by Dawn Cook
“With all respect, Prince Garrett, I will not be leaving the palace grounds.”
Garrett jerked to a halt. The surrounding guards glanced uneasily between themselves. “I gave you an order!” Garrett shouted, spittle glinting in the torchlight as his voice echoed off the distant walls. “Go and find her!”
“I will not leave the grounds—Prince Garrett.” As I watched in breathless anticipation, Jeck stood before Garrett and defied him. “I told you she wasn’t in that box. This was a distraction. Pulling the men from the walls was a mistake. If she isn’t on the grounds already, she will be soon. I will take the prisoners to their cell, then return to look for her here.”
“I gave you an order!” Garrett cried. “I am the king! You’ll do what I say, or you’ll hang with them!”
The grove of roses had gone deathly quiet. Stiff-necked and angry, Jeck said, “You are not my king. Your father is my king. I take direction from him. I was told to keep you alive. That is what I will do down to my last breath. If I leave, she will kill you—Prince Garrett.”
“We are not in my father’s kingdom!” Garrett said, his voice shrill. “We are in mine. I am your king!”
A shutter banged from the palace walls, and my gaze shot to the lit window. Contessa stood framed by the light. “You are not a king, Prince Garrett,” she said, her clear voice ringing out. “This is my land. You are a second son and will never be anything more.”
My breath escaped me in a frightened hiss. It had to be bravery. No one was that foolish.
Garrett went red with a fury so deep, it had to be born from insanity. “Get her back in her room!” he shouted, and a shadow pulled her, protesting, away from the window. Thadd groaned in frustrated anger. Garrett spun from the palace and back to Jeck. “Give me your blade, Captain,” he said, his clipped words giving no clue as to his intent.
I watched, unbelieving, as Jeck reached for his sword. The smooth sound of it coming from the scabbard chilled me. Garrett’s hand was outstretched. The flickering shadows from the torches glinted on the blade, making it flame. My pulse raced. Jeck handed it to him hilt first.
Garrett snatched it, slamming it into his scabbard to replace his broken one. My shoulders slumped in a relief I didn’t understand. “I want them questioned,” Garrett snarled. “I don’t care if it kills them. I want to know where she is by dawn.” The prince strode away, trailing the three unlucky guards that Jeck motioned to accompany him.
Jeck waited until he was out of earshot before muttering, “I’m sure she will tell us exactly where she is—Prince Chu-head—within half that time.” Clearly angry, he turned to the statue and the ring of guards. “You,” he said, pointing to one gawky in adolescence. “Give me your weapon.” The boy did, and Jeck took it as his own. “Go to my quarters and fetch my second blade. I’ll be in the cellblock or with the prince. Those of you on the wall, stay in pairs.”
“Pairs?” a young guard muttered. “Who does he think is coming? The angel of death?”
Jeck spun, surprising the sentry. “That’s exactly who I think is coming, and unless you want to meet her early, I suggest you treat every breath of wind as an intruder. Understand?”
The sentry stiffened. “Yes sir!” With a creaking of leather, all but six of the guards left the patio. They passed me, unknowingly. All I had to do was sit and be still. I placed a hand on Banner’s head, and his faint growling ceased. He had been bred to hunt elk and wolf. He knew how to be silent, postponing the attack until a more favorable opportunity arose.
Jeck motioned for the remaining guards to escort Duncan and Thadd. The sculptor shuffled forward with his head down. Pity filled me as I watched his slow-moving shadow. There was nothing, save threatening Contessa, that would move him now.
Duncan was hunched with determination and anger as he was led away. He was a branded thief, risking death should he be caught thieving again. I had told him no, but he had done it anyway. And if I couldn’t free him, he would die with that same defiance glittering in his eye.
Jeck looked back once as he followed the tight group across the grounds to the guards’ quarters, his hat in his grip. The light from the torches went with them. The rose patio went silent. Thadd’s dream stood alone and broken. I lay under the shrubs, knowing it was safe but unable to move.
What was I going to do? I had to have the key in Jeck’s pocket to free Thadd and Duncan. I couldn’t get the key until I retook the palace. I couldn’t take the palace without Thadd and Duncan’s help. It was a tight circle bound with iron.
