I hailed one of the nurses to bring a napkin and quickly stood up to properly wipe the blood away.
Just then I felt something grab my wrist. I shrieked and broke away from the hold, falling backward and onto the nurse.
“Melanie?”
The nurse and I froze at the sound of Owen’s voice. He slowly propped himself on his elbow to look at us sprawled on the floor, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Dear kings, how is he alive?” the nurse whispered.
I stared at Owen for endless moments before I finally mustered up the courage to stand and approach him.
“Owen…” I started, reaching out to touch his shoulder. My heart skipped a beat as he placed his hand over mine and smiled.
“How long was I knocked out? You look as if I woke up from the dead!” he added with a small laugh. I felt my eyes water and my lips parted, but no words came out.
I lunged for him, nearly falling into his lap to embrace him tightly.
“I am so glad you are alright!” I whispered, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from falling. Owen laughed lightly and returned the embrace. I pulled back, watching his face with frantic eyes. “I am so sorry, Owen. It is my fault you were hurt and–”
“Melanie, hush; I did what I did to protect you. Do not make me feel as if it were something to regret.” My lip trembled. “No, Melanie–”
“Why did you do it?” I cut him off, letting my tears fall now. “The physicians were certain you would not make it and I was so worried because it was my recklessness that put you in danger,” I rambled. Owen was watching me intently, head tilted. “Owen, you do not understand how happy I am to see you, to simply speak with you again.”
“As I am you,” he said, giving me a smile. “Had I the power to choose, I do not think I would have let myself go without having seen you safe first.” I let out a small laugh through my tears at his words and used a hand to brush away the tears at the edges of my eye.
I could not deny the warmth in my chest knowing that I had been the reason that he not only risked his life but also the reason why he fought to live.
“There is something I still do not understand,” I said in a low voice, looking away. “Why do you care so much? For me? You spoke of friendship, but not even Tiran would give up his life for mine.” Saying those last words hurt me only slightly; I knew Tiran had more to lose than I did.
Owen was silent a moment before shrugging. “Quite honestly, I do not know either.”
I looked up at him, seeing him turn his head away and run his hand through his hair in embarrassment. I exhaled in relief. This is really happening.
“Owen, truly, I am just glad you are all right,” I repeated. He turned to look back at me as I spoke. I gazed at his blue eyes, meaning every word I said. He smiled a little before his eyes fell to my hand.
“Melanie, your hand!” he exclaimed. He quickly picked it up, suddenly red-faced at the sight of my cut finger. “How did this happen? When? Does it hurt? I think you need medical care right now.”
I laughed at his concern for something so small.
“It is nothing, I only pricked it when I was writing your–” I stopped myself. Owen looked at me, eyebrows raised.
“My what?”
I blanched. I cannot tell him I was writing a letter of regret for his burial?
I was saved when the two previous physicians arrived, shooing me away to check up on him and his vitals. I stood away, watching them test his vision, memory, and response. I felt a smile grow on my lips seeing it. I would truly have to thank Selenah for saving him. When he glanced my way, I felt my heart skip a beat. He had caught me watching him. I dashed out of the Infirmary.
“Mistress Melanie is in love!”
I whirled around seeing my three maids grinning and twirling their hair. I felt both embarrassed and relieved to see them.
“And what do you know about that?” I asked as we made our way to the dining hall. “Neither of you have a suitor nor husband.” For some reason, the halls were bright and did not look as old as I always thought they were.
“We saw enough to see you love the Archduke!” Ayah said as we took our seats. The accusations made my heart race.
“You could not have been more wrong,” I shot back, ringing the bell to call in a kitchen maid who arrived shortly with our breakfast. How could I love Owen? He would probably laugh at their words, too! After we all settled in, I expected a silent meal, but my maids made it otherwise.
“Oh, it was beautiful to see the two of you together like that,” Blaire said with a sigh, making Yana and Ayah nearly choke for her display of emotion.
