by Jaide Fox
Internally, she sought the fire ball that glided gracefully through her veins, seeking pain and curing it with its great power and with a blink, rather than feeling the burn throughout every inch of her system, she felt it on her finger.
Looking down at the hand the ring normally sat upon, Isabeau blinked as there it was.
Tilting her head to the side, then licking and alternately biting her lips nervously, she contemplated the apparition. She gulped and lifted it to her eye. The burning sensation continued and Isabeau stared at her hand as though it didn't belong to her.
Uncomprehending, she blinked and blinked again, then when that didn't work and the ring stuck fast, she rubbed her eyes. A hiss escaped her mouth as the cold stone grazed her cheekbone and only then, did she believe it was there.
Somehow...it had traveled to her finger.
Madness.
When her breathing whooshed out of her lungs, she simply stared at the ring as though she had gone mad and attempted to reassemble her thoughts into some kind of lucidity, because at this moment in time, she felt more insane than sane.
A slight shudder wracked her frame as she managed to successfully assemble her thoughts into order. The first thing that leapt out at her was the realization that her plan could now change.
While she'd only fled to teach him a lesson and that he would be foolish to underestimate her, there was no reason why she shouldn't take advantage of the situation by fleeing for real.
Using the ring to heal herself, she shivered as all the twinges and aches and pains that had assailed her after her tumble down the stairs disappeared. With a relieved sigh, she climbed to her feet and headed towards the light that filled the corridor. It had to be one of the enchanted candles that she'd seen in her dream that had illuminated the passes she'd recently traversed, for even though it seemed like a lifetime ago since she had glimpsed the outdoors, she knew it to be night. Pitch black night.
She hoped to God that there was a window here, because that was now her only chance of escape, considering she didn't have a clue where she was. This new hallway was lined with paintings. Heavy oil encrusted canvases that she could only presume depicted the local countryside. She noticed that all of the paintings included heather. A part of her wondered if that implied they were in Bonnie Scotland. It was possible, a guess it may be, but it was distinctly possible.
When he had captured her, they had been in Lancashire. They had traveled far and for long periods of time and at great speed. They could indeed have crossed the border and taken her from England.
As she traversed the length of the corridor, she came across some work that she recognized to be from the High Renaissance. They were only small works, but the call reminded her of etchings she had seen in one of her father's newspapers that had reported upon one of the galleries in London's recent purchase of Italian paintings.
She was hard pressed not to continue her walk along the halls. Of the corridors and rooms she had seen, this interested her the most. Isabeau had always loved art and had appreciated her parents' collection. When her governess had wished to test her upon a recent subject, she would always head to the gallery--a long corridor such as this, but with far more light--and study there in the peace and tranquility.
Those had been halcyon days; days she wished for with all of her being. But it was not to be.
As her thoughts had turned maudlin, she was relieved to see a window at the very bottom of the walkway. She rushed towards it and blinkered her eyes from a rather beautiful bronze statuette that almost called out for her perusal. Once there, Isabeau immediately attempted to open it and sighed gustily in relief as it slid open. Roughly, admittedly, but at least she'd managed to open the damnable thing!
Sticking her head out, she peered down into the darkness and wished for the magic to summon those balls of light. It did not appear to be too far down, but then, seeing as it was difficult to see a damned thing at all, her judgment was hardly sound!
Realizing that this was her one chance to escape and that she had no choice but to take it, she climbed out of the window and thanked the Lord that she was used to climbing trees and had climbed them often throughout her exile, either for shade from the sun or to hide from stragglers in the woods.
Her arms were, therefore, used to handling her weight, but as she hung from the windowsill, Isabeau soon felt the strain in her shoulders. Swiftly, she sought a foothold and found one. With relief, she took it and let the fingers of one hand scramble against the stone walls. They would be bleeding by the time she reached the ground, but that mattered naught.
The first three 'steps' were fine, but on the fourth, she cried out as her foot slipped and she only just managed to catch herself. The strain on her arm became a nasty ache and Isabeau could feel the slow slide of blood down her skin where she must have grazed herself during the slight tumble.
That could only mean that she'd actually ripped the heavy velvet dress.
She felt inordinately guilty for mistreating what could only be one of Wolfe's mother's robes, but Isabeau reassured herself that she hadn't done it on purpose. There had been no malice behind the action.
