The Wrong Prince (17 page)

“…NAUGHT BUT A DAMNED CESSPOOL, I’m telling you all.”

“‘Tis not! We are in the fortress.”

“Philip, you jackass, why would a cesspool be lit with torches and riddled with breaking wheels and iron maidens?” A familiar shadow drifted into focus, and Geo listened, stunned beyond belief, to the unmistakable voices of his friends. “Graden’s right. I daresay we’ve tunneled straight into the dungeons of Wintersea.”

“Unimaginable,” proclaimed another voice, which Geo vaguely recognized as belonging to one of the Atasi. “My people have not used this passage for centuries. I never thought it would have brought us….”

“Will?” Geo called after the curly-haired silhouette fronting the mass, strutting purposefully through the darkness. First Lucie’s confession of requited love, and now this. Was he dreaming?

Will startled. “Your Highness?”

The group erupted behind the knight, yammering wildly and rushing to the bound prisoners. The two guardsmen at the staircase charged to the scene. They extracted their swords before the Atasi and Tybirians, but were outnumbered. One guard escaped and fled upstairs with a shriek, leaving his unfortunate partner to fight solo. It wasn’t long before he lay in a drippy corner, unconscious. Aidan stood over his body, panting.

“What the deuce has happened?” demanded Kieran, rushing to Geo’s side. “How long have you two been down here?”

“Not long,” Geo assured him. Before he could stem it, he bubbled with laughter. Moments ago, he’d thought his hours were numbered—but lo, he and Lucie were saved!

Will and Sir Chauncery heaved an axe from one of the rusty torture devices over to Geo and the woman. “Saving grace,” she exclaimed, extending her manacled hand.

Geo did the same, lengthening the space between them to prepare the chain for the men’s aim. Will raised the axe over his shoulder and lowered it in a flash, smashing the metal links apart. Sir Philip and the Atasi went to work with their daggers, sawing the cords from the prince’s and Lucie’s waists and arms.

With another few heaves of the axe, Will busted the shackles that tethered their ankles to the floor. Geo and Lucie rose, freed. At once, they flew into each other’s arms. Lucie squeezed him with the sum of her strength, and Geo held onto her in turn.

Kieran cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I fear we’ve limited time. I imagine the guard who got away is informing his fellows of our presence as we speak. You and Miss Camerlane must escape through the tunnel, beneath the manhole—”

“What about the Crown Prince?” intervened Will.

Lucie carefully released Geo, and the prince looked down. “Men, Prince Dmitri is….” Something stalled him, however, as he glanced between his friends’ faces…friends whom he had thought he’d lost forever, faces he’d once believed he would never see again. Maybe, just maybe, could there be a modicum of a chance that the captain of the guard had lied, and Dmitri was possibly still…?

“Don’t move!” An array of Atasi stood over the lone Llewesian guard, who was slowly regaining consciousness. “Prince Georome.” A barebacked man coated in tattoos raised a spear. “May I have the honor?”

“Wait.” Geo lifted a hand. He approached the groaning guard, his knights hovering close behind. “What is your name?”

The guard said nothing, and the Atasi directed their spears at his various vital organs. “Answer His Highness,” snarled Sir Chauncery, the tip of his sword between the man’s eyes.

The guard paled. “Traugham, sir.”

“Officer Traugham,” Geo appraised him, “is Prince Dmitri Straussen here, at Wintersea?”

Traugham looked hesitant, but replied, “Yes, sir.”

Geo stepped closer, dreading to ask the question. “And does he live?”

“Yes,” the guard exhaled. “S-somehow, he is still alive.”

The knights murmured between one another, and Geo’s heart pounced with joy. “Where are they keeping him?” he demanded, his excitement rising. But Traugham closed his eyes.

“Answer,” barked Chauncery, his blade drawing blood above the guard’s nose. “Or else we will strap you to the rack.” He indicated the barbaric contraption across the room.

Traugham shuddered. “The t-t-tower, Your Highness. In the k-keep.”

Geo pushed through his companions and clasped Lucie’s hand. “You must escape with an escort,” he told her. “The rest of us will rescue my brother. I will see you in Tybiria.”

