Then she’s gone, and my hands hold nothing. I scream in anguish, not caring who hears.
“Help me!” Marigold breathes, her voice strained.
She is stretched out on her stomach like I am, holding Leonora by her wrists. I didn’t even feel her kneel down, but somehow she caught Leonora.
I grab Leonora’s hands, my grip now tight, and Marigold and I pull her to safety. We huddle together, crying because of what almost was.
“Thank you,” I say to Marigold, sobbing. “Thank you.”
Tears run down her dirt-stained cheeks, and she nods.
We are free.
***
The trail leading to the cave is the first place the bandits will look when they’re done with the tunnels. I don’t like it, but the only safe way to escape is through the thick woods.
I’m not sure where we’re at, although I think we’re going the right direction. Soon we’ll hit a terrace wall and if I’m correct, another trail.
It’s all so different in the deep night. I’m not sure what time it is, so I keep looking to what I think is the eastern horizon. Eventually, it will lighten.
I check again, but it’s still black.
We don’t say much as we walk. I can tell Leonora and Marigold are nearly as scared of the night as they were of the cave. I am too, if I’m truthful with myself. It’s different on foot, especially when you’re following animal trails which disappear and reappear at random.
A distant, sharp shriek cuts through the night. We all freeze, listening.
It’s only a mountain cat.
Once again I reach for my bow only to remember it isn’t on my back. “Keep moving.”
As I step forward a branch swipes across my cheek. I grumble under my breath, pushing the branch back and holding it out of the way as Marigold and Leonora pass by. I make my way through the weeds and bushes, and I hope we don’t find a patch of waspnettle. I have boots on, but Leonora and Marigold only have slippers. They haven’t complained, but they must be in agony by now.
Leonora trips on a root but catches herself before she falls. “Pippa, I need to rest for a moment.”
I nod. As much as I don’t want to stop, we’re all exhausted. There’s another cry, closer this time.
“What is that?” Marigold asks.
“Mountain cat.”
Leonora rolls her shoulders, looking tense. “Are you sure?”
“No.”
“What else could it be?” Marigold asks.
“We need to move on,” I say instead of answering her question.
We continue, and soon I notice my boots sinking into the ground as we walk. We’ve stumbled on a marsh. “We must be very quiet.”
Leonora creeps forward. “Why?”
“We’re in grim boar territory.”
We move along. I know we’re almost silent, but in the night it sounds like we’re crashing through the brush. I just know we’re going to draw something in.
A dark cliff-like shape grows from the forest in front of us. We’ve left the marsh and are almost to our first terrace. At the base, I’m able to locate the trail I’d hoped for.
I feel more secure until another feline cry, this time much closer, rings through the night.
“I don’t think that’s a mountain cat,” Leonora says, her voice shaking.
It must be a mountain cat. A mountain cat is bad enough—the alternative is too terrifying to consider. We press on, faster now that we’re not tripping through brush and crawling over fallen logs. I’m almost running, but the girls keep up with me.
There’s another cry. It’s much closer and on the other side of us.
I stop, holding up my hand so the others will stop too. There’s another shriek behind us.
“How many of them are there?” Marigold gasps.
“Only one.”
Leonora touches my shoulder, and true terror shines in her eyes. “Pippa. The cries—they aren’t coming from the ground. They’re coming from the sky.”
“I know.”
Marigold’s head jerks up, and she swivels, looking for the threat. “What is it?”
“It’s a glasseln, and it’s circling,” I answer.
“What do we do?”
I have no idea. I have no weapons, no fire…nothing.
Something dark sweeps above us and disappears into the trees. It shrieks again.
Marigold jerks and clings to Leonora. “What’s it doing?”
“Playing with us.” I look around, frantic to find something to use as a weapon. I pry a broken branch from a tree and stumble back as it breaks free.
In the distance, I hear horses. Somewhere nearby the bandits are searching for us. Perhaps the glasseln will be distracted and take after them instead.