By the next stone flag, her arms had started to ache and her nails were tearing against the coarse, rough walls. By the time her feet scrambled for purchase and her fingers attempted and failed to cling to the walls, she'd accepted that she would fall.
What she hadn't realized, was how high up she had been.
Air whistled past her ears and her stomach lurched sickeningly. The journey to the ground seemed to last forever and she was aware of each flailing movement as she tried to balance herself and to no avail.
She felt both like a leaden weight and as light as a feather. The difference was incredible and while she did not know what awaited her, death or grave injury...the sensation of riding the air was rather magnificent. Even in her predicament, she could feel that.
The jolt of the landing powered through her and instantly, any pleasure she had experienced disappeared. All she knew now was pain.
For the most part, she felt more winded than anything else, as though her lungs had been forced through her rib cage from the momentum of the fall. Coughs wracked her small frame and when slimy phlegm crawled up her throat, she knew that it would be laden with blood. Isabeau had injured something internally as well as externally.
She felt wet and knew that it was blood. Her arms and legs had somehow fallen beneath her and were damaged, as she quickly noted the injuries she'd attained, she also realized that her mind was wavering. Swiftly and praying to God that she had the wherewithal for the healing to take hold, she centered herself and let the ring cure her aches.
Having never been so grievously injured, the healing process seemed to take a very long time. That it was night, when her powers were strongest through the day, did not help. Isabeau could only hope that her flailing powers could sustain and save her life.
The heat, when it came, was almost unbearable. She truly understood the term hotter than hell now. It was more than a sensation of feeling fevered--it was like being possessed by a ball of fire. It shuddered through her veins and made her gasp and gulp for air as it traversed her system and sought out all injuries.
She was grateful and a part of her knew that without the ring, she would most definitely have died, but the pain that came with the healing was almost as hideous as that splatting sensation had been, when she'd landed.
A shudder wracked through her as she recalled the hideous moment, when her body had connected with the ground. She had felt like a rag doll, her limbs spread and loose as the bones disconnected from their sockets. The nausea that had powered through her and burned a hole in her belly as recognition of pain centered in her brain.
A quivering breath rushed through her as the heat started to cool and at first, she thought that it meant she was healed. But it didn't. The heat returned swiftly and without warning and even fiercer than before. So strong was it, it lifted her back from the floor and she
arched as pain and the healing heat coursed through her and left her gasping.
Suddenly, a cooling sensation rushed after it and burst through her veins afterwards. Writhing on the floor, Isabeau fought to regain her breathe and lay stunned on the ground, when finally she managed to inhale enough oxygen to stop panting.
She would have stayed there for a lot longer, had she not heard the sounds. Perhaps someone had heard her fall or her coughs, or they just believed that somehow, she had managed to exit the castle, but hear them she did and she knew that she had to move.
Although she was no longer injured, the depth of the ailments she'd had, made her walk stiffly at first. Even without trying, Isabeau knew that she would not be able to run and if she could, it would only be for a very, very short while.
Looking behind her, she saw the dim lights in the lead glass windows and tried to hasten her stride, but it was too difficult. The more she moved, the more she realized how close she had been to death.
Without the ring, she truly would have died.
The thought stunned her and made her realize why her mama had handed her the ring.
To ensure Isabeau's safety.
Anything of power could be corrupted. Only someone pure of heart would yield it and not try to cause others harm. She had always misunderstood the ring and her power. Had always believed that the ring belonged to her family and could only channel the power of her mother's matriarchal line. Which ended with her, a Hart.
But she'd been wrong. She'd been wrong on so many levels, she felt a fool. Her stay with Wolfe had taught her that at least. She was not the last remaining person to yield these kinds of talents, nor was she the only person able to use the ring as a conduit.
Isabeau was not sure how that made her feel. To know that she was not simply a freak of nature was both a relief, yet at the same time, those with her power were not necessarily her friends. Simply because they shared the same gift, did not ensure that they weren't her enemies and willing to do her harm.
Thinking herself alone, and now realizing that she wasn't...either way, she was still in danger. From who, she was yet to discover. But discover she would, that was for certain.
And now, experiencing the terrifying power that the ring could harness, Isabeau understood why she'd been chased. Why her parents' had been killed. Power always brought corruption and for the ring to have brought her from the brink of death, then it was something that many, many people would want.
