“Dryal, where is Argus this evening?” I ask once he joins me.
The knight gives me a wry look. “Sleeping like a baby.”
I shudder and continue our search.
The first tower is empty. The second is as well. I pause on one of the parapets, thinking. Moonlight streams down on me, taunting me—reminding me the night is not eternal.
“Which one should we try next?” My voice trembles with my growing panic.
Dryal shakes his head, scanning the castle.
A dark figure glides across the sky. As I gaze up at the dragon, I suddenly realize where Father is keeping Rigel.
Dryal hollers for me to slow down as I race up the aging, crumbling stairway, but I know these steps well, and I am not frightened. Father didn’t even bother to lock the door. I swing it open. At the window, silhouetted in the moonlight, Rigel stands.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rigel turns as I enter, his features open with surprise. “Seirsha?”
I pause as my guard enters in behind me. Rigel’s expression darkens. I wouldn’t want to be Dryal for all the world.
“We’ve come to rescue you, My Lord.” Dryal’s tone isn’t overly respectful, but it’s not mocking either. He jingles the keys.
Rigel narrows his eyes and motions to his ankle. “Then by all means.”
First, I rush towards him, offering him the parchment. “There is something you need to see.”
He wraps his hands over my arms, pulling me close. “Don’t you think we should leave first?”
I motion at Dryal to start on the locks. It may take some time to find the right key.
“Read it,” I urge Rigel, pushing the paper at him again.
He accepts it and angles it toward the pale moonlight shining in through the window so he may read it. His eyebrows knit as his mouth falls open. “Where did you find this?”
“A hidden compartment in Father’s chambers. It’s where I found the keys as well.”
He sets his hand on my cheek. “You’re the first first-born female in your line.”
I shake my head. “No. But I’m the only one that survived birth.”
He rolls the paper carefully. “If this is true, my grandfather didn’t lose the fight for his crown—”
“—he gave it up to stop the fighting,” I finish for him. “To stop the deaths of his people.”
Dryal waves his hand, impatient. “With the agreement a son of his line would marry the first first-born female of yours. We got it.” He jerks at the lock. “Can you move your ankle toward the wall? The chain’s twisted at an awkward angle.”
“Why the first female born? Why not join the lines with a male from my line and a female from yours?” I ask.
Rigel shakes his head. “Leonard wanted our name to continue. It would have to be one of his male descendants.”
“There should have been two copies made,” I say to Rigel. “Your grandfather wouldn’t have trusted my grandfather. What happened to your family’s?”
Rigel stares out at the moonlit peaks, and then something dawns on him.
“The fire.” He turns back to me. “The estate burned down that year.”
“You don’t think this is forged, do you?”
“No. Your father wouldn’t allow something like that to linger if it weren’t genuine.”
“Not sure why he’d let it linger even if it were genuine,” Dryal grunts.
The knight’s tried most of the keys, and I’m becoming increasingly nervous.
“That’s true,” I say. “Perhaps—like the secret room—he doesn’t even know the compartment is there?”
Rigel looks down at Dryal. “Which means—”
“These are the wrong keys.” Dryal sits back, seething.
Panic rises, fast and blinding. “What do we do?”
“Stay here,” Dryal says. “I will search the chambers again.”
I can’t trust him, but I can’t leave Rigel—not when this will likely be his last night because we’ve botched up his rescue.
I twist the delicate chain at my neck and turn away. Panicking won’t help.
Rigel’s hand settles on my shoulder. “Let him go.”
I turn back. “What if he’s lying to us again! How do we know he even tried to open the lock?”
Dryal rolls his eyes and offers me the keys. “Try it yourself, Your Highness.”
I rip the keys away from him. My anger needs an outlet, and he seems like as good a target as any. Better, actually.
The knight strides from the tower. “I swear, I will return.”
I ball my fists, ready to heave the keys at his retreating figure, but I control myself.
Rigel wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
There’s a goodbye in his embrace. He doesn’t expect Dryal to help us. A sob rises in my throat, and I turn into him.
I can’t bear another person I love dying. Where is that stupid dragon when I need her? Adrinel would have known how to fix this. She could have yanked the chains from the walls—burned down the guard barracks as a distraction. Anything to help us escape.
My hands go to Rigel’s face. He hasn’t shaved for over a week. His eyes are weary, and his cheeks are a little gaunt from the time he spent in the stocks.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He wipes away the tears I can’t hold back. “This isn’t your fault.”
“He’s my father.”
Rigel shakes his head, and his eyes run over my face. “How did you find me?”
He smiles when I tell him. I don’t know how he can manage it.
“Did they feed you, when you were in stocks?”
“No.” His hands find my hair. “But the villagers slipped me food in the dead of night—iktar, in fact.”
I laugh through my tears and set my head against his tunic.
Rigel gently pries the forgotten keys from my fingers. “Let’s try them again—just in case.”
We kneel together. One by one, Rigel goes through the keys. Several minutes later we both sit against the tower wall, defeated. He wraps his arm around my back, and I curl next to him.
We speak of childhood memories and dreams. Rigel tells me more of places he’s been; I tell him of places I wish I could go. There’s little light left, and soon it disappears completely as the moon’s time in the sky comes to an end.
