Masked (The Divided Kingdom Book 1)

by Shari Cross

  “I will speak for him, my Lord,” a familiar voice calls from the back of the crowd, but I don’t turn like the others. I keep my eyes on Drake. Drake looks to his adopted father and his eyes become increasingly pained.

  “State your name for the people.”

  “Geoffrey Walton, my Lord. Your prisoner is my son.” Uncle’s voice is nearer now.

  “Your son? I was under the assumption that this boy was an orphan.”

  “There was a time when he was an orphan, my Lord, but he has not been one for several years. I am his father.”

  I allow myself to glance in Uncle Geoffrey’s direction and watch him drop to his knees in front of the stage. His greying hair is covering his face, but I don’t have to see it to know the look it holds.

  “Please have mercy on him, my Lord,” Uncle continues. “He’s a good boy with a kind heart. I don’t know why he tried to harm you, but I swear on my life that he will never try it again. Please release him, and if he ever comes near you, I’m willing to be held accountable and punished accordingly.”

  Charles offers Uncle Geoffrey a soft smile. Others will view it as kindness or pity, but I see it for what it really is—joy at witnessing someone else’s weakness. “Your appeal is touching, Walton. However, releasing the boy is not an option. He’s lucky to be alive, and if his luck remains, his life will be what he leaves with today, not his freedom.” Charles looks away from my uncle, and gazes out at the crowd. “Is there no one else?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I’m unable to find words. I have to say something. I have to save Drake. But what can I say that will save him? I have to walk a thin wire if I’m to speak. If anything I say upsets Charles, he will kill Drake.

  “Perhaps the prisoner would like a moment to speak,” Charles says with mock benevolence as he looks down at Drake. “Do you have anything you would like to say?” Charles leans toward Drake’s head. I press against the stage, straining my ears to hear Charles whisper, “Now is the time for you to beg me for your life.”

  Please, Drake. Please ask him to let you live.

  Drake sets his shoulders defiantly, refusing to speak.

  “Very well,” Charles says quietly before straightening his back and continuing to address the crowd. “My people, as you can see, this prisoner has no remorse for his actions! I know now what needs to be done!”

  The crowd is still and silent around me. I struggle to remain standing, my legs weakening with each passing second.

  Charles turns and nods at the executioner, who moves toward the stage, sword in hand. NO!

  I push myself up on the stage and run to Charles’s side. I drop to my knees, my fingers wrapping tightly around Charles’s hand. “My Lord, I beg of you, don’t do this!” Charles studies me, his face carefully composed, but he holds up a hand to halt the executioner. I take a deep breath, and then extract the words that I pray will save Drake. “All I ask is that you show compassion for someone less fortunate than yourself and instead of executing him, imprison him. That will still bring him suffering for what he’s done to you, but it will be merciful. And others will be reminded of him if they ever think to do the same.” Charles’s face is a blank mask as he looks upon me, meticulously trying to give nothing away.. “He’s my friend,” I continue. “And if you love me as much as I love you, you won’t kill him. That won’t serve to punish him. It will only give him an escape, and leave me as the one punished. Please, spare his life.”

  Charles assesses me in silence, enjoying every second that passes, knowing that each one elapses in torment. Right now he holds both mine and Drake’s lives in his hands, and that power makes him glow with pride.

  “You say death won’t serve in punishing him. Tell me then, what would be a sufficient punishment for him? As long as I find your chosen punishment to be appropriate, I’ll let him live.” A smile spreads across Charles’s face.

  My stomach and heart clench with anxiety. This is just another game to him, to make me sentence Drake, to make me be the one to decide how Drake will be hurt. Imprisonment won’t satisfy Charles. He’ll want more than that. Charles will want me to show the crowd that I’m loyal to him, not Drake. He’ll want no one to walk away from here thinking that I’m in love with Drake.

  “What have you decided?” Charles asks.

  “Flogged. He should be flogged.” I speak, but I can’t bring myself to look at Drake. To sentence him to pain is unbearable.