“We are just friends,” I quickly countered, now trying to hide the flush in my cheeks. I had also left out that we were friends again.
“Friends, you say,” Yana said, winking.
“It is true. Owen as a worthy friend. He has proved his friendship by all means.” As I said these words aloud, I could not express how grateful I was to Owen. If not for him, I would be in the clutches of the Shadow Reaper.
I pushed away my plate once it was empty, ringing the bell to call in the maid again. She came back quickly and left without another word.
“And he is in love with you!” Blaire cried. I raised my brows, finding it surprising that she of all people could ever believe that. “He took a dagger –to the heart, might I add– for you. How can you think otherwise?”
“He did that in the name of friendship,” I replied with a firm nod.
“All love starts that way,” Ayah said, leaning forward. Blaire nodded.
“Well, if Mistress Melanie does not want him, I surely would,” Yana said. We all laughed as she pouted. “Quit laughing! I am serious!” Yana’s cheeks reddened.
“Duchess?”
Amidst all our talk, I had not seen a messenger come up and wait patiently for us. His fingers were wrapped around the satchel across his shoulder so tight; I could see the whites of his knuckles.
“I apologize for delaying you,” I said after recovering from our laughter. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Archduke Owen is to report to the King’s Castle immediately,” he replied. “I suspect that you should be there as well.” I furrowed my eyebrows.
“Are you sure it is all right to leave so soon? Was it not yesterday there were reports of dragons rampaging through the Kingdom? And Owen has only just recovered.”
“The King requested this audience, Duchess.”
Sighing, I nodded. “I think it is best you tell the Archduke. I will be ready as soon as I can. Let him know that I will meet him at the Palace gates.”
The boy nodded and jogged off.
A flash of green caught my eye from his wrist, and although I was intrigued by it, I did not have the time to dwell on it for my maids had caught my attention once more with jests about Owen and me. But I was not so irritated about it this time. At least we were speaking about his reputation as a great swordsman and handsome nobleman, rather than his funeral arrangements.
Once ready, I headed over to the Palace gates with my maids beside me. Owen and the messenger were already there, waiting as expected. Owen was dressed in his usual fine clothing, and I smiled at the sight of him looking as if the Shadow Reaper never harmed him.
When the carriage was set, the messenger bowed, opened the door for me, and helped me up.
As I sat down, I could see my maids watching Owen. He seemed a little flushed– probably from the exercise he had to do so soon after his recovery. I gave a small wave to my maids before the messenger shut the door and got the carriage into motion.
I gazed out through the window, remembering the last time Owen and I had taken a trip together in a carriage. The thought of the undead skeleton grabbing a hold of me made me shift away from the window. I then furrowed my eyebrows, realizing that I could not recall any Palace Guards taking position around us for this trip.
For a while, the journey was silent. All I could hear was the rhythm of the horse�
�s hooves treading heavily on the dirt road. Owen was surprisingly quiet. We continued, minute after minute, hour after hour, and I glanced wearily at Owen. He frowned as he stared out the window.
“We should have reached the King’s Castle by now,” he said, glancing at me. Just then the carriage abruptly stopped. I swallowed hard and felt my heart begin to race.
“Surely, there is a rational explanation for our delay,”
I said, biting my lip in worry.
Owen immediately unsheathed his sword despite my hopeful thinking. Just as he reached for the carriage door, it flew open. The tip of a stranger’s sword was at Owen’s throat before I could blink.
“Lower the sword and no one’ll get hurt,” the man said, his voice gritty. His words were no more learned than a child’s. I noticed that his left eye was shut, and a pink slash of a scar ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.
Owen slowly lowered his sword to the carriage floor, knowing he could not put up a winning fight in such a disadvantaged position. “Now, hand it over,” he demanded. Owen hesitated. The stranger’s sword flashed towards me, making my heart skip a beat and my breathing falter. “Now,” he repeated, “or I’ll kill the lady right ’ere, right now.”