I fight sleep. I don’t want to miss a moment, but my eyes are heavy, and I finally give in. As I slip into unconsciousness, Rigel lays his cheek on my hair.
***
“Wake up!”
I’m not-so-gently shaken, and I jerk my eyes open. “Dryal?” Instantly awake, I sit up. “Did you find the keys?”
“No, but I have a plan.”
He’s pulling me to my feet, and I yank my arm away from him. “I don’t trust your plans.”
Rigel stands, and I shift closer to him.
Dryal’s agitated. He takes two long steps to the window, peers out at the night sky, and then steps back. “We don’t have time to argue. I need to get you back to your Father’s chambers.”
“What? No.”
“Are you mad?” Rigel growls. “He knows she drugged him.”
“He won’t think that if she’s drugged as well, will he?”
He’s not making sense.
“You are not giving her a sleeping draught.” Rigel steps as close to Dryal as his chains will allow.
Dryal steps back, easily evading the lord. “Just a small bit. It has to look authentic.” He turns to me, holding his hands up. “If he wakes and finds you under the same draught, he’ll assume some unknown person slipped it into the wine.”
“But who would poison him?”
“Who wouldn’t poison him? Right now your father is the most hated man in Errintonian history. Commoners loathe him. He’s killed off his nobles’ sons.” Dryal stops his pacing and looks at me. “He’s destroyed the dragon treaty.”
Rigel lets out a frustra
ted breath and then turns me toward him. “It will keep you from suspicion. Your father can’t know it was you.”
“I’m not going to let him drug me!”
“Seirsha.” Rigel glances out the window.
The horizon is already growing lighter in the early summer sky. From below, birds have begun their morning songs.
“I can’t die knowing you’re in danger,” he says. “I just can’t.”
I clutch my stomach.
“Go with him,” Rigel begs.
“I won’t leave you. Let Father find me here.”
Rigel takes my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “Seirsha, I love you.” He looks at Dryal and nods. “Take her.”
Dryal’s already pulling me away.
“Rigel!” We’re halfway down the tower, and I tug against Dryal. “Wait.”
Dryal continues to drag me down the stairway. “No time.”
I didn’t even say goodbye.
***
Someone hollers my name, and I wake to a sharp slap in the face. My eyes fly open, and my hand instantly rises to my head. My temples pound.
“She’s alive,” Zander says from over me.
I sit up, and my stomach rolls. My memories quickly return. I fight back a wave of nausea. Zander pulls me from the floor, and I clutch the back of one of the chairs for balance.
Father watches me with narrowed eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m going to be ill.”
He doesn’t seem completely convinced.
“What happened?” I ask, looking around as if confused. It’s not too hard. My brain is muddled, and my eyes are still blurry.
Father’s still watching me with suspicion. “Someone attempted to poison us.”
I jerk my head toward him, fire in my eyes. “Perhaps someone would rather poison us than let Rigel be executed.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Well, they failed. Rigel will die today.”
I lunge at him. I’m not exactly sure what it is I hope to accomplish, but it doesn’t matter. Argus grabs me before I am even close to Father.
“I was supposed to marry him!” I scream. “Our lines were supposed to be joined as soon as there was a female first-born!”
Father’s face contorts in disbelief, and then he goes white.
I struggle against Argus, kicking and flailing, although I know it’s a fight I can’t win. “And you knew it! That’s why there was a never a female baby who lived past birth. Your family murdered them!”
“She’s delirious from the poison. Go with Dryal to her chambers. Lock her in her rooms until the execution.”
I wrestle against my restraints, but they win in the end. They toss me in my quarters and then slam the door shut. All the fight leaves me, and I sink to the floor.
The drug still lingers. Try as I might, I can’t clear my mind. Images—horrible, horrible images—taunt me. I imagine Bea’s last moments, her final screams. I see Rigel walking toward the executioner’s block, proud and strong.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but at some point Pippa crouches down next to me. I’m almost certain she’s real. Dryal must have let her in. She murmurs condolences and speaks false hope. She slips out just before they come to collect me.
Dryal enters the room alone. “You look awful.”
I don’t even care. “What poison did you give me?”
“Maid-of-the-shadows powder—but only a tiny amount. I had to knock you out, and you wouldn’t take the sleeping draught. Don’t you remember?”
The last thing I remember is Dryal pulling me from the tower.
I rub my eyes. “I hate you.”
“That’s all right.” He pulls me to my feet. “You’ll thank me soon.”
***
Caging me in, Argus sits on one side of me and Dryal sits on the other. Across the courtyard, Pippa and Archer are with the other nobles. The villagers have gathered. Most of them look on, several crying silent tears. But there are those who are not so quiet. The crowds at the front have almost frenzied themselves into a riot, but so far, Father’s guards have kept them back.
Father sits behind me. Smug glee rolls off of him in waves.
Suddenly the crowds roar in protest. Rigel walks into the courtyard, flanked by two knights. His hands are bound behind him, and his ankles are chained to prevent his escape. He holds his head high; he stands tall.