“Why the chu pits isn’t it raining?” I whispered. Depressed, my eyes lingered on the shattered remains of Thadd’s statue. It had been beautiful. Even now I could recall the lovingly shaped curve of her cheek and the graceful line he had made of her dress. Garrett had damaged it beyond repair before his sword had broken. Thadd worked in marble, and his tools were made of stronger stuff than Garrett’s sword.
Thadd’s tools? I thought, my gaze shifting to the wagon.
I slowly backed up from under the bushes to sit upright. Thadd’s tools were bound to still be under the wagon’s bench. His chisels and mallets might be able to break locks.
Banner sensed my excitement and stood, his tail wagging. I glanced at the palace walls, imagining the eyes. I’d have to risk going into the open. It was dark enough now, perhaps.
Telling Banner to stay, I crept down to the patio, hesitating by a tall briar of climbing rose to gather my nerve. Down here, the chipped mutilation of Thadd’s work was heartbreaking. Shards of stone and scuffed sawdust littered the ground. I took a deep breath and ran to the wagon. Standing upon the spokes of the wheel, I reached for the bag under the bench. My hand searched unseeing. A soft sigh escaped me when I found the fold of cloth and dragged it to where I could use two hands to lift it over the side.
It was heavy, and I held it close as I shuffled back into hiding. “Banner,” I whispered. Before I could count to three, he had loped to me with his rolling gait. He pushed his nose into my hand and looked for approval, nearly as excited as when I had dropped over the wall and back into his world. “Good boy, Banner,” I said, juggling the tools as I fended him off.
I’d have to do something with him, but he wouldn’t stay for long with me out of his sight. Eventually he would come find me, his odd behavior leading Jeck to me. I needed a distraction for the loyal dog. A smile drew the corners of my mouth up. The kitchen was on the way to the guards’ quarters.
“Come on, boy,” I said, giving him a pat as I started into motion. A sense of purpose filled me. “Let’s go get you a well-deserved bone.”
Thirty-two
“Come, Banner,” I whispered as I slunk down the hedgerow. The massive dog trotted beside me, happy to be moving. Banner’s bone would have to wait, since I had found two sentries outside the kitchen door. It seemed Jeck was taking me seriously now. As I made my sporadic way from tree to wall to rock, I heard the occasional shout when a pig or sheep caught the attention of a guard. Having livestock on the grounds was an unexpected boon. I’d have to remember that.
The soft footfalls of two men brought me to a heart-pounding halt. Hissing to Banner to follow, I flung myself off the sawdust path to crouch at the foundation of the palace. Banner growled, and I forced him to lie down. I hardly breathed as two men passed within a stone’s throw. Hands slow and careful, I checked my topknot, then winced as Thadd’s tools clanked. Kavenlow’s three metal darts felt cold among the bone needles.
“Put extra guards on the perimeter,” I heard Jeck’s intent low voice say, and I jerked with a thrill of angst. “It’ll be dark enough for her to come over the walls until the moon rises.” He looked toward the distant, unseen city. “Are the off-shift sentries searching the palace yet?”
“Yes, sir,” the other said. “Devil of a girl. Shall I double the guard on the princess?”
“And Prince Garrett. Keep him in his room if you can.” Jeck’s voice went faint as they passed me. I took a grateful breath and gave
Banner a pat, excitement tingling to my toes. My heart slowed as the quiet reasserted control of the night.
Rising from my crouch, I looked toward the guards’ quarters: a one-story building at the center of an open area. Underneath were the cells, dug out and lined with stone. I had used one once as a playhouse and remembered it was dry and smelled of earth. The guards still teased the poor unfortunate sentry I had drafted as my “husband.” My face burned at my innocence.
I slunk the last few paces to the edge of the field. There was nowhere to hide, and even with the darkness, the idea of crossing it was daunting. Keeping to an even pace, I walked down the sawdust path as if I belonged. Either Banner and I would be seen or we wouldn’t. A trembling in my legs quickened, the vertigo coming with it telling me I was drawing too heavily upon my venom-induced skills to stay unnoticed. The boost from the dart was fading already?
