“Miss Elena will leave the chamber unharmed,” Prince Landon announced suddenly.
His regal voice resonated around the chamber walls as a challenge to any who might try to interfere with me. Though his features remained neutral, he raised his chin, and I could see that his threat was not to be taken lightly…
“I can promise that my company will not harm you, nor will the others.” He stared at everyone else, challenging anyone to disagree. Nobody moved.
Then he looked at me and lowered his voice. “But I can’t promise anything outside these walls.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
I felt a little mesmerized by him. I struggled to keep my feelings at bay. I could still remember his salty scent, and how he had gotten me so hot and bothered. I swear I could see a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
I turned away. I couldn’t let myself be intimidated by this handsome man, prince or not.
I pulled out my sword and surveyed the room one last time. Mad Jack was watching me closely, but I didn’t look at him. I tried to memorize the faces in front of me. I knew that any one of them could jump me at any moment.
Once I was satisfied I could identify any of them if I saw them again, I spun around and made for the exit.
Mad Jack fell in line behind me, and I felt my chest tighten. Could I really trust him? Was this just a ruse? Was he waiting for me to let my guard down?
I walked faster, and then a little faster, until I was practically jogging. Mad Jack was right behind me. I felt his hand press on my lower back, urging me to go faster.
I flinched. I didn’t want him or anyone so close to me. The faster we went, the faster my heart thumped against my ribcage until I thought it might explode. The weird thing was the stone seemed to feel my panic. As my heartbeat increased, I felt the stone’s pulse increase, too. We seemed to be joined in some way. Our pulses beat together as one.
I could see light at the end of the tunnel. I was almost outside. I hurried faster. Once I was out there would be lots of places to hide, and then I could make my way home to Rose and freedom.
Mad Jack was still behind me, so close that I could feel his breath on the back on my neck. Would he try to take the stone from me? I was almost sure he would. Why not? He wasn’t called Mad Jack because he was insane. He got his name because he stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. He never passed up an opportunity to make some gold. He was going to take it.
Almost there, don’t panic and don’t trip down the stairs.
My heart leapt when I reached the threshold, and cool fresh air brushed my hot cheeks.
I felt a wind at my back, and I heard a shout. Then I heard what sounded like bodies hitting the ground. But I couldn’t stop.
Just as I reached the top of the stairs something hit me hard on the back, and I pitched forward. With a startled cry, I threw out my arms to break my fall and immediately regretted it. My palms and elbows scraped on the hard stone stairs, and my head hit a corner of sharp stone. Black spots exploded behind my eyes, and the wind was knocked out of me. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t broken my neck in my fall down the stairs. I rolled over on my hands and knees and looked up.
My breath caught in my throat. It was not Mad Jack standing above me with a sword pointed at my neck. It was Princess Isabella Velasques.
CHAPTER 25
THE PRINCESS WAS TALLER than many of the men she kept in her company and much taller than me. I could see her thick muscled forearms through her sleeves. She held her long sword steadily at my throat, as though it weighed nothing more than a stick. While her face was plain, there was no mistaking the nobility of her posture. She had probably trained as a warrior since she could walk, and I had seen her take down those masked men without breaking a sweat. Her dark eyes widened suddenly with madness, and she lunged forward.
I moved, but not fast enough. Her blade nicked the side of my neck, and warm blood trickled down my shoulder.
I jumped to my feet just as she came at me again. Her eyes were wild, and she was striking and slashing with the strength of a man. I blocked a right, then crouched and spun, knocking her blade out her hand. She was surprised at my skill.
“If you want to live, you better give me the stone,” said the princess.
The others had made a ring around us, and I felt like I was in one of the fighting rings back in the Pit. But there was no cheering in this fight, only silence. The Espanian guard stood with their swords drawn. Up close, their faces were squashed and brutal. I couldn’t see Landon or Mad Jack anywhere, and my heart thundered with fear and anger.
The evil looks in my opponents’ eyes said it all. They were all waiting for the outcome of this encounter before making their move. Somebody would challenge whoever came out with the stone.
“Give me the stone. It’s mine.”
I turned on the warrior princess. “Back off, bitch. I won the stone fair and square.”
Her cocky smile infuriated me.
“Or is it bastard? Quite frankly, I’m not so sure myself. I mean, look at you? Are you a woman or a man?”
Princess Isabella’s expression hardened. She was livid and appeared even more threatening than her brutish company. I needed her to be a little unbalanced if I wanted to beat her and save myself.
But before I could rejoice in my cleverness at having surprised her with my lack of deference to her, her black eyes filled with delight, and she crouched in a defensive stance. She would not be distracted with anger. She was smarter than I thought.
“You must have a death wish, peasant wench. You dare to challenge me! I can kill you with my eyes closed.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Probably. But you’re not getting the stone.”
“Then you will die.”
The princess’ voice was steady in her confidence that she was going to kill me.
She waved her sword. The tip was still dripping with my blood.
“I am a princess! You are nothing but a peasant. The stone belongs to me!”
