CHAPTER 1107: A CONFESSOR’S PYRE (PART ONE)

"If it’s against Percivus," Albyn said hesitantly, pulling back slightly from the unexpected fury that radiated from Lady Jocelynn’s seafoam green gaze. "I’m sure Lord Owain would be happy to help you. He was particularly agitated when Sir Elgon mentioned the Inquisitor’s name."

"Come," Albyn said gently, offering a hand to Lady Jocelynn to help her stand. "Let’s fetch Confessor Eleanor and then I’ll take you both back to your chambers. I’m sure you want to change out of those clothes," he said with a gentle smile that was clearly intended to be reassuring.

"Eleanor," Jocelynn whispered softly as the strength that suffused her body seemed to leave her all at once and the fire dimmed from her gaze. "You’re right, we need to, to go get cousin Eleanor," she said as she stood, wobbling slightly as the world seemed to tip with her sudden movement.

Albyn moved quickly to support her, lightly cradling her slender body as he watched the blood drain from her face. Just a moment ago, she’d looked like she was ready to skin a man alive and throw his innards to the fish to feast on, but now, she looked like the young woman she truly was, fragile enough to blow away in a stiff breeze and staring at the door to her cell as if leaving the cramped room meant walking to her execution.

"My Lady?" Albyn asked gently as he supported her. "Are you unwell? I can take you to your chambers first and come back for your cousin..."

"No," Jocelynn said firmly, shaking her head as she resolutely rejected his offer. "I need to see her. I, I need to, to take her away from this place," she said as tears clouded her vision and her throat tried to tie itself into a knot around her words. "Help me find her cell," Jocelynn said, clutching at the fabric of Albyn’s tunic for support as they walked toward the narrow corridor that ran between the rows of dungeon cells.

The dungeon beneath Lothian Manor wasn’t very large. There were only ten cells in total, meant to keep prisoners close at hand if the Lothian lords needed information from them, or more often, if a member of the staff had committed a grave enough offense to merit imprisonment for a number of days as punishment.

Other than Jocelynn and Eleanor, the dungeon had been empty for the duration of her stay, though it looked like one of the cells had been repurposed by Percivus and his acolytes to store additional supplies, or to take their rest between their sessions overseeing their captives.

Jocelynn didn’t want to care about the cruel things the trio from the Inquisition had stashed just a few doors down from her cell, but when she saw the plates with half eaten meals, piled high with roasted vegetables, bread that looked like it had been baked that morning, and the picked over carcases of whole roasted squab, part of her mind boiled in rage while her stomach churned with hunger that she hadn’t allowed herself to feel since Eleanor bestowed her gift.

More than anything, however, she hated the impulse that formed within her to rush into the room to finish the meal the men had left behind, as though she was nothing more than a street urchin, desperate for scraps from a lord’s table. The woman she’d been before she entered the dungeons would never have deigned to look at plates full of scraps with such wide, hungry eyes, but the woman she’d become in the cold, damp cells of the Lothian’s dungeon knew very well the value of every morsel of meat left on the bones of those carcasses.

"I’ll have the kitchens make something for you as soon as we get you back to your chambers," Albyn said, noticing the direction of Jocelynn’s gaze and gently pulling her away from the room. "I’m sure that Master Baden will be happy to..."

"Master Baden is dead," Jocelynn said flatly. "So is Master Hess," she said as her stomach churned in revulsion at the memory of being fed chopped up, roasted bits of both men’s tongues the day that Percivus had them executed.

She hadn’t known what it was at the time, and she’d been willing to give up all of the jewelry she was wearing in exchange for a few morsels of meat to flesh out her meal in the hopes of surviving Percivus’s torture. Now, however, she couldn’t think of either man without a wave of nausea striking her.

"Percivus had them executed for conspiring against Lord Bors," Jocelynn explained as they approached the farthest cell from the one she’d been imprisoned in. "Cousin Eleanor is dead too," she said softly as Albyn prepared to throw the bar across the door aside. "You, you should prepare yourself," she said, more to herself than to him as she tried to muster up the courage to face the remains of the woman who had given her life just to give Jocelynn a chance to survive this ordeal.

"My Lady," Albyn said, hesitating to open the door as he stared at Jocelynn in shock. It had only been a few days since he and Sir Elgon had escaped Lothian City a step ahead of the Inquisition’s search, but already, three people were dead? And one of them was Eleanor?

Of all the people that he’d thought would be safe when facing an Inquisitor, Albyn had thought that Eleanor would be the safest. As a Confessor, she often worked side by side with the Inquisition, and she’d proven her innocence by creating a miracle to heal Lady Jocelynn.

"You don’t have to go in here, Lady Jocelynn," Albyn offered. He’d seen more than his share of bodies before, and he’d killed more than a few men. He was no stranger to death, but Lady Jocelynn wasn’t even twenty years old yet, and she was far too tender to confront something so brutal as the body of a woman who had been tortured to death by the Inquisition.

"Let me take care of her," he offered gently, keeping his hand firmly in place on the bar that secured the door. "I’ve buried my share of sailors at sea and ashore, I know what to do for..."

"No," Jocelynn insisted. "No, I need to see her. I won’t leave her alone, not after, after what she did for me. I need to help see her off," she said with quiet intensity that caught the veteran sailor off guard coming from such a young woman.

"All right," he said, bowing his head in submission as he swung the bar across the door out of the bracket that held it closed and opened the door to Eleanor’s cell.

Albyn had expected the sight that greeted him to be bad, but nothing could prepare him for the sight that greeted his eyes when he opened the door...