Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
A fter Duncan left, that day passed as slow as molasses deep in winter. Every time I looked outside, it seemed like the sun was still fighting its way through the gray skies. But when night finally fell, it seemed too soon for what I had to do…
As I stepped out of the tiny hunting shack, Fetch seated upon my shoulder, I wondered if the full moon I was looking at would be the last I'd ever see.
What would Moll say if she were here?
A smile tugged at my lips as the words came to mind in her lilting voice.
Stop being such a negative Nelly. You’ve got this!
I closed the door behind me and shivered in the icy night air. There was a fair chance I would get as far as the palace grounds and wind up with an arrow sticking out of my chest for the trouble.
Had Duncan managed to enter back into the fold as if nothing happened? Or had the sorcerer figured out that his Jackal goon had attempted and failed to complete his assassination mission?
There was only one way to find out. I picked my way through the forest, keeping my ears strained for any sound that shouldn’t be there as I went. By the time I reached the edge of the woods, I was marginally less terrified.
No flies in the air, which was a good thing. This time of year, in the mid-winter, they could only mean one thing.
It was well into supper time for most, but still, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I hadn't run into a single soul as I made my way onto the palace grounds, besides the lone guard posted at the gate.
I’d seen him before, and he let me pass with a distracted wave.
“You belong here,” I reminded myself in a whisper as I tossed my shoulders back and marched on toward the mew. “Just keep moving and don’t stop.”
But a part of me wondered why the place wasn’t teeming with soldiers if Relyk had caught onto Duncan’s plans.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when, in the distance, I saw a cadre of guards marching toward the house of a nearby noble. I slowed my steps but didn't stop as I craned my neck to see. They rapped quickly on the door but didn't wait until it opened, kicking it open themselves instead.
“Lord Willoughby, we have some questions to ask you and your wife,” one of the guards said, his voice ringing through the night. My upper lip broke out in sweat, and I hastened my stride. Lord Willoughby. Wasn’t that who Duncan said was working with him?
Shitfuckdamn.
Had they already caught Duncan? Or were these preliminary questions? I hated not knowing, but I had to keep going. By the time I got to the mew, my clothes were damp with sweat despite the frigid weather, and it took every ounce of my energy to control my breathing. I wouldn't be able to help anyone else if I didn't save myself
The only way to do that was to escape Little Alabaster and get to the other side of the wall. Then I could try to figure out how to help Duncan and his cause. The mew was silent as I approached and I unlatched the door, taking a quick look over my shoulder before slipping inside.
The birds must have sensed my presence or maybe Fetch’s, because there was a ruffle of feathers even in the darkness. I lit the stubby candle I'd secreted away in the bag secured around my waist. “Hello, my pretties,” I whispered as the falcons flew down, one at a time, from their perches.
Bonnie landed first, taking the shoulder opposite Fetch's perch. “Good evening, beautiful girl,” I murmured, taking a long moment to scratch at her neck. She cooed, clearly enjoying the attention. “I wish I could stay and visit, but I've got some work to do.” She nipped lightly at my nose, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to draw blood, then flew off. Bertrand was right. She was a brat, but that only made me like her more.
I couldn't help but wish there was some world where I could have had this life, surrounded by falcons and a mentor like Bertrand. A life where I could go home and eat until my belly was full and laugh about my day with Molly, and maybe even spend my nights with Duncan…
Or a man with black hair and eyes like midnight? No, that was a fantasy. Duncan at least, was real.
Despite my foolish musings, what I really needed was to get the fuck out of this place as soon as possible.
I padded over to Bertrand's desk and began to methodically go through the contents. For nearly an hour, I pawed through journal entries and piles of paper, but I couldn't find any blueprints of the falcon chutes at the palace, and I was starting to panic. I was about to close the final drawer when I caught sight of a sheet of paper at the very bottom of the last pile that looked different from the rest, thinner but large and folded into quarters.
I plucked it from the drawer and unfolded it. Gasping as the ink revealed itself, I’d found it.
A blueprint.
My throat went tight, and I blinked back tears. This was it. A blueprint of all the falcon chutes in the palace.
I tucked it into the bag at my waist with a trembling hand, and then I slowly closed the drawer. Part of me had thought I was going to have to go into the chutes blind, just opening a random chute and praying I found my way. But now, with the information in hand, an ember of hope bloomed in my belly. This might actually work.
I spared a quick glance up into the rafters, catching sight of Bonnie's white downy feathers one last time, and gave her a wave. “Take good care, pretty girl. It was my honor to meet you.”