My blood ran cold, but I kept my composure. I could feel the nasty welt on the right side of my face beginning to fester. Although my clothes were torn, and I favored my left leg, the look of scorn on the princess’ face caused my fury to grow.
The stone pulsed at my waist, growing warmer and steadier, mimicking the beating of my own heart. I don’t know why, but I felt as though it was trying to communicate with me.
“You can’t wield the stone. You will die,” I said. “You saw what happened to dear Otto. If you touch the stone you will suffer the same fate.”
She smiled wickedly at me. “You didn’t die, and neither will I. Perhaps the stone needs a woman’s touch. Perhaps only a woman can yield it.”
Many of the men from the different realms muttered their disagreement and glared at the princess.
Princess Isabella pointed her sword at me. “I’ll take my chances. The stone will recognize me as its true bearer.”
My logic screamed at me to run and take my chances in the wild land of Goth. But something else possessed me and commanded me to stay and fight.
“Kill her! And take the stone!” said one of the brutish men from the princess’ company.
“Why should Espan have the stone?” growled an even bigger red-bearded man who wore the orange and yellow colors of Romila. “The stone belongs to Romila!”
“It belongs to Espan!”
“To Girmania!”
“You fools. The stone is meant for Fransia!”
I didn’t see who charged first, but the clans’ greed for the stone escalated into a full-fledged war, and for a moment we were forgotten.
“My patience has run out, priest whore,” growled the princess.
My attention snapped back to her. Her voice rose as the muscles in her neck throbbed.
“The stone is mine!”
She charged like a wild beast and hurled her sword at me like a spear. I barely had time to duck as the massive weapon nicked my left side and buried itsel
f in the earth near my feet. I threw myself on the ground and rolled back onto my feet. Something else slammed into me, and I pitched headlong to the ground.
I cried out in pain as cold metal sank into my shoulder. I grabbed the sword and managed to pull myself free and slither out of the princess’ way. Blood poured freely from my deep wound, but I struggled to my feet.
I covered the wound with my hand to prevent anyone from seeing the streams of yellow light. But my cloak and tunic hid my secret for now. Although the pain flamed in my shoulder, I felt the warmth of my healing power as it stitched up my sliced flesh, eased my pain, and gave me new strength.
I shifted my weight and balanced on the balls of my feet.
“Give up?” taunted the princess.
“Never,” I growled. I held my sword in a fighting stance and waited.
The princess gave me a bloodthirsty grin. “We are going to play a game, you and I.”
“Is that so?” I mocked. “And here I thought you wanted to kill me.”
She smiled. “And you’ve already lost.”
The princess charged.
I spun and dove to avoid the impact of her attack. As I rolled back onto my feet, her fist connected with my cheek. I fought a sharp wave of nausea, and without giving the princess time to react, I kicked my foot into her jaw. Then I twirled and kicked my other foot into her lower back.
The princess staggered, but hardly looked injured. She spit some blood from her mouth, and smiled. Her teeth were smeared with blood.
“I’m going to rip out your heart and—”
The last of her words died in her throat as a sharp silver sword from the back of her head emerged through her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled like a great dead tree.
The great red-bearded Romilian brute behind her withdrew his sword from the princess’ head and growled at me like a bear.
“The stone is mine! Mine! Mine!”
His small eyes narrowed as a dark grin grew on his face.
I stood on the tips of my toes, balancing my sword in my hand.
“Give it to me!” He lunged faster than I would have thought a man his size could move.
I raised my arm to parry the thrust, but the brute’s violent strength nearly shattered my wrist. Miraculously I managed to hold on to my sword.
My attacker howled and sprang again. I dodged backwards and then ducked as his sword brushed the top of my hair. A few more inches and I would have been decapitated.
I could hear the sound of battle all around me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my attacker for one second.
I could never beat him with strength. I needed to outwit him.
As he came at me again, I rolled to the side and countered with two short jabs into his stomach. I raised my sword up and was about to swing it in an arc at his head, but in that split second before I swung, I could feel the life flowing from him. His guts suddenly spilled out onto the ground at his feet. He babbled unintelligently and then collapsed in a heap.
The violence disturbed me, but it also unleashed a fearless and unyielding ferocity from inside me.
I felt another presence behind me, but it was already too late.
I whirled around just as a sword rammed straight through my chest.
I staggered back as my assailant pulled out the sword in one rapid motion. Blood poured down my front, and I looked up into my assailant’s face.
Philippe Touraine, the Duke of Fransia, looked jubilant.
“La pierre est à moi! Donne-moi la pierre!”
Madness cast a dark shadow over his face as he reached for the stone in my pouch. But then a light shone on him, and he faltered. The blood left his face.
He stared at my shredded tunic. My chest was exposed, and golden light spilled out of me like the rays of morning sunshine.
CHAPTER 26
EVERYONE AROUND ME GASPED at the spectacle of golden light shining out from the wound in my chest. My secret was out.
The Fransian duke pointed a finger at me, all the while taking careful steps back. Spit flew from his mouth as he cried, “Witch! She’s a witch!”
“I saw it,” a woman from Romila affirmed. “The sword went right through her. She should be dead, and yet she lives like nothing happened.”
“Demon!”
