by Renna Peak
William finally emerges, falling on top of me in the small room. He’s out of breath, but he grins at me as he lies on top of me for a moment. “This wasn’t exactly how I planned to lie with you tonight.”
I can’t help but laugh, too. “Are you all right? Did they injure you?”
He shakes his head as he places a hand against my cheek. “I’m perfectly fine. And you? You’re certain you’re not injured?”
I shake my head, placing my hand over his. “I told you. They only threatened me. But…” I glance at the ladder on the wall—it leads up to the shed. “We should go. Reginald knows these tunnels almost as well as I do. He’ll know where to look as soon as they sound the alarm.”
He nods, rolling off of me before he helps me to my feet.
We ascend the ladder, and this time, William leads the way. It’s a few stories up to the surface, and many of the rungs on the ladder are broken, just as they have been for as long as I’ve known they’ve existed.
William misses a few steps, cursing under his breath as he pulls himself up.
I’ll admit, my arms and shoulders ache in a way they never have, but the thought of freedom—the thought of being with my husband again as a free woman—makes the pain feel distant.
We climb for a long time—it seems like an even longer journey than I remember. But we finally reach the grate covering the opening into the shed.
Thankfully, it’s late enough that none of the groundskeepers would be out here. The shed is empty, and there’s nothing to indicate that my brother or father have been told of what’s happened in the dungeon.
I let out a long breath that almost sounds like a sigh. And perhaps it is some sort of relief I hear in my voice.
William turns to me, frowning. “We’re not out of here yet, Princess.” He glances around. “We’re going to have to go outside to get off the grounds. And that’s when we’re really going to be exposed.”
I nod a few times, almost ashamed that I’d felt any amount of relief. “We should…we should try to come up with a plan.”
William walks over to the shelves across the room and begins rifling through the contents stacked on each. He throws a few hand trowels on the ground before he seems to find what he’s looking for.
“Do you still have the bag? The one the books were in?”
I look down at my hands, which are empty except for the dying flashlight. “No. I left them beside the guard after I hit him.”
“Pity.” He turns back to the shelves, pulling something off. “There are plenty of things here we could use as weapons to protect ourselves.” He turns back to me. “But we can’t exactly carry them on our backs.”
“Let’s just…let’s figure out how we’re going to get out of here.” I peek out the window, but there are few lights around this part of the grounds. “The horse stable isn’t too far from here. We can each get a horse—”
“That’s a little impractical. Besides, if they know we’re gone, that’s the first place they’ll look.” He rubs at his chin. “The cars. I remember when I went after you when you’d left for Berlin… Your family has a small fleet.”
“I’d hardly call three cars a small fleet.” I frown. “And what of it? You don’t think they’ll stop us if we’re in a car? The entire Royal Guard will be looking for us—and believe me, their reach extends to the police force.” I shake my head. “No, a car won’t do.”
He seems to spot something on the other side of the shed. He walks over, pulling a tarp away from the wall. “Bicycles.”
My heart pounds in my chest. It’s perfect—well, not perfect. But we could travel in the darkness without making much noise. And there wouldn’t be the noise of a horse or the lights of a car to stop us.
He nods, gazing over at me. “Can you ride a bicycle?”
I nod eagerly, walking over to him. “I think one of these was mine.” I laugh. “This is silly, though. Montovia is hundreds of kilometers away—”
“We don’t have to make it to Montovia.”
I look at him in the dim light, provided only by the moon shining through the small windows. “Oh, really? Where is it we’re going to go, then?”
“I have an idea. I hope.” He rubs his chin again. “I have no idea if this is going to work, Justine. We just have to pray it will…”
I take his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. “I trust you.”
He chuckles, squeezing my hand back. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. But I do appreciate the support.” He pulls one of the bikes out—the one that I used to ride as a girl. “Here. We’ll ride as soon as we’re far enough away from the palace.”
He pulls out another bicycle and we take them out of the shed—the grounds are mucky from the recent rains, and a light dusting of snow covers the ground. The night air is freezing—I’d almost forgotten it’s winter, and the tunnels we’ve just crawled through were so warm, I hadn’t thought much at all about our not having the proper attire to travel through the night.
“I’m sorry, William,” I whisper. “I should have brought our coats.”
“Nonsense. We’ll be fine.” He reaches over and gives my arm a pat before returning his hand to the handlebar of his bike. “The only thing we’re going to regret not having is our passports.”
“Oh, I did remember those.”
He grins, looking over at me. “I knew I loved you.” He nods. “This is going to work. It has to.”
We walk in silence the rest of the distance to the edge of the palace grounds. I’m not sure how he knows, but there’s a broken fence on the west side of the property, allowing us easy access to the nearby road. As soon as we’re there, we both straddle our bicycles.
I let William lead. I have no idea where we’re headed, and I’m not sure he does, either.
As soon as we’re on the main street, my stomach hardens to a rock. I look around at the buildings—there are many more street lights here, and we’re pretty much out in the open.
“William,” I call out after my husband. “Do you know—?”
