The Angel And The Prince

by Laurel O'Donnell

  The guard glanced up as she approached. His feet hit the floor at the same time the two legs of the chair did. He tossed the dagger onto the table and stood. “What do you want?”

  Ryen saw his large hands resting on the table before him, the dagger between them. Her eyes shifted from the weapon to his eyes. She stepped forward, forcing a smile to her trembling lips. “I – I think you have something I want,” Ryen answered.

  His eyes raked over her. The large guard’s dark, burly brows slumped over his narrowing eyes. “Who are you?”

  She took another step forward. Close enough. She drew the weapon with lightning-fast reflexes, placing it near the guard’s throat. “Step around the table,” she commanded.

  The guard’s dark eyes turned from amused disbelief to anger. “I do not take commands from a woman.” His hand moved for the dagger.

  Before his palm closed over the hilt, Ryen shoved the point of the sword against the man’s Adam’s apple, halting his movement. “Move out from behind the table, or I will slit your throat.”

  The guard did not hesitate this time. He emerged from the cover of his table.

  “You will release Lucien De Bouriez,” Ryen told him.

  He hesitated for a moment as if debating between death and Bryce’s wrath.

  Ryen hit his arm with the flat side of the sword. “Move,” she urged, “or I will make your death a most painful one.”

  The guard’s shoulders slumped and he turned, retrieving a torch from the wall before he headed into the dark hallway. Ryen kept the sword point to his back as he paused before Lucien’s cell door. The guard opened the lock and turned to give her a scathing look before throwing the door wide.

  Ryen called “Lucien!” as her brother emerged from the darkened pit of his imprisonment.

  Lucien glanced at her, his eyes glittering in the feeble light, and then his gaze pierced the guard. His lip curled and he snatched the sword from Ryen’s hand. Lucien backhanded the guard and the torch fell to the floor.

  “Put him in the cell,” Ryen ordered, but Lucien went after him with a vengeance, pounding him in his face with clenched fists and in his stomach with booted feet. With each blow, his lip curled tighter, his sneer growing into a feral snarl. He reared back his head and spat his hatred into the guard’s face, continuing to rain blow after blow on the helpless man.

  Appalled at her brother’s mindless savagery, Ryen grabbed Lucien’s arm. “Leave him alone,” she called.

  Lucien elbowed her away before turning on her. “You defend him?” he demanded.

  Ryen stared at him, aghast at how quickly he had turned on her. “We don’t have time to delay!” She turned and headed for the entrance to the dungeon.

  After a moment, she heard Lucien’s footsteps behind her. She paused at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him in the flickering torchlight.

  Lucien stepped into the small circle of brightness and Ryen felt relief in her heart. Yet even as joy filled her to see him free again and out of the dampness of the dungeon, uneasiness gripped her, for there was a wildness about him that was new. His dark blue orbs darted anxiously back forth. His fingers were curved like claws, ready to curl into a fist at the slightest provocation. He cast quick, furtive glances over his shoulders as he moved, as if he were prey fearing a hunter’s strike. He is only being cautious, she told herself.

  “You know this castle well,” Lucien remarked.

  Ryen moved forward, up the stairs, but Lucien grabbed her arm, halting her. He moved past her, climbing the stairs and paused. Ryen joined him, whispering, “The only way out is through the inner ward.”

  “Which way?” Lucien asked.

  “Down the hall and out the main doors,” Ryen murmured.

  “No back entrance?”

  “Not that I know of,” she replied.

  “Stay here,” Lucien commanded.

  Ryen opened her mouth to object, but he was already making his way down the hall. Anger rose inside her as she watched his back. He still treated her as a child! Even though it was she who had gotten him out of the dungeon. He disappeared around a corner and Ryen sagged back against the wall.

  “You shouldn’t do this,” a voice whispered in the darkness.

  Ryen whirled, searching the shadowed stairway behind her. She felt panic rise in her throat, closing off her cry of alarm.

  “You shouldn’t betray his trust,” the voice continued.