It swoops again on silent wings, its shadowed form the only sign of its presence. I hold the branch like a club. Leonora and Marigold huddle together, back to back, as we crane our necks upward.
“There!” Marigold yells.
The dark form screeches as it swoops down. All three of us duck, and its claws only narrowly miss us.
It wouldn’t have missed if it hadn’t meant to.
It rises in front of us, turns in mid-flight, and then drops to the ground. Marigold gasps, and the beast lowers itself to a crouch. Massive feathered wings are tucked against its body, and it’s long, black tail swishes back and forth.
It’s as beautiful as it is terrifying. Long, lean, and covered with glossy black fur, it creeps forward, twitching as if it is about to pounce. Emerald green eyes shine in the darkness and appear to be lit by some unnatural light.
I scream a battle cry and wave my hands and club in the air.
“Pippa!” Leonora cries, trying to hold me back. “What are you doing?”
I break from her and run at the glasseln. It shrinks back, its ears twitching. Then it creeps forward and lets out a terrible hiss—like a perturbed stable cat but louder and much more frightening.
I hiss back, trying to make myself as large and threatening as possible. Its muscles twitch, and then it leaps into the air.
“Is it gone?” Marigold asks, her voice laced with disbelief.
“No,” I answer, frantically looking for it in the air. It’s circling again. “It’s toying with us.”
It attacks from overhead, and this time its claws rip across my shoulder. I howl in agony. Once again, it turns in mid-air. Its eyes are on mine like a challenge. It’s going for the kill, and it’s focused on me.
“Get down!” I scream, and I hold my branch up to defend myself.
It hisses and then sweeps toward me, its eyes locked on mine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rigel
I know I’ve met my end as the glasseln dives for me. Then, just as I tense for impact, several arrows fly from the dark of the forest toward it. The beast falls from the sky to the ground. It pulls itself up and looks for its attacker.
Several archers burst from the trees behind us and send another series of arrows at the glasseln. It shrieks. Percival appears like a glorious king of legend, leaps from his horse, and charges toward the cat. Right behind him are several knights.
Strong hands pull me away from the madness. The riders have brought torches, and the night looks as if it’s on fire. The glasseln is surrounded, and I can’t see a thing. I pull against the arms holding me.
“Pippa, be still,” Sir Kimble says, keeping me back.
The beast gives one last horrific hiss, and then everything is silent.
Percival turns away, his sword slick with blood. Leonora runs to him, sobbing. He holds her tight and asks if she’s hurt. She assures him she isn’t.
No one, including my father or Alexander, who have also come, ask if I’m hurt. You would think they might, since I was moments from death and blood is draining from my shoulder.
Archer would have, if he were here.
It’s chaos. Marigold is bawling again, and Father is trying to soothe her. Knights examine the glasseln. The
ir mail shirts shine in the torchlight as they lean over, hesitant to touch the cat although it’s dead.
Percival finally looks up, and his gaze lands on me. His eyes narrow, and he’s shaking with anger. I shrink back. “Pippa! What were you thinking? It’s one thing to put yourself at risk, but Leonora as well? And Lady Marigold!”
Every eye in the party lands on me, and I blink.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Leonora says. “We were kidnapped. Pippa saved us.”
Since every one of them is staring right at me, I witness the play of expressions on their faces. First, they’re incredulous, then horrified…then murderous.
“Who kidnapped you?” Father demands.
I step forward, feeling brave now that his fury isn’t focused on me. “Three men from Errinton. They surrounded us while we picnicked by the lake.”
“They drugged Pippa and me,” Marigold says, her voice weak. She crosses her arms and shivers.
“They took us to a cave.” Leonora looks up at Percival. “Once the poison wore off, we sneaked down the tunnels, climbed the rock walls, and escaped out a large hole in the ceiling!”
I hide my smile behind my hand. She looks quite proud of herself—and she should be.
Percival goes ashen. “Did they drug you as well?”
