The Prison of Buried Hopes (After The Rift Book 5)

by C. J. Archer

  "I want to see the entertainment." Brant rubbed his hands together. "It's going to be a spectacular event. When will it begin?"

  "I meant what are you doing in Merrin Fahl."

  Brant shrugged. "Just passing through."

  "Did you follow us here? Was that you in the forest?"

  "I have no idea what you mean." Brant looked past Max to the rest of us. "Where's the Marginer and the sniveler? Couldn't stomach it, eh?"

  Theodore joined Max, his hand on his sword hilt too, although if Brant drew first, we all knew Theodore would only be in the way.

  Brant snickered. "You're as threatening as a flower."

  Theodore shook his head in disappointment. "Dane could have killed you several times over. After Leon died, he could have done it without repercussions. But he chose not to. He chose to protect you instead. You owe your life to him."

  Brant spat on the ground near Theodore's feet. "I owe him nothing. Nor do any of you. He could have wished your memories back long ago if he'd given me the gem to use up one of the wishes."

  "You know why he did not," Balthazar said. "Now the gem is no longer in his possession so the point is moot."

  "Still pretending it was stolen, eh?"

  I glanced at the remaining guard on the door. He bent over and vomited onto the cobbles but didn't leave his post. "None of us have it," I said, somewhat absently.

  Brant looked like a dog who'd been thrown a bone. "That's not what I hear."

  I went very still. Max and Theodore glanced at one another, but it was Balthazar who spoke. "You think yourself so clever. But that was a very foolish admission. Now we know who you're working for."

  Brant went to step towards him, but Max blocked him. Brant had to settle for pointing instead. "I don't work for anyone, old man. I'm the one with the wishes. I have all the power."

  "Not without the gem you don't."

  Brant bared the gaps between his teeth in a snarl. "I'm going to find myself a nice spot to view the entertainments."

  He disappeared into the crowd and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Kitty peered out from beneath her hood. "Did he look as though he recognized me?"

  "He didn't even look your way," Meg said. "I loathe that man. It should be him on that scaffold after what he did to Leon."

  "It’s clear!" Max nodded at the prison door, now unattended. The guard must have run off while we were distracted with Brant. "Let's go."

  I picked up my medical pack, handed it to Theodore, and pushed through the crowd, not looking behind me to see if the others followed. Only Balthazar was set to leave us and return to Quentin and Erik. In theory, only Theodore and I were necessary to the plan, but the others had insisted on at least coming to the prison entrance. As a doctor and his assistant, we hoped—prayed—we would be allowed inside to attend the ill.

  Our entire plan hinged on them believing one of their number had fetched us.

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder and louder until cheers erupted. The benefit of being Glancian was that I could see over the heads of the shorter Vytillians in front. But it was only a single man that emerged through the prison doors. The gold cloth of his belt was stark against his black robes.

  "It's the Glancian high priest," I said, stopping short. "What's he doing here?"

  "He must have received Bal's message about Dane and raced here from Tilting," Max said, setting off again. "He has come to help too."

  I pushed past Max and cut off the high priest's path. He gasped then looked relieved when he saw it was me. Relieved but weary, the efforts of traveling at speed from Tilting etched into every shadowy crease around his eyes.

  "Josie, I was just coming to find you." Exhaustion made his voice heavy.

  No, not exhaustion. It wasn't just tiredness dragging at the high priest. It was something much worse.

  I felt sick as dread settled into my bones. Something was very wrong.

  He took me by the arms with the intention of speaking earnestly to me, but in truth, his grip was the only thing holding me upright. My legs felt weak, boneless.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I tried to speak to them, to appeal on Dane's behalf. I told them he's a good man, that he couldn't possibly have done it. But the prison warden wouldn't listen."

  The prison doors opened again and guards marched out, their systematic steps a dreadful rhythm that pounded in time to my heart.

  "They look well," I whispered. "Why do they look well? Why are they not purging?"

  He frowned. "The illness is your doing?"