“No!” she cried, clutching his wrists. “I’ve come all this way with you, Geo. I am not leaving you now!” She seemed to remember their audience, and closed her mouth.

“Your Highness,” grunted Kieran. “We need your orders posthaste. At any moment, the Llewesians are going to storm down those steps and—”

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The dungeon fell silent, listening to the ominous crunch of an army marching overhead. “Too late,” whispered Will, eyes grim.

Geo issued his command. “Fight, all of you. Spare no one.”

“Right. You heard His Highness,” announced Kieran. “Weapons at the ready, men!”

Geo seized Lucie’s hand. “And now, we rescue Dmitri.”

Her jaw fell ajar. “Now?”

He looked to the staircase. “If we wait until the soldiers get here, we’ll never make it up to the keep.” He addressed Kieran. “If the need arises, flee back through the Atasi’s passage. Do not wait for us.”

“But, Your Highness—!”

Geo would not be impeded by the knights’ protests as he guided Lucie to the stairs. On his way, he picked up the axe Will had used to sever their chains, and cradled it by the neck. They leapt up the steps, all the while aware of the soldiers mobilizing just stories above them.

“We’re going to run right into them,” Lucie fretted as they reached the top, and their surroundings became considerably better lit.

“No, we won’t,” insisted Geo. “The guards are still a floor above us by the sound of it. But there are other stairwells, as you know.” He ducked, racing her down the corridor and away from the threatening footfalls. “The tower is north. We only have to figure out which stairway.”

“I think that’s the direction we were headed,” she ejected, “when we were caught.”

Geo’s eyes darted about, trying to regain his bearings. “Damn it! I’m all turned around.” Indeed, his sense of direction felt jumbled.

Lucie frowned as they wove down another labyrinthine corridor, only to find themselves back in the main hall.

Geo scanned the scene. The expansive room was curiously empty; perhaps the guards had been summoned to the dungeons to combat the intruders? He offered up a silent prayer for his father’s men. As much as he longed to battle at their sides, he’d made the journey for Dmitri. Besides, he trusted the knights were capable.

A wide, welcoming staircase expanded to the next floor, and Geo considered it. “What about this one? We’ve not tried it yet.”

Lucie’s forehead furled. “It leads east.”

He pointed to the left wing, where the second story continued. “We can turn north.”

She mounted the stairs in response, and Geo followed, resting a hand at her back as they hurried for the landing. “Geo?” Her voice was soft as she turned back to glimpse him. “When this is over, do you think...? Oh,” she gasped, interrupting herself.

Geo barely had time to glance behind at the cause of her surprise when the woman ripped the pendant clean from her throat. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she took aim and hurled it with might.

The prince turned in time to witness the purple stone strike a gray-uniformed soldier in the eye. The man howled and toppled backwards down the steps. He landed with a crack in a twisted heap at the base of the stairwell.

Lucie watched in satisfaction. “He was about to clobber you. Always knew I had to keep that rock handy.”

Geo gaped at her.

She tugged his arm, dragging him up the last step. “Lu,” he panted. “Your necklace.”

“We’ve no time.”

He wiped the hair from his eyes. “Yes, but isn’t it quite important to you?”

“Not as important as you,” she insisted, steering him across the upper hall.

CERISE SCUTTLED OUTDOORS TO THE balcony. Her lariat remained draped around the balustrade, but an obstruction of guardsmen was assembled on the grounds beneath, appearing to be searching the area. She backed into the shadows, her heart skittering. What the…? They had certainly not been there earlier.

Cursing, she returned inside to the chamber. The king’s body lay accusingly on the bed, although she’d done nothing to him. The knocking sounded again, jarring her.

“Devil be damned,” she spat, feeling for the dagger at her garter. Making up her mind, she jaunted to the door and slung it open. A young girl greeted her in the hallway, plain brown hair cropped in a modest bob, her innocent face white as wool.

“What do you want?” Cerise demanded, pulling the heavy stone door shut behind her, lest the child view the spectacle within.

