Six
Cass woke to the sound of weeping and the smell of stale urine. She blinked at the single ray of sunlight that shone through a tiny window far above her head, slanting across the room to fall on the barred door. She rose and tried the handle.
"It's locked," said Lady Agnes, a bit unnecessarily.
"Where are we?"
The lady shrugged, her arms around another woman who wept rather piteously. "There's several old castles in the area. I imagine we're in the dungeons of one of them. It could be worse. At least we're a bit aboveground."
Cassandra nodded and studied the ladies in the room. Like her, they all wore their nightgowns. She couldn't remember their names; indeed, she doubted they'd ever been introduced to her. They had purposely kept her out of their circle. Since it appeared that only Lady Agnes had kept her presence of mind, she directed her words to her husband's mistress.
"Who has taken us? What do they want?"
Lady Agnes glared at Cass. "How should I know? I just woke up myself. To a dreadful headache, mind. They must have drugged us with something."
Cassandra swallowed. Indeed, her mouth felt full of cotton, her limbs weak and shaky. She began to pace the cell, trying to flush the rest of the drug from her system. Had it been put in their wine or last night's meal? She couldn't be sure. After Dominic had released that wall of dull gray fire about her, most of the nobles had already retired and she'd been given dinner in her room by a lackey.
After that, she vaguely remembered a bumpy wagon and being smothered in hay.
She plucked a piece of straw from her hair. She supposed when they got out of here, her husband would be able to ferret out who had drugged them. If they got out of here.
Cass stopped pacing and addressed her words to the entire room. "What magical skills do you have?"
They all looked at her with shock and disdain, refusing to answer, but at least they managed to stop weeping. Lady Agnes smiled triumphantly. Rather foolish, given their current situation. "Do you propose that we try to save ourselves?" she asked. "With our paltry magical gifts? My dear, we shall do what any proper lady would. We wait for rescue."
"Surely we shall be ransomed," agreed the woman sitting next to her.
"They wouldn't dare harm a lady of the court," said another.
Cassandra hoped they were right. But if not… she couldn't perform a death dance in front of them if it came down to a fight. It would expose her to too much speculation. "I apologize. I'm sure Lord Mor'ded will never allow the ladies of his court to be harmed. It's well-known how much the elven lords care for their people."
The ladies suddenly looked worried.
"That is, if he's not too busy with the king," continued Cassandra. "But if something were to happen to us, we shall be comforted in the thought that another war will be fought in retribution. They might even name their new game after us."
A tall woman stood, the feathers adorning her nightdress trembling with the movement. "I can sing. But I doubt that would be much help." She waved a hand at each woman. "Lady Somers can make fiery sparkles in the air. Lady Ursula can shape clay into any form and animate it for a few minutes. Viscountess Rothermere can play the harpsichord so beautifully you can barely see her fingers move. Lady Agnes…"
The blonde tossed her head. "I don't need any magic. I have the elven beauty."
And she was right. Even bedraggled with bits of hay stuck in her hair, she looked stunningly beautiful.
Cass sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from her face. Their elven gifts might manage to distract their captors but she didn't think it would help them escape.
The tall woman stepped closer. "I am Lady Verney, the Marchioness of Verney. Perhaps we can put our heads together and think of some way to use our skills to best advantage?"
Cassandra looked up at the taller woman with a smile, thinking it might be difficult to bridge the distance between them to put their heads on a level. Lady Verney appeared to read her mind, for her eyes sparkled with understanding.
"Indeed, we can try," started Cass. "If we made some sort of commotion—" A door slammed and they all jumped, staring at the small barred opening of their own cell. Laughter, the sound of booted feet making their way toward them. Two men, possibly three.
Lady Verney backed up against the wall and two of the women started weeping again. Cass shushed them and ran to the door.
"Heh, ye got it right, Martin. If we has to kill 'em anyways, we might as well have us some fun first."
The ladies gasped in unison. Cass turned. Lady Agnes clutched her throat and Lady Verney's feathers shook.
The men's laughter rang against the stone walls.
"I'll go with them," whispered Cassandra, wishing she had a belt… a string holding her nightgown closed… anything. But alas, she had worn to bed a filmy gown with only a petticoat beneath for warmth. Asking for one of the ladies to share a part of their wardrobe would have raised questions that would jeopardize her secret. "It should give you more time to think of a way to save yourselves."
Lady Verney's eyes widened. "We can't let you sacrifice—"
"Oh, yes, we can," interjected Lady Agnes.
