Page 128 of Aurelia

She heard splashing just before Roland came around the corner, wading through water that was already surging as high as his knees.

“Aurelia! Thank God!” His sharp gaze flickered over her, the chains, Arthur, and then the skeleton. “What the hell—”

“It is Rebecca,” Aurelia said, relief at seeing his beloved face warring with the agonizing knowledge that Roland might very well die with her. “Arthur killed Rebecca and your second wife, too,” she said, the words tumbling over one another in a rush. “He is Celsa’s father. He doesn’t want us to marry. He is mad, Roland!”

Roland pulled his stunned gaze away from the remains of his wife and dropped to his haunches, yanking Aurelia into an embrace that almost made her pass out.

“How did you find me?” she asked when he put her at arm’s length and looked her over, as if checking to see if she was hurt.

“I went to your room looking for you and found Talbot’s note on your dresser. I was headed to the stables to fetch Frost and come after you, and then Talbot himself came sauntering up to the castle looking for you.”

“He—he came?”

“Yes, he received your message.” He took her wrists and studied the locks. “Talbot came with me and is outside in a skiff, waiting.”

“Would a big rock break the chain?” she asked.

Roland shook his head. “There is no way to break this. Not in time.”

He reached into his coat and took out his penknife.

“I already tried to open it with a hat pin, but obviously I did not get anywhere,” she said when he started poking around in the keyhole.

He cut her a quick glance and smiled. “My resourceful, clever darling.”

“You cannot go,” Arthur mumbled, but they both ignored him as Roland jabbed and jabbed and—

“You did it!” Aurelia shrieked as the manacle on her left wrist fell off.

Roland picked up her right hand and began prodding at the lock, but the minutes dragged on.

“This isn’t bloody working!” Roland muttered and let go of her wrist, pulling on the chain, which was wrapped around the stalagmite. “We shall have to carry it together. But it is very heavy, darling, so we have to stay close and I’ll carry the bulk of it.” He hefted the chain in both hands and then turned to her. “Please tell me you are a good swimmer?”

“I can hold my breath for a little over thirty seconds, if that is what you’re asking.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl. Come on.” He helped her up and the room spun. Roland caught her in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“My head,” she said through clenched teeth.

He carefully lifted her matted hair and hissed. “Damnation!”

“I can swim,” she assured him, her voice slurred.

“I’m afraid you must. But you need to get rid of some of this.”

This was her heavy woolen dress.

Together, they stripped off her garments—needing to rip and cut them—until she was standing in her stockings, ankle boots, and chemise.

“I know you are cold,” he said. “But it is better than being pulled under.”

She nodded, shivering.

“Stay ahead of me. I’ll give you enough slack so you can use your chained arm, but the chain will still try to pull you down.”

Again, she nodded.

Roland turned to Arthur. “You had better come now, although I don’t really give a damn if you do.”