She shakes her head then leans against his chest and says, “No.”
He wraps his arms around her back and breathes out, obviously relieved.
“Are you all right, Lady Marigold?” Alexander asks the weeping woman. She dissolves into a fit of tears, and he holds her, patting her back as she cries.
I feel odd, standing here by myself. I look away from them.
The knights go to their horses, following my father. He turns to me. “Where is this cave?”
“It’s the one you found me at the other evening,” I answer, and then I feel my cheeks warm.
Father doesn’t notice. “Seven with me. Alexander, you come as well. The rest of you escort the girls back to the palace.”
After they’ve mounted, he kicks his horse forward, and they take off into the woods.
“How did you find us?” Leonora asks the group that’s left.
My uncle glances at the sky. “We heard the glasseln. Ewan feared the worst. We followed its cries.”
I’m glad they did.
“We need to get you to the physician.” Sir Kimble looks at my shoulder. He rummages through his pack and pulls out a bandage. “This should stop the bleeding for now.”
I grit my teeth as he wraps it, wanting to cry out from the pain, but somehow I manage to stay silent. I ride behind Sir Kimble. My eyes get heavy, and I feel myself drift off long before we reach the palace.
***
My eyes fly open, and I hiss in pain.
Yuven tuts a few times and then continues his work.
“Stop!” I gasp.
Yuven’s hand stills, and he looks up from my shoulder wound to meet my eyes.
“Since when does an herbalist stitch someone up?” I exclaim.
The light catches the needle, and I think I might be sick.
“Since the physician is busy.” His brown eyes are sleepy, and though he’s not much older than Archer, in the middle of the night he looks ancient. His black hair is more unruly than it usually is, and he looks as grumpy as I’ve ever seen him.
“Why?” I ask, trying to sit up.
He holds me still. “One of the princes returned yesterday. He’s not doing well.”
“Who?” I demand. “What happened?”
“What do you think happened?” Yuven asks. “He found a dragon.”
A chair creaks in the corner, alerting me to someone else’s presence. I look over and see my mother. She looks pale. “How are you feeling, darling?”
I can’t speak now that Yuven has continued with the stitches. I grit my teeth and try very hard not to pass out. After several minutes, he knots the catgut and shakes his head. “It will likely scar.”
“Who came back yesterday?” I ask once I finally find my voice.
“Prince Espin,” Mother answers.
I sigh, relieved, and then I feel guilty. “Will he be all right?”
Now that Yuven’s finished, she comes to my side. She’s careful not to look at the wound as she brushes my hair from my forehead. “Yes, we believe so.”
I accept the tea Yuven hands me and try it. It has a bitter, herbal taste that isn’t pleasant. I take another sip. He did, at least, add honey, so I will be able to choke it down.
“They found the bandits,” Mother says, her voice quiet. “Lord Rigel has confirmed they are indeed Errintonian.”
I nod, trusting Father to take care of it.
“Are you finished?” Mother asks Yuven.
He nods and gathers his supplies.
“You need rest,” she says to me. “Let’s get you to bed.”
***
There’s sun streaming through the balcony. I groan and roll over, wishing it wasn’t morning. Unfortunately, I roll to the wrong side. Searing pain pulses from my shoulder.
I sit up, knowing I won’t be able to go back to sleep now. I squint at the sunlight. It looks wrong, for some reason.
My dressing gown is hanging at the head of my bed canopy, and I pull it on and step out the balcony doors. It only takes a moment to realize what the problem is. It’s not morning at all. It’s early evening.
Apparently I’ve slept all day.
Not waiting for help, I dress myself. I will need a new riding dress made—the glasseln ripped mine to shreds. I pick a soft, lightweight gown with smooth fabric that won’t tug at the bandage over my shoulder. Even that hurts.
I’m fighting with the lacing at the back—it’s impossible to tie without pulling at my stitches—when there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Pippa,” Leonora says as soon as she steps through. “You’re awake.”