The other ladies nodded, and they had no further time for discussion as two dirty faces peered into their cell. Silence reigned as the men studied them.
"I like the blonde," pronounced the man with a scar running from eye to jaw.
"And I likes the little brown-haired one. Lookee her eyes. She'll put up a good fight. I likes them lively."
Cassandra wrinkled her nose. Their body odor drifted through the bars into the room, and the one who liked her smelled the worst.
"Let's flip for it then," said Scar Face. "Toss a shilling—we gots plenty to spare after this job, eh?"
Their faces disappeared for a moment. The lock on the door jiggled, and it slowly opened. The stinky one entered the room and Cass gave a sigh of relief.
"Come along, little 'un," he said, waving a pistol at her face.
Lady Verney made a strangled sound, but the rest of the ladies stayed mute as she followed the man out of the cell. When she stood in the dank corridor outside the room, he gave her a quite unnecessary shove and Cass pretended to fall, landing in a heap of material. She quickly tore a strip from the hem of her petticoat.
"I'll be back fer ye," shouted Scar Face into the cell door, and Lady Agnes yelped. Both men laughed.
"Get up," said Scar Face, giving her a kick when she didn't move quickly enough. Cass rose and glared at him, balling up the strip of cloth in her hand. She then stuck her nose in the air and headed down the corridor.
"Tol' ye." Stinky Man chuckled. "No snivelin' from this 'un."
Lady Cassandra preceded them down the corridor, up winding stairs and into another long hall, this one with stones missing in several places, giving her tantalizing glimpses of freedom. She felt the gun on her back as an itch that grew worse with each passing footstep. She took a deep breath. She'd been trained to dance to kill an elven lord; two ordinary men shouldn't present her with much of a challenge.
But she'd killed a man only once. Thomas had told her it was necessary to make sure she could follow through with her task when the time came. He'd chosen a man slated for the gallows for killing his wife and five children. Thomas told her she'd done the man a favor.
Cass had still felt sick afterward. It had taken her weeks of prayer and meditation before she'd managed to eat a full meal again.
She told herself to stop thinking, to concentrate on the thrum of blood in her ears, on the sound of their boots on the floor. They had a rhythm, and she immersed herself in the beat, allowing the song of a dance to take over her body and awaken the magic in her blood. Hoping the torn cloth balled up in her hand would be long enough for the deed.
"Stop here," said Stinky Man. "Open the door."
The door opened with a wobbly swing onto a filthy room with a pile of straw in the corner. Her captor motioned her over to the makeshift bed with a jerk of his pistol. Cass's feet refused to cooperate, her body swaying with invisible music.
He pushed her hard this time, clear across the room and into the crackly grass. Cassandra truly fell, her head meeting the ground with a sickly thud. Her vision sparkled with starlight, and if it hadn't been for her graceful roll she would have been knocked senseless.
"I'm first," panted Stinky Man, shoving his gun in his belt while he walked over to her.
Cass suppressed a grin at his action, fisting her hand around the torn strip of cloth, adding the sound of his soft footsteps to the dance already flowing through her. He stood above her, unbuttoning the flap of his breeches. Then he glanced at his mate. "Turn around."
Scar Face rolled his eyes but turned his back, as if this wasn't the first time he'd complied with such a request.
This time Cass couldn't suppress her grin. If they continued to make it easy for her, she might not have to kill them. The dunderheaded stinker smiled back at her. "Decided ye'd like it, eh?" He shoved up her skirts and then lowered himself on top of her. She held her breath against the stench and slapped his face. But not too hard, just enough to distract him while she shook out the cloth in her hand.
Scar Face chuckled to the wall. "Ye said ye wanted a fighter, Martin. Sounds like ye got one."
Martin's eyes lit up with evil glee as he rubbed his red face. Before she could blink, he hauled his fist back and punched her. The room spun for a sickening moment. Cass started to sob—loudly, covering the sounds the stinker made as his excitement rose.
"See, Martin. Thass why I don't like fighters— they's too noisy."
Cassandra's gown had gotten tangled up, and Martin ignored his friend, swearing and grunting in his efforts to find her legs while supporting himself above her.
The dance shivered in her blood and lent strength to her arms. Cass wrapped the strip of cloth around his neck and pulled. It took him a few moments to even realize what had happened. When he finally managed it, he didn't have the breath to cry out. She sobbed louder to cover his harsh gasps for air.
