Oracle (17 page)

    
“I only
wish,” Charles said. “Sadly, I find myself unable to abandon you to your death,
much as it would benefit all who have the misfortune of knowing you. Now get
up. I risked much
 
to give you warning
but I don’t intend to stay here and die for you.”

    
Hesitation lingered in Richard’s eyes, but he did get up out of the bed
and when Edward brought his pants he snatched them from the boy’s hands. “Who
are we under attack from?”

    
“My best
guess is it’s our own people.” Despite the exotic appearance of the man he’d
run into in the hall, Charles deeply doubted some far flung kingdom had sent
warriors to overthrow Hyacinth. More likely the rumors of a brewing rebellion
were more than mere conjecture after all.

    
Turning
his back on Richard was far harder for Charles than doing the same on an armed
rebel, but as he was the only one with a weapon he felt no choice but to go in
the lead. He only hoped his cousin had enough pure survival instinct to set
aside his hatred for so long as it took them to escape the castle.

    
Richard surprised
Charles by pausing outside
Daniella’s
door. “What
about my sister?”

    
Charles
glanced around the corner. The sounds of battle drew near, but he thought they
still had a fairly decent lead time. “I already checked her room, she wasn’t
there. If you want to go looking for her your more than welcome to do so.
Edward and I won’t be helping you.”

    
“She’s
probably already gotten herself to safety,” Richard said with a sneer in his
voice. “How like a woman to think only of herself in a moment of crisis.”

    
Charles
moved out into the hall, making sure Edward was close behind but giving no care
as to whether or not his cousin followed. He’d done his duty by giving the man
a warning, if he fell back now and got himself killed so be it. Charles would
shed no tear for the loss.

    
At the
end of the hall was a grand library. An enormous, two story room overflowing
with thousands of books, most of which had likely never been read. Like all
common rooms in the castle, the library was lit with a few well placed lamps on
the off chance a member of the royal family should waken in the night with an
urge for literary adventure.

    
Once
inside, Charles shut the door behind them, sheathed his sword, and then strode
over to the nearest divan with the intention of using it for a barricade. He
pushed, but the divan, which was solid oak and far heavier than it appeared,
refused to move. So he pushed harder, gritting his teeth against the strain.
The divan slid perhaps two inches before coming to a dead stop. At this rate
the castle would have burned down around their heads before he accomplished his
goal.

    
Charles
stepped back, took a huffing breath, and glared at Richard. “Care to lend a
hand?”

    
“Not
really.” Richard crossed his arms. “Princes are above manual labor.”

    
“You best
get below it and help me barricade the door,” Charles said. “Unless you want to
be left behind to create a diversion while Edward and I escape.”

    
Richard
made a face as he joined Charles. “I do this under extreme protest.”

    
“Duly
noted. Now push.”

    
Together,
they managed to push the divan in front of the door. As they stood gathering
their respective breaths and eyeing each other, they came to silent accordance
regarding this temporary alliance. They would work together as a team in order
to get out of the castle alive.

    
Charles
again took the lead as they wove around the towering bookshelves whose contents
filled the air with a dusky musk. On the far end of the library was another
open space occupied by several divans, and small table, and a fireplace. A
heavy, ornate, golden grill covered the mouth of the fireplace but with Charles
on one side and Richard on the other, they managed to move it to the side
without too much effort.

    
“I’ll go
first.” Charles got down on his knees. “Edward, you follow me. Richard you can
bring up the rear and shut the door after us. I can’t recall, where’s the
switch?”

    
“Upper
left hand corner,” Richard said. “Third brick.”

    
Charles
crawled into the hearth, grateful to find it spotless. He ran his fingers
across the proper brick and heard a slight snick as the wall swung open to
reveal only darkness beyond. He glanced over his shoulder to see Edward
crouched behind. The reassuring smile he offered the boy was not returned.

    
Because
of the narrowness and low ceiling of the escape tunnel, crawling was the only
way to move forward. Not exactly the most dignified mode of travel for members
of the royal family, but whoever had constructed the tunnel had clearly been
unconcerned with comfort.

    
Even on
hands and knees, Charles’ head brushed the top of the tunnel. Warm air closed
in around him. All was silent save for the steady rasp of his own breath and
that of his companions, accompanied by the soft scrape of his scabbard dragging
across the floor. In order to stave off a growing sense of claustrophobia, he
focused his mind on thoughts far removed from his current situation.

    
Time
seemed to crawl, but eventually the ground beneath Charles’ hands shifted from
stone to damp earth and the air grew cooler, suggesting to him they had left
the castle and were now somewhere beneath the surrounding forest. For the first
time since he was so abruptly woken from sleep he began to let himself truly
believe they could make it through the night alive.

    
Charles
knew he’d reached the end of the tunnel when his fingers collided painfully
with solid stone. Edward ran into his backside with a soft gasp. Richard did
the same with Edward, but expounded on the moment with a string of curses
better befitting a gutter drunk than a Crowned Prince.

    
“We’ve
reached the end,” Charles whispered.

    
“Really?”
Richard’s voice echoed faintly. “I never would have known. Would you kindly
open the door and let us out of this hole?”

    
It only
took a moment for Charles to feel out a slight depression in the wall. When
pushed, the door swung outward, allowing a burst of fresh air to flow into the
tunnel. He paused, both to let his eyes adjust to the dim light and to make
certain he heard no sounds of danger in the immediate area. Once he felt
assured it was safe, he crawled out into the woods.

    
Charles
rose to his feet, then bent over to stretch out his cramped back muscles and
wipe his hands along his pant legs. Dawn trimmed the trees in red, but gave him
no clue as to where they were or on what direction they should go to seek
safety.