I backed out of the mew and latched the door behind me. I stood there, frozen in place for a long moment. There was surely a chance that Relyk would come if things began to unravel, requiring one of the falcons to deliver a message. If that happened, I might just get caught while I was inside the chutes. But the only alternative was one I couldn't even allow myself to consider. So I closed the door and latched it, leaving it up to fate.
“Are they dead, then?”
My stomach bottomed out as I wheeled around to find Bertrand standing a few feet behind me, his rheumy eyes searching my face in the moonlight.
“My birds…did you kill them?”
“I—Of course not.”
He nodded slowly. “I didn't think you would. But I had to ask. Did you get what you came for?”
I wet my lips, unsure of how much to tell him. “Bertrand, it's safer if you don't know. Please just let me walk away.”
He cocked his head and assessed me for a long moment. “Show me.” He waved one hand, gesturing at the bag around my waist.
I blew out a sigh and unzipped the pouch to pull out the map I’d secreted inside, then held it out to him.
He pursed his lips and then shook his head. “Nope. These are obsolete. They were redrawn after they put an addition on the palace about five years ago. That's the problem with keeping every single piece of paper,” he acknowledged with a half-smile. “Come on, I'll get you what you need.”
I stared at him in disbelief, unsure I'd heard him right. “Why are you helping me?”
He unlatched the door and led the way back into the mew, then closed it behind us before answering. “The prince is taking a stand and you’re a part of it. I might be old, but I'm not stupid. I realized something was amiss the day we went on the hunt. Then I overheard something that made me sure of it.”
“What was that?”
“After the hunt, King Heinrich asked the sorcerer if he could…” The old man's wrinkly throat worked as he swallowed hard, “ have you. The sorcerer explained that wouldn't be possible. He said he had to stabilize the realm before he could search for answers, but that he knew you somehow played a part in its future.”
I gaped at him, more confused than ever. “What does that mean?”
Bertrand shrugged. “That I don't know. What I do know is that you need to do whatever it is that you’ve got to and then get out of here. I’ll do whatever I can to help you out of loyalty to the prince. He’s a good man. The best of them, really.”
Guilt swamped me, and I nearly confessed then and there that Duncan had nothing to do with this. It was only an image of Moll’s face floating through my mind that stopped me. That and the fact that, while this particular mission wasn’t related to the coup, I was a supporter of Duncan’s too…
“I appreciate that,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “But I have to warn you…involving yourself in this could put you and Marjorie in grave danger.”
He let out a chuckle and reached into the top drawer of his desk. “Me and Marjorie have come to an understanding. She's getting worse, and the prince needs his medication for himself. It wasn’t a cure for her. It just bought us some good hours with less pain. But those moments are fewer and further between each day. We’ve lived good, long lives together, and neither one of us is afraid to die. So if my last act is one of defiance against the powers that be, I'm okay with that. Let them come.”
There was no rifling around or searching. Bertrand leafed through some pages, landing exactly where he needed to from a secret compartment that I’d not seen, then pulled out another folded sheet.
“Here are the most recent schematics. They're about a year and a half old. Where you headed in the palace, precisely? I might have some idea of where you need to start.”
Truth time. “The dungeon… There are some people down there that I need to free.”
“Ah.” He laid the paper out on his desk and poked at an area with his index finger. “You're going to want to start here, then, and follow this path,” he said, tracing a trail. “There's a section here. There are areas that get tight, so it might not be easy going the whole time.”
He grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink before tracing that same trail so I could follow it later. Then he folded up the map and handed it over.
“I'll stay here for the next two hours and make sure that none of the falcons leave. If they're called, I'll do my best to create a delay, at the very least. The quicker you go, the better. Things have been tense around here today, and I suspect something big is coming soon. The sorcerer doesn't look well, but it’s only a matter of time before he regains his strength, and you don’t want to be here when that happens.”
“And what of Prince Duncan?” I asked, unable to help myself. “Do you know if he's all right?”
He nodded. “I saw him a little bit ago, right before supper with Sir Crispin in the courtyard. Unless something's happened in the interim, I think he's all right.” He opened his mouth as if he was going to ask me another question, but then he closed it. “Good luck.”
With that, he gave Fetch a light pat on the head and then waved me off. As I stepped back out into the night air, a million questions buzzed in my mind like a swarm of bees.
Relyk had clearly known I was coming to Little Alabaster. Had he read it in tea leaves to foretell the future, or only when he saw the drawings on the amphitheater? Did he think I was the key to figuring out the mystery of those drawings? Or did he somehow know I was connected to the attempted murder of the king?
And the most terrifying question of all…
What if this was all a trap…Would he be there, guarding the chutes, waiting for me?
There was only one way to find out.