And then her makeshift garrote ripped.
And several things happened at once.
She returned his favor, punching him in the throat, making him choke, allowing her to use leverage to roll him off her. Scar Face either sensed something wrong or felt impatient of his view, for he turned around. His muddy-colored eyes widened and he drew his pistol.
Cass pulled Martin's pistol out of his belt and pointed it at the other man. They fired at the same time, both of their shots going wild. But she'd expected that, for guns were notorious for their misdirection even at close range.
Scar Face grinned and drew his sword while Cass took Martin's sword… and knife.
"Don't make me kill you," she said.
He laughed and lunged at her. Martin must have recovered his senses because he grabbed her leg at the same time. Lady Cassandra could no longer consider her options. She let the dance consume her, allowed the magic full rein. Time slowed as her senses heightened, her muscles strengthened. As her body performed the steps with no conscious thought of her own.
Martin's knife hit Scar Face square between the eyes. Martin's sword relieved his own head from his body.
Cass could not stop dancing for several minutes.
When the magic finally released her, she looked with regret at the two dead men. She covered Martin's face with straw, used Scar Face's soiled neck cloth to cover his. Then took a deep breath, knelt between the two of them, and began to pray for their souls. "Please, God, forgive them for their sins. And forgive me for what I was forced to do—although I took this path knowingly, so perhaps that's asking for too much."
Lady Cassandra sighed with fatigue from using so much of her magic, but bent over Martin and recited the Our Father, then went to Scar Face's still body and prayed the same for him.
That's where Dominic found her when he burst into the room.
He didn't say anything at first, thankfully allowing her to finish. When she looked up at him she blanched, for his eyes looked so deadly cold, and fire flickered up and down the length of his bloody sword.
"The others are in the dungeon. D-down that corridor."
The general nodded and turned to his men, motioning them onward, then turned back to her. "Are you harmed?"
Cass touched her face, the area already starting to swell from Martin's blow. "Not much."
Suddenly his cold eyes flickered with anger. An anger directed not at her, but at the man who had harmed her. For just a moment she saw fear mixed with that emotion, as if he had come to her rescue because he had truly cared for her safety. Then the look faded, and he cleaned his sword on Scar Face's shirt before sheathing it with deadly calm. "What happened to them?"
Lady Cassandra glanced from one dead man to the other. What could she possibly say? That she knew more death dances than she did any other? That the Rebellion had taught her from secret information they had gleaned with their spies? He would have to kill her where she stood.
Over the past few days she'd pushed her true task to the back of her mind, forgetting their relationship was naught but a falsehood. She had lost herself in his loving, in his beauty and kisses and the sheer pleasure he brought to her body. She had no other goal than to win him over.
He waited for her answer patiently, with that inhuman elven calm. Her beloved enemy.
"They… they fought over me… to see who would be first. They wanted to…" Cass covered her face and sobbed, surprised to find that this time her tears were real. She felt so very tired. She hadn't wanted to kill them, truly. She might have been able to render them unconscious, tie them up, and then escape. But she'd been trained in the dance too well; they hadn't given her time to consider her options…
And she still recoiled from the thought of Martin's foul hands on her body.
So she jumped when she felt Dominic's arms around her. He loosened them for a moment, as if to draw away, and Cass flung herself at him. Dominic gave a great sigh and lifted her off her feet so she could bury her face against his neck. He held her for a time, caressing her hair and face and whatever else he could touch, as if assuring himself that she was unharmed. Then he carried her out of that room, into the open air, where the wind blew and the sun hid behind the clouds.
Cassandra no longer cried for the men she had killed, for the fright they had given her. As soon as she'd seen Dominic at the door, his sword dripping with blood from the men he'd killed while coming to her rescue, she'd wanted this mockery of a marriage to be real. So she cried because she wanted to love this man, wanted him to love her. And it could never be.
When she calmed he set her back on her feet, removed his cloak, and settled it about her shoulders with a gentle touch. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"So the light doesn't hurt them."
Cass closed them. Even then she could see the blue fire from behind her lids. The powerful throb of pain in her face faded and she regained some of her spent strength. Even the sadness she felt inside eased a bit.
"How do you feel?"
She opened her eyes and stared at his impassive face. The wind threw his silver hair against his strong cheeks, across his stern mouth. His voice had held such concern, she'd thought for a moment… "Much better, thank you."