The youth looked mildly perplexed. “I seek an audience with His Majesty,” she declared.

“At this hour?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feigning a casual shrug. “I heard he has trouble sleeping at night. So do I. I thought we could…talk.”

Cerise stared at her. “Who are you?”

“I should be the one asking
you
,” countered the girl, betraying a hint of sauciness. “I live here, after all.”

Cerise whipped the dagger from her garter and positioned it at the maiden’s throat. The youth inhaled, staring down at the blood-speckled blade. “Then perhaps you know where to find the Tybirian Prince, Dmitri Straussen,” purred Cerise.

The young woman’s chin quivered, but she fixed Cerise with a hateful glare. “I would never tell you. If you wish to harm a hair on his head, then you will have to kill me first.”

Cerise laughed in surprise. She’d not expected that response. “Harm him?” She lowered the dagger. “Young lady, my intent is to
save
him.”

The girl trembled, still watching her warily. “S-save him?”

Voices carried from the end of the hall, and Cerise glanced up in alarm to spy a pair of shadows emerging around the corner. But the features that drifted into focus were, thankfully, familiar. She grinned. “Ah, and what fortuity. Here come the champions now, the Crown Prince’s brother and fiancée, respectively.”

The young girl’s eyes clouded. “Fiancée?” she whispered.

The couple trotted to them, looking frazzled, and Cerise extended a hand in salutation. “Behold, Prince Georome and Miss Luccia. These brave souls have traveled far and wide to rescue Prince Dmitri.”

Georome disregarded the introduction. “Cerise,” he implored her. “We’ve little time. They know we’re in; they’re battling in the dungeons as we speak. We must find my brother and get out.”

The shorthaired girl only looked at Luccia, crestfallen confusion apparent upon her finch-like face.

Cerise wrapped a hand around her slender forearm. “I’ve somehow reason to suspect this little maid can help us.”

DMITRI KNELT ON THE FLOOR, carefully revising the last rune. He emitted a slow breath. He’d done it! He had actually….

The man raised his head. Had he heard footsteps? He strained to listen for more, but all seemed silent again. Perhaps he was imagining things. After all, the evening had been dreadfully lonely without Pavi’s routine visit. She’d supplied him with extra food the previous night, to sustain him through a day without her return, for her plan was to approach the king at present.

Dmitri had naught to do but write to calm his nerves. Yet all the while, he wondered how things were faring, or had fared, between Pavola and her uncle. Had Ira at least agreed to speak with her? Had Pavi been able to discover whether the king continued to wear the little silver—?

Voices.

He was sure he’d heard them this time. Dmitri restacked his papers with haste. Those bloody soldiers weren’t coming for him tonight, were they? His muscles tensed. They couldn’t kill him now; not before he and Pavi had seen their plan through! Either way, he decided, he wouldn’t go without a fight.

The door bowed open, and Dmitri bated his breath. Instead of the tall, bulky shadows he’d been dreading, however, it was only the same dainty figure he’d come to adore. “Pavola,” he exclaimed, delighted and relieved by the unexpected visit. “You came! How did it go?”

At once, he noticed something peculiar. She seemed to behave strangely, and did not come as close as usual, only pausing a fair distance from his cell. “Uh...fine.”

Dmitri stepped to his door. “Well. Great!” He smiled, but she hardly looked at him. “Guess what? You’ll never believe this but—my novel!” He held up the completed pile of filled pages. “I’ve finished it!”

She barely reacted. “Your Highness, you are being rescued. By your brother and, um….”

Her words were drowned out by a blend of chattering newcomers pouring into the room. The candlelight revealed a plump woman, a vaguely familiar girl, and—

“Geo,” Dmitri gasped, dropping his novel to the floor.

The younger man was ecstatic.
“Dmitri?”
Dmitri laughed as his brother flew to the cell, appearing both pitying and astonished. “You’re alive!”

“Thanks to her,” Dmitri beamed, pointing at Pavola. She only retreated into the shadows.

Geo rattled the bars. “How in hell are we going to get you out of here?”

