Sound of the Heart by Genevieve Graham

Author:Genevieve Graham [Graham, Genevieve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780425247341
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

A Dead Man’s Suggestion

In what he assumed was morning, Dougal awoke to the jingle of keys in the door and it creaked open a sliver. It was hard to tell in the dark, but from the size and speed of the form, he thought it was a boy, crouched low. Whoever it was slid a plate of dark liquid into Dougal’s cell, then vanished. The plate’s contents smelled like something long dead, and a few lonely lumps within hinted at meat. Dougal was hungry, so he ate.

The cell door opened again later on, and by the flicker of an oil lantern he saw the shadowed features of one of the arresting soldiers along with two others, and a man dressed in an officer’s uniform. They regarded the prisoner without saying a word, then turned inward to discuss something Dougal couldn’t hear. He considered asking what was happening, but decided, on a rare whim, to keep his mouth shut. Nor did he try to hear the men’s thoughts, as he knew he could have. He was too tired to bother. He would learn the outcome soon enough. The lesser men listened and gave slight bows of assent to their leader before all four turned to stare at Dougal again. After a moment, the cell door creaked closed and he heard no more.

Dougal was captive within the darkness. He had become accustomed to the dank smell and the heavy, unmoving air, but couldn’t relax within the sensation of those stone walls closing in on him. From where he sat, on a blanket at the end of the cell, he could easily reach the opposing walls, and decided he felt safer when he braced his hands against them. As if he could prevent them from squeezing further. So he shoved his palms against the stone for as long as his arms could bear it.

He wasn’t a man known for patience. He tired of holding up the walls. He paced like a wild beast in a cage, then sat, tugging at the frayed threads of his coat for want of something to do. He called out a few times, demanding attention, but his voice fell short in the blackness, and he heard nothing but a cold, deep silence in reply. He wondered if they might have forgotten him.

Near the end of the day, two of the men from the earlier visit, including the officer, came again, this time with two other strangers. They carried two lanterns with them, burning slow golden flames, which illuminated Dougal’s visitors just enough to hint at faces. This time the men stepped into the cell—or at least two of them did. There wasn’t enough room for all of them, and these two barely squeezed inside. Dougal was sitting when they arrived, and he remained where he was, glaring up at them, wondering if they warranted his standing.

“Filthy dog,” one of the men muttered. “Waste of our time.”

“Get up,” the leader said. Dougal gritted his teeth, and rose slowly to his feet.

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