by Nathan Roden
Boone stepped close to Simon’s ear, where Helena could not hear.
“I know why. Please, be careful.”
Forty-Eight
Jaclyn hummed while she braided her mother’s hair.
Lady Lamont turned to look at her daughter.
“Jaclyn, there are scores of maidens who would consider it an honor to braid the hair of the Queen’s mother! What has gotten in to you, child? Not that I am complaining, mind you. It does my heart good to see you happy, at last. You have had us worried…”
Jaclyn placed her hand on her tummy.
“The little Prince takes great pleasure in disrupting my insides, I’m afraid. But he seems to have made his peace with me in the last two days.”
Jaclyn returned her hands to her mother’s hair.
She swore.
“Jaclyn!” Lady Lamont scolded. And then she laughed.
“That is no language for a Queen!”
“I am expected to rule a people, yet braiding hair gets the best of me!” Jaclyn said.
Lady Lamont stood.
“Let’s have a maid or two come and help you—”
“No,” Jaclyn snapped.
“What is the matter?” Lady Lamont whispered.
Jaclyn whispered into her mother’s ear.
“Trust no one, Mother. Especially here.”
Lady Lamont sank into her chair, and Jaclyn started over.
At dusk, there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” Jaclyn said.
Lucien stepped into the room. He bowed his head.
“My queen. Good evening, Lady Lamont.”
Lady Lamont stood.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
Lucien was sweating and covered in mud. He was still in his battle gear, the same as he had worn into the dining hall. His face also displayed the foul depression that resulted from Lord Sterling’s dressing down.
Jaclyn felt a twinge of pity for Lucien. She stepped across the floor and kissed his dirty cheek.
Lucien stammered and blushed.
“I…it has been a long day. I wish you a good night, Lady Lamont.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Lamont said.
Lucien left the room.
Lady Lamont smiled at her daughter.
“I’ll bet he is not all that tired. You may finish my hair in the morning if you like.”
“Mother, please!” Jaclyn said. “While you and father are here? By the gods!”
Jaclyn saw movement outside the window. She walked over and looked out. A lone eagle soared high across the sky.
Jaclyn’s stomach rumbled. She put her hand there again as she watched the great bird fly.
We will meet the true King this night, Little One. It will be our secret.
An hour later, Jaclyn crept to the King’s bed chamber. She pushed open the door. Lucien’s dirty clothes and boots lay in a heap on the floor. Jaclyn wrinkled her nose. Lucien lay snoring, sprawled across the entire bed, leaving mud smeared along the linens.
Jaclyn tip-toed into the room. Lucien’s dagger sheath lay open on top of his shed trousers. Jaclyn took it. She stepped toward the corridor and then froze.
Voices.
Her heart raced as she waited for them to pass.
One of the voices belonged to Sterling. She was certain of it.
Jaclyn peered out into the corridor. She walked in the opposite direction opposite of fading voices. She stepped outside into the courtyard.
“Who goes there?”
Jaclyn shuddered.
King’s Guard. They are everywhere.
That night, in the courtyard, there were two of them.
“It is the Queen!” Jaclyn said. “Try your best not to kill me, if you please.”
The men bowed their heads.
“Forgive us, my Queen. We were not expecting you. And we must be on high alert. It is the night of the full—”
“The full moon,” Jaclyn said dismissively, with a wave of her hand. “Yes, we must remain ever vigilant in defense against the scary old dragon!”
“It is our sworn duty, my Queen.”
“Has it occurred to you, that it is most unlikely that the dragon will use the doors?”
“This is our assigned post—”
“I see. Yet, I have just come from the King’s chambers, where the King sleeps, soundly. There are three windows there, and yet I saw no guards outside of them. Nor in the corridor outside.”
The guards looked at each other helplessly.
“We beg you to return inside, my Queen.”
Jaclyn sighed.
“I could not sleep. The air has become so stuffy in this old place. I intend to take a walk about the garden.”
“Please, My Queen, it is not safe—”
“You dare to argue against my wishes?” Jaclyn snapped. “Maybe I should bring this matter to the attention of Lord Sterling—”
“No. I mean, I beg your forgiveness, My Queen. We will move nearer to the King’s quarters. Your insight is correct.”
Jaclyn nodded and strolled away. When the guards were gone, she hurried along the shadows and toward the entrance to the dungeon.
The dungeon was unoccupied and had no guard assigned to it. There was no light inside of the guard quarters.
Jaclyn turned a corner in the corridor and heard a sound behind her. She took out the King’s dagger and walked back in the direction she had come. She waited at the corner.
When she saw an arm reaching in the dark, she grabbed it and pulled.
The boy lost his footing and fell to the floor. Jaclyn fell upon him and held the dagger to his throat.
“Who are you?” Jaclyn demanded in a whisper. “And why are you following me? I could have your head for this!”
“I mean no harm, my Queen!” the boy cried. “On the contrary! I am on your side!”
Jaclyn shook the dagger angrily.