  He looked to where the first of the prisoners emerged behind the guards. Their hands and feet were shackled to the prisoner behind, forming a human chain. "Not all the guards fell ill," the high priest said.

  The prisoners filed out, one by one, shuffling their feet, the shackles restricting their movement. Their heads were bowed, their shoulders stooped.

  Except for the prisoner at the end. Dane looked directly at me.

  Chapter 7

  "No!" I screamed. I tried to run towards Dane, but Max hooked me around the waist. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

  The high priest looked from my stricken face to Dane as the prisoners mounted the scaffold. "I'm sorry, Miss Cully, I wish I could do more."

  I grasped his hands. "Please, tell them this isn't right. Tell them the god wishes him to be free! Do something. You have the power."

  His eyes softened. "I'm so sorry, but I don't. I tried. Believe me, I tried very hard to convince the magistrate and then the warden. But it was no use."

  I let him go, shoving his hands away. "Then why were you looking for me at all?"

  "To offer you comfort."

  "I don't want comforting, I want justice! Dane didn't kill anyone!"

  My words were drowned by the crowd's cheers as the first of the prisoners was lined up beneath the noose. The hangman positioned it around his neck and pulled the lever to open the trapdoor beneath the prisoner's feet. It all happened so quickly that the roar of the crowd took me by surprise.

  The next prisoner was unshackled from the remaining two and brought forward. He began to cry as the first body was taken down.

  "Max, give me your sword." I reached for it, but he batted my hand away.

  "What are you going to do, Josie?"

  "What do you think?" My words were a growl. Like an animal, I was going by pure instinct and my instincts screamed at me to free Dane by any means possible.

  He stood with his head bowed, his hands working furiously behind his back, but he couldn't free himself from the shackles. His shirt cuffs were bloody from where the iron bands rubbed against his wrists.

  "Max, give me the sword," I said again. "Then go. Collect Bal, Erik and Quentin and leave the city."

  Another shout from the crowd erupted as the second man danced the hangman's dance.

  "I'm not letting you do this alone," Max said, drawing his sword.

  As if he heard the whine of the blade, Dane glanced up. His jaw hardened and he shook his head at Max.

  Max looked to Meg. She didn't speak but her face was tight as she tried to hold back her emotions.

  I grabbed Max's hand. "I'll do this. You need to protect Meg and the others."

  "You can't do it," he snapped. "Look at this place! Even if you manage to free him from the chains, you'll never escape the courtyard!"

  "He's right," the high priest said. "Josie, please, think of yourself. You can go on. You will go on and live a valuable, wonderful life."

  He reached out a hand to me but I batted it away. "Don't talk to me about going on. Not without him."

  He winced. "It pains me to see you throwing away your life for a man. All it will achieve is your death too. You cannot succeed."

  The crowd whooped as the third prisoner twitched and kicked, dying a cruel death before their eyes. I closed mine but the image of him hanging there remained.

  I turned in earnest to Meg. "I have to do this. You know I do. Help me."

  She thr
ew her arms around me. Our hug was brief but fierce. "Give her the sword, Max."

  He hesitated.

  "Max!" she shouted. "Give it to her!"

  I eyed the scaffold where the third prisoner was being taken down. I glanced at Dane. He shook his head at me and mouthed "Don't."

  I held my hand out to Max. He swore then mouthed an apology to Dane before giving me the sword. With one last distraught gaze in Dane's direction, he took Meg's hand and they ran off through the crowd.

  "Josie," Theodore pleaded in small voice.

  I kissed his cheek. "Take care of Balthazar and Quentin for me."

  Kitty burst into tears and buried her face in my shoulder. Theodore had to wrench her free then they left too.

  I turned back to the gallows to see the noose being positioned around Dane's neck. The guards stepped back, no longer needed, but did not leave the platform altogether.

  Dane's legs were unshackled but his hands were not. One of the guards would have the key. I had to kill the hangman before he opened the trapdoor then kill both guards before they attacked me.

  Hailia and Merdu give me strength.

  I set off, only to be grabbed by the high priest. "I can't let you sacrifice yourself."