A cry shot out and she spun around and saw what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of blinking torches as they ran towards her. Men seeking her. She didn't know how they had realized she'd managed to escape, nor did she care. Isabeau just needed to focus and ignore those who were searching for her.
She licked her lips and tried to pick up her pace but only managed to increase her speed slightly. Spying the huge forest before her, she sighed with relief when the heavy canopies blotted out the dim light of the moon and hopefully, hid her fleeing figure from the men chasing her.
The darkness in the woods made it impossible to go far. She knew that as soon as she was enveloped on all sides by a relentless vista of trees. Knowing that she needed to climb up one of those trees, didn't help at all. Her body was healed but still feeling the after-effects of almost dying! She certainly did not feel up to climbing one of the huge trees in this forest!
Taking baby steps and holding her arms out so as not walk into a tree trunk, eventually her eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light. She began to 'see' the dark shapes and knew to step away or around them.
The trees heavily blanketed any sound and the pure silence was, in its own way, rather deafening. Her ears felt as though there were some kind of weight upon them. Almost as though they were about to 'pop' as they did when water entered them after a swim.
It was not a pleasant sensation and when she reached a part of the woods where the canopies weren't so heavy, she wished for the silence to return as suddenly, a great flapping sound appeared from nowhere.
Wondering what on earth was happening, she spun around in a circle and sought out the sound. It was impossible to see anything, but the echoing sounds of great wings being flapped made her feel chilly with fear.
What could create such a noise? Nothing outside of a nightmare, she thought frantically.
She refused to survive a fall that would have killed an ordinary person only to be eaten alive by some kind of monster. Never had she heard anything so noisy. But it could only be a bird! But what kind of bird? It made even the eagles she had seen sound tiny!
Running now, uncaring of the prospect of falling over, or even slamming into a tree trunk, she ignored the twinges of pain that roared through her joints and ran for her life. When talons gripped her shoulders, she screamed and tried to run even faster, but the great, flapping wings almost hid the sound.
Another scream, this one unending, escaped her as she felt her feet leave the ground and when something launched about her knees and dragged her down, she sobbed out in thanks.
Even being held captive at Wolfe's castle was better than being eaten alive by some hideous monster or huge bird or whatever it bloody was!
Cringing inwardly at the jolt her body was about to take when it landed against the debris of loam and leaves with a crash, Isabeau was relieved when the person who had saved her, took the brunt of the fall.
“T-Thank you,” she said with a gasp and heard the man yell as she inadvertently dug her elbow into his side. “S-Sorry!”
“I'm not surprised that you attack your defender, Isabeau,” came Wolfe's maddening voice. Why did he always sound as though he were laughing at her?
With a slight grunt, she replied, “I shouldn't be surprised that you persist in diverting yourself on my account! What was that thing?”
“A griffin.”
The ease in which he named the half lion, half eagle hybrid stunned her. Her mouth popped open and closed again, before realizing that he was teasing her, she said with a huff, “If you don't want to tell me what it was, then you just have to say so!”
“I told you what it was. If you choose not to believe me, then that's your prerogative!”
“Griffins don't exist!” she gritted out between a clenched jaw.
“Apparently they do, and you were almost eaten by one,” he retorted and she heard the damned amusement in his voice, yet again! Did he not know that it was impolite to constantly make fun of a person?
“Why are you always laughing at me?”
“Perhaps, because you are amusing?”
“Don't answer a question with a question, Wolfe!”
“Twas a griffin. I'm telling you the truth!”
She realized that they were wrapped in each other's arms and instantly, she pulled away and tugged herself free. She only moved a few steps away from him, letting her buttocks slide through the dirt to place some distance between them. She was fully aware that he would come after her if she chose to run and at this moment, she didn't have the energy to do more than simply sit!
“Griffins don't exist,” she repeated.
“Yes, they do. Virgins are to their taste. Their prized food, in fact.”
“Now I know you're lying!”
He just hummed under his breath. “He will come back, you know. So we'd best be off.”
“He won't be back, because griffins do not exist!”
“These forests are filled with so-called mythological beasts, Isabeau. You would be wise to remember that the next time you decide to run through the castle and jump from a window. It's a good job, is it not, that the ring decided it missed you? No fall, from any of the levels in my castle, come without injury. Even the ground floor--you can twist an ankle. Something I did as a boy. So, it's most fortunate that you were wearing it. I don't intend to lose you, my dear. Be warned.”