“Accursed!”
“Burn the witch!”
Damn. Things were not looking good. It was clear that most of them wanted me dead. And yet no one came at me. While they made menacing noises and gestures, it was fear I saw on their faces. Some individuals spat on the floor, and I saw a few men make the sign of the Creator and mumble prayers under their breaths.
I searched for Mad Jack, but he wasn’t there. I felt my stomach contract. Maybe he’d been killed. And when I finally saw Prince Landon, I saw confusion, terror, fear, and then revulsion on his face. I felt something crush my throat, and I couldn’t seem to get enough air. I tried hard not to think about the disgust I saw on Landon’s face. How he must regret ever touching or kissing me.
I still wasn’t sure if I was either a monster or a witch. I felt the magic healing my wounds, and I fought the tears that filled my eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. My sword felt heavy in my hand, and my tears fell. I was whimpering.
I felt my strength return. I met their disgusted gazes and straightened up. No one tried to approach me. They were all too frightened.
So I did the only thing I could. I spun around and bolted towards the iron gates.
I dashed past the strange tombs and sculpted gods. When I made it to the gates, I heard feet rushing behind me. I didn’t turn around. I kept going. I knew I had a few seconds lead, and I wouldn’t waste it.
The thought of Rose and of a new life somewhere away from all of this gave me the strength to push on. I wouldn’t let them crush my spirit.
To hell with them all. I had the stone.
It was only when I had left Hollowmere and was running across the barren land that I sneaked a peek behind me. The Duke of Romila and his company were close behind me. They were followed by Bartolomeu Dias, with Prince Landon and his group who weren’t far behind. The Girmanians had fallen back, and I still couldn’t see Mad Jack or his two bodyguards.
I had escaped death twice. I couldn’t help but feel empowered. Yes, I was different, but it was a good different. I still didn’t understand what it all meant, but I’d have time to figure it out. I had a feeling that Rose knew a lot more than she let on. She was the first person I’d interrogate when I got home.
I realized that I’d been running with my sword in my hand, so I sheathed it in my weapons belt. I could run much faster with my hands free. I kicked up sand as I went and didn’t slow down.
After what felt like hours of running, I felt a giant cramp in my side, and I had to stop. I wheezed as I caught my breath but continued walking. I had lost my bag in all the confusion. All I had were my weapons and the stone. I could feel it at my waist, pulsing in time with my heart. I had no food or water. My body was used to poor nourishment, but it could not survive without water.
I smelled terrible, and I was sweating like a real peasant. I recognized a weedy field up ahead. It was one of the places we’d made camp on the way, and I headed for it. It had been one of the only areas in Goth with a reasonably sized woodland. I quickened my pace and hiked through the waist-high grass and piles of dry leaves that crunched under my boots. There were woods to my right.
I can lose them there.
My thighs burned with every stride as I plunged into the stand of pine and birch trees. Branches nicked my face and sliced through my skin like the thinnest of knives, but I never broke my stride.
Eventually I began to falter over the fallen trees and underbrush. I was getting tired. Every step became more difficult, and I felt like my legs were made of iron blocks. I was drenched in my own sweat. Finally my cloak got caught between two birch trees, and I was flung backwards. I didn’t have the energy or the patience to untangle my cloak, so I ripp
ed it free.
I moved carefully now to avoid slipping on the moss-covered stones. The little light I had was fading into the semi-darkness. The air was surprisingly wet and cool. I shivered uncontrollably as my wet clothes clung to me but gave me no warmth.
But the stone did. It pulsed warmly at my waist. Even through its cage, I could feel its energy, and I was tempted to pick it up to warm my hands. I decided against it at the last minute. Although I was curious, I was still terrified of the stone.
I leapt a rotten log and then climbed up a gentle slope and jogged down the other side. I slowed and sped up again as I made my way in a zigzag motion. I hoped to throw my pursuers off with my crisscrossing. But I had to be careful, if I got too deep into these woods I’d get lost for sure.
At the top of the hill I stopped and glanced back. The Fransians had pushed ahead of the Romilians, but both were catching up to me. The Anglians and their prince had fallen farther back and seemed to be flagging.
I tore down the slope, heading south, and scurried into another cover of woodland. Branches slapped my face, roots tripped me, and thorns scratched my arms and tore holes in my clothes as I ran through the forest
The undergrowth was thicker here, and I had to slow down, but I kept up as good a pace as I could. Another hill rose steeply in front of me and I went up and down again. I ran and ran.
I seemed to get nowhere. It was as if the woods went on forever. The dead trees sprouted around me and the ground beneath my feet grew wetter and swampier. I slapped away mosquitoes that were the size of horseflies, but they bit my neck and forehead anyway. I cursed. I hated bugs. I ran faster but the earth turned soft and muddy beneath my boots, and I stumbled and fell. When I rose again my pants were soaked through and covered in dark green muck that smelled like sewer water.
I stopped to catch my breath and realized it was getting even colder. Night was falling, and soon the forest would be too dark for me to run anymore. A damp chill closed over my skin, and I strained to find my footing. I needed to get out of this swamp.
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