"Good." And then he leaned down and kissed her breath away. It felt different from the other kisses he'd given her. More tenderness than passion within it. But then she threw her arms around him and kissed him back with fervor and it changed again, that passion that always lay between them sparking to life. Her knees grew weak and she thought of the small tent that they'd shared and the pleasure he'd given her, and she wished they had someplace they could go away from the demands of their world, to just be together. For despite his denials she knew she gave him pleasure. That second night in the tent he had wanted her so badly she'd felt it shimmer in the air between them, and the moment he had her alone he'd claimed her…
She pulled away from him and stared in wonder. Her husband had managed to make her forget the horrors of the past few hours.
He set her from him again, picked up her hand, and studied the unfurled petals of the rose ring. "You are fully recovered now."
Cass nodded, even though she still felt a bit weak. But rest and a good meal would fix that.
"Then next time I tell you something, woman, you will listen."
"I… I beg your pardon?"
The wind shushed through the tall grass and whispered in the trees. "This never would have happened if you'd obeyed my wishes and stayed back at Firehame Palace."
He sounded as if he blamed her for being abducted. "Surely, sir, you could have used your gray fire to keep me there, as you did back at the inn."
"I can't afford to always be wasting my magic on a disobedient wife."
Lady Cassandra realized that despite his stoic demeanor, he was still very angry with her. Could she hope that he had truly feared for her? That what she'd glimpsed in his eyes had been real? Or did this anger really come from injured pride because someone had dared to take something of his? "Then I'm sorry to say, dear husband, that you'd best get used to it, for I cannot promise to obey your every command."
His lip twitched. And not from amusement, she felt sure.
"You could have been killed." He said it as if he commented on the weather, but his voice had dropped dangerously low.
"I can take care of myself."
"Indeed?" And those crystal eyes of his glittered, a deep black full of dangerous intelligence, and he stared at her a long time. Cassandra feared she had aroused his suspicions and mentally scolded herself for a fool. She could at least pretend to agree to obey him.
She opened her mouth, but he spun on his heel, stalking back into the ruined castle without a backward glance. Cass wavered in indecision for a moment and then trudged after him, skirting several dead bodies near the entrance of the keep.
"General Raikes," called Lady Agnes as soon as they entered the long hall. She swayed toward them, an officer on each arm. "I knew you would come and rescue us. I told her you would." And she glared briefly at Cassandra before batting her blue eyes at him again. The rest of the ladies followed behind, avoiding Cass's eyes, except for Lady Verney, who gave her a nod and a hesitant smile.
The wind blew harder from outside, reaching into the hall, plastering the ladies' gowns against their bodies. They pulled borrowed cloaks closer about their shoulders.
Her husband raised a brow. "My wife doubted me?"
Lady Agnes tittered. "She said we should use our magic to protect ourselves, can you imagine? As if sparkles in the air and nimble fingers could save us."
Lady Verney stepped forward, her height commanding attention. "Lady Cassandra offered herself in order to give us time to gather our resources, sir. It was the most selfless act I have ever witnessed." She stepped over to Cass and took her hand. "Please tell me you suffered no harm. I shan't be able to live with myself if you have."
Cassandra didn't know how to react to this sudden support. She glanced over at Dominic, but if anything, his black eyes glittered more dangerously than they had but moments ago. Was she the only one who noticed the fury beneath that calm expression? "I assure you I'm fine, Lady Verney."
"Sophia. Please, call me Sophia."
"As you wish—"
"I do believe I shall faint," announced Lady Agnes. The men holding her tightened their grips and she turned and scowled at them. They let go. She staggered over to Dominic. The bastard caught her in his arms. "You have no idea what horrors we suffered through, General."
"No doubt, madam." He glanced through the hall to the outside. "Let's see if we can make it to the Fire and Water Inn before the storm breaks." He picked up Lady Agnes, who squealed in delight, and carried her out to his horse. The wagon that must have brought them here sat next to the mounts but the officers ignored it, each taking a lady and riding double.
After giving his general a swift glance, a young man with fiery hair and a wide mouth assisted Cass up into his saddle. Apparently Dominic intended to ignore his wife and ride with his mistress. If he thought to punish Cassandra this way for his ridiculous notion of her rebellious behavior, it wouldn't work. She could not afford to subjugate herself to his will.