  “Agreed,” Charles says joyfully. “And what of his imprisonment?”

  Stay strong, Addalynne. “For trying to kill you, my Lord.” Stay strong. The sentence has to be harsh. Charles won’t accept it otherwise. And I will find a way to get him out. “Imprisonment for life.”

  Charles smiles, and I imagine taking the executioner’s sword and stabbing it through his heart . . . and then my own.

  “I’m pleased that we could come to a reasonable solution,” Charles says before turning back to the crowd and informing them that the flogging will begin momentarily.

  My vision tilts in front of me. I feel faint and violently ill. Still, I manage to make my feet move forward, walking shakily toward the stairs, but I’m shaking so badly that my feet get tangled in my dress. I hear Drake call my name seconds before I trip on my skirt and fall down the stairs, slamming into the hard ground.

  * * *

  I wake in a daze, my head pounding. I lift my hand up to my forehead and my fingers graze against a cloth bandage.

  “Oh, good. You’re awake.” I turn at the sound of Charles’s voice, and find him sitting in the chair next to my bed. There’s no delight in his voice, face, or eyes. Only contempt. Maybe he’s starting to hate me as much as I hate him. No, that’s not possible.

  “What happened to Drake?” I ask, my voice wrought with vulnerability and fear.

  “He’s alive,” Charles says regretfully. “But he is as you might expect after a flogging.” He smiles slightly with these words. I do my best to force away the hurricane of images they bring to mind. “I must say though, I’m terribly disappointed that you missed the action,” Charles continues. “Once you fell, he began screaming your name and fighting frantically to break free of his bindings to get to you. We had to start his flogging immediately in order to subdue him. He resisted for a while, but finally lost consciousness after thirty-two lashes.” He stares at me observantly, waiting for me to express the emotions that are clawing inside me. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. “Tell me, Addalynne, how does it make you feel to know that the entire time he was being beaten, he kept calling your name?” I turn away and look out the window. But all I can see is Drake and his limp, bloodied body.

  “What do you want from me, Charles?”

  “Well, I could tell you that I want you to love me, but that would be a lie. All I want is your obedience, which I have somewhat obtained, but not fully. I don’t trust you, Addalynne. I don’t trust you or the orphan. And I won’t trust you until you have proven yourself to me many times over.” The chair groans as he rises to his feet. “Rest now. We have a long journey ahead of us and we’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.” I listen to his footsteps retreat as he heads toward the door. “Oh, and wear the yellow dress I brought you,” he adds before closing the door behind him.

  I turn to my side and wrap my arms around my knees. Closing my eyes, I think only of Drake. He’s in a cell now, possibly bleeding to death, and I’m stuck here, unable to do anything to help him. I turn and reach for the dagger under my bed. Twirling it between my fingers, I watch the light dance across it.

  It would be so easy. I could end it all if I wanted to. End all of my pain, all of my suffering—but I can’t. It would give me an escape from this hell that has become my life, but it would cause more suffering for everyone else I love, especially Drake. He’s taken a public flogging and been imprisoned, all because he tried to save me. If I were to take my own life, it would kill him. Besides, I can’t give up. I place the dagger back under the bed and
close my eyes. I have to find a way to save him. I have to.

  Chapter 28

  HER

  Sleep is elusive, not that I desire it anyway. There’s no comfort in dreams when time is against you. I pace madly in front of my window, debating. I have to see him. It will be risky, not that I care about the risk it presents to me; it’s the risk to him that concerns me.

  I taste the blood as it trickles into my mouth, pulsing from the skin on my lip that I just bit into.

  “Addalynne.” Mother’s soft knock and voice interrupts my self-mutilation. I don’t turn to face her when she walks in. That would be too distracting. Instead, I stare helplessly out the window, watching the spring storm build outside, feeling much like a prisoner myself. “I’m sorry about Drake,” she continues quietly, her voice closer. “But I don’t understand why he would have gone after Charles that way.”

