Seirsha of Errinton

by Shari L. Tapscott

  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 the 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.

  W
ith 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.

  He falls.

  My world churns; my stomach heaves. I throw the sword on the ground as if it were a snake. Colors blur, and I stagger to the wall.

  Finally, I glance up. Rigel and Dryal both stare at me with surprise and more than a little respect.

  Dryal nods to the discarded weapon. “You’re going to need your blade.”

  I begin to shake my head, but Dryal swipes it off the ground, cleans it on the fallen man’s leg, and pushes the hilt at me. I glance at Rigel, hoping he’ll say I don’t need it. Instead, he nods.

  “Fine.” I take a shaky breath and snatch the sword from Dryal.

  “Warrior Princess,” Dryal says, making light of a situation that will give me nightmares.

  Rigel meets my eyes, his expression enigmatic. “Queen of Errinton.”

  I raise my chin, a thrill running through me at his words.

  Dryal, already jogging down the hall, calls back, “Not if we don’t get her out of here.”

  We follow Dryal. The closer we approach Father’s chambers, the more nervous I become. Surely he won’t be there. He’s likely in his throne room or the great hall. Perhaps he’s called an emergency council meeting.

  We take the last turn, and I prepare myself. The hall is empty. There are no guards, no advisors—no Father. Just as relief washes over me, the chamber doors swing open. Father and Zander stride into the hall, the two deep in a heated discussion. Sensing us, Father looks up. My eyes lock with his icy ones, and my resolve crumbles. His gaze flickers from me to Dryal and Rigel, and his expression goes from cold to livid. He reaches for the sword at his side only to realize his sheath is empty. Zander, also unarmed, watches us with wary eyes.

  Rigel waits. One of his hands is clasped with mine, and the other hovers over his sword. Dryal isn’t as patient; he draws his blade and extends it in a warning.

  Father’s gaze travels to Dryal, and he gives him a tight smile. “I offered her to you—you would have been king. What a fool you are.”

  Dryal shrugs. “You can’t offer what isn’t yours.”

  Father’s hands clench at his sides. He turns his eyes on me. “So this is it? You choose him over your own father?”

  Rigel squeezes my hand, giving me courage. I step forward.

  “You locked me in the tower,” I say as I yank the filthy, torn hem of my gown up so he may see the bloody wound under the metal cuff.

  For the briefest moment, Father winces, but he quickly schools his expression.

  “I’m leaving,” I say.

  “He doesn’t love you,” Father says. “He wants your crown.”

  With those words, Rigel’s control snaps. Before Father realizes the lord’s intent, Rigel’s sword is at his throat. Father eyes the blade, and his mouth opens in surprise.

  Rigel takes another step forward, backing Father to the wall. “I do love her.” He nudges the blade closer. “And I will marry her.”

  “You won’t kill me,” Father hisses, his eyes never leaving the sword. “You hide behind your valiant shield, but in truth, you are a coward.”

  Rigel’s jaw clenches, and he slowly turns the blade. “Are you sure of that?”

  Father gulps.

  “Finish him,” Dryal says, his tone on the edge of bored.

  Despite myself, my heart clenches. Rigel studies the king for several moments, and then he glances at me. I’m not sure what he sees in my face, but the fire in his eyes dims and then fully extinguishes.

  “No,” he says. “Dryal, open the chamber doors.”

  Dryal looks at Rigel as if he’s lost his mind, but he does as he’s asked.

  Rigel motions toward the door with his head. “Zander.”

  The steward gladly steps into the room. Rigel changes the angle of the sword, pushing Father back into the chambers.

  “You really are a fool.” Father nearly spits the words out. He glares at Rigel. “She would have been safe if you’d simply stayed away. Everything she’s been through was because of you.”

  Rigel leans in close. “It is only out of love for Seirsha that I don’t slit your throat tonight.”

  With the words hanging in the air, he slams the door shut.

  Rigel pulls the sword from my trembling fingers and slides the blade through the handles, locking Father and Zander in the chambers.

  It won’t take Father and Zander long to free themselves, but we’ll have slipped from the castle before they accomplish it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  In the dusk-darkened twilight, I can just make out the copse of trees that Rigel says is our destination for the night. Every muscle and tendon ache. I can’t wait to be off my horse.

  In the great expanse of nothing, a dark-winged figure swoops low. A rodent screams as the owl ascends once again into the night. I peer into the darkness above us. With the Dragon Treaty now void, we’re as vulnerable as that mouse. I shiver and tug Rigel’s cloak tighter around my shoulders.

  Malcolm draws his horse next to mine. “We’re almost there, Your Highness.”

  I only nod.

  No more careless banter, no more easy smiles—As Rigel’s right-hand man, Malcolm is stoic. Dryal glances over his shoulder and frowns. He doesn’t like Malcolm. I’m sure he’d hoped to gain the coveted first position after his hand in Rigel’s rescue. But Rigel doesn’t trust Dryal.

  Not far ahead, Rigel leads our party. He keeps our pace fast, checking frequently to make sure I can keep up. Though I am exhausted, I breathe easier the farther from the castle we travel.

  We reach the trees, and Rigel draws his horse back. I pull my mare to a stop. All I want is to be off this beast, but my muscles scream with every movement.
Relieved just to be done for the night, I lean forward and rest my forehead against the mare’s mane. Right now, I don’t even mind that she reeks of horse.

  The men speak in hushed tones. I don’t know why; none think we’ve been followed. I turn my head when Rigel steps up to me. I give him a small smile, hoping to ease away the creases in his brow.

  I let him pull me from my mount and relish the feel of his hands on my waist. He holds me several seconds too long. Our eyes meet, and heat surrounds us. For a moment, I think he might kiss me despite our company. The men’s conversation slowly subsides, and Rigel steps back, creating an acceptable distance between us.

  Dryal clears his throat. “Do we dare start a fire?”

  Rigel glances back the way we came. The storm rumbles in the distance, but all else is calm. I try to hide a shiver, but he sees it. “Yes.”

  The men go about making camp, and I stand to the side, feeling useless. When the throb in my ankle becomes unbearable, I find a fallen log to sit on where I won’t be in the way.

  Supplies are brought out. Dryal and Malcolm bicker over the schedule for the night watch, and a few knights join in the argument. Soon the hushed whispers are forgotten, and our small camp is filled with laughter as the men rejoice in their mission’s success.

  Rigel sits next to me, and the log shifts under his weight. He hands me a strip of dried meat and a skin of lukewarm mead. Though I’ve had very little to eat, I don’t have much of an appetite.

  I set the food on my lap and stare at the space between us.

  “I wasn’t sure you would come back,” I say. The words are just a whisper, but my voice still wavers.

  Rigel moves from my side to kneel in front of me. He takes my hand and turns it over, tracing his fingers softly over my skin, and then he brushes his lips over my palm. I shiver, but it’s not from the cold. I glance over his shoulder. The men are distracted with their meal and conversations. Rigel nods toward the trees. Together, we stand and slip away.

  Finally alone, I’m suddenly very aware of my days in the tower. My hair’s a matted mess. My gown’s caked with dirt.