by Jill Myles
No one answered.
They were going to leave me here blindfolded and tied? Rage burned through me, quickly followed by the intense worry for Alek. I had to do something. I couldn’t sit here and wait for someone to come back.
I had to help, somehow. I had to save him.
My neck itched from where the trickling blood was drying. If only I could get it on my hands, maybe I could magic the rope and loosen it. I twisted my hands – the ropes were tight, cutting into my skin painfully. Biting my lip at the pain, I gave another rough twist, and I felt my skin burn.
It gave me an idea. Slowly, methodically, I began to rub. Pain shot up my arms, but I kept reflexively twisting.
If I could break the skin, my blood could magic the ropes. Then I could slip free…
I concentrated hard, viciously twisting my wrists back and forth. Time seemed to slow, and there was nothing but the burning pain of my skin chafing against the thick rope, the frightened pant of my breath, and the endless back-and-forth twisting motion that I made in an attempt to break the skin.
Another rough twist of my arms, and I felt something damp slide down my wrist, even as the pain intensified. The magic fluttered within me, and I focused on the ropes, concentrating hard. This time, instead of shifting my wrists, I stretched my hands and made them flat, and attempted to wiggle free of the ropes.
They fell to the ground. I was free.
Relieved, I hastily grabbed the blindfold, tearing it off of my eyes and blinking at my surroundings. I was in a strange room that I didn't recognize. Some sort of study - that perhaps was why they had not untied me. The room was thick with furnishings, and a table full of maps lay on the opposite end of the room, as if there were always more planning needing to be done. It was a masculine room, an interesting room, if it had not been a prison. My mind was racing, thinking of ways that I could get out of the room, break free somehow. A guard would be posted at the door, I knew that much. So I moved to the desk and rummaged through it, then moved to the fireplace. There, a long-handled pan used to scoop ashes. I grasped it and weighed it in my hands. Heavy but not too heavy. I held it out in front of me, testing the length, and gasped to see my wrists.
I'd shredded them in my efforts. No wonder they hurt so badly. Red and bloody, it felt like my skin was being held over a fire. I couldn't dwell on it now. Biting my lip, I rubbed my wrist along the pan and thought of luck, and felt the magic tweak again. Then I moved to the door, and rubbed my wrist along the doorframe, wincing at the sensation.
It hurt, but the smear it left behind meant a lot of magic. I thought hard, trying to influence my Birthright. My mind was full of thoughts of doors opening in silence, of not being locked and falling open.
I tried the doorknob.
Not locked. It fell open silently, without the slightest creak of rusty hinges.
A guard was at the door, facing the other way. I lifted the pan and crashed it down on the back of his head. The bang of the pan reverberated in the hallway, and the guard slumped to the ground.
I froze in place, waiting for someone else to appear, but no one did - again my luck held strong. I knelt beside the guard and placed my hand in front of his mouth. Good, still breathing. I hadn’t hurt him badly, just knocked him out. Next, I searched him, looking for a weapon. A short sword was belted at his waist, and I tugged it free. Tiptoeing over the body of the guard that I'd knocked out, I began to move down the hallway. Night had fallen while I had waited, and the windows were dark, the only light leaking in filled with moonlight and shadow.
"I'm coming, Alek," I whispered into the silence.
Clutching the sword tight in my hand, I crept down the hallways, looking for Alek. I had no idea where he would be, but I wouldn't let it overwhelm me. My fears didn’t matter. He needed me and I was going to find him. So I walked, resolute, my steps quiet on the carpet.
A regiment of soldiers passed by. I hid behind a tapestry and rubbed some of my blood on it. The shadows swallowed me and they walked past without glancing my way. After they were gone, I crept back out and moved down the long corridor once more. If Alek was captive, where would he be? Would Xavien have hidden him somewhere? Was he torturing him even now? Or was I too late?