  Then Ryen recognized the tone. Grey. He stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and into the flickering light thrown by the torches. He was still following her! Where there should have been anger, Ryen felt only fear. He would try to stop her from freeing Lucien.

  Grey stood before her, accusal darkening his eyes.

  “Stay out of this,” Ryen ordered. She didn’t want to see him hurt.

  Grey’s lips twitched into a humorless grin.

  Ryen stepped backward, down the hallway, following Lucien’s path. Before she could blink, his hand shot out to seize her wrist.

  “I’m asking you again not to betray his trust,” Grey said.

  Ryen yanked her arm free. “He lied to me!” she whispered savagely. Her agonized, indecisive gaze met his and Ryen was surprised to see her emotions mirrored in Grey’s eyes.

  Suddenly, Ryen caught a flash of a blade above his head. “No!” Ryen screamed as she watched Lucien bring the weapon down upon Grey’s head.

  Grey’s eyes rolled and he collapsed to the ground.

  Ryen bent to help, but Lucien grabbed her arm and pulled her down the hallway. “I circled back,” he said, “and I saw you struggling with him.”

  Ryen tried to pull free, but Lucien’s hold on her wrist was strong. She glanced back at Grey lying sprawled on the floor, but had only a glimpse of him before Lucien turned the corner and made his way to the great door.

  Ryen stopped struggling. She had to get Lucien free, and then she would see to Grey. Lucien released her when she stopped fighting. There they paused only long enough to glance out into the courtyard.

  The sun was setting in the distance, bathing the sky in a deep red. Ryen’s heart was hammering in her chest. She wanted desperately to return to Grey and make sure he was all right. But Lucien had to be free. She would not allow her brother to rot in the dungeon. She quickly scanned the darkening yard. There was no one in sight and she gave a silent prayer of thanks. Through the open inner ward gate, she could see that the outer ward’s gates were also open.

  A prickling of warning shot up Ryen’s spine. If all the peasants were gone, as the empty courtyard was proof, the gates should have been closed.

  Lucien grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the inner ward. Two horses stood before them as if awaiting their arrival.

  Ryen stopped, pulling Lucien to a halt. She glanced around at the vacant walls of the castle. No guards walked the battlements. Her eyes swiveled to the gatehouse, which seemed strangely empty. “It’s a trap,” she announced.

  Lucien followed her looks with his own. “The hell with their traps! We’re getting out of here now,” he hissed urgently. He pulled her to the horses and he quickly mounted one.

  Ryen moved forward, prepared to bid him farewell. When he glanced down at her, she saw rage in his deep blue eyes.

  “What are you waiting for? Mount,” Lucien whispered urgently.

  Ryen drew herself up proudly. “I can’t leave.”

  “What?” Lucien cried.

  “I gave my word.”

  “Your word? To whom?”

  Ryen tried to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. “I gave my word to the Prince of Darkness that I would not leave.”

  “What?!” he roared. “Your word means nothing beneath his deceit.”

  “My word is my honor. I cannot break it.”

  Lucien’s horse pranced, sensing his anger. His deep blue eyes burned with a fury that Ryen had never seen before. He jerked the horse around to face her. “I will not leave without you.”

  Ryen gasped. She had assum
ed he would go without an argument. “You must!” Ryen begged. “This is your only chance, Lucien.”

  “I will not leave you here, with him.”

  “He will throw you in the dungeon again! Please, Lucien.”

  Lucien’s bearded jaw tightened. “He told me you were dead!”

  Ryen looked away. “He told me you were dead, also.”

  Lucien moved to dismount. “Then I will cut him down.”

  “No!” Ryen shouted, and moved immediately to the other horse. She pulled her dress up over her knees so she could mount.

  Lucien straightened on the animal. His lip curled before he yanked savagely on the reins and rode for the gates.