    
Edward
let out an indignant cry. Charles turned and Richard’s fist connected soundly
with his cheek. It was the shock as much as the attack that sent him stumbling
to the ground. He pushed himself quickly to his knees and reached for his
sword, only to be felled once more by a strong kick to his ribs.

    
Richard
leaned over and snatched Charles’s sword from its scabbard, then leveled the
tip at his throat. “I’m going to repay you for saving my life by taking yours
more quickly than I had planned. Watching you suffer while you imagined all the
deliciously wicked things I was doing to your sister would have been much
sweeter revenge, but this is an opportunity I simply can’t afford to pass by.

    
“
Daniella
will approve, don’t you think?” Richard smiled.
“She’ll have to admit she’s not the only clever one after I have your death
blamed on the men who invaded the castle. And poor Anastasia, she’ll be so
devastated. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her for you. Count on it.”

    
Charles
braced himself for the blow, comforted only in knowing Simon would take care of
Anastasia and keep her safe.

    
Richard cried
out, staggering slightly forward and to the right so the tip of the sword
grazed Charles’ skin as it slid past his throat. What followed passed before
his eyes in the space of a heartbeat, but seemed to him to last an eternity.

    
The sword
swept up as Richard turned, its ascent describing a silver arch through the
air, and the blade sliced through Edward’s leg. Red blood welled in sharp
contrast to the sudden sickly pallor of the boy’s shocked face.

    
Protruding from the small of Richard’s back was the worn handle of a
small dagger. Charles didn’t think, he simply leapt up and grasped the handle,
giving it a sharp twist. Richard screamed, a high shrill sound.

    
Driven by
nameless fury, Charles grasped his cousin’s throat and pulled his head back to
whisper in his ear. “You will never touch my sister.” He shoved Richard
forward, kicking him in the back of the knee to knock him to the ground.

    
Gasping
and snarling like a wounded animal, Richard tried to rise. Charles slammed the
heel of his boot down on the back of his head. Richard collapsed and didn’t
move again.

    
Charles
backed away two steps, panting for breath as if he’d been running. He pressed a
hand to his throat. The cut stung and it was certainly bleeding, but didn’t
feel deep enough to have caused any real damage.

    
A soft
moan drew his attention to Edward. He knelt beside the boy and looked into his
glassy eyes. “Can you hear me?”

    
Edward’s
gaze cleared as he turned his head toward Charles. “Am I
dying
?”

    
Charles
forced his lips into a facsimile of a smile. “Of course not. You need to rest
here awhile is all. You’re going to be fine.” Though he had no experience with
battlefield wounds, even he could tell the boy had lost far too much blood to
be saved. He saw no reason to say as much, however.
        

    
“You
saved my life.” Charles rested his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “Victor will be
proud to know what a courageous young man you are. He was right to name you his
successor. You’ll make a fine Duke.”

    
Edward
smiled. And then he was gone. Charles sat back on his heels. He felt
emotionally drained by the events of the night and it wasn’t over yet. Though
he had no means by which to bury Edward, Charles did owe the boy his life and
leaving him to lie there beside the man who killed him was out of the question.
He deserved better.

    
Charles
lifted Edward from the ground and carried him through the woods until he found
a place where thorny bushes grew. It seemed a good, safe place to leave the
boy’s body. Hopefully, the thorns would deter scavengers and perhaps Charles
could even find his way back at some point to retrieve boy for a proper burial.

    
“I’m
sorry it ended this way for you,” Charles said, standing with his hands clasped
beside the bush. It seemed only right to say a few words over Edward, in case
returning for him proved impossible. “I’m not someone you should have died for.
But I will never forget what you did for me today and I will do my best to live
out the rest of my days in a way which will honor your memory. Rest in peace.”

    
He
plucked a few nearby wildflowers and scattered them across the top of the
bushes before moving on to seek a way out of the woods.

CHAPTER
TWENTY SIX

    
They were
nearing the path leading up the side of the mountain when they heard the first,
low mournful howls. All the hair stood up along Anastasia’s arms at the sound
of it. “Are those wolves?” she asked. She fervently hoped the answer was yes.
Much as she didn’t want to run afoul of a pack of wolves, it would be
considerably better than meeting some twisted version of the beast. She thought
of the oversized bird and shivered.

    
Simon
stared into the distance, absently rubbing the wound on his hand. “It sounded
like wolves.”

    
“Ah, but
what kind of wolves?” Brandon asked in an entirely too cheerful tone.

    
“No kind
we want to have to deal with,” Reaper said, and picked up his pace.

    
The
others followed suit, but after only a few moments
Lorn
began to fall back from his usual place on Anastasia’s left hand side. She
looked over her shoulder at him. His face had grown pallid and sweat beaded his
brow. Never had she seen him look in such a state.

    
“Simon.”
She touched Simon’s arm to encourage him to slow down.

    
He
followed her look and frowned. “
Lorn
? Are you all
right?”

    
Lorn
nodded. “Yes, I...” He panted for breath. “I am well.”

    
“You are
not.” Anastasia stopped, forcing everyone else to stop as well or else leave
her behind. “You look sick.”

    
“It is
not well for your Ladyship to be concerned over me,”
Lorn
said.

    
“Forget
propriety,” she said. “You were wounded in battle. You’ve earned a little
worrying over. You need to sit.”

    
“That
might be a bad idea.” Brandon pointed back the way they’d come. A dozen or more
gray shapes were swiftly approaching them. At the moment they were too far away
for Anastasia to make out any characteristics, but at the pace they were
carrying she thought she’d soon see them much closer up than she wanted to.

    
Lorn
doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. “You must
go, your Ladyship.”

    
“And
leave you behind? You know me better.” Frightened though she might be, she had
no intention of running off and leaving her bodyguard behind.

    
“We can’t
stay,” Simon said. “We have to get up the mountain path and hope that deters
those... whatever they are.”