets." He bent down to kiss her. "None at all."