“Shh,” he calls behind him. “Please, Justine, just trust me.”
I nod a few times, but he doesn’t see—he’s already turned back around.
We ride for a few more minutes before we’re to the bridge that crosses the river. He pedals across, and I follow him into the quiet neighborhood on the other side.
He takes a left on the third street, and I can see him pointing at a cottage nearby.
We stop in front of the house a moment later, both of us getting off our bicycles.
He’s silent for a long moment. “This is the place.”
“This is what place?” My voice is hushed—it’s the middle of the night and there aren’t likely to be any people on their porches, but one never knows. It would only take one citizen to call the police, who would then alert the Royal Guard, who would no doubt return us both to our prior places in the palace.
William looks over at me. “This is the home of Marcell—one of the men I worked with on the bridge. You met him at the Harvest Festival.”
I shake my head, glancing between the house and my husband. “William—”
“I don’t know if this is going to work, Justine. I don’t. His loyalties may very well lie with your father. But I know the way he talked about you when we were working together. The way they all did—the way they have a respect for you that they don’t have for the rest of your family. And I think if we explain to him—if we at least try… Maybe—just maybe—he’ll take our side and help us get back to Montovia.”
William
I’m not foolish enough to think that Marcell, however much he likes me, would betray his king for me. But I have a feeling, deep down, that he’d do as much for Justine. The Rosvalians I’ve met have all been very proud of their country and heritage, but I got the sense that many of them are well aware of their king’s shortcomings, even if they’d never admit such a thing to the king’s recent son-in-law. It was clear during the cleanup after the storm that they’r
e not used to receiving much assistance from the Crown, but I’m not lying to my wife when I say they seem to have a soft spot for her. Everyone knows she could get away with ignoring her people, just as her parents and brother do, but she chooses not to.
Still, my heart is pounding in my chest as I lift my fist and rap lightly on the door.
We’re met with silence. I glance around us, making sure no one is out for a midnight walk, then try again, a little louder.
Inside the house, a dog starts barking. I’ve woken someone, at least. A moment later, a light flicks on in a window overhead.
As we wait, I reach over and take Justine’s hand in mine. Inside, I hear scuffling as the dog scurries down the stairs, then more barking and sniffing at the door.
“Quiet, boy,” comes Marcell’s slightly gruff voice, rough with sleepiness. His face appears at the small window beside the door, and though I can’t see his expression in the darkness, I can hear his small curse of surprise. A second later, the door opens.
“Your Highness,” he says to me. Then, as his eyes fall on Justine, “Excuse me, Your Highnesses.” He gives a small bow, then seems to remember he’s wearing only his pajamas. He straightens with a grin. “Forgive me, Your Highnesses—if I’d known you were coming, I’d have dressed the part.” His eyes skim over us again, and his grin falls. “Is something wrong?”
“I hate to intrude on you at this hour, but may we come inside?” I say.
“Of course, of course.” Marcell’s brow furrows as he steps aside, allowing us in.
As we enter the parlor at the front of the house, a woman appears at the top of the stairs. “Honey? Who is it?”
Marcell coughs. “We’ve got some royal company.” He pauses. “I don’t suppose you’d mind bringing me my robe?” Then he turns back to us. “I was under the impression that you two, uh… That is, I wasn’t aware you two were still together.”
“Our circumstances have changed,” I say, unable to keep a smile from my face. “For the better. At least we think so.”
“That’s wonderful,” Marcell says. “I was always rooting for you two—you seemed like a good sort for a prince, Your Highness. Worthy of our princess.” He nods to each of us.
At that moment, Marcell’s wife comes down the stairs, his robe in her hand. Her eyes widen when she sees us. “Your Highnesses.” She bows, and there’s a panicked look in her eyes when she straightens. “I should put on some tea—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say. “Thank you, though. But we don’t have much time.” I turn back to Marcell. “I have a favor to ask of you, but I must warn you in advance—it’s not without risk.”
Marcell is studying us closely, and he looks over at Justine again before turning back at me. “I’m not afraid of a little risk,” he says. “Not for a good cause. But what exactly are you asking of me?”
My hand tightens on Justine’s. “We need to get out of Rosvalia without being seen. It’s urgent.” I hesitate. “I can tell you everything, but the more you know, the greater the risk to you.”
“Mm,” Marcell nods, rubbing his beard as he considers.
“I know you have that truck,” I say. “And if you could hide us in the back and carry us over the border into Montovia…” There’s no way to explain this without sounding shady, but we don’t have any other options. Once we reach the Montovian border patrol, we’ll be safe.
I sneak a glance at Marcell’s wife. She looks deeply concerned. Marcell’s face, however, remains more neutral. I can’t tell if he’s leaning toward helping us or not.
Justine’s fingers squeeze mine. When I look down at her, there’s a question in her eyes. I nod, silently telling her to say what she has to say.
“I understand this is an odd request,” she says. “But my family and my husband are at odds, and it seems like the best way to avoid an international incident is to keep them apart for a little while.”
