I take a deep breath, visibly controlling myself. “I do not wish to spend the night in the dungeons.” I drop my eyes to the floor and whisper, “Please forgive my insolence.”
He studies me for a moment and then accepts the wine. “Better.”
I turn back to the sidebar, slip the pot in my bodice, and then take the pitcher. “May I?” I ask Zander, motioning to his empty cup. I fill his and then move to Rovert’s. Without meaning to, I watch intently as Zander brings the wine to his lips.
“Wait.” Father narrows his eyes. He holds his chalice to me. “You drink first.”
“What are you insinuating?” I try to sound affronted, but my voice shakes.
“Drink the wine, Seirsha.”
I accept the chalice and lift it. I can’t pause; he’ll know what I’ve done. The liquid touches my lips, but none enters my mouth. After pretending to swallow, I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
Father doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he motions for me to be seated.
As if spooked, none of them drink the wine. I pick at my food, eating only as much as I can. They continue to discuss their plans to exterminate the feral dragons, and I wait impatiently for them to reach for their drinks. It’s only a matter of time. They will forget.
Zander is the first. While arguing with Father, he takes a sip. I avert my eyes. If the draught works too quickly, they will find me out. Not long later, Rovert drinks his. Father, more cautious, watches them. When neither keels over, he holds his chalice in the air to me in a mock toast and takes a long gulp.
Time goes by, another bell rings, and the men are still alert. The draught must not have been potent enough, or perhaps it was too diluted in the entire pitcher of wine. Then Zander yawns. Like a chain reaction, Rovert yawns as well and then Father follows. I watch them, careful to look disinterested.
Zander falls out of his chair.
“Zander, what in the…?” Father’s eyes whip to me.
I open my mouth, searching for something to say, but am saved when Rovert crashes face-first into his plate.
Father attempts to stand—ready to throttle me, I’m sure—when his eyes roll in his head. He takes one step forward, reaches for the table for support, and then crumples to the ground.
His hand catches his chalice, and the remainder of the red wine spills. It pools on the table and slowly drips from the edge onto his lifeless form.
I sit as if frozen, completely stunned. It was a sleeping draught and not a poison, wasn’t it? I stand, hesitating only a moment, and kneel by Father. I press my fingers to his throat. His pulse is slow but strong. I yank my hand away. Though they are sleeping, I feel like a murderess.
I wipe my hands on my gown and then go to the desk. I try a drawer, expecting it to be locked but hoping it will be open. I don’t want to search Father for the keys. To my surprise, and relief, the drawer slides with no resistance. There are a great many things of interest—letters, several seals that don’t belong to our family, and a miniature portrait of Mother and Father. My finger slides over it. She’s just as beautiful as I remember. Her hair was down for the sitting, and the dark curls cascade to her waist. Father stands behind her, his hand on her shoulder. They look happy, in love. Of course, that expression could have easily been painted on by the artist.
Still, I want to imagine them this way—especially when, after tonight, Father will hate me as he never has before. If we’re caught, I don’t doubt he will kill me.
I tuck the painting into my bodice and go through the rest of the drawers. No keys. I hold a hand over my mouth, trying to keep the panic from rising. Where else could they be?
A shuffling noise comes from outside the door, and I go still. Three sharp raps echo through the chamber. My heart jumps to my throat when the door opens.
Dryal’s eyes land on the men. “What is taking so long? Have you found the keys?”
I clench my hands, breathing deep after the scare. “I thought they would be in the desk, but they aren’t here.”
“Did you try his bedchamber?”
Entering father’s room makes me feel more than a little uneasy. I shake my head.
“I’ll check the cabinet and the bookcase.” He’s already searching through drawers. “Try the bedpost and any chest you may find.”
I shift in place, my eyes again falling on Father. What if the draught is too much for his heart? He’s already aged ten years.
When Dryal sees I haven’t yet moved, he growls, “Go.”
