by Adam Witcher
Anton’s voice played her mind.
If they try to do anything before the wedding that feels wrong, don’t give in to it, okay? It could make things much worse for you.
When the time comes, you might have to make a choice. Trust your instincts when it does.
She felt terribly, terribly small. Who were these people? All she knew was that she absolutely did not want to drink this deer blood with them. But could she fake it? It was the only thing she could think to do. If she refused, she could only imagine what was in store for her.
“Okay,” she finally said, “but only a few drops.”
She stepped toward the deer, kneeling beside Matteo. She felt their rapturous stares. She tried not to cringe as she pressed her lips to the open wound. A trickle of blood entered her mouth, and she kept it between her lips and teeth. The coppery flavor tinged the tip of her tongue, and she recoiled at it. She did her best to salivate with her tongue pressed to the back of her throat, then did an exaggerated swallow. Before pulling back, she let the blood trickle out of her mouth.
They looked delighted. When she stood back up, Matteo put a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh, Petra,” he said, ecstasy in his tone. “We will have such a wonderful life together.”
“It… it wasn’t so bad,” she lied, faking a smile. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I’d like to wash my face now.”
“Of course, daughter,” Matthias said. “By all means. Thank you for honoring us and our ways.”
“My pleasure,” Petra forced. “Family is family.”
Once she was out the door, she sprinted for her bath chamber. A bucket of water stood near the mirror and basin, and she quickly scooped it out, filling her mouth and spitting it out intermittently, careful not to swallow anything. Once she could no longer taste it or see it in her mouth, she rinsed it from her lips. After ten minutes of obsessive washing, she could no longer detect the blood. She couldn’t be certain that she hadn’t swallowed any, but it was all she could do.
Petra called for a servant to prepare her a hot bath. Even after scrubbing her body with soap and steaming water, she felt more disgusting than ever. Matteo’s story about the hunting tradition was an obvious lie. They’d been too eager, too insistent for an old tradition. House Dracos was obsessed with getting that blood in her, and she shuddered to think about what the consequences would be if they had.
Back in her bedchamber, she calmed and thought back to Anton’s warnings.
What do you know, magician? What were those things in that satchel of yours? Who the hell are you?
If the idea of marrying Matteo tomorrow wasn’t enough of a nightmare already, this experience had solidified the horror of it. Yet she could think of no way out of this wedding beyond running away. And if she ran away… well, that would create a whole new set of problems for a girl who’d spent a life pampered in a castle. She did not believe she could succeed out there on her own.
Petra stifled tears. At least Anton had said he would expose them. She couldn’t trust his word, but it was the only hope she could cling to.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as Anton’s eyes opened the next morning, he buzzed with nervous energy. He’d gone over the plausible events endlessly the night before, thoughts swirling until sleep overtook him. The Draconians hadn’t liked him from the start, but he’d never displayed animosity toward them. They’d never seen his so-called ‘magic.’ There seemed to be no way they could suspect him of being anything but a charlatan who wormed his way into a fool’s court. There seemed to be no reason to send in a spy.
“Anton,” Ana said after powering on. “You are worried.”
“For obvious reasons.”
“I have run the diagnostic checks,” she said. “It is possible, but unlikely, that they have discovered your intentions. I believe the chances are low enough to merit proceeding.”
Anton sat up on the bed.
“We’re going through with it,” he said, “but I want an easy exit. If they do catch on to us, we’re not getting trapped in those gardens. Let’s go scope it out.”
After a hasty breakfast, they made for the garden and saw servants sweeping and arranging things into their final positions. There was no sign of members from either family, but that was unsurprising. They were both probably preparing for the big day.
The rows of chairs were split in down the middle of the garden’s open space, forming a path for the bride. They pointed to the small stage at the far end, erected in just the spot Anton had anticipated.
“This is where we’ll sit.” Anton gestured to two chairs closest to the door. “They might have guards posted nearby. If so, we’ll have to get past them quickly.”
“What will we do once we’ve made it back into the castle?” Ana asked.
“We’ll run.”
***
Petra sat on her bed, her white dress staring at her from across the room. She loathed the thought of her attendants, due in a few hours, smiling from ear to ear and congratulating her as they fussed over her hair and makeup. Until then, there was little to do but dread it. She tried eating breakfast, but even a tray of fruit tied her stomach into knots. Restless, she threw on a yellow dress and paced the corridors.
The castle halls felt stuffy and oppressive. Each time she turned a corner, she felt it morph from her childhood home into a prison. The murals of storied heroes lost their appeal as she wondered how many of them had ended up here against their wishes. The prospect of leaving was even worse. There had been no discussion about whether House Dracos would remain in Jagari or take her back to their homeland in the east. Though she still knew little about their lands, she had no doubt that it was a horrid place if it produced people like them.
She needed some air. It might have been bad luck to visit the venue of the wedding just hours before the ceremony, but the castle gardens were still a sacred spot for her, a sanctuary for the times in her life when she needed to be alone.
She was about to enter when she saw Anton and Ana through a window. Based on their expressions, they seemed to be discussing something serious. Part of her wanted to turn around and avoid another one of the magician’s headache-inducing conversations, but she was desperate for any kind of hope.