But the general acted as if he hadn't given his wife another thought once he had her back in his possession. When they had all mounted up he motioned for them to ride, except for his own horse, Lady Agnes still perched in the saddle. He walked back to the ruins alone. Cass watched over her shoulder as he raised his muscular arms, red fire blazing from his palms. It first touched the dead men surrounding the entrance, then surged within the keep, flaring out the windows and jagged openings and roofless chambers. The fire rumbled and hissed, shaking the stones from the walls and making the entire structure waver in her sight.
Her husband had used magical red fire, and as far as she knew, the most potent of his arsenal. Within a few hours, nothing but black rubble would remain of their prison.
Lady Cassandra shivered.
Her escort gave her a squeeze of reassurance. She sat in front of him, one leg thrown over the pommel to help her sit sidesaddle, even though the saddle wasn't meant for it. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding the reins. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Our enemies will think twice before trying to abduct you again, my lady."
His voice reeked with pride.
Cassandra fought to stop her shivering. She had never seen such a potent display of power, had never witnessed the destructive strength of her husband's magic. And she thought she could assassinate his father, whose power far surpassed his? Perhaps Thomas had been right. Perhaps she should have run from this task God had given her.
She prayed for courage.
The sound of hoofbeats approaching made her glance up into the smiling face of Lady Agnes and the expressionless face of her husband as they rode up to her. But her escort must have read something in those elven features, for he quickly removed his arm from about her waist. The general nodded at his officer and then urged his horse to the front of their column.
Lady Cassandra struggled to maintain her seat the rest of the way to Devizes, for her escort refused to touch her after that.
And yet Dominic had no qualms about touching the woman sharing his saddle. Fie, he barely kept his hands off her. Unfortunately, Cass had an unobstructed view of them in front of her. How the general managed to direct his horse while his mistress rubbed her hands all over him and held his face while she kissed him was beyond Cassandra's understanding.
She decided she could keep her face as stoic as her husband usually kept his.
And then Lady Agnes wrapped her hands in Dominic's hair.
Cass narrowed her eyes, tightened her grip on the edges of the saddle. She loved the feel of his hair, those satiny strands beneath her palms, the silvery mass of it twined about her fingers. Damn the woman, that was her territory, her favorite way of touching him.
The beat of the horse's hooves, the wild swish of the wind in the trees, the sway of the bushes beside their path all combined to form a single harmony. A song that crept in with her jealousy and started to form a dance of magic.
"Lady Cassandra," said a female voice.
Cass turned and blinked. Lady Verney and her escort had ridden up beside her. The tall lady reached over and patted her shoulder, glancing at Dominic and his mistress with contempt. "The elven lack human feeling," she said. "You cannot judge them by our standards."
"He's half human," muttered Cassandra, grateful for Sophia's timely appearance. When had she ever allowed the dance to come upon her without willing it to? Not since she'd had her trials.
Lady Verney hadn't heard her, but the man sitting behind her said, "Not enough to notice, lady."
Cass ignored him.
"I daresay," said Sophia, "that Lady Agnes has a way about her."
Cassandra grimaced. Sophia laughed.
"What I mean," continued the lady, "is that she actually made us feel as if you were the interloper. That a new wife would steal her lover from her." Her thin lips curled down. "Faith, I wonder how she managed to hoodwink us into believing such nonsense?"
"She charms women as easily as she does men."
"Indeed." Lady Verney's watery eyes narrowed. "It's hard to withstand that elven allure when they choose to apply it." Her gaze strayed to Dominic's firm back and muscular shoulders. "None of us blame you, you know. For being unable to resist him."
Cass shrugged. "Why should I? I do not know the art of being coy, Lady Verney, having never been taught it."
"Sophia, dear, and yes, I'd heard of your… insular schooling. Your innocence is quite refreshing, and yet…"
She let the thought trail off while the sky overhead rumbled.
"I do believe we shan't beat the downpour." Lady Verney turned her head and nodded at the ladies behind them. "They will come around as well, my dear. You shan't be so alone anymore."
Cassandra's eyes burned, but fortunately rain started to fall, so Sophia did not see the start of her tears. She'd had to be kept apart to keep her secret, to pursue God's purpose for her. But that didn't mean she had ever liked it. Indeed, it might be half the reason for her infatuation with her new husband. Besides Thomas, she'd never been as close to anyone as she had become with Dominic.
The rain washed away her thoughts, and Cass pulled Dominic's cloak up over her head against the sudden downpour. It smelled of him. A clean, spicy scent that made her head spin and her body ache with desire. She felt only relief when her escort bent his body over hers and they broke into a gallop, racing for the comfort of the inn. By the time they reached Devizes, the rain had soaked the material and banished any scent of her husband.