  Ryen spared a last look at Dark Castle. She hoped someone would find Grey quickly, that he would be all right. Then she thought on her promise. She had given Bryce her word. But more important than her word was that no harm befell…Lucien, yes, of course. Who else could she have been worried about? He was in no condition to face the Prince of Darkness in his weakened state. She had a loyalty to her brother as kin, a loyalty to France and to King Charles. She had no loyalty to Bryce…only her heart ached when she thought of him. I trusted you, Bryce, she thought. But you lied to me. I cannot forgive you for that.

  Ryen spurred her horse, riding toward the gates into the setting sun.

  Standing in the outer gatehouse, watching the two riders through a vertical slitted window as they fled from the castle, Polly stood shaking her head. She caressed one of the bridles she held tightly in her hands.

  “Don’t feel so bad,” a voice from behind her snickered. “Now, you have only one thing to do and you will not have to spend any time in the dungeon.” Lotte moved past Polly to glance out the window. “Everything is going perfectly.”

  Polly turned to leave the small room.

  “Oh,” Lotte called. When Polly paused, Lotte continued, “If I catch you warming yourself by the kitchen fire again, you will have a month of chores added to your tasks.”

  Chapter Forty Two

  Bryce could not get Ryen out of his mind. Every tree’s bark hid her smile; the blue of the sky was but a twinkle in her eye; the moon’s brightness paled in the light of her glow. He wanted to see her so badly that he had ridden back two days early, leaving his exhausted men to make camp somewhere far behind him. Only Talbot had ridden with him.

  As they approached the tall gates of Dark Castle, the image of Ryen promised warmth on the chill night. Suddenly, the hair on the back of Bryce’s neck stood straight. Only half of his soldiers walked the walls. Bryce spurred his mount, racing the already exhausted beast into his castle. As he dismounted, one of the guards came rushing up to him.

  “What’s happened?” Bryce demanded, fighting down the feeling of doom that slithered up his spine.

  “It’s lady Ryen. She’s gone,” the knight answered.

  Bryce’s frown deepened.

  “Gone?” Talbot asked, dismounting beside Bryce.

  “Aye,” the guard replied, his brow creased in concern and fear. “She is not in the castle.”

  “How long has she been missing?” Bryce queried, his level tone hiding the pounding of his heart.

  The man shuffled his feet nervously.

  “Answer me, damn it,” Bryce growled.

  “She’s been gone since late last eve,” the knight said.

  Bryce swung himself up into the saddle.

  “M’lord, she helped a prisoner to escape!”

  Bryce froze, every muscle in his body tensing. The knuckles of his hands turned white as they clutched the reins of the horse. His dark eyes burned Talbot to the spot. “Find her.”

  Polly’s hands kneaded her apron. She stood staring at Bryce’s hands clenched behind his back as he glared out of the window into the darkness.

  “How did this happen?”

  His voice caused her to jump.

  “M’lord?” Polly asked, her voice trembling.

  “Do not play games with me, Polly,” Bryce murmured. “I know you two have become close. I want to know what she said before she left.”

  Polly hesitated. Her hands had begun to shake. “She was very upset, m’lord.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But she said she hated ya ‘n would rather die than face ya again.”

  Bryce did not move. His body was ice. “Where did she go?”

  “Ta France, m’lord. She was goin’ home.” Polly hesitated. She didn’t want to say the next words, but the promise of the dungeon made her add, “Ta her true love, Count Dumas.”

  Bryce turned to face her, and for the first time Polly saw the agony in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was soft and broken. “How did she find out about her brother?”

  “I don’t know, m’lord,” Polly answered.

  He straightened to his full height, until he towered over the plump maid. Then he pushed past her and quit his chambers, leaving Polly standing in the wake of his loneliness and remorse.

  Polly’s whole body shook as tremors of terror raced along her spine. Just below her fear hid misery. What am I doin’ ta them? she asked herself for the thousandth time. Condemning them to a life of anguish and bitterness? They were enemies, she reasoned, pacing the bedroom. They don’t belong together anyway. And the dungeon was a very cold place.