Anton abruptly stopped his conversation with Ana and turned to her.
“Princess,” he said nervously, “I wasn’t expecting to see you before the ceremony. What a pleasure.”
“What are you planning, magician?”
Anton shifted his gaze from side to side.
“What do you mean?” he said. “I’m planning your wedding.” He then squinted, looking intensely into her eyes, as if trying to see something hidden inside them. Strangely, he looked suspicious of her. The irony made her want to scream. Of everyone involved, Petra was hardly the suspicious one.
“Last chance, Anton. The wedding is today. Tell me what you know.”
The magician hesitated. He sweated in his brown vest and wiped his brow.
“I do have a plan,” he said, apparently deeming her trustworthy. “Trust me. I’ll explain everything later, but for now, just hear this- when it is time to say your vows, take as long as you can. I need you two up there for as long as possible.”
“That… ritual you were talking about. How did you know about it? For God’s sake just tell…”
“Honey!” Her mother’s voice called out from behind her. “What are you doing out here? You know it isn’t proper. Come, the handmaidens are ready for you.”
The queen placed a hand on her shoulder while she locked eyes with Anton. Petra turned to her. Her mother didn’t know what to make of the situation, so she just glanced back and forth between them nervously.
“Anton,” Queen Orpha said. “I trust everything is going to go perfectly this evening?”
“It certainly will, your highness.”
Anton nodded to her, and her mother led her back inside.
“What in God’s name were the two of you talking ab
out?” she asked when they were out of earshot.
“Nothing mother, just ensuring everything is perfect.”
***
“So there was some kind of ritual,” Anton said later as they sat in the gardens, watching people trickle through them. The ceremony wasn’t for another hour, but many of the guests had come early to enjoy the scenery. The twinkling lights had begun to glow. After Petra left with her mother, servants had separated them and enlisted their help in various small projects. This was the first time they’d been alone since then. “But whatever it was, I don’t think it worked. She seemed the same to me.”
“It could have been a trick,” Ana said.
“Maybe, but my intuition tells me it wasn’t.”
“Are you sure it is not your attraction altering your perception?”
“My God, Ana, you really are becoming more perceptive. Let’s hope you’re wrong.”
They took their seats early, eager not to lose their chance for a getaway. They watched as powdered lords and ladies filed in and chatted excitedly. At about 18:00, the quartet of servant musicians filed in and set up along one side. Anton gave them a respectful nod. They played an up-tempo and elegant tune that gave the event a regal atmosphere. Once everyone was seated, they switched to a slow, dramatic melody.
The ceremony began right on time. Anton had a clock attached to the trigger button that he checked every few minutes.
At precisely 18:30, Eliza and Matteo stepped out from the castle doorway and slowly sauntered toward the stage. Matteo wore a fitted, high-throated tunic of shining black silk, matching pants, and a long velvet robe of green and black that bore the Dracos sigil above one breast. Eliza’s dress, also of pitch-black silk, trailed behind her but featured no details. If it weren’t for her pale face, she might have been a shadow.
By 18:33, Eliza was in her seat, and Matteo had taken his place at the stage. Anton leaned over to Ana and asked her to produce a subtle bioscan map. Everyone’s attention was directed in front of them. Hectus’ purple dot was walking up the steps toward the castle.
“The timing appears to be in our favor,” Ana whispered.
“Lucky for us. I guess fear will do that to you.”
The music swelled into a romantic melody as King Gareth and Princess Petra appeared in the doorway.
Even with an uneasy look on her face, Anton gasped at Petra’s stunning beauty. Her blonde curls were twisted into fanciful patterns, her makeup perfectly accenting her rounded features. Her blue eyes glowed like portals to heaven and scanned the audience, no doubt searching for him. A slim white dress hugged her small but shapely breasts and nearly pushed them up over the scooped neckline.
Hectus was in the castle. His little dot weaved through the hallways.
Petra reached the stage and reluctantly took Matteo’s hands. Oblivious to the tension, King Gareth nodded to his new son-in-law and moved toward his seat. There were tears in his eyes, and he broke into a little sob of joy as his wife patted his shoulder gingerly. Petra looked into her fiancé’s eyes, and Anton wondered if she saw yellow in them. Matteo said something to her quietly, but her expression didn’t change.
A robed priest stepped up to the stage and began his sermon, but Anton couldn’t pay attention to the words. He watched Ana’s bioscanner while the dot slowly approached.
Then Hectus stopped. The purple dot was frozen in one spot, another hovering beside it.
Matteo was finishing his vows. Anton caught a few words from them.
“...I pledge to protect you, to empower you, to raise you up high above our fallen enemies…”
How romantic.
A quick glance at Petra revealed that she was not swept up by his words. She hesitantly began her own vows. Hectus was still far away, and unless he started moving again soon, he wouldn’t make it in time.
“I, Petra of House Prothero, do take you Matteo of House Dracos.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “To be my husband.” He could hear her grimace at the word husband. “Forever and always, for as long as we both shall live…”
Was that it? The princess paused for a moment. Hectus began moving again, but the priest took a deep breath, about to conclude the ceremony. He wouldn’t make it in time. Anton’s stomach lurched.