The tone of his voice brings me back to my senses, and I rush into the bedchamber. I search the bedside table first but find nothing. They don’t hang from the bedpost either. I try every cabinet, chest, and drawer. There are no keys to be found.
“Any luck?” I call out to Dryal.
“Not yet.”
I scan the room, racking my brain for a clue, when my eyes settle on a tapestry. There is nothing special about it; it doesn’t stand out in any way. But I wonder. I stride across the room and whip the fabric aside. There, in the wall, is a tiny cabinet. I glance behind me, feeling as if Father will wake at any moment and punish me for discovering his secrets. With little time to waste, I dismiss the thought and pull the door open. I peer in the cavity. It’s too dark to see anything.
I clench my hand into a fist, stretch my fingers out again, and close my eyes. I truly don’t want to reach into that dark space. Just as my fingers pass into shadow, the memory of the large spider jumps unbidden to my mind. I yank my hand back like a coward.
No. I can do this. I grit my teeth and thrust my hand in. Instead of keys, I find a rolled parchment. I yank it out. I don’t have time to read it, but there’s something about it that intrigues me. Not having found any multi-legged creatures the first time, I am more confident when I reach in again. My fingers brush against something cold. Keys. I wrap my hand around them and pull them out, clinging to them tightly.
I begin to slide the parchment back in the cubby, but I stop. Instead of replacing it, I slide off the ribbon and unfurl the paper. My eyes quickly scan the document. “Dryal!”
My guard races into the room, his sword already drawn. “What is it?”
I hold the paper out to him. “Look.”
He rips it from me, irritated I scared him. His eyes go wide as he reads it.
I snatch it back from him, not trusting him with something this precious.
“I’m the first surviving first-born female since my great-great-grandfather’s time,” I tell him as I clutch the parchment to me. “The ones before me didn’t die at birth.”
Dryal meets my eyes. “They were murdered, and this is why.”
All those poor first-born baby girls, every one of them dead—every one of them but me. Why didn’t Father have me killed?
***
I know what to expect this time, and the dungeons do not alarm me. My mind is too fully on Rigel and the document to care about anything else. We finally reach the bowels of the castle.
The same guard stands on duty. His expression shadows when Dryal and I step into view. “He’s not here,” he snarls.
Dryal steps forward, keeping me back. “Where is he?”
The guard shrugs. “How should I know?”
Panic rises in my chest. Father wouldn’t have executed Rigel early. He will wait to make a show of it. Where has he locked him away?
Dryal draws his sword. Before the jailer realizes what’s happening, the knight has the blade pointed at the man’s throat. Short on both patience and time, Dryal asks again, “Where is he?”
The jailer glares at the knight, but he holds his hands up in surrender. “One of the towers. I don’t know which one.”
I race up the stairs, not waiting for Dryal. He’ll catch up. I don’t know where exactly Father is keeping Rigel, but there are only so many towers he could be in.
Now that we’re out of the dungeons, we must be careful. If anyone were to discover Father, we would be in grave danger.
“Dryal, where is Argus
this evening?” I ask once he joins me.
The knight gives me a wry look. “Sleeping like a baby.”
I shudder and continue our search.
The first tower is empty. The second is as well. I pause on one of the parapets, thinking. Moonlight streams down on me, taunting me—reminding me the night is not eternal.
“Which one should we try next?” My voice trembles with my growing panic.
Dryal shakes his head, scanning the castle.
A dark figure glides across the sky. As I gaze up at the dragon, I suddenly realize where Father is keeping Rigel.
Dryal hollers for me to slow down as I race up the aging, crumbling stairway, but I know these steps well, and I am not frightened. Father didn’t even bother to lock the door. I swing it open. At the window, silhouetted in the moonlight, Rigel stands.
Chapter Nineteen
Rigel turns as I enter, his features open with surprise. “Seirsha?”
I pause as my guard enters in behind me. Rigel’s expression darkens. I wouldn’t want to be Dryal for all the world.