“What do you mean, on my side?”
The boy turned his head toward the dungeon door.
“I was there, that day, my Queen. The day the dragon was set free.”
“You are lying!” Jaclyn sneered.
“No, my Queen,” the boy shook his head. His eyes were large and full of torment.
“I am the lowest in the King’s army. I run errands for the officers. I had only just received a sword—
“Lord Sterling took it from me. He…he used it to…he used it on…your handmaiden.”
Jaclyn lowered the dagger. She covered her mouth with her hand.
“I am so sorry, my queen,” the boy continued, as tears stained his cheeks.
“I cannot rest. I cannot sleep. It is but a matter of time before they determine that I am no good for anything. And then they will kill me.”
“Go back to your quarters,” Jaclyn said. “The passage of time will mend your wounds. You must—”
The boy climbed to his feet.
“You hate them,” he said.
“What?” Jaclyn said. She could not believe what she was hearing.
“Lord Sterling. Raynard. Perhaps, even King Lucien,” the boy said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“If you have the wish to die, you are going about it properly. Such talk is—”
“Such talk is the truth,” the boy said. “If I can see it, then so will others.”
“What do you want from me?” Jaclyn cried in a whispered scream.
“I hear things—whispers.”
“You must go now,” Jaclyn said.
“Please, my queen. Tell me—”
“If you wish to live to see the sunrise, you must go now,” Jaclyn said. She turned away.
“The dragon. The true King. Do you know him?”
Jaclyn spun around holding the dagger.
She was beyond angry. But in the boy’s eyes she saw only desperate hope. The boy did not move when Jaclyn stepped directly in front of him.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Oliver, my queen.”
She leaned toward his ear.
“If you are able to remain silent, and to remain alive.
“Yes, I know the true king.”
The boy burst into tears. He fell to his knees. Jaclyn put her hand on his shoulder.
The boy tenderly took Jaclyn’s hand in both of his and kissed it.
“You are true, and just! I will follow you to the ends of the world, my queen!”
Jaclyn pulled the boy to his feet.
“I prefer followers who continue to breathe,” Jaclyn said. “Go!”
The boy ran away.
Forty-Nine
Simon stood in the shadows, looking up at the massive stone wall of his family’s home.
Castle Morgenwraithe.
By his birthright, he should be asleep at this moment in the magnificent four-post bed inside the King’s chambers. The bed had taken multiple craftsmen most of a year to build.
He should be asleep, lying next to his beautiful Queen, who would be…..
Who would have been my Queen? He thought.
Would my father have made the same arrangement—if he had lived?
Simon shuddered. Chills flooded him.
It was most likely. Jaclyn Lamont and he were the same age. Lord Nicolas Lamont had been the Kingdom’s Viceroy since well before…
Before the world went to hell.
These thoughts did not comfort Simon. He held onto the trunk of a tree as he looked up. His hands trembled.
This is the most foolish thing I have ever done, he thought. In a life full of foolish behaviors.
In human form, he would fall to one arrow. Or one blow or stab from a sword.
But there was one more thing he could not bear.
He could not bear to go one more day without seeing Queen Jaclyn Lamont Morgenwraithe—
Face-to face.
There was no turning back. Lord Lamont had agreed to pass Jaclyn a note at his request. She would wait for him in the dungeon at midnight.
Or she would not.
If she was not there, he did not know if his heart could take the pain.
But he placed every ounce of his hope on her being there to meet him.
Simon ran the distance between the guard towers. He caught his breath, standing against the wall. The secondary castle gate was nearest the entrance to the dungeon. He crept in that direction, hiding in the shadows. The gate was chained, but he was able to squeeze through. If there were guards stationed there, they were not on high alert. Asleep, perhaps.
Simon ran between patches of darkness, toward the dungeon entrance he had last seen during his escape, as the feared dragon. He dove through the outer door and stopped to catch his breath.
It was the night of the full moon. And yet, the army of Morgenwraithe did not fear him.
For this, Simon was glad.
And he was determined to make them pay for ignoring the fire that burned within his heart whether he was man or beast.
Simon crept down the corridor, staying in the shadows provided by flickering torches. Only a few of them were lit. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the guard room was dark.
He stepped through the dungeon door. He looked up at the shackles and chains that had almost spelled his end.
His foot kicked a stone across the floor.
“Hello?” he heard a voice.
Her voice.
Simon swallowed.
At long last…
“Who goes there?” the voice of two members of the King’s Guard echoed loudly off of the stone.
It was the same two that Jaclyn met outside in the courtyard.
A cold, strong hand grabbed her wrist.
“You!”
An angry face pulled Jaclyn close.
“Lord Sterling was right!” the guard sneered. “She is up to something! There is someone else here!”
Jaclyn squealed. She jerked her arm free and ran toward the door.
She could not tell what was happening. The two guards had the intruder surrounded.
He was unarmed. And helpless.
“You have dared to invade the home of King Lucien, King of the Realm!” a guard shouted. “Show yourself, or you die this night!”