  Don’t you? Surely you’re not as naive as you seem.

  “Unless there’s something you’ve been keeping from us.”

  There it is—suspicion. Still, I can’t let it continue.

  “No, Mother. It was just a misunderstanding,” I reply emotionlessly.

  “Just a misunderstanding, Addalynne? He tried to kill your husband. And that’s another issue in itself. Why did you marry Charles without your father and I being there? How could you do that to us? We’re your parents. We deserve to be present at your wedding or at least notified of it.”

  “You were notified of it. You were notified of it nine months ago, when you and father agreed to the arrangement.”

  “Don’t be sharp with me, Addalynne. Besides, I had nothing to do with that. That was your father’s bidding, not mine.”

  “Regardless, Mother, why does it matter?”

  “Because I have dreamt of your wedding since the day you were born. I have imagined what it would be like to watch you walk down the aisle on your father’s arm, to watch you tie your life to someone who will love and protect you.”

  My throat constricts. My dreams aren’t the only ones that have been killed, and now I feel guilty for taking part in a forced wedding ceremony.

  “Why couldn’t you wait, Addalynne? There was to be a beautiful wedding in Synereal! Why couldn’t you wait?”

  “I’m sorry.” My voice breaks on the only words I can find. I keep my gaze on the storm outside, watching the white clouds form a blanket for the sky and send heavy snow down to cover us as well. It’s late in the year for a snowstorm. Maybe the sky is mourning with me.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  I turn to face her, my patience having fully run out. “What else is there to say, Mother? It’s done! Charles decided this, not me. He didn’t want to wait. I did not choose this, and nothing can change it now, so scolding me does little good. Besides, how can you question me about this when Drake’s in a cell, injured and alone? Shouldn’t he be on your mind? Why aren’t you more concerned about him?” Her face is blank with shock at my outburst. I turn back around and again face the window. Guilt creeps its way back up. “I won’t talk anymore about Charles or my marriage to him. Now please, leave.” I speak sharply, hoping my words will drive her away.

  I get my wish, but at the sound of the door shutting, my heart breaks. I don’t want to hurt my mother and I don’t want to leave her tomorrow. Right now I feel as lost as a child after a nightmare and I want nothing more than for my mother to walk back into my chambers and hold me in her arms. Instead, I grab a lantern from my closet, ignite it with the fire, and pull on my cloak before climbing out the window.

  I’m a tornado of contradictions. I wander aimlessly, but with purpose. I’m determined, but lost. I have to find Drake, but I can’t reach him. I know that going there is foolish, but I have to try. Still, how will I get to him? It’s too risky. If the guards see me, it could bring more punishment to him. But how can I leave him there? If I were the one in prison, he would find a way to see me.

  Even if it could possibly mean risking my life?

  No, he wouldn’t come then. Maybe I shouldn’t go.

  No, I have to. I will find a way to see him. I’ll use my authority as Lady Berrenger and insist on seeing the prisoner. Yes. That will work. The thought of referring to myself as Lady Berrenger has my insides turning, but power has its advantages.

  I walk with more conviction toward the village, holding the lantern with one hand as I use the other to pull my hood covertly around my face. The wind is bitter and the snowfall is heavy, creating a cloak of white beneath my feet, the flakes falling hurriedly toward their destination. The air smells of smoke as the villagers burn the little wood they have left to keep warm. It’s only been dark for an hour, but the temperature has already dropped drastically, making it well below freezing. I think of Drake in a cold, dark, prison cell. Will they light a fire for him, or will they let him freeze? I know the answer. I have to get him out.

  I reach the market, dragging my feet through the thick snow, and find it deserted. Everyone else has already found shelter from the storm, which I’m thankful for. Having no one else here means there’s no one to stop me or distract me. I move faster, cutting through the center square, and head for the eastern wall. Behind the wall I can see the vaulted roof of the temple and, to the right of the temple, the cracked, ivy covered bricks of the prison.