“We’ve come to rescue you, My Lord.” Dryal’s tone isn’t overly respectful, but it’s not mocking either. He jingles the keys.
Rigel narrows his eyes and motions to his ankle. “Then by all means.”
First, I rush towards him, offering him the parchment. “There is something you need to see.”
He wraps his hands over my arms, pulling me close. “Don’t you think we should leave first?”
I motion at Dryal to start on the locks. It may take some time to find the right key.
“Read it,” I urge Rigel, pushing the paper at him again.
He accepts it and angles it toward the pale moonlight shining in through the window so he may read it. His eyebrows knit as his mouth falls open. “Where did you find this?”
“A hidden compartment in Father’s chambers. It’s where I found the keys as well.”
He sets his hand on my cheek. “You’re the first first-born female in your line.”
I shake my head. “No. But I’m the only one that survived birth.”
He rolls the paper carefully. “If this is true, my grandfather didn’t lose the fight for his crown—”
“—he gave it up to stop the fighting,” I finish for him. “To stop the deaths of his people.”
Dryal waves his hand, impatient. “With the agreement a son of his line would marry the first first-born female of yours. We got it.” He jerks at the lock. “Can you move your ankle toward the wall? The chain’s twisted at an awkward angle.”
“Why the first female born? Why not join the lines with a male from my line and a female from yours?” I ask.
Rigel shakes his head. “Leonard wanted our name to continue. It would have to be one of his male descendants.”
“There should have been two copies made,” I say to Rigel. “Your grandfather wouldn’t have trusted my grandfather. What happened to your family’s?”
Rigel stares out at the moonlit peaks, and then something dawns on him.
“The fire.” He turns back to me. “The estate burned down that year.”
“You don’t think this is forged, do you?”
“No. Your father wouldn’t allow something like that to linger if it weren’t genuine.”
“Not sure why he’d let it linger even if it were genuine,” Dryal grunts.
The knight’s tried most of the keys, and I’m becoming increasingly nervous.
“That’s true,” I say. “Perhaps—like the secret room—he doesn’t even know the compartment is there?”
Rigel looks down at Dryal. “Which means—”
“These are the wrong keys.” Dryal sits back, seething.
Panic rises, fast and blinding. “What do we do?”
“Stay here,” Dryal says. “I will search the chambers again.”
I can’t trust him, but I can’t leave Rigel—not when this will likely be his last night because we’ve botched up his rescue.
I twist the delicate chain at my neck and turn away. Panicking won’t help.
Rigel’s hand settles on my shoulder. “Let him go.”
I turn back. “What if he’s lying to us again! How do we know he even tried to open the lock?”
Dryal rolls his eyes and offers me the keys. “Try it yourself, Your Highness.”
I rip the keys away from him. My anger needs an outlet, and he seems like as good a target as any. Better, actually.
The knight strides from the tower. “I swear, I will return.”
I ball my fists, ready to heave the keys at his retreating figure, but I control myself.
Rigel wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
There’s a goodbye in his embrace. He doesn’t expect Dryal to help us. A sob rises in my throat, and I turn into him.
I can’t bear another person I love dying. Where is that stupid dragon when I need her? Adrinel would have known how to fix this. She could have yanked the chains from the walls—burned down the guard barracks as a distraction. Anything to help us escape.
My hands go to Rigel’s face. He hasn’t shaved for over a week. His eyes are weary, and his cheeks are a little gaunt from the time he spent in the stocks.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He wipes away the tears I can’t hold back. “This isn’t your fault.”
“He’s my father.”
Rigel shakes his head, and his eyes run over my face. “How did you find me?”
He smiles when I tell him. I don’t know how he can manage it.
“Did they feed you, when you were in stocks?”
“No.” His hands find my hair. “But the villagers slipped me food in the dead of night—iktar, in fact.”