“I do not recognize your King!” came a shout in the darkness.
“Then you shall die at the hand of his Guard!” came the reply.
“No!” Queen Jaclyn shouted.
One guard crumpled to the floor. Lord Nicolas Lamont pulled on the hilt of his sword, which was buried in the back of the dead guard.
The second guard jumped in front of Lamont, his sword held high.
“Traitorous bastard!” the guard growled. Lamont could do nothing but raise his arm in defense.
The guard brought down his sword.
But he stopped. His eyes bulged, and he crumpled to the floor, face-first.
A dagger was buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades.
Torchlight reflected on the handle of the dagger. Jaclyn knew the dagger at once.
It was hers.
Jaclyn squinted into the shadows.
Simon had saved her father. She just knew it.
The heaving profile of Lord Nicolas Lamont hovered over the two fallen guards.
“Father!” Jaclyn cried. She ran to him. Lord Lamont pushed her aside. He ran to the middle of the dungeon floor.
Jaclyn squinted and peered into the darkness.
“Simon?” she called. “Are you there?”
There was no answer.
Lord Lamont knelt and pulled with all his strength at the heavy iron grate in the floor.
“What is this, Father?” Jaclyn asked.
“The pit of Morgenwraithe,” Lamont said. “Also known as the ‘Portal to Hell’. You must help me.”
The pit cover was far from the only two lit torches inside the dungeon entrance. It was pitch dark in the middle of the room.
Nicolas grabbed Jaclyn’s arm.
“Do not let go of me, Jaclyn,” he said. “To fall into this abyss is certain death. But we cannot allow these guards to be discovered.”
They pulled on the heavy iron grate with all their might. It would not budge.
“Jaclyn.”
Jaclyn froze.
“Do not be afraid,” Simon whispered. “I will help you.”
Jaclyn felt another hand grip her arm, alongside her father’s. Chills flooded her body. She strained her eyes, but it was no use. She could not see his face.
The grate gave way, a little at a time. They pulled until the grate had moved a little more than a foot.
Lord Lamont pushed the two fallen guards through the opening. Lamont, Jaclyn, and Simon strained and pulled the grate back into place. Simon let go of Jaclyn’s arm.
“No!” Jaclyn screamed. She reached out and grabbed Simon’s hand, in the darkness.
“You must take this!”
She pressed Helena’s locket into his hand.
“We have to get out of here, now!” Lord Lamont said.
“Simon!” Jaclyn cried. “Where are you?”
“Here!” Simon said. He stood in the doorway of the dungeon exit. Jaclyn could see only his silhouette in the dim light.
She ran in that direction.
They heard the shouts of men approaching through the main entrance corridor.
“No!” Lord Lamont growled. He grabbed Jaclyn’s arm.
“We have to go, Jaclyn!”
Simon heard the voices as well. He turned to run. His foot kicked against something in the floor. He heard the sound of steel sliding across the stone floor. The dim light reflected momentarily off of the blade of a short sword. Simon picked it up without stopping.
“I will leave something for you, in our special place!” he whispered into the darkness.
“Do not leave me!” Jaclyn cried.
Simon’s silhouetted disappeared through the double-door corridor.
Lord Lamont dragged Jaclyn by the hand through the same exit.
Lord Lamont passed by t
he main entrance when the first person reached the door. It was King Lucien, clad only in his muddy battle trousers.
Lamont did not know what to do. He could not get Jaclyn through the other door without being seen.
Lucien crumpled to the floor. Standing over the king, was a boy holding an iron soup pot. The boy looked at Lamont briefly, his eyes wide open with fear.
“Thank you,” Jaclyn whispered. “Now, run, you foolish boy!”
The boy ran. Father and daughter were right on his heels.
Lamont and Jaclyn disappeared into the night. They sneaked into the castle, and to the guest quarters. They climbed into bed.
“What is happening, Nicolas?” Lady Robinette Lamont whispered to her husband.
Lamont patted his wife’s cheek.
“Shh,” he whispered.
“Jaclyn and I have been here all night. Remember that.”
Lady Lamont rolled over. She saw Jaclyn lying on the bed opposite her. They stared at each other, their eyes wide with fear.
And none of them slept.
Fifty
Jaclyn bolted upright in her bed. Lord and Lady Lamont did the same.
Someone was rapping loudly upon their door. It was not yet dawn.
“Come in!” Jaclyn called.
Her new handmaid, Tilda, opened the door quickly. She lowered her eyes and dipped her knees.
“Begging your pardon, My Queen. Lord and Lady Lamont. It is just…it is just that—”
A sudden commotion sounded in the corridor.
“We have found him! He is here!”
Jaclyn swung her legs out of the bed and onto the floor.
“Please, my Queen,” Tilda said. “Let me fetch your robe!”
“What is going on?” Jaclyn insisted. “Who has been found?”
“The king…he was not in his chambers. There was quite the panic—”