The hall I walked down turned into a dead end. Drat! I turned back and examined the row of doors I'd been too scared to open. I had to go down one of them, but which one? The sound of many booted feet began to echo in the corridor, and I hastily selected one and moved inside, shutting it behind me.
The room was occupied. A servant girl stared at me, a towel in her hands, a stack of folded laundry next to her. She gasped, her eyes wide.
I put a finger to my lips, indicating silence, as the troops passed the door. My entire body was tight with tension - if she screamed, I would be found out.
But she only stared at my wrists, her gaze flicking from me back to my wrists, then back to me again.
When the hall was silent once more, I slumped in relief against the door.
"You're the princess, aren't you?" she whispered. "The one that was in the marketplace."
I grimaced. So much for thinking my plan to earn money would never make it to the palace. "That was me," I agreed.
"I won't tell anyone that I saw you here," she said in a low voice.
Gratitude brimmed in my eyes and I fought the urge to wipe away the tears. "Thank you."
She moved toward me, offering me a towel. "You've hurt yourself. Do you want me to wash your wounds for you?"
I shook my head, glancing back at the door. "I need the blood." And before she could ask me about that strange comment, I added, "Do you know where they are keeping my husband?"
Sadness crossed her face. "All the rebels are in the dungeons. They plan to execute them at dawn before the entire city."
My throat grew dry, and the knot there made it almost impossible to breathe. "Do you know where the dungeons are? I have to find him and free him."
"It's dangerous, Your Highness. They have him locked up and guarded."
"I have to try."
She nodded and began to dig through the laundry. "You should change clothes, then. If you look like a maid, you can make it through the palace without anyone noticing. I can help you."
The tears of gratitude threatened again, but I managed to fight them off. "Thank you, again."
"Don't thank me. Just free the men."
With the maid's help, we managed to tear off my beautiful gown and replaced it with a boring grey servant's uniform. My wounds would not stop bleeding, and my sleeves flapped open. The solution we came up with was a stack of blankets. I'd carry them and they would hide my wrists - and the short sword that I would stick in between the folds.
She pulled a cloth cap over my head, hiding my hair. “Just keep your head down and look busy, and no one will stop you.”
I nodded, steeling myself. “Which way should I go to get to the dungeons?”
The maid gave me the directions – two lefts, go down a flight of stairs, and then past the guard hall. It sounded insurmountable and terrifying – I’d have to trek across the entire palace. I refused to think about it, though.
There was no option other than saving Alek.
So, terrified and trembling from the pain in my wrists, I made my way back into the hallway just as one of the guardsmen rounded a corner. Frightened, I hefted the stack of blankets and began to head toward the door I needed, my breath sharp and raspy in my throat.
“Here, let me get that for you,” he said in a kind voice, and opened the door I needed.
I gave him a nod of thanks, not trusting my voice, and hurried down the new hallway. This one was filled with guardsmen, and terror clung to me as I forced myself to walk in a slow, deliberate fashion, keeping the blankets hugged so close that they almost obscured my face. On I hurried, waiting for the dreaded voice that would ask me to halt, to stop in place, that they had seen through my ruse.
Nothing. I made two lefts and descended the flight of stairs. One
guard made a catcall in my direction, but lost interest when I ignored him. The guard hall was full of soldiers drinking and laughing, and they paid no attention to me as I hurried past with my burden.
A long, cold tunnel was at the far end of the guard hall, and I descended down it, noticing the temperature change. We were underground, and the rocky floor here was cold and damp. A pair of guards stood at a heavy door. I knew that behind it were the prisoners, and my heart thumped madly in my chest.
One of the guards raised a hand as I approached. “Halt. What are you doing here?”
I didn’t have to feign my fear of them. “I’m here to deliver blankets to the prisoners. It’s supposed to get cold tonight,” I lied, thinking fast. To try and make my role seem more genuine, I curtsied awkwardly and kept my eyes on the floor.
“No one’s supposed to be giving the prisoners anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the blankets.
