For My Lady's Heart

Cover For My Lady's Heart
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Genres: Fiction
It was a great well of stone, its compass lost in darkness, echoing, with shadows that moved and hulked across the curving wall.
    He had no body. He could see and hear, but the voices made no sense. It had been only an instant’s shift, a blink between crowds and color and the poison cup in his hand, then strangling death and this place. A deep horror possessed him. He was in Purgatory; demon-haunted; he had died without shrive or absolution of killing a man.
    One of the demons counted. It
... was invisible, but he could hear the clink of its claws with each tally. “Two and fifty hundreds,” it said with a lurid satisfaction.
    Was that his sentence? So many years? Fear drowned him. He tried to speak, to plead that Isabelle had prayed for his soul, but he could not speak. He had no tongue. He remembered that there had been no prayers.
    Isabelle was dead, as dead as he, burned for heresy.
    The well echoed with fearful murmurs, with scrapes and footsteps, and then a great crash that thundered and rolled about him.
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