“She’s delirious from the poison. Go with Dryal to her chambers. Lock her in her rooms until the execution.”
I wrestle against my restraints, but they win in the end. They toss me in my quarters and then slam the door shut. All the fight leaves me, and I sink to the floor.
The drug still lingers. Try as I might, I can’t clear my mind. Images—horrible, horrible images—taunt me. I imagine Bea’s last moments, her final screams. I see Rigel walking toward the executioner’s block, proud and strong.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but at some point Pippa crouches down next to me. I’m almost certain she’s real. Dryal must have let her in. She murmurs condolences and speaks false hope. She slips out just before they come to collect me.
Dryal enters the room alone. “You look awful.”
I don’t even care. “What poison did you give me?”
“Maid-of-the-shadows powder—but only a tiny amount. I had to knock you out, and you wouldn’t take the sleeping draught. Don’t you remember?”
The last thing I remember is Dryal pulling me from the tower.
I rub my eyes. “I hate you.”
“That’s all right.” He pulls me to my feet. “You’ll thank me soon.”
***
Caging me in, Argus sits on one side of me and Dryal sits on the other. Across the courtyard, Pippa and Archer are with the other nobles. The villagers have gathered. Most of them look on, several crying silent tears. But there are those who are not so quiet. The crowds at the front have almost frenzied themselves into a riot, but so far, Father’s guards have kept them back.
Father sits behind me. Smug glee rolls off of him in waves.
Suddenly the crowds roar in protest. Rigel walks into the courtyard, flanked by two knights. His hands are bound behind him, and his ankles are chained to prevent his escape. He holds his head high; he stands tall.
Even in death, I can’t help but admire him. I had thought there were no tears left to cry, but I was wrong. A silent one trails down my cheek, soon followed by another.
He meets my eyes. He doesn’t look fearful of death—regretful, resigned—but not scared.
Behind me, Father stands. “Lord Rigel of Errinton, Great-Great-Grandson of King Leonard III, you are charged with treason to the crown.”
The villagers scream and attempt to press forward, but the knights push them back.
“For your crimes, you will be beheaded and buried in an unmarked tomb. Degraded. Forgotten.”
Rigel doesn’t flinch, but I clench my fists so tightly, my knuckles turn white.
The executioner waits, his blade sharp and ready. Rigel walks toward his death. A villager, a lone young man, breaks through the line of knights and runs forward, a crude sword in his hand. He makes to attack Rigel’s guards, but before he reaches them, he’s struck down. I look away from the unnecessary bloodshed.
The crowd’s screams reach deafening levels, and several knights attack those closest to them. Many fall—most of them unarmed. A woman pushes her way forward, trying to reach the young man’s side.
“No!” I cry out, standing from my seat.
She falls to a knight’s blade.
Dryal tugs me down. I yank back and turn to lash out at him. I’m stopped short by the disgust and anger barely concealed in his expression. Helpless, I sink to the bench. Finally, the knights subdue the crowd.
Now irritated, Father yells out, “Finish this.”
Rigel kneels down. My throat closes, and I can’t breathe. Movement catches my eye at the moment the executioner lifts his blade. As one, Pippa and Archer stand, each raising their bows in a fluid, synchronized movement. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, their arrows fly. With a solid thud, they reach their targets. The executioner staggers back and drops his weapon. At the same time, the knight to Rigel’s left sinks to his knees.
Rigel jerks his head up, surprised. He recovers quickly. The remaining knight unsheathes his sword, ready to finish the execution. Just in time, Rigel rolls out of the way, and the blade misses its mark.
With a chorus of shouts, fighting breaks out around us. Knights and guards turn on their comrades, fighting to free Rigel. Dryal grabs me, his sword already in his hand, and he pushes me behind his back.
Argus lunges for Dryal, but he misses. I search for Rigel through the crowd. Even though still bound, the lord fights well. He elbows his guarding knight in the stomach, and when the man doubles over, he strikes him again in the face.
