He was plying her with his words, trying to manipulate her emotions. She was tempted to thrust the torch through the bars to burn him. No! She reined in her feelings sharply.

“You want revenge on me,” Dragan said. “I see it in your eyes. Your kind like to strut and mince and make a tinkling with your fancy jewelry. You say ‘as it please you, Father’ and make a little curtsy. Your papa got my daughter killt.” His eyes blazed with animosity. “I tried to be revenged on ye in turn. A daughter for a daughter. Right is right. But it didn’t satisfy. I made ye ugly, but it’s your father I wanted to destroy. Do you know where he is, lass?” He leered at her.

“Tell me,” Trynne said in a low, dangerous voice.

Dragan shook his head. “First, ye open this little rat trap. I swear I won’t harm ye further.”

“You think I trust you?” Trynne said with annoyance. “You got your daughter killed. I know the stories. She died saving my father’s life. It was your fault.”

He clucked his tongue. When he resumed speaking, his accent was less affected. He was comfortable speaking to any class, it would seem. “I know what I know, lass. A daughter’s duty is to her father, is that not the way of things? Now let me out of this cage. You can help me. And then I will help you. There are answers I can give you. Answers worth a king’s ransom, I should think, if you only knew them. It won’t save your king’s life. Nothing can do that now. But it could help you, lass. It could bring back your father.”

Trynne stared at him. He was desperate for any way to escape the punishment he knew was coming. He had stolen all his life and he knew his life would be forfeit now that he had been caught.

“I couldn’t believe anything you told me,” Trynne said with a shake of her head. “You’re a liar and a thief. You’re not acquainted with the meaning of truth.”

He pressed his face against the bars, his eyes burning into hers. His lips quivered with rage. “I’m a liar, am I? The secrets I know are valuable.”

“Prove it.”

“Your father was summoned to a grove of trees in Brythonica,” Dragan said. “How would I know that except if I was there? He had a little ring . . . a ring on his finger. No one could see it, but it was there.”

Trynne’s stomach twisted with dread. Dragan knew.

“I see by the twitch of your cheek that you know I’m right. There’s more, lass. I know where the ring is.”

Trynne narrowed her eyes. “How could you know that?”