I stop struggling with the tie and let my hands fall to my sides. Leonora has Ginna with her, and she waves the girl in.
A savage pain pulses from my wound. It travels down my arm, up my neck, and down my back.
“I wish I were dead,” I say dramatically.
She raises an eyebrow. “You almost were.”
“You too,” I say, my voice quiet as I remember how close to losing Leonora we were. “How are you?”
She wanders my room. She pulls back the curtains from the balcony and then examines trinkets on my dressing table. “I’m all right.”
“And…”
I can’t say baby, not with Ginna here. For some reason Leonora and Percival have been keeping the news quiet.
She smiles. “The baby is fine as well. Everyone knows now.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Ginna has laced the dress, and she’s now brushing the rat’s nest of tangles out of my hair.
“This time—the tournament—is yours. I didn’t want to take that away from you.” This is typical Leonora behavior. It’s why she makes a much better princess than I do.
“You haven’t taken anything away. You’ve added to my joy.” I move to hug her, Ginna trailing behind me as she continues to unsnarl my hair, but my shoulder protests. I drop my hands and pat Leonora’s arm instead.
I don’t feel joyful right now, though. The thought of Archer and Galinor out there fighting off glasselns, scavenging from dragons, and evading an occasional grim boar has me nervous.
“Do you think they’re all right?” I stare out the balcony at the mountains.
Leonora settles down on my bed. “You know Archer. If anyone can best a dragon, it’s him.”
Ginna’s hands go still in my hair, and she’s obviously surprised by what she just heard.
I turn back and give her a sharp look. “Not a word of this.”
She gives me a cheeky smile before she continues her work. “No, Princess.”
I change the subject. “How is Marigold?”
Leonora sighs. “Like you, she slept most of the day. She’s u
p now but not doing well. The maid-of-the-shadows poison is still in her system. It’s brought back a slew of buried nightmares.” She shakes her head. “Poor thing.”
We’re silent for a moment, remembering her whimpers in the cave.
“What happened to her, Leonora?” I ask. “How did her family die?”
Leonora sighs. “During the wars, a flight of dragons flew over their land and set fire to their tenant’s cottages and farms. Her parents went after the dragons and were killed in the battle. After the small village was burned down, the dragons set her family’s villa on fire. Marigold, only thirteen at the time, had been left with the care of her young brothers and sisters. The house collapsed in on itself. They were trapped inside.”
I close my eyes, remembering her cries. No wonder she’s so frightened of confined spaces.
“The young ones died of hunger and dehydration,” Leonora continues. “When one of the surviving tenants finally found Marigold, she was hysterical. Her entire family died.”
Once again Ginna’s hands have stilled. I glance up at her, and there’s pain in her eyes. She lost a brother to the wars. Everyone lost someone.
Now, after five years of peace, we’re meddling with dragons again for the sake of a tournament. Not only is it unwise, it’s dangerous.
Ginna pats my unwounded shoulder. “Archer will return, Pippa.”
I clasp her hand. “He has to.”
I couldn’t bear it if he didn’t.
***
“You seem restless,” Mother says, setting her hand on mine. “Will you tell me what’s troubling you?”
I smooth out the cloth napkin I have twisted. “I’m still a bit tired.”
“Yuven has requested your help tomorrow. Would you consider it?” She leans in. “It will keep your anxious heart busy. I know how you worry.”
I agree. She pats my hand again and then turns back to Father.
Rigel sits on my other side. All through dinner he’s been making small talk with me, and it seems like he has some subject he’s trying to broach. I do my best to keep our conversation light, though it’s hard. No one seems to blame him for the Errinton bandit’s actions. I do, though I know it’s ridiculous.
The mood of dinner is anything but festive. With Espin in the physician and Yuven’s care, the bandits in the dungeons, and the majority of the men still hunting for their dragon treasure, we’re not a joyful group.
Pippa of Lauramore Page 16