My stomach was in knots as my feet found the wide covered porch. Breath held, I stood in the entry room and listened for a call of question or recognition behind me. There was none. Worried, I looked at Banner cowering at the smell of Garrett’s guards. I couldn’t take him with me. “Stay,” I said firmly as I made a tentative step from him, and he whined. I took his heavy jaw in my hands and put my face beside his. “Stay,” I said, giving his head a small shake. A wave of dizziness took me, but he lowered himself to sit in the doorway.
My focus returned and I straightened, indecision pulling at me. Should I supplement my skills, making it easier for Jeck to dart me into unconsciousness should he find me, or should I keep my levels of venom low, relying on luck and chance? I had a feeling this was the question that haunted all players, and my fingers went to my topknot, counting what I had left. There weren’t enough to reassure me, and since Banner seemed inclined to stay where he was, I gave him a final stern command and headed inside. With him sitting there, I’d have some warning if anyone tried to pass this way.
The stairway to the cells was in the common room in the middle of the building. I’d have to pass a score of bunks. No one was here, though. Everyone was looking for me. I was sublimely confident the situation would be different below in the cellblocks.
My hair on the back of my neck rose as I strode through the open barracks, my dart tube ready. I was shivering when I finally gained the stairway. My nose wrinkled at the foul smell wafting up the stairs. There ought to be two sentries at the top of the stairs, but by the faint rumble of conversation, it seemed they had foolishly joined the others.
I took my cap off and stuffed it into the back of my trousers before I slunk down into the softer darkness. Only a faint shadow of light showed the way. The oil lamps had their wicks too low, and they were smoking. I eased my pack to the lowest stair. My hand shook as I checked my darts, then palmed another. As I passed the first cell, there was a quick intake of breath.
“No,” I mouthed frantically at the grimy face pressed against the floor-to-ceiling bars. I shook my head, surprised to find myself grinning at the excitement in the guard’s eyes. I recognized him. More men saw me, holding themselves still to keep me from being found.
I glanced up the dark corridor to the brightly lit alcove and Garrett’s guards. “Two men?” I asked the man before me. “Are they here?”
“In the thell acroth from the thable,” he intentionally lisped to keep the sharp sounds from carrying to the sentries.
I wanted to hold my breath against the stink of him. It was worse than a chu pit in summer. “Kavenlow?” I asked, my hopes plummeting as he shook his head.
“The Mithdev dog thaid you were a beggar, a thangeling. I knew he wath lying.”
My eyes dropped. “He was telling the truth,” I admitted. “But the real heir is here now.” I bit my lip, wounded at his shocked expression. “I’m going to try to get you out. Be ready.”
He nodded, pulling away from the light. I heard the barest whisper and felt the air change to one of repressed excitement. The word of my presence went faster than my progress, and eager, hopeful eyes silently watched me pass.
Boots a whisper, I crept forward until I was close enough for the guards to see me if they bothered to look up from their dice game. I cringed as I took in the six soldiers. They looked huge, crammed into a space designed for four. My chances of bringing them all down were slim to none. Futility slumped my shoulders, but an arm raised in encouragement gave me strength.
Trembling, I crouched. Why they hadn’t seen me was obvious and an outrage. The cells should be bright so no one could hide in the shadows. That I could get this close undetected was atrocious, magic or not. I had yet to see Thadd or Duncan, and my fear for them tripled.
Three sentries sat on chairs, two on the edge of the table, and the last stood. He rolled a pair of dice, and rough condolences were made. Having them jammed together might be a boon. They’d get in each other’s way while trying to reach me, giving me the time I’d need for the venom to work. Garrett may have been able to take the palace with such inexperienced guards, but to keep it with the same was a jest. Clearly his father had given him the worst of the lot.
Breath held, I pulled five more darts from my topknot to make seven, counting the one in my hand and the one in my dart tube. Inexperienced or not, they were big and armed. I felt a collective holding of breath from my father’s men as I let the first dart fly.
“Ah,” a guard cried, slapping at his calf beneath the table. “Damn fleas.”