At this, Pavola glanced up, looking as though the answer should’ve been obvious—an expression with which Dmitri had become well acquainted. “Er…your axe, Your Highness?”

His brother appeared to have already forgotten the weapon. “Oh! Right.” He grinned, wielding the blade overhead. “Stand back, old boy.”

Dmitri backed up, covering his ears as Geo’s axe met the iron with a shrill clang. Strike after strike the young man delivered, but to no effect. The iron was barely chipped.

Dmitri lowered his hands from his ears. “Pavola, I’m assuming you weren’t successful in obtaining the king’s key?”

“I…” she started to say, but the strange woman with the bouncing scarlet locks startled.

“The king’s key,” she exhaled, ruby eyes wide as she reached into the bust of her dress. “But of course.” Dmitri was about to ask Geo who, exactly, she was, when she withdrew a metal object from her brassiere.

The Crown Prince recognized it at once. “That’s it,” he breathed.

Geo and his other female companion exchanged looks of incredulity. “Where did you get that?” he demanded of the redhead.

The plump woman winked, handing him the key. “My mission was accomplished,” she said cryptically.

Geo awarded her a tremendous smile, and wasted no time in shoving the key into the lock. He gave it a turn, and the rusty door squealed open. In disbelief, Dmitri stepped out.

The brothers embraced. “I can’t believe you did this,” Dmitri told him. “How did you get here?”

“We left the moment you were taken away.” Geo gestured to the girl beside him. “Lucie and me.”

Dmitri gathered up the pages of his novel. “Lucie?”

“Yeah. You know…” His brother coughed, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. Perhaps the odor and dreariness of the tower was already getting to him. “Your um, bride-to-be?”

Dmitri straightened, finally recognizing the darker complexion and cascading tresses of his betrothed. “Oh.” The room became painfully warmer as he tried not to stare at Pavi, who remained in the corner, watching the floor. “Uh, Geo,” he tempered his voice, “d’you think I could have a moment with Pavola…alone…before we go?”

His brother looked impatient. “This is a break-out, Dmitri, not a sendoff party. The king is dead. We need to hurry.”

Pavola’s sharp gaze fell upon him. “The king is dead?”

Dmitri, too, was dumbfounded as Geo led him across the anteroom. “Please,” he asserted, “I just want to say goodbye.”

“Dmitri,”
his brother sighed, impatient.

“Just go,” Pavola urged them coolly.

Dmitri felt his lungs strangle. He halted his flustered brother in the doorway as the other women filed out, awaiting them on the wobbly landing. “Geo, it’ll only be a minute. She kept me alive up here all this time… I owe her at least that much.”

Geo’s nostrils flared. “One minute,” he relented. “No longer.” With his elbow, he nudged the door half-shut behind him, joining his companions on the landing.

Pavola stood motionless. How Dmitri yearned to embrace her, but detected he was less than welcome to. “I’m sorry about your uncle,” he began.

She shrugged off the condolence. “I guess I never really knew him.”

Tentatively, he held out his completed novel. “I’m…happy to leave this with you,” he offered, “so that you can read the ending.” He tried to smile. “I trust you to mail it back to me when you’re through.”

She turned away, mutely declining him, and Dmitri lowered the pages, dejected.

“Well.” She sighed. “I am glad that you’re free at last, and on your way to safety. You are lucky to have such a courageous fiancée who’d risk her life to voyage all the way up here and rescue you. She must love you very much.”

Dmitri’s insides curdled.

“And you know,” her voice hitched, “you didn’t have to pretend to adore me. Had you simply told me that you belonged to another, perhaps I still would have looked after you. Only, perhaps I would’ve done just that, and not wasted so much additional time.” Her glistening eyes pierced his. “Irreplaceable time, which I should’ve spent studying
facts
and
reason
—and things that are
true
and
real—
instead of poring over your frivolous storybook, which is naught but a useless, well-designed lie, as is every word that comes from your mouth, Dmitri von Straussen.”

She permitted him no response as she turned her back and tearfully quitted the chamber. Dmitri was left staring at the spot where she’d stood, his chest hollow.