I decided to play at being ignorant. “I don’t know what to tell you. They told me to come down here and give the prisoners blankets,” I stammered, my voice high and frightened.
“Was it the steward?” The other guard asked, annoyance clouding his face. “Is he sticking his hand in the king’s business again?”
A glib answer died in my throat. I stared at the men helplessly, shivering with fear. If they didn’t believe me, I was going to be found out. Please, please believe me.
At my trembling silence, the other guard snorted. “She’s too terrified to say. I’m going to go have a talk with that steward.” He pointed at the other guard. “You stay here and don’t let her in until I clear it.”
“Aye,” said the guard, glaring at me.
I offered him a timid smile as the other guard stalked off down the hall. My mind was racing as I stared at the door. How to get in there? How to get past this guard that was glaring at me so balefully?
It came to me as a flash of inspiration, and I acted immediately.
I tilted the pile of blankets and the first one fell off onto the floor. “Oh dear,” I said, and pretending that I was losing hold of the rest of the blankets, awkwardly adjusting them in my grasp. In reality, my hand was searching for the sword handle hidden in the mix of blankets.
The guard gave me an irritated look and bent over to pick up the fallen blanket.
I whipped out the sword and banged the rounded butt of it against the back of his head. Again, my luck held and he collapsed at my feet. Relieved, I flung the blankets aside and pulled the heavy door open. It led into a dark tunnel that descended deeper into the earth. I didn’t hesitate.
After a long, slick path, the tunnel evened out and I found the cells. They lined up endlessly, stretching out far ahead of me. I choked – so many! How would I find Alek? I moved to the bars of the first cell and pressed my hands against the rough bars. “Alek? Is that you?”
A few figures emerged from the darkness – I recognized the dirty, torn uniforms of that of the soldiers of the Scarecrow King, the king before Xavien. They wore short beards and weariness lined their faces. Alek's friends and companions.
“Is Alek down here?” I asked them. In the distance, I heard the low murmur of other voices beginning to talk with excitement as my surprise visit was noticed.
“He’s further down, my lady, at the far end of the tunnel.” The man moved forward and touched my hand. “Please, won’t you let us out? Ours is a death sentence.”
“You must help me free my husband,” I told him, even as I moved toward the lock on the cell. Dirty hands reached for me, clearly desperate, and I could see the frightened looks on the faces of the men. I could not leave them behind to die, not when my chances of saving Alek would be so much better with others at my side.
“We will,” he said in a low, fervent voice. “You have our word, princess.”
I looked at him in surprise. How had he known I was a princess? But there was no time to ask. I bent to the lock and rubbed my sticky wrist against it, feeling the magic tingle through my body. Luck, I told it, and then jammed the point of the short sword into the keyhole. It shouldn’t have worked, but the lock fell open and the men were freed.
They rushed past me, dragging me to the next cell with excitement. “Quick, lady, you must free all of us!”
And I did. I worked down the line, frantic with haste as the soldiers surrounded me. Their excitement was palpable, and at every cell, I quickly scanned the faces looking for Alek. I did not see him. But I could not leave these men either, so I repeated the motion. Rub my wrist on the lock to smear the blood, jam the sword, drop the shattered lock, free the men, move to the next cell and start all over again. I worked with my heart in my throat, worried that at some moment, the guards would descend upon us and I still had no Alek.
But then I made it to the far end of the tunnel, and by this point, my wrists bled freely again, my skin feeling bruised from the inside out. I was so tired from the constant use of my magic that my eyes were crossing, but I couldn’t give up. I needed to save Alek.
At the very last cage, as my shaking hands smeared blood on the lock and I jammed the sword again, a hand reached through the bars and touched my own. My hands shook and I looked up and saw the lined, exhausted face of my husband.
It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in the world. Exhausted tears began to slide down my face in relief. “Oh, oh, it’s you,” I said, breaking into sobs. “Oh Alek!”