Pippa runs forward. Her bow is already on her back, and she’s exchanged it for a dagger. Archer follows her, his sword drawn and ready. Ducking as a knight rushes them, Pippa cuts Rigel’s hands free. Archer intercepts, and the man falls.
I try to count how many of Father’s men are fighting on Rigel’s side, but it’s an impossible task. A quarter, maybe even half of them have turned.
“Dryal!” Rigel yells. “Behind Seirsha!”
My eyes snap to Rigel, but then I whip around. Dryal turns but not in time. Rough hands jerk me back, and a knife meets my throat. I step into my attacker to keep the blade from slicing through my skin.
“Stay still, Princess,” Zander says.
Argus takes advantage of Dryal’s distraction, and he charges him. Dryal counters just in time, but it’s a sloppy save. Zander slowly backs from the fighting, pulling me with him.
“Give yourself up and no harm will come to her,” Father calls to Rigel.
At Father’s words, the fighting halts. Rigel’s face is hard, and his eyes are livid. He lets his recently acquired sword drop to the ground and raises his hands in surrender.
“Get him out of here!” Dryal yells.
A knight turns to Rigel. With one solid hit to the back of his head, the man knocks Rigel out. I scream, ignoring the knife biting at my throat. With the help of another guard, the knight pulls Rigel to his feet, and they disappear into the crowd of eager-to-assist villagers.
“Seirsha!” Pippa calls out from somewhere in the masses.
The fighting in the courtyard has ceased, and the knights and guards face off against each other. Dryal ducks the last of Argus’s attacks and then counters. Argus, unable to block in time, falls to the ground, clutching his arm.
“We will come back for you!” Dryal yells to me as several of Father’s remaining men collect me from Zander.
They drag me into the great hall with Father at our heels. “I should have you hanged! You’re as much a traitor as he is!”
I stare back at him with triumph in my eyes. Not only is Rigel alive, but he’s escaped as well.
Father turns his back. “Kill her.”
Without question, the knight next to me unsheathes his sword. I stare at Father, too shocked to believe he’s said the words to even brace myself for the end.
“No!” Father snarls, whipping back around half a moment before it is too late. “Lock her in the tower.”
Chapter Twenty
A cold wind whips through the window, chilling me. Outside, the gray clouds darken. The weather is working itself up for a summer storm, and I believe there will be snow.
I huddle into myself with my knees pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I shift my ankle, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. The metal cuff digs into my skin. A few days ago it was merely sore. Now it’s rubbed raw.
It’s my fifth day in the tower. Or is it the sixth now? It’s easier to lose track of time than I would have thought. I haven’t seen Father since he banished me, and I don’t expect to. I suppose I’m lucky he didn’t have me killed. My stomach growls, reminding me that almost all I’ve eaten is bread and water. A guard smuggled in dried venison and a mug of cider two days ago.
I haven’t seen him since.
Trying to block out my surroundings, I close my eyes. Another gust of wind blows, picking up my knotted hair and tossing it in my face. In my mind, I’m somewhere else, somewhere beautiful and warm. It’s a tropical breeze caressing my face and not th
e icy fingers of early winter. The hard stones underneath me are the scrubbed deck of a ship. And Rigel is here. He smiles at me, unguarded and carefree. His arm wraps around my waist, and together we watch the sun set into the sea. The illusion fails me though. I can’t imagine the vastness of the ocean.
I open my eyes and stare at the rounded walls of my prison. My sanctuary, this place I used to come to escape, is now my cage. It’s typical of Father.
At least Rigel’s safe wherever he’s at, and I’m thankful for that. I would spend the rest of my days locked in this tower if it meant Rigel were alive and well—and able to reclaim the kingdom.
Dryal’s plans may be rash, but they are effective.
The knight said he would come back for me. Are they biding their time now, waiting for the best opportunity? Have they tried and failed? Or am I of too little importance to risk the mission?