“And…” the princess suddenly cut off the priest before he could resume. “It is my wish… to offer a special thanks. Not only to House Dracos, for taking me in so kindly and making me feel like their daughter, but also to my own parents, my own house, my own city, for providing me this opportunity…”
Matteo frowned, but Anton smiled lightly to himself. She was stalling. He kept looking back and forth between the stage and the bioscanner display. Hectus was close, only a few seconds from his entrance. Anton gave a last cursory glance at the stage, making doubly sure that the two were standing exactly where they should be. All seemed well.
“I am grateful,” Petra said, her voice faltering more with each passing moment. “That we have been gifted such a beautiful day by God, such a beautiful garden…” Her eyes scanned the crowd wildly.
Luckily, she didn’t have to wait any longer. Hectus made his way through the final hallway, no doubt surprised from looking through the window and seeing the ceremony already underway. Anton looked over his shoulder and saw the man’s shocked expression. He rushed to the door. The trigger was doused in Anton’s sweat, but he held it carefully and waited for the exact right moment. His heart drummed like a semi-automatic pistol.
The glass door swung open, and Anton pushed the button.
Above Hectus’ head, the strap holding his crossbow unfurled, sending it spiraling over the edge toward where he stood. Just beside him, at eye level, a brick in the castle wall separated from the rest and unleashed a bolt aimed carefully for Matteo’s head. The brick immediately retracted to its initial position.
The entire scene seemed to move in slow motion. Anton caught the blur of the bolt as it rocketed toward its target. Matteo didn’t seem to notice.
A figure stood up and stuck her hand in the air. An instant before smashing through Matteo’s reptilian skull, sending green blood splattering over the garden, Queen Eliza of Dracos caught the bolt. She screamed in pain, real or embellished, then buried her hand in her robe, the bolt still in it.
Silence fell over the crowd. It was interrupted by the clattering of wood against stone. As soon as people began to realize what had happened, they turned toward a ghostly looking Hectus. He put his hands out, backing away from the crossbow.
“It wasn’t…” he cried, his voice racked with sobs, “I didn’t… I don’t understand.”
Someone stood up in the crowd, an old noblewoman pointed her withered finger.
“Lord Hectus tried to murder the groom!” she yelled. “Get him!”
The crowd erupted. The guards stationed by the door grabbed Hectus by the arms while he protested in fear and confusion. Despite Anton’s disdain for the despicable man, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for framing him.
That feeling was overshadowed, though, by several burning questions. How had Eliza known? And how could the woman possibly have the reflexes to catch a speeding crossbow bolt? Anton looked to see her still doubled over, but it wasn’t just a grimace of pain on her face. She smirked. The Draconian woman was clearly pleased with herself. A few of her guardsmen rushed over and surrounded her.
“What do we do?” Ana asked.
“Nothing,” he whispered in a panic. “I don’t know how it failed but it did. At least Hectus is taking the blame.”
That didn’t stop Hectus from pleading his innocence.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what’s happening!” he cried. “Please, please, I’m innocent!”
The crowd rushed around Hectus, assailing him with insults and threats. On the stage, Petra’s face was bone white. Her mouth hung open as she watched the scene unfold. Matteo looked pleased, though he tried to mask it with a disturbed expression. He stepped down from the stage and strode toward the crowd and co
mmotion. Matthias followed him as they passed, a few black-armored Draconian guards in tow.
“Stop!” Matthias bellowed. “Step away from Hectus, now!”
The noblemen and women of Jagari stepped away, intimidated. The castle guards still held tight to his arms. Again, silence fell over the gardens.
“Hectus,” Matthias said, “What have you to say for yourself?”
“I’ve- I’ve been framed,” he whined. “I would never do anything to harm any of you. I’ve never laid so much as a finger on anyone before. I’m a peaceful man, I swear to God.”
This blatant lie expunged Anton’s guilt. He and Ana stood and slowly paced over to the situation, careful to stay back. Along the way, he looked over to where Petra still watched from the stage. The king and queen were at her side, consoling her, but she paid no mind to them. She looked to Anton as if he could provide answers from so far away.
“Is this your crossbow?” Matteo stepped toward Hectus and lifted the weapon from the floor.
“Yes, but...” he whimpered, “but I didn’t bring it! I don’t have a clue how it got here.”
“Very well,” Matteo said. “People, this man is innocent!”
Silence. Anton heard his pulse in his ears.
Innocent?
Every scrap of evidence suggested that Hectus was caught red-handed. The crossbow even had his house insignia. There was something else going on here, and Anton did not like it one bit.
Petra, followed by her parents and their guards, made their way down the aisle toward the commotion, but she suddenly swung toward Anton and Ana at the edge of the crowd.
“Petra!” the queen called, hustling after her. “Where are you going, honey?”
The princess was only a few feet from Anton when she opened her mouth to speak. He had no idea what she might demand of him. It wasn’t as if he could explain himself on the spot. But she was cut off by Matthias’ booming voice.