  Ryen and Lucien traveled with little sleep and no food. But as they rested on the second day, Ryen felt numb. She didn’t hear the rumblings of her stomach. She didn’t feel the soreness throughout her body from countless hours of hard riding.

  She and Lucien had barely exchanged two words during their journey. She wondered if he even knew where he was going. Ryen raised her tired, aching eyes to her brother.

  He still carried with him the filth of the dungeon, reeked of urine and sweat. She briefly wondered why he hadn’t washed in the stream they’d happened upon a day ago. But the thought of the stream brought aching, tender memories of Bryce’s glorious naked body, glistening in the moonlight, poised far above the falls.

  Her chest tightened and tears rose in her eyes. She missed him. And she hated herself for being so weak. He had lied to her! Ryen closed her eyes tightly against the torment that his image brought to her heart.

  It was not only the ache in her heart that hurt, but the agony of her soul. She had told Bryce she would stay at Dark Castle. And when she left with Lucien, she had forsaken her honor. She fought down the feeling that she should return to Dark Castle and keep her word. But, as she swiveled her eyes to Lucien who was squatting, mumbling incoherently as he gazed blankly at the ground, she could see the weariness in his slumped shoulders. Lucien needed her here with him.

  Again Ryen dropped her head. Her honor was at stake. If she did not return, how could she hope to ever see herself as a true knight? She lived every hour of her life by the Code of Chivalry. And now she was shattering the very foundation upon which it was built.

  “Ryen.”

  She jumped and her eyes came to focus on her brother. His dirty brows drew together as he studied her face.

  “We must get food,” he finally announced. “And new horses. These are tired and well ridden.” His eyes bore into her and Ryen looked away, nodding. “Are you ill?” Lucien asked.

  Ryen glanced back at the way they had just come, back toward Dark Castle. “No,” she murmured.

  After a moment, he took her hand, helping her to her feet, and led the way through the bushes to the horses.

  Bryce thundered into town with a garrison of soldiers. He dismounted before his horse had completely stopped and walked toward the stables where an older man stood before the wooden door.

  “Are you sure it was her?” he asked.

  “Aye, m’lord,” the old man answered, scratching his chest. “She took a loaf of bread and two horses, then headed down the road.”

  Bryce studied the old man’s haggard face and his sharp eyes saw the slight swelling and purplish coloring of a bruise beneath one of the man’s wrinkled eyes. “You tried to stop he
r, didn’t you?”

  The peasant dropped his eyes. “Aye.”

  “I warned you to stay out of her way. Was she hurt?”

  “No, m’lord.”

  “Good.” Bryce whirled, returning to his steed. He climbed into the saddle, his dark eyes stormy as he glared in the direction Ryen had fled. It was a large area to search, many roads they could have taken. But he would find her. She would not slip through his fingers.

  He glanced at one of the men in his garrison. “Ride to Dark Castle. Tell the Wolf Pack they are needed with all due speed.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” the man replied, and turned his horse around.

  If anyone could track her, they could.

  It wasn’t until the following night that the Wolf Pack arrived on horseback. Bryce was pacing before the wooden door of the stables like a caged lion.

  Night dismounted, followed by Grey. They approached Bryce and he halted immediately, his hands on his hips.

  “What took so long?” Bryce snapped as they neared.

  A slight breeze ruffled Night’s fur cape, but the two men did not move nor answer.

  Bryce growled, dragging a hand through his dark hair. He began to pace again. He was feeling the strain of his determination. He hadn’t eaten in a full day, hadn’t slept all night. “I need your help,” he told his two friends.

  “She was last seen here?” Grey wondered.

  “A day ago,” Bryce answered, nodding.

  Night glanced at the ground, his eyes studying the dirt path that merged with the street. “A day is a long time. Many tracks have covered hers. The wind has blown over it –”

  “I don’t want to hear that,” Bryce growled. “Find her.”

  “We will begin here,” Grey replied.

  The two men of the Wolf Pack turned away and headed back to their horses.