I set my chin on my knees.
A key slides in the lock, and I jerk my head up. Though I know it’s food rations, hope dies hard. Every time that door opens, I wait for Rigel. Even Dryal would be welcome at this point. I look away when a guard enters. He drops a plate in front of me, and the hard bread skitters to the floor. I give it a look of disdain and then lock my gaze on the opposite side of the tower.
Once the lock sounds in the door and the footsteps fade, I dive at the bread. I brush it off as well as I can, but at this point I barely care. I’m starving. If I were wise, I would stop eating and let myself starve before the infection in my ankle takes me. I’m not sure which would be a worse death. With my current options, I believe it would have been better to die by sword.
After I finish the last morsel, I curl up on my side. A mouse peeps from a hole across the tower. His little whiskers twitch as he surveys the room. Sensing no threat from me, he scurries the rest of the way in, darting this way and that, looking for crumbs. He terrified me for the first few days I was in here. Now he’s almost welcome company. He sniffs around for a bit, and then he disappears down his hole.
Again, I am alone.
***
I’m startled from near-sleep by a shrill scream below. I strain to hear what’s happening in the village, but I can’t make out anything over the mournful howl of the wind. Another cry sounds, and it’s followed by several more.
I stand, trying to inch close enough to the window to look out. The way my chains are bolted, I can’t see anything other than the top of another tower.
The warning bells begin their frantic call just as I spot the creatures. I gasp and back away from the window.
The first of the dragons flies over. He moves so quickly, it’s as if the air itself parts to make room for him. There are more hollers, and just over the cries, Argus yells orders to his knights.
I edge closer to the window, daring to peek out. There are dozens of them; the sky is dark with their silhouettes. The rich smell of wood smoke drifts up to me. It’s the scent of comfort and warmth, but now it brings nothing but horror.
The village is burning.
On Argus’s order, the master archer calls for his men to send the first wave of arrows. They fly through the air, and several inhuman roars break through the storm. Argus yells again—this time for the men to take cover—but their screams betray that many were not quick enough.
I huddle near the window, trying to make myself as out of sight as possible. Is Adrinel out there? Surely she wouldn’t attack, not when she saved me and has healed me so many times. I miss the sapphire dragon now more than ever.
She rescued me once. She’ll rescue me again.
A key turns in the lock, and I look up, shocked. Father isn’t going to leave me to die. The door opens, and though I have a dozen questions ready for the guard, I forget every one of them.
“You came back for me,” I breathe.
Rigel strides toward me, strong and confident. “I would have never left.”
There is another chorus of screams from below. I glance out the window. “The dragons—”
“We’re with them. Or rather, they are not opposed to us being here.”
My jaw goes slack, and I blink at him. Instead of answering my unspoken question, he unsheathes the sword at his side and strikes the chain near my ankle. The metal yields under the drachite blade.
His eyes darken as he examines my oozing wound, which has begun to fester underneath the metal cuff.
“Can you walk?” he asks.
I nod. I don’t care if I have to cut off my own foot and limp from the tower.
“Seirsha…”
I glance up, startled to hear the emotion in Rigel’s voice. He takes my hands and pulls me off the floor. My hair is matted, my face is dirty and tear-stained, and my gown is beyond filthy.
But Rigel looks at me as if I am the most precious thing in his world.
He takes my face in his hands. “I didn’t know if you would be…I didn’t know what I would find…” He shakes his head, his jaw tight.
My heart breaks. I fall against him, clinging to his tunic while he holds me.
After several moments, he pulls away. “We must leave.”
“Is it safe?”
“If we’re quick.”
***
We rush down the tower. Once on the battlements, I chance a glance at the archers. We’re close enough I could touch them, but their backs are to me, and their eyes are on the sky. All are oblivious to our presence. Rigel moves to take a door that will lead us to a busy hall, but I tug his hand forward, urging him to keep moving.