  I jerked free.

  "He doesn't want you to do this!"

  He was right. Dane was shouting at me, his words lost in the roar of the baying crowd. His meaning was clear, however. Go. Leave. Don't try to free him.

  I stormed up the scaffold steps and reached the top before one of the guards stepped forward and struck me across the head. If it weren't for the crowd surging up behind me, I would have tumbled down the stairs and landed on the cobbles.

  I was jostled and handled, passed from one person to another in a state of shock. My vision blurred, either from tears or the blow to the head, or perhaps both. My ears rang, but a single voice broke through the noise.

  "Let me through! Stop the execution! King's orders! Stop the execution!"

  I gasped out a cry of relief as the crowd shouted abuse at the newcomer. I didn't dare hope that I'd heard correctly, but I hoped anyway as I saw the sheriff escort another man towards the steps. His authority was enough to forge a path through the throng. The people suddenly quieted and an eerie hush blanketed the courtyard.

  The sheriff nodded a greeting when he saw me. "Seems your prayers have been answered. No need to cry now, miss. He's a free man. King's orders."

  I tried to find Dane but there were too many people and I couldn't see much through my tears. I clung to the stair railing as I searched for him, hardly believing he was going to be free.

  Not daring to believe.

  "Josie?" came Max's shout from the base of the steps. "Josie, is it true?"

  I nodded even though I couldn't see him. I couldn't see a thing, nor could I catch my breath, I was crying so hard. Next thing I knew a strong set of arms embraced me. Familiar arms.

  Dane.

  I clutched his face and stroked his hair back, and he did the same to me, as if it were the first and last time we'd ever touched.

  The crowd erupted, cheering and whistling, their bloodthirsty lust suppressed by something sweeter. The emotions of a mob could be fickle.

  Dane took my hand and led me to Max. "I want a word with you about following orders," Dane growled at his friend.

  Max embraced him.

  Meg, Theodore and Kitty took it in turns hugging Dane and then me, but my mind already raced ahead to what we had to do next. This wasn't over.

  Max’s thoughts followed the same path as mine. "We have to go,” he said. “Erik and Quentin are with the horses, Bal should be there now too. Theodore, give Dane his sword."

  Theodore unstrapped the sword belt and handed it and the sword to Dane.

  I looked around for the high priest, standing on my toes to see over the sea of heads, but he was nowhere in sight.

  Dane took my hand and we set off through the lingering crowd. They were not prepared to disperse until the dramatic change in Dane's fortune had been thoroughly discussed.

  "Wait!" someone called from behind. "The princess wishes to speak with you. You must come with me. Wait!"

  "Damn it," Dane muttered. He stopped.

  "We have to keep going." I pushed him. "If she finds out we lied, you'll be right back up on that scaffold."

  He indicated the royal guards stationed ahead, and the sheriff and his constables coming up behind. He was right. We couldn't get away. If we tried, it would look suspicious and be a sure sign that we were going to renege on our promise.

  "We'll say we lost it," I said quickly.

  The royal footman who'd hailed us approached, escorted by armed constables. Dane ordered Max to leave. "Meet us later."

  "I'm staying with you," Max said. "You seem to get yourself into trouble without me to back you up."

  Meg grabbed his arm. "You are not staying. You're needed elsewhere."

  When Theodore took Max's other arm, the sergeant didn't stand a chance. They marched him away just as the footman joined us, panting. Sweat beaded his forehead and dampened the hair near his ears.

  "Her Royal Highness Princess Illiriya of Vytill has requested your presence at the castle." It didn't sound like a request.

  "Now?" I asked. "Dane has been in prison for days. He's in no state to call on a princess."

  Dane rubbed his bearded jaw to drive the point home. "May I take leave to freshen up first?"

  "No." The footman strode off towards the waiting carriage, leaving the constables to make sure we followed.

  We sat with the footman in the cabin and drove the short distance to the castle. Dane and I sat opposite one another and didn't speak. I simply gazed at him, my heart full beyond words. Despite the filth of the prison clinging to him, he was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. He gazed on me with a small smile too.