Owen’s sword clattered towards the bandit, who smiled, nodding his head in response. His smile curled into a grin. “C’mon boys, we got us some nobles!”
A tall, muscled bandit pulled us out and dragged us onto the deserted road. He had us by our arms while their scarred-faced leader watched, flexing Owen’s sword in his hand. By the looks of it, there must have been at least seven of the bandits and no Royal Guards around our carriage; the messenger was nowhere in sight. I swallowed at the thought. Is this a set up?
“These horses are in top condition, Gyor,” one of them said to the bandit with one eye. His companion nodded.
“We’ll get a lot out of ’em. Maybe eight gold apiece,” the other added. One of the scouts whistled as they made their way back, hearing the hefty price stolen Palace horses would get them.
“That’ll get us some fine food,” another said.
“It sure will,” Gyor said. “Not only that, think of all riches we’ll get off the lady.” My mouth went dry. A couple of his comrades nodded, and he grinned as Owen scowled at him. “Tie ’em up, Rojer.”
There was a sudden, shooting pain to the side of my head and I fell to the ground, with the vague notion of hearing an eagle’s call before I lost consciousness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BANDIT TIME
The sound of a crackling fire brought me to open my eyes.
Night had fallen.
I was tied to a tree –standing– with my arms bound behind me and my ankles secured together. The rope rubbed against my exposed skin, causing it to itch. I tried to loosen the rope just a fraction, so it would not chafe me any further, but I could not. There was also a dull throbbing at the side of my head.
The sound of moving gravel made me look up, seeing five of the bandits in a circle by the fire. They all watched me with suspicion, a few poised with their hands over dagger hilts. I almost scoffed. Was I that much of a threat?
Frowning, I looked about for Owen, finding him hunched over against another tree. I noticed that the knots by his ankles and wrists seemed much more intricate than mine. But I sighed in relief, seeing that he had been tied sitting upright. I was afraid his recovery would backfire if he stressed his wound too much.
“So, yer awake,” the familiar rough voice said by my ear, taking me by surprise. Gyor –was it?– circled from behind the tree, his face dancing from the shadows of the crackling flames. The scarred eye on his face now looked less intimidating than before. “Tell me, lady, what noble family are ya the unlucky daughter of?”
I met his gaze. He is trying to ransom me.
“I will not answer to scum like you.” I spat the words at him, but he did not seem fazed. His gaze dropped from my face to my neck.
“What a pretty little thing ya got there, lady.” He fingered the bejeweled necklace that hung loosely on my neck. “Must be from a wealthy one, don’t ya think?” He tugged it forward, causing my face to lurch closer to his. “Now tell me, what noble family are ya from?” Something stirred behind him. Gyor looked back and grinned. “So, the brave knight wakes.”
“My armor…” Owen mumbled as he took in his surroundings. “Melanie?” He looked around furiously.
I closed my eyes briefly; Owen had unintentionally given away my identity. But I could not blame him as Gyor blocked his view of me.
“Melanie, ya say?” Gyor said, fully turning to face Owen, his large shoulders still obscuring my view. “I don’t recall any noble daughters by the name of Melanie.”
“I heard there was a new duchess by the name of Melanie,” one of the younger bandits prompted. I gritted my teeth. His leader whipped his head to face me, an ever-growing smile playing his lips.
“Duchess,” he repeated, leaning in closer, and eying me with a raised eyebrow. I turned my head away from him. Nobility came with a price. “Ya must be worth a hefty sum, wouldn’t ya agree, my duchess?” He put a finger under my chin and forced me to look his way. I felt my chest puff up in rage as I met his gaze with my own angry one.
“I want that necklace she has,” another bandit said, rising from his seat and breaking my icy stare. “Looks valuable. Could give it to someone special. Like my ma.” He walked over towards us.
“She would be ashamed of her son for getting her stolen gifts,” I said through clenched teeth. His eyes narrowed.
“Then ain’t it great that she dead?” he mumbled, snapping the chain and letting the necklace fall into his palm. He then smiled and walked over back to the fire to admire it.
