Marius ignored the laughter. “There must be some mistake.”
“Nope.” Lucien popped the “p.” “No mistake.”
The man spoke with such confidence that, for a moment, Marius wondered if he and Vivienne had committed a crime. That didn’t seem like something he would do, though.
“We didn’t do anything wrong.” He would remember if they had, right?
“That’s what you’re going with?” The speaker, a burly man with dirty blond hair and a crooked nose, stepped out of the shadows and came to stand in front of Marius’s cell. His lips curled into a cruel smirk, and violence sparked in his brown eyes.
“You,” Marius hissed.
Memories came flooding back.
The snowstorm, bringing the woman to the villagers, anger, a man pulling him off his horse.
Thisman. The one Lucien had called Artie.
Marius curled his hands into fists, confusion melting into anger. “Why have you done this? Where is my companion?”
The last thing he remembered was Vivienne running into the forest. Did she get away? Maybe she was getting help.
Hope flared in his chest, but it was quickly squashed when Artie shook his head and sneered, “You and yourcompanion, as you call the leech, aren’t in the position to ask questions. Not right now.”
The pit in his stomach expanded. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll get your chance to defend yourselves during your trial.” Lucien scowled. “Although I’m not sure what kind of plausible defense you can come up with for murder.”
Murder.
The word echoed around the cold cell, and it felt like the ground shifted beneath his feet.
Marius reared back, eyes bulging. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard me.” Lucien spat, a glob of saliva landing on Marius’s cheek.
He wiped it away with his sleeve and stared at the two men in horror. “I don’t understand.”
How did things get to this?
“He doesn’t understand,” Artie mocked, his features hardening. “Are you really that dense? Did you think you could just kill a dozen of our men and get away with it?”
Lucien cursed. “Murderers, the both of you.”
What in the gods’ names were they talking about?
Marius gripped the icy bars, using them to stand upright. Pinpricks of pain stabbed his fingers like cold needles, but he held on.
“I don’t…”
“We found their bodies this morning,” Artie said. “The vampire killed them.”
Horror gripped Marius’s stomach, and a tremor ran through him. What were the chances the highwaymen came from this village?
The weight of Marius’s many mistakes pressed against him, stealing his breath.
“It was self-defense,” he muttered. “Not murder.”
He thought his voice was quiet, but both men turned and stared at him.