In Magician's Embrace [BOOK 1 of Price Family Saga]

45. Chapter (Of Little Dove And Broken Son)

Lynette found herself lost in reverie, envisioning a scene of reclining in a meadow back home in Ireland. It was summertime, the sun was shining high above her head, and a gentle breeze kept caressing the countryside. Sunbeams delicately touched her lovely face, and she felt a sense of serenity she had not experienced in ages... save for the nights spent with Arden.

"Arden," she whispered softly in awe as if the man could materialise out of thin air.

Suddenly, a cool breeze grazed against her exposed ankles, prompting her to startle. She nearly tumbled from the wooden bench onto the cold stone floor, and it took her a moment, blinking in astonishment, to discern the shapes and outlines of her surroundings. Lynette realised she was enveloped in a thick, coarse blanket, situated within a grand edifice adorned with a lofty ceiling. Moreover, an immense pile of hay towered in this place, almost reaching the ceiling. The hayloft boasted several windows on each side, and she caught sight of a ladder leaned against the wall and a set of rakes tucked away in the corner opposite. However, her view to the entrance was obstructed, likely concealed behind that mound of hay, presumably to keep her existence hidden from prying eyes.

As she wriggled out from under the soiled coverlet and stood upright, she quickly discerned the heft of iron restraints adorning each wrist, their links extending to an iron loop securely fastened to the nearby wooden panel. The hayloft was dimly illuminated by the risen sun, and her heart quickened as the awareness of her kidnapping hit her with the force of a lightning bolt.

"So, you are awake, my little dove," she heard a gruff voice utter, causing her to recoil and scan her surroundings.

"Release me! What do you desire of me?!" she cried out desperately.

The voice bellowed with a hearty chuckle, and her gaze was drawn to the visage of a man appearing in the window above the wooden bench. It was the most repugnant face she had ever beheld, evoking a wave of revulsion within her.

"Fear not, for I shall bring you sustenance soon and reveal my intentions, my little dove," he said, his lips lasciviously moistened before vanishing.

Lynette inhaled deeply, poised to scream for aid, but then hesitated. If he had left her unbound sans the chain and without a gag, it suggested she was situated far from civilised society. Thus, she cast another discerning glance around her surrounding ambience, pondering a scheme to escape from this dire predicament.

When the vile man returned hours later, just as hunger pangs fiercely gnawed at her, she restlessly paced the floor near the bench, her movements constrained by the length of the chains. Her mind raced feverishly, still contemplating her escape from this quagmire as succumbing to despair would surely seal her fate.

"Lo, I have arrived," announced the man's gruff voice.

Upon a wooden tray, he presented a steaming bowl of soup and, on another plate, morsels of bread, cheese, and meat. Placing the tray before her on the ground, his gaze never wavered from her. Observing Lynette's hesitancy to consume the offered repast, he uttered with an icy tone, "The soup shall cool swiftly. Eat."

She shook her head defiantly. "I shall not eat until you disclose the reason for my captivity!"

The man chuckled and moistened his lips once more. "Why, pray tell?! We seek a small chest, once possessed by your master. Surely, you can guess which chest it is, my little dove," he insinuated.

Lynette had a strong inkling, a most certain inkling, regarding the chest and the man to whom he referred. Yet, she stifled the tremors within her and responded resolutely, "I know nought of what you speak. And whom do you mean by 'we'?"

The man grinned fiendishly. "Perhaps your memory fails you, but fret not. It may require a few days for your recollection to resurface, and it may necessitate alternative methods to loosen your tongue. What would you say if I were to pluck a few fingernails from that fair hand? Or employ my own tool to subdue a wicked woman you seem to be?"