“Anyone else?” Gyor prompted.
“Lemme have them silk gloves,” another chimed in.
I heard Owen shift under his bindings, perhaps now realizing where I was and the situation I was in. Gyor walked behind the tree and removed the gloves off my hands. He threw it over to the bandit who caught it deftly with a smile. I looked helplessly at Owen, but he would not meet my gaze.
They all began to call out the items I had not taken much notice of when my maids had helped dress me: my earrings, my broach, my hair clips. All were decked with tiny faceted jewels. I kept my jaws clenched and my thoughts elsewhere as Gyor unfastened and split the last of the jewelry amongst the group. My hair now fell loose down my back, my body bare of accessories.
“That’s one of the best harvests we’ve gotten inna while,” Gyor said with a smirk. I bit my lip as he spoke, an overwhelming sense of loss coming over me. But I refused to cry in front of them. “I bet the Duchess is hungry. C’mon boys, we haven’t forgotten our manners, have we? Let’s celebrate!”
A cheer erupted from the group as their leader untied my hands and ankles. Any thought of escape fled as Rojer, the colossal muscled bandit, walked over to my left. His arms were folded over his broad chest, and he had a grim look on his face. However, he had been the only bandit, other than Gyor, to not have taken something from me.
He motioned for me to take a seat on the cold ground.
I did, ignoring that fact that I was ruining the only expensive thing I had left: my dress. I watched as the bandits smiled and laughed while they readied for their meal, whooping as Gyor withdrew a bottle of brandy for this wondrous occasion. I felt bile rise in my throat, revolted by their behavior. How could anyone be used to such wrongs?
One of the bandits approached and placed a bowl of light brown liquid in front of me, its contents sloshing over the rim. I gaped at it.
“What is that?” I asked. I had become so accustomed to the Palace food that what was placed before me made my stomach flip.
“Supper,” one of the younger bandits said, slurping up his own bowl. They ravenously ate their share as I sat there, feeling sick.
“Not hungry, my duchess?” Gyor asked, walking over to me. “Or do ya want me to feed you?” I scowled at his grin.
<
br /> “I will not eat this,” I said, lifting my chin higher. Gyor huffed before he took the bowl from me and ate it himself.
I wrinkled my nose at the sight.
“The duchess wants better food, Eyjak,” Gyor told the bandit who took my necklace. “Then let’s obey.”
Eyjak was at first hesitant but went to one of his packs and produced a pouch of dried meats and bread. He placed the meats and bread by the fire before putting them in a bowl at my feet. I was sure the frown on his face was a product of jealousy.
As hungry as I was, I ate with caution, picking at the bread and chewing bits for some minutes before eating more. I had no idea what these bandits would do to us now that Owen and I no longer had anything for them to take.
After the meal, I was escorted by Rojer to take a seat beside Owen. Several of the bandits pulled out fur hides and began readying for sleep, while others walked into the woods as scouts. They all, at some point, glanced my way. I could only wonder why.
Just then I heard Owen’s stomach grumble. Hearing it, I felt guilt overtake me. I had forced the bandits to feed me, yet here he was, starving.
“I am sorry,” I whispered to his shaded face, “I was selfish. I should have asked them to give you something to eat.” He bent his head toward me.
“No, do not trouble yourself over me.” He forced a smile. “It is I who should apologize. I could not stop them from robbing you of your possessions.” Sighing, I looked away. Why do we have such luck? First the skeletons, and now this.
I then turned to glance at Rojer, who stood erect and motionless as a statue. I watched him a moment, realizing he stood out among the bandits. He did not participate in their social activities or unlawful takings, yet he did not try to stop them from doing so either.
“Rojer,” I said in a half-whisper. His eyes flicked downwards towards me, a hint of surprise on his face that I had the desire to speak to him. “Why are you with these men? You must see what they do is wrong. Why else did you not take something from me like they did?” Rojer was silent, his eyebrows furrowed.
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