  I cut down the street that leads to the temple, and hands grab me from behind. Before I’m able to scream, another hand covers my mouth. It’s calloused and cold. I struggle as I’m pushed up against a wall in the corner of the street, and my attacker stares into my face—Gregory. He pulls his hand away from my mouth and gives me a disapproving look.

  “What are you doing here, Addalynne?

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  He lets out a frustrated breath and shakes his head slowly. “Go home.”

  “No. I have to see him, Gregory. I have to make sure he’s all right.” I try to move around him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my path to Drake.

  “‘Make sure he’s all right’? Of course he’s not all right, but he still has a chance, as long as you stay away.” His words feel like a slap across my face and I can’t help but recoil at them. “I’m sorry, Addalynne. I know you’re hurting, but your being there will only make things worse for him. Besides, they’ll never let you see him.”

  “They will if I insist on it. I’m the Lady of this village now. They have to do as I ask.”

  “Not if the future Lord of the village told them not to let you see him. And don’t think for a second that Charles didn’t think of that. I can guarantee you that not only did he tell them not to let you see Drake, but he probably told them to expect you. Your determination to be the martyr has become predictable, Addalynne. That’s how I knew to keep watch for you.”

  “You can’t expect me to sit back and do nothing while Drake rots in a cell.” I try to push my way around him, but it’s no use.

  “That’s exactly what I expect you to do.” He blocks me again, his eyes set and determined. “For once in your life, Addalynne, I’m asking you to trust me.”

  “I do trust you.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t trust anyone but yourself.”

  “That’s not true!” I can’t believe he would say that. Of course I trust him.

  “Oh, really. So you not telling any of us the truth about Charles, and deciding to deal with it on your own, was your way of trusting us?” he questions, his voice pained, his eyebrow raised skeptically. “Admit it, Addalynne, you won’t let anyone help you. You insist on fighting these battles alone. But you don’t have to. I have a plan. But it won’t work if you’re here. Your being here could jeopardize everything.”

  I try to find holes in his argument, but I can’t. He’s right. I did push everyone away when I needed them most, but I only did it because I had to. And I have to do something now. “No, it won’t. I can help, Gregory. Tell me what your plan is.”

  “No.”

  “Gregory, please. I c
an’t lose him. He’ll die down there if I don’t help him.”

  “And how do you think you’re going to help him? By going down there and insisting on seeing him? There are two ways that could play out. One is the off chance that they actually let you see him. If that happens, you’ll go down there and find him beaten and humiliated. Do you think he wants you to see him that way? He’s broken right now, Addalynne. You’re the last person he wants to see him that way. Besides, if you get down there, what will you do? How will you get him out?”

  “I . . . I don’t know . . . I just . . . I have to see him. He needs to know that I’m not giving up.”

  “He knows that, Addalynne, and he’s not giving up either, but you going down there won’t help him. Now, the second scenario, the one that’s most likely, is that they tell you, “No,” that Lord Charles Berrenger has forbidden you to see the prisoner. Then they’ll tell Charles that you tried to see Drake, and Charles will have him killed. You know this. You know how Charles works, and you coming to see Drake will be the last act of defiance he takes from you.”

  Cold tears sting my cheeks as the reality of Gregory’s words sink in. He’s right. Of course he’s right. But I can’t just go home and wait. Gregory’s face softens as he looks down at me. He reaches his hand up and brushes my tears away before pulling me into his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Addalynne. I know how much you want to help, but please trust me. Drake is like a brother to me, and I will get him out of there. Uncle Geoffrey and I have a plan. We will save Drake, and then all of us, including you, will work together to save you. Don’t forget how much I love you, Addalynne. I’m just as willing as Drake to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and part of that is making sure that you have him in your life. Now please go home. I can’t help him if I have to worry about you.”

  I nod my head in agreement, knowing that if I open my mouth to speak, I’ll break down completely.