I lead him down a small flight of stairs to another door that accesses the servants’ chambers. It’s eerily still in the hall. Are the villagers fighting or have they fled? I hope most have done the latter.
My ankle throbs, and the pain is so intense, it’s making me dizzy. I press on, not wanting to be the reason we’re captured—not that Rigel will allow us to be. He hasn’t sheathed his sword since he set me free, and he has the look of a man ready to fight—eager for it even.
“Rigel?” I stumble, twisting my ankle, and try to hide my gasp so he won’t know how bad the wound hurts. “Teach me to shoot like Pippa?”
He glances at me, his eyes crinkling as he almost smiles. “Now wouldn’t be the most opportune moment.”
I choke out a laugh, glad for the distraction. “Later.”
We’ve reached the door at the end of the hall. We have no choice but to go through it and into the main corridor.
“If we’re quick, we can make it to the kitchens and slip into the village,” I say.
Rigel shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous to go through the village. We’ll have to go out the back.”
“I thought you said the dragons were on your side.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “That doesn’t necessarily mean they are safe.”
“The only way to the back entrance is through the hall that goes right past Father’s chambers…”
Rigel squeezes my hand. “There’s nothing we can do about that.”
I falter as terror rises in my chest. I can’t bear to see Father. Not after he locked me away. Any hope that he’s ever loved me is gone—no one who’s ever had love for someone could have done what he did to me.
Before I can voice my concerns, a knight turns from a corridor in front of us. Recognition flashes in his eyes, and he rushes Rigel. Seemingly unconcerned, Rigel guides me behind him. He extends his sword, welcoming the attack.
The man charges forward, and their blades meet. They circle each other, both searching for a weakness in their opponent. Rigel waits, patient. Finally, the knight attacks. Rigel blocks and counters, sending the man stumbling backward. Sensing his moment, Rigel lunges and disarms the man.
With Rigel’s sword at his throat, the knight slowly raises his hands. Rigel steps on the man’s lost blade and kicks it to me. “Take it.”
The sword slides across the stone floor, stopping just in front of me.
Tentative, I lean down for the weapon. It’s lighter than it looks
, but the weight of it still feels foreign in my hand.
Rigel nods down the hall. “Go on.”
I hurry past him as I give the knight a wary glance. The man’s eyes follow his sword, and he looks murderous. I’m not sure I want him on our heels.
“Are you going to follow us?” Rigel asks the man.
The knight stares Rigel down.
“That’s what I expected.” Rigel takes the hilt of his sword and knocks the man out. I cringe, but Rigel doesn’t look the least bit fazed. He turns to me. “Are you all right?”
I nod quickly, looking away from the fallen knight.
“He’ll be fine,” Rigel assures me, and he once again takes my hand.
I’m not sure why it bothers me. The man wouldn’t think twice about running Rigel through. Perhaps it’s the blind allegiance these men have to my father. I feel responsible for them.
I don’t have time to dwell on it further because, ahead, Dryal rounds the corner. His back faces us, and he’s battling two of Father’s elite knights. The tang of metal echoes off the walls.
Dryal glances over his shoulder. “A little help?”
One of the men curses when he sees me, but his attention is quickly diverted by Rigel. I stand back, watching the men fight, unsure what to do. I should do something. Instead, I find myself mesmerized by Rigel. He’s quick and sure, completely confident. His manner is a bit arrogant as well—as is every man’s bred of Errintonian blood. Even that he wears well.
I hear the footsteps behind me a moment too late. Just as I turn, I’m grabbed from behind. I shriek out, fighting against the arm pinning my shoulders. I can’t twist away, so I kick at my attacker. He tries to snatch the sword from me, but he’s doomed the moment I remember it’s in my hand.
I will not be taken again.
Gritting my teeth—not thinking of what I’m about to do—I swing the sword over my shoulder. The man howls. I take advantage of the moment to twist out of his grasp and swing the sword behind me as I turn. The blade strikes the guard soundly in the middle.
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 67