Even in death, I can’t help but admire him. I had thought there were no tears left to cry, but I was wrong. A silent one trails down my cheek, soon followed by another.
He meets my eyes. He doesn’t look fearful of death—regretful, resigned—but not scared.
Behind me, Father stands. “Lord Rigel of Errinton, Great-Great-Grandson of King Leonard III, you are charged with treason to the crown.”
The villagers scream and attempt to press forward, but the knights push them back.
“For your crimes, you will be beheaded and buried in an unmarked tomb. Degraded. Forgotten.”
Rigel doesn’t flinch, but I clench my fists so tightly, my knuckles turn white.
The executioner waits, his blade sharp and ready. Rigel walks toward his death. A villager, a lone young man, breaks through the line of knights and runs forward, a crude sword in his hand. He makes to attack Rigel’s guards, but before he reaches them, he’s struck down. I look away from the unnecessary bloodshed.
The crowd’s screams reach deafening levels, and several knights attack those closest to them. Many fall—most of them unarmed. A woman pushes her way forward, trying to reach the young man’s side.
“No!” I cry out, standing from my seat.
She falls to a knight’s blade.
Dryal tugs me down. I yank back and turn to lash out at him. I’m stopped short by the disgust and anger barely concealed in his expression. Helpless, I sink to the bench. Finally, the knights subdue the crowd.
Now irritated, Father yells out, “Finish this.”
Rigel kneels down. My throat closes, and I can’t breathe. Movement catches my eye at the moment the executioner lifts his blade. As one, Pippa and Archer stand, each raising their bows in a fluid, synchronized movement. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, their arrows fly. With a solid thud, they reach their targets. The executioner staggers back and drops his weapon. At the same time, the knight to Rigel’s left sinks to his knees.
Rigel jerks his head up, surprised. He recovers quickly. The remaining knight unsheathes his sword, ready to finish the execution. Just in time, Rigel rolls out of the way, and the blade misses its mark.
With a chorus of shouts, fighting breaks out around us. Knights and guards turn on their comrades, fighting to free Rigel. Dryal grabs me, his sword already in his hand, and he pushes me behind his back.
Argus lunges for Dryal, but he misses. I search for Rigel through the crowd. Even though still bound, the lord fights well. He elbows his guarding knight in the stomach, and when the man doubles over, he strikes him again in the face.
Pippa runs forward. Her bow is already on her back, and she’s exchanged it for a dagger. Archer follows her, his sword drawn and ready. Ducking as a knight rushes them, Pippa cuts Rigel’s hands free. Archer intercepts, and the man falls.
I try to count how many of Father’s men are fighting on Rigel’s side, but it’s an impossible task. A quarter, maybe even half of them have turned.
“Dryal!” Rigel yells. “Behind Seirsha!”
My eyes snap to Rigel, but then I whip around. Dryal turns but not in time. Rough hands jerk me back, and a knife meets my throat. I step into my attacker to keep the blade from slicing through my skin.
“Stay still, Princess,” Zander says.
Argus takes advantage of Dryal’s distraction, and he charges him. Dryal counters just in time, but it’s a sloppy save. Zander slowly backs from the fighting, pulling me with him.
“Give yourself up and no harm will come to her,” Father calls to Rigel.
At Father’s words, the fighting halts. Rigel�
��s face is hard, and his eyes are livid. He lets his recently acquired sword drop to the ground and raises his hands in surrender.
“Get him out of here!” Dryal yells.
A knight turns to Rigel. With one solid hit to the back of his head, the man knocks Rigel out. I scream, ignoring the knife biting at my throat. With the help of another guard, the knight pulls Rigel to his feet, and they disappear into the crowd of eager-to-assist villagers.
“Seirsha!” Pippa calls out from somewhere in the masses.
The fighting in the courtyard has ceased, and the knights and guards face off against each other. Dryal ducks the last of Argus’s attacks and then counters. Argus, unable to block in time, falls to the ground, clutching his arm.
“We will come back for you!” Dryal yells to me as several of Father’s remaining men collect me from Zander.
They drag me into the great hall with Father at our heels. “I should have you hanged! You’re as much a traitor as he is!”
I stare back at him with triumph in my eyes. Not only is Rigel alive, but he’s escaped as well.
Father turns his back. “Kill her.”
Without question, the knight next to me unsheathes his sword. I stare at Father, too shocked to believe he’s said the words to even brace myself for the end.
“No!” Father snarls, whipping back around half a moment before it is too late. “Lock her in the tower.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
A cold wind whips through the window, chilling me. Outside, the gray clouds darken. The weather is working itself up for a summer storm, and I believe there will be snow.
I huddle into myself with my knees pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs. I shift my ankle, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. The metal cuff digs into my skin. A few days ago it was merely sore. Now it’s rubbed raw.
It’s my fifth day in the tower. Or is it the sixth now? It’s easier to lose track of time than I would have thought. I haven’t seen Father since he banished me, and I don’t expect to. I suppose I’m lucky he didn’t have me killed. My stomach growls, reminding me that almost all I’ve eaten is bread and water. A guard smuggled in dried venison and a mug of cider two days ago.
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