  As we approached the castle, I leaned forward and pushed up his sleeves. Dried blood covered his wrists, but the wounds were not deep. I would bandage them later when we had a moment.

  We were shown into the same chamber where we'd met with the princess the first time. She rose from a chair by the fire and glided smoothly towards us, Lord Barborough at her heels.

  "Thank the goddess you're all right," she declared as Dane bowed and I curtseyed. "I was worried we were too late."

  Dane rose from his deep bow. "I owe you my life, Your Highness. Thank you for convincing the king."

  "You have Lord Barborough to thank for that." She stepped aside to allow her advisor to come forward. "He answered my father's questions in great detail."

  "His Majesty is a fast learner," Lord Barborough said. "I think he also wanted to believe in magic, he just needed a little more convincing. Now, Her Highness has fulfilled her part of the bargain. It's time for—"

  "You’re injured!" The princess took Dane's hands and turned them over, palms up, to reveal the bloodied underside of his wrists. "We must attend to these instantly. Lord Barborough, send someone to fetch warm water, a salve and bandages."

  "But—"

  "Now!"

  Lord Barborough bowed stiffly, his lips pressed together in a rigid line, then strode out of the chamber.

  "This is terrible," the princess said, inspecting Dane's wounds. "Just terrible."

  "They're not so bad." Dane removed his hands and put them behind his back.

  She cocked her head to the side and gave him a stern look. "I'm sure you've suffered worse as a guard in the king's retinue, but you're under my care now, and I don't like it. The shackles were far too tight. I must have a word to the jailors."

  "There's no need to trouble yourself, Your Highness."

  "There is every need. We are not barbarians in Vytill. Ah, my lord, you have the supplies?"

  Lord Barborough entered ahead of three maids, one carrying a silver bowl, the next one with a bottle of salve and a cloth on a silver tray, and the third a roll of bandages and a towel, also carried on a silver tray. He bowed before his mistress, all
outward contrition, but I suspected he was seething on the inside. This delay annoyed him, but it must gall him that he had to play lackey to Dane.

  The princess indicated Dane should sit and roll up his sleeves then she knelt in front of him, the bowl on the floor beside her. She dipped the cloth in the water, but Dane pulled back before she could dab his wounds.

  "Your highness, don't trouble yourself. Josie will do it."

  The princess's gaze didn't even flick to me at the mention of my name. It wasn't lost on me that she had barely acknowledged me at all. Indeed, she hadn't addressed me directly once. I was superfluous, unimportant. She only had eyes for Dane.

  "The wounds were inflicted by my father's jailors; I must attend to them. It doesn't feel right to allow anyone else to do it. Now, sit still. I'll try to be gentle." She smiled sweetly at him.

  Dane glanced at me before extending his wrists. I stood and watched as the elegant princess tenderly wiped the blood away and dried his wrists with the towel. She handed the towel to one of the maids and the second stepped forward as if she'd been given orders to do so. The princess scooped out a few drops of the creamy salve and rubbed it into the wounds. Dane tensed but made no sound.

  The princess smiled up at him. "It stings a little."

  Of course it stung. If it didn't, it would be useless. Dane was a grown man, not a child, and he knew that. She didn't have to explain it. He sat utterly still, his wide eyes staring at her thumb as it made small circles on one wrist then the other.

  "Almost done." She signaled for the bandages and the maid lowered the tray. The princess gently wrapped each of his wrists. "There."

  She made to stand, but Dane shot to his feet and assisted her. "Thank you, Your Highness. The kindness you've shown me today won't be forgotten." He smiled at her and she smiled back.

  I looked away, struggling to suppress the wave of jealousy swamping me. I had no right to feel jealous. Dane and I were not lovers, and he had made no promises to me.

  But he said he loved me. The small voice reminding me of that moment in the prison had me tilting my chin and looking up once again. The man who'd said those words wasn't fickle.

  Anyway, there were more important things to worry about than my jealousy.