I nod, admiring my wife’s tact in explaining our complicated situation—she’s managed to express the danger without laying blame or giving too many details.
Marcell still doesn’t speak, though, so she goes on.
“This is a particularly delicate situation,” she says slowly, softly, “because I’m pregnant.”
Marcell’s eyes widen, and his wife lets out an audible gasp. Even I find myself staring down at my wife in surprise—I didn’t expect her to share such news so freely, not at this point in time.
“It would really benefit everyone involved if William and I could get to Montovia,” she says. “But there are certain people who may not see it that way. Which is why we’ve come to you. We need to leave discreetly.”
Marcell is still silent, but the wrinkles in his brow deepen as he continues to rub his beard. Suddenly, without warning, he barks out a laugh.
“I feel like I’m in the middle of a movie,” he says, still laughing. He looks over at his wife, and something silent passes between them. Nodding, he turns back to us. “We’d be honored to help you however we can.”
I wasn’t aware of how tense I was until I hear those words. It’s like a weight has been lifted from me and I can breathe again.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Anything for our princess and her husband,” he says, still chuckling. “This will be an adventure!” He shakes his head in amusement. “If you’ll give me a moment to get dressed, I can probably have the truck ready to go in ten minutes.”
“And I’ll pack you something to eat,” says his wife. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, we’re fine,” Justine says. “Thank you for everything.”
A moment later, we’re left alone in the parlor while our saviors run off to prepare. I turn and haul Justine into my arms, holding her tight. We’re going to make it out of here. I’m so relieved I can’t even find the words.
After a minute, though, I release her and look down into her eyes.
“I’m surprised you told them about your pregnancy,” I murmur, brushing her hair back.
“Maybe I should have kept it secret, at least until we make an official announcement, but…maybe it’s better this way,” she says. “Tell one person, and within a couple of days, the entire city will be buzzing with rumors. Word is sure to get back to my father. And that might actually help protect us. It’s harder to make a pregnancy disappear when half of our citizens know about it.”
It’s a rather brilliant plan, but it still worries me. “What if it just makes your father angrier?”
“Then hopefully we’ll be safe in Montovia by then,” she says, smiling weakly up at me.
I hold her close again, and I don’t let her go until Marcell returns a short while later.
“Everything’s ready to go,” he says.
I lace my fingers through Justine’s again. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Justine
The journey is long. William and I are in the back of Marcell’s truck, and while he and his wife gave us blankets to keep us warm on the trip, they do little in the way of keeping the bitterly cold wind from whipping around us as we travel.
William huddles close to me, holding me in his arms, my back against his chest. This part of the journey isn’t so dangerous—it’s the border crossing that could do us in.
He kisses my temple before he speaks into my ear—the wind is howling so loudly in the back of the truck it’s a miracle either of us can hear the other without screaming. “We should have done this differently. We could have stowed away on the train—”
I turn my head so that he might hear me. “We’d have been caught. And we’d both be back in our prisons now if we had.” I shake my head. “This was the only way.”
He nods against me, his face burrowing into my neck. We lie like that for a while before he speaks again. “We really must find a way to thank Julian for his bravery.”
“We will. And…” I’m not sure why I hadn’t told him before—I suppose there wasn’t a particularly good moment. “I
think he found out what my father and brother have planned.”
He’s silent for a moment. “And what is that?”
I turn in his arms so that I can face him. “They’re doing something with the Amhurst mine. He wasn’t sure what, but they’re planning to do something to destroy it.” My heart pounds in my chest—how could I not have remembered the point of this? I’ve been so caught up in getting out of the palace—saving William and our children—that I’d nearly forgotten about the real issue…keeping our countries from going to war.
“How could they destroy it?” There’s barely any light, but I can see his confusion by the furrowing of his brow.
“I’m not sure. I saw some plans on my father’s desk—I couldn’t read them. There was a map of the mines…” I shake my head. “Julian seemed fairly sure that my father was planning to do something there, and the plans I saw certainly made it look that way.”
“It would take one hell of a weapon to destroy them.” He rubs at his chin. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t put it past your father to try. If the mines are destroyed…” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe he’d be so petty.”
“You can’t? Have you met my father?”
“I have—and he is a petty bastard. But he isn’t stupid, Justine. Like I said, it would be an act of war. One he couldn’t back up. No offense, but the Rosvalian Royal Guard is nothing—nothing—compared to the Montovian Guard. Montovia’s is actually—you know—a military unit. Rosvalia’s—”
“Isn’t,” I interrupt. “I’m aware. But the bad blood between our countries…”
He shakes his head again. “There’s nothing that runs so deep that your father would do something so stupid.” He rubs his jaw again, looking up at the sky. “Or maybe I’m underestimating him.”
“We should go there as soon as we cross the border.”
“To the mines?” His gaze snaps back to mine, and even in the dim moonlight, I can see he thinks I’m insane. “If there is something going on there, Justine, it’s far too dangerous for you. No, we’ll go directly to the capital, get you safely inside the palace—”