The general and his mistress had entered the Fire and Water Inn well before them, so Cassandra had the advantage of walking in unseen. Dominic must have changed the king's mind about coming to Firehame, because His Majesty looked quite pleased with the company at the moment. On his left sat Mor'ded, his elven beauty like a shining light next to the small older king, and on his right must be…
Cass almost fell to her knees. She'd heard so much about Sir Robert Walpole, the leader of the Rebellion. Despite his gentle smile and affable expression, Cassandra could see the intelligence in his dark piercing eyes. For a moment she could see nothing but him.
"Ah, Your Majesty," drawled Imperial Lord Mor'ded, "this is my champion, General Dominic Raikes. Without his services we would never have had the esteemed pleasure of your company."
The king turned his bug-eyed gaze upon Dominic and regally nodded. "He looks very much like you."
"Indeed," replied the Imperial Lord. "Except he always dresses like a soldier. Perhaps you can educate him on the benefits of court attire, now that the ruler of fashion will reside in Firehame Palace."
Dominic bowed stiffly.
Cassandra heard the mocking tone in Mor'ded's voice when he addressed the king. Sir Robert did as well, for he watched the king like a hawk, as if waiting for any sign of eruption. But if the king noticed Mor'ded's tone he did not give any indication of it. And indeed, what could he have done about it anyway? He signed the papers the elven lords gave him for new laws, new titles, the transfer of land. They hardly needed the king's stamp yet used him as if it gained them credibility among the people. Cass sighed. Which it surely had to the general populace anyway.
"You have returned the ladies as well, I see," said Mor'ded to his son.
"Of course," answered Dominic as if there had been no doubt of it.
The king opened his mouth to say something and Mor'ded shushed him, his cold black eyes focused on his son's face. "And they are all unharmed?"
"As you see." Dominic put his arm around Lady Agnes, who gave him a beatific smile.
"But what of your wife? For surely she is the reason you charged out to rescue them, leaving the king behind and defenseless."
Cassandra frowned. Something lay beneath this conversation. Some threat or insinuation, for the king had hardly been left defenseless. The general had taken only a few of his troops with him, leaving the bulk of his force to guard the king. She glanced over at Sir Robert—who had distracted the king from his miff of being shushed with a tray of sweetmeats, but whose sharp eyes stayed riveted on the elven lord and his son.
He sensed something as well. Cass hoped she would have an opportunity to ask him about it. Perhaps he could figure it out.
Dominic did not respond to the accusation that he had left the king defenseless. "Breden sought to trick us. To take what is ours because we took what is his." He raised one elegant brow. "I disabused him of the notion he could best you in a game."
"And your wife? Where is she?"
Dominic shrugged. "With one of my men. She is back in our possession—what else matters?"
And then Mor'ded threw back his long thick hair and laughed, truly an evil sound. Cass wished he would refrain from it, even though it broke the tension in the room. Sir Robert blinked and collapsed into his chair with a frown. The Imperial Lord turned back to the king. "My court was so eager to meet you that several of them journeyed to Devizes for the privilege. Shall I introduce you to them? Lord Somers, in particular, wishes to know what color hose you deem fit for the winter season."
The king lifted his chin and gave a regal nod, holding out his beringed fingers to Lord Somers.
Lady Cassandra felt a sympathetic hand fall on her shoulder and looked up into the thin face of Lady Verney. The other woman's eyes shone with indignant shame for her and Cass suddenly felt very small. A very insignificant personage, by her husband's own words.
Cassandra gave her new friend a false smile and then faded backward into the shadows of the inn, finding the staircase and her room with little trouble. A servant waited in her room and she directed the young girl to fetch her dinner, for she refused to go back downstairs and subject herself to further humiliation in front of Sir Robert.
She fumed while she ate, attacking her dinner with the cutlery, cursing her husband by the only means at her disposal. By using the words she'd heard him use. She decided that she had finished with trying to please her husband. Indeed, she would now demand he show her at least a little respect.
By the time the frivolity in the main room had quieted, Cassandra had changed her mind. Dominic had not come to her room. Surely he would not choose that viper over her? She then decided she wouldn't scold him. She would perform a love dance for him instead, proving that Lady Agnes's charms were no match for her own.
By the time she fell asleep, quite alone in the large bed, she'd gone back to cursing him, the gold rose on her finger clenched into a tight bud.