CHAPTER 20
Gwynnie held her hand behind her back, hiding the long iron key.
Renard stepped toward her, with his hand outstretched. “Do not make a sound,” he warned. “If you do…”
Gwynnie had no choice. He was taller than her, stronger, and judging by their last tussle, she would only be able to escape by luck alone. She drew in a deep breath, ready to scream for help, when he planted one of his forearms across her shoulders, pressing her into the wall as his other hand latched over her mouth, clamping it shut.
She pushed against him, trying to break free, but it was no use. He was too strong.
Renard kept his hand over her mouth as he used his other arm to drag her away from the wall. Gwynnie used the opportunity to raise the key high. It was a horrible way to defend oneself, but sometimes, as Emlyn had told her, it was necessary.
She aimed for Renard’s eye with the key outstretched like a blade.
A hand reached up and caught her wrist. It was a tussle of strength as Renard bent her arm backward, increasing the distance from his eye. Their arms shook, each of them fighting with as much might as they could muster. As he bent her arm, pain shot up Gwynnie’s bicep and into her shoulder.
Raising both hands to the key, she drove it down toward him again. Renard was forced to release her hand to fight with her, and as he did so she stamped down hard on his foot. He grunted in pain and lashed out at her hand. She dropped the key, scurrying back and falling over the foot of her bed.
She landed heavily on her back on the floor, the pain so strong that she winded herself. Then a hand found her hair and jerked her head back.
“No —” The word just escaped as a strip of material was wrapped around her mouth. Her words muffled, she pushed herself up into a kneeling position to tear the gag off, but Renard was too fast. He caught her elbows and dragged them up behind her back.
Flailing like a caught pigeon as he dragged her down the corridor, she tried to kick out at passing doors, hoping it would draw someone from their beds, but Renard dragged her back before her boots could connect.
Reaching the stairs, Gwynnie no longer fought as much. One wrong move, and she could find herself pushed down the steps. She did not want to be found with a broken neck at the bottom of the staircase.
“Bon,” Renard said. “At least you have realised there is no point in fighting with me.”
Gwynnie could hardly answer. She was dragged out of the servants’ building and into a narrow lane. Here, she started fighting him again, kicking out at nearby walls and trying to use them as leverage to get away from him. He was too strong, and in the end he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her high with her arms pinned to her sides as if she was nothing but a log for the fire.
Gwynnie flicked her head back and forth, searching desperately for any sign of her mother. Emlyn was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire palace was quiet. These small lanes were all occupied by staff who by now were tucked up in bed, for they would all have early mornings.
As they approached the empty tiltyard, Renard put Gwynnie down and dragged her forward instead, so her boots created furrows in the damp ground.
The tiltyard looked almost ghostly in the moonlight. The courtiers and jousters were all gone now.
Gwynnie’s eyes grew round as she realised that the tiltyard wasn’t empty after all. In the middle of the yard stood a figure. He leaned against the railing, his hands gripping it tight.
“Your Grace?” Renard called.
The figure looked up, his light auburn hair revealed in the moonlight.
It was Fitzroy.
He stepped toward her, his lanky figure towering over her. Gwynnie shrank before him. Out here, alone with him and Renard in the middle of a field, she was deeply aware of what he was capable of. If she’d had the use of her hands, she would have reached up to her throat to protect it.
Fitzroy frowned and turned to Renard. “I do not see it. She is just a maid. It cannot be her.”
“We both saw a woman leave your chambers that night. It is her.”
“Then how did she get rid of the jewels?” Fitzroy stepped back and waved a hand at Gwynnie. “You said you had this finished. That Tombstone and Pascal would have sent her to Newgate by the end of the day. Yet I see her before me still.”
“Do you not see?” Renard asked. “Only a thief with a good hiding place would be able to get rid of those jewels in time.”
Fitzroy stared at Gwynnie, disgust wrinkling his nose. “You’re the thief?” he sneered. “I at least expected something more than a trifling maid.”
Gwynnie grunted against the gag and kicked out with her leg, desperate to make contact, but Renard dragged her back.
“You want more proof?” Renard asked. “Watch.” He pressed down into the small of her back.
Capitulating under the sudden pain, Gwynnie yelped and dropped to her knees, Renard still refusing to let go of her arms.
“The thief fell on her back, see? You want the guilty party? I give her to you.”
Fitzroy nodded slowly. “Get rid of her.”
The order made Gwynnie go still. She was suddenly aware of her isolation. She was alone, with a murderer, with nothing but the stars and the hoots of owls in the distance to keep her company.
He meant to see her dead.
Renard glared at her. “I cannot.”
“Why not? You know what she is. And you know what she saw…” Fitzroy waved a hand at Gwynnie. “You have walked around for days now, claiming you can solve our problem, yet nothing has happened, has it? You have even been searched by Tombstone yourself. No. This ends now, Renard. Put her with the other one, if you must.”
The other one? There was only one other person Gwynnie could think of whose body hadn’t yet been found: Master Jerome Woodville. Did they intend to kill her and hide her body with his?
“She is more valuable to us alive.” Renard grabbed both of Gwynnie’s wrists and pulled them up so that her face was pressed down toward the ground. She didn’t dare move an inch, in case her arms were torn from their sockets. “We must bide our time if we are to escape all suspicion.”
“This is taking too long.” Fitzroy paced, pushing his hands through his short hair. “My father stepped out of his bed this evening. Would you like to know the first person he asked for, after demanding to see that new woman of his?”