And then he was out of the cell and I fell into his arms.
“Rinda.” He stroked my hair, whispering endearments against my hair as he hugged me close, trying to comfort me. “You are a wonder. I can’t believe you made it down here.”
“I had to do something. They were going to execute you at dawn.”
“You are amazing,” he said. “To think that my princess has come and rescued me. I hardly know what to think.” His hand reached for mine and grazed one of my raw wrists.
I hissed with pain and pulled back.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, reaching for me. “Rinda, are you all right?”
“I needed the blood,” I told him, though I felt weak now that I had a moment to stop and think. “My hands were tied behind my back so I rubbed them until the skin broke and used my magic. And I used my magic to open the locks.”
“You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, taking my hand gently in his and examining my wounds. “Oh, Rinda–”
“It’ll heal,” I told him. “Right now we have to get you out of here.” I clasped his hand in mine and began to tug him forward.
“Give me your weapon, love.”
I handed it over, and he hefted it, his free-hand clasping mine. With me in tow, Aleksandr marched through the waiting men. They had stripped the guard of his weapons and locked him in a nearby cell. I followed behind obediently, my worry focusing to something else. “How are we going to break out of the palace? My magic can work on small things, but I don’t know if it’s enough for all of us to get free.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “We’re not going to run away this time.”
Dread settled in my stomach. “We’re not?”
“No.” He smiled down at me, and then looked at the faces of the grim soldiers surrounding us. His hand clenched and he raised the sword in the air, his low voice growing louder. “Tonight we fight! Tonight, we take back Lioncourt from the usurper Xavien. We will expel the mercenaries who have overrun the walls and taken over our city.” He pointed the sword at the men, a fierce light in his eyes. “Tonight, we put the true king back on the throne.”
The voices of hundreds of soldiers cheered.
Chapter Nineteen
The next few hours turned into a blur of swords and blood. The freed men charged through the palace, overpowering and surprising Xavien’s guards. The usurper’s guardsmen were drunk on wine and scattered through the palace, and most surrendered at the sight of Alek and his men. Their swords and armor were taken from them, and our motley band grew better armed the closer we came to the center of the pal
ace. Not every soldier fought – some joined us in our fight.
Alek stayed close to me – I could sense that he wanted to rush ahead with the men, but he was careful to stay at my side, his hand clasped in mine. The men formed a protective circle around us, as if they wanted to make sure that I remained safe.
My time was spent in a haze of magic. The men would offer their swords or armor to me, and I would touch each one with my blood, bettering the odds in our favor. As other soldiers surrendered, we were joined by the housemaids and servants of the palace, who took up whatever they had they could use as a weapon, and soon enough, we had a mob that descended upon the throne room.
Xavien met us there, but as soon as we entered the room, I knew the fight was over. He stood with too few of his mercenaries, and our mob had the power of hundreds of angry voices with it.
He knew this as well, and the cruel smile curved his mouth as he dropped his sword, surrendering. Xavien removed the Lioncourt circlet from his brow and tossed it on the floor. “I yield to old Lioncourt. I will step away from the throne if you will spare my life.”
Soldiers rushed forward to grasp the usurper by the arms, and Alek moved forward as well. Our hands were still linked, and I let him reluctantly drag me forward. To my surprise, Alek spoke for the troops.
“Give me a reason that I should let you live, Xavien. What is to stop you from trying this again?” Aleksandr strode forward, authoritative and strong. The sword clenched in his hand seemed tight with anger.
The older man shrugged, then sneered at Alek. “It seems that one needs a princess to hold his throne, and mine has slipped between my fingers.” His gaze fell on me.
My pride washed over me and I stood tall, giving him my loftiest look. “You never had me. I am quite happy in my marriage to Alek.”
“Of course you are,” he said in a sneering tone. “You are a fool. At least my intentions toward you were honest. I never claimed to want you for anything but your connections to the throne. Your darling husband cannot say the same.”