The second was away as he reached down and pulled the needle out for everyone to see.
The third found the neck of a guard when they realized they were under attack.
The fourth landed in the chest of the man who pointed at me.
My eyes widened as all six got to their feet. “It’s her!” one shouted. Panicking, I couldn’t remember if I had shot him already, and so put a dart into him. My precious moments of confusion were gone. No one had fallen. One man, perhaps two, was undarted.
The hall dimmed when they eclipsed the light. Frightened, I stood. My fingers jammed a dart into the pipe the wrong way and I pricked myself. Dropping it, I plucked a bone dart from my topknot and physically drove it into the chest of the guard grabbing my arm.
“Princess!” someone shouted. Panicked, I pried at the man’s grip on me. I stumbled as a Costenopolie guard reached past the bars and yanked him backward. Gasping, I jerked away, backpedaling until my head hit a wall. Stars filled my vision. I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so bad.
Struggling to stay upright and conscious, I saw that the guard who had grabbed me was moaning, curled up in a ball. I felt the back of my head to find a lump but no blood.
A single man was standing. His hands were raised in surrender. He was scared, not even old enough to have a beard. “You,” I wheezed, catching my breath. “Put your back against the bars where one of my men can reach you.” The young guard’s eyes widened, and I gestured with my empty dart tube. “I can down you from here,” I said. “Go stand by the bars.”
White-faced, he did, and a hairy, eager arm snaked out and pinned him to the bars by his neck. My shoulders slumped. I had done it.
“She did it!” someone exclaimed in a hushed voice.
“Duncan?” I called, finding him pressed against the bars with his mouth hanging open.
“He’s got the key!” Duncan exclaimed, pointing with a blood-smeared hand. “That one there has the key to the cell. But Captain Jeck has the shackle key.” Hunched in hurt, he held one arm with the other. His face was bruised and swollen. “Leave us here, Tess. We can get out, but what good will we be with these?” He shuffled his feet, the iron at his ankles clanking.
I picked my careful way through the guards trembling on the floor to Thadd. The sculptor was slumped in a miserable huddle, clearly convinced he had failed his love. “Get up!” I whispered. “I think I can get those off of you. And you were right, Duncan. I needed your help. I never would have made it over the wall if it hadn’t been for you.”
“But we don’t have the key for the
shackles,” Duncan protested as I crouched to pat the clothing of the guard with the cell key.
I grinned at the buzz of muted excitement from my guards. “But I have Thadd’s tools.”
Thadd’s head came up, his hollow eyes flickering with hope. “You have my chisels?” he said, reaching out past the bars.
“And mallet.” I lurched over a writhing sentry and shoved the key into the simple lock. The door swung open. The light fell upon them cleanly without the shadow of the bars. “Can you break the shackles?”
“I’ll try.” He emerged from the cell like a young bear, nudging aside a downed guard. I ran back to the foot of the stairs to get his tools. Duncan hovered beside the table, anxiously watching as I handed them to Thadd. I silently took in Duncan’s bruises, feeling sick. In the bare minutes he had been out of my sight, they beat him for that defiant gleam he still wore.
The clank of clean metal as Thadd chose the largest chisel drew my attention. I was torn between watching and the hushed calls of men from the cells. They were shackled as well, but I could at least get them out. Thadd swung his foot up onto the table and positioned his chisel.
I was unlocking the first door when a sharp clank rang out. Thadd said nothing, and I handed the key to the first guard and returned to the table. Brow furrowed in concentration, Thadd shifted the chisel against the lock and raised the hammer again. His muscles tensed, and with strength and exquisite precision, he brought the mallet down. “Chu!” he exclaimed as the chisel slipped from the metal to tear a gash in his leg.
“You did it!” Duncan exclaimed in a whisper, and an excited babble rose behind us.
“Yes, but look what I did to my leg.” Thadd pulled the shackle from his ankle and swung the other up onto the table. He began to hammer at the second ring of metal.
The Costenopolie guards blinked at the brighter light as they rattled out of their cells. Their smiles were grim but honest. With very little conversation, they moved the five comatose guards and the last frightened one to a cell and locked it. The feeling below-ground had turned.