I laugh through my tears and set my head against his tunic.
Rigel gently pries the forgotten keys from my fingers. “Let’s try them again—just in case.”
We kneel together. One by one, Rigel goes through the keys. Several minutes later we both sit against the tower wall, defeated. He wraps his arm around my back, and I curl next to him.
We speak of childhood memories and dreams. Rigel tells me more of places he’s been; I tell him of places I wish I could go. There’s little light left, and soon it disappears completely as the moon’s time in the sky comes to an end.
I fight sleep. I don’t want to miss a moment, but my eyes are heavy, and I finally give in. As I slip into unconsciousness, Rigel lays his cheek on my hair.
***
“Wake up!”
I’m not-so-gently shaken, and I jerk my eyes open. “Dryal?” Instantly awake, I sit up. “Did you find the keys?”
“No, but I have a plan.”
He’s pulling me to my feet, and I yank my arm away from him. “I don’t trust your plans.”
Rigel stands, and I shift closer to him.
Dryal’s agitated. He takes two long steps to the window, peers out at the night sky, and then steps back. “We don’t have time to argue. I need to get you back to your Father’s chambers.”
“What? No.”
“Are you mad?” Rigel growls. “He knows she drugged him.”
“He won’t think that if she’s drugged as well, will he?”
He’s not making sense.
“You are not giving her a sleeping draught.” Rigel steps as close to Dryal as his chains will allow.
Dryal steps back, easily evading the lord. “Just a small bit. It has to look authentic.” He turns to me, holding his hands up. “If he wakes and finds you under the same draught, he’ll assume some unknown person slipped it into the wine.”
“But who would poison him?”
“Who wouldn’t poison him? Right now your father is the most hated man in Errintonian history. Commoners loathe him. He’s killed off his nobles’ sons.” Dryal stops his pacing and looks at me. “He’s destroyed the dragon treaty.”
Rigel lets out a frustrated breath and then turns me toward him. “I
t will keep you from suspicion. Your father can’t know it was you.”
“I’m not going to let him drug me!”
“Seirsha.” Rigel glances out the window.
The horizon is already growing lighter in the early summer sky. From below, birds have begun their morning songs.
“I can’t die knowing you’re in danger,” he says. “I just can’t.”
I clutch my stomach.
“Go with him,” Rigel begs.
“I won’t leave you. Let Father find me here.”
Rigel takes my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “Seirsha, I love you.” He looks at Dryal and nods. “Take her.”
Dryal’s already pulling me away.
“Rigel!” We’re halfway down the tower, and I tug against Dryal. “Wait.”
Dryal continues to drag me down the stairway. “No time.”
I didn’t even say goodbye.
***
Someone hollers my name, and I wake to a sharp slap in the face. My eyes fly open, and my hand instantly rises to my head. My temples pound.
“She’s alive,” Zander says from over me.
I sit up, and my stomach rolls. My memories quickly return. I fight back a wave of nausea. Zander pulls me from the floor, and I clutch the back of one of the chairs for balance.
Father watches me with narrowed eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m going to be ill.”
He doesn’t seem completely convinced.
“What happened?” I ask, looking around as if confused. It’s not too hard. My brain is muddled, and my eyes are still blurry.
Father’s still watching me with suspicion. “Someone attempted to poison us.”
I jerk my head toward him, fire in my eyes. “Perhaps someone would rather poison us than let Rigel be executed.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Well, they failed. Rigel will die today.”
I lunge at him. I’m not exactly sure what it is I hope to accomplish, but it doesn’t matter. Argus grabs me before I am even close to Father.
“I was supposed to marry him!” I scream. “Our lines were supposed to be joined as soon as there was a female first-born!”
Father’s face contorts in disbelief, and then he goes white.
I struggle against Argus, kicking and flailing, although I know it’s a fight I can’t win. “And you knew it! That’s why there was a never a female baby who lived past birth. Your family murdered them!”
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 66
