Chapter 52
Belle
I flew out of the king’s study and through the servants’ passages, my heart thundering so loud, I was certain it would wake every immortal in the place.
When I reached the exit to the wing where Gregoire was staying, I barely paused to check if the coast was clear. Like the lock on my door, his had been switched to trap him inside, but at least he didn’t have a permanent set of guards like I did.
Please be here. Please be alone.
The Fates answered my prayers at last, because when I burst unannounced into his room, he leapt from his breakfast with a shout, silverware clattering to the floor.
“What the in the hells are you doing?” he barked, dumping his napkin on the table beside a plate mounded with an obscene pile of fried eggs and crispy meat. “You can’t be here. The king will kill me if he learns we’re alone in the same room together.”
“The king is going to kill Cassius and Ella. We need to leave.”
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What are you talking about?”
“I just heard him confess it, Gregoire.” I pulled the letters from my satchel. “He’s planning on invading the Bloodvale as well. If you don’t believe me, look at these.”
He took them, shuffling through blankly. “I…I’m better at hunting than reading.”
He was illiterate. How did that never come up?
Cursing my luck, I took the letters back and unfolded the contract.
Maybe it looked official enough to convince him.
“The king hired the Crimson Host to invade the Bloodvale. They set out months ago, not long after Cassius was crowned. He was probably sending his beasts into the Bloodvale to distract us and to probe our defenses. We have to go now.”
“I…” he said, his words falling short as he looked longingly around his opulent room.
I took his hand in mine. “We set out to save our kingdom. This is our chance. If we don’t warn them, Cassius and Ella could die, and hundreds of innocent people will be killed in the attack.”
His jaw hardened, and at last he nodded. “If you’re certain…”
“The letters and the contract prove it.” I bit my lip. “The king lied to me and lulled me into complacency. I was an idiot, but I’m done.”
“So, what do we do?”
My heart lifted, and I nodded, so thankful I could cry. He was a man of the Vale, after all.
“We run,” I said. “Can you get permission to go hunting?”
“Yes,” he said warily. “I’ve done it before. But they’ll send guards with me.”
I released a sigh of relief. Finally, things were working in my favor. “Ask to go on horseback, and request Briar. Then head for the path that leads into the woods from the postern gate. Try for noon, but not earlier.”
“What are you going to do? There’s no way they’ll ever let me bring you along.”
“I’ll sneak out of the castle, then hide in the woods along the path to the army camp.
The supply route passes the hunting path.
Once you ride by, I’ll relieve you of your escort, and we’ll ride for the border.
Hopefully, the king won’t realize we’re gone until after nightfall, or even tomorrow. By then, we’ll have a head start.”
He fixed me with a stone-cold stare. “You realize the king will kill us both if he catches us.”
I gritted my teeth, my lip turning up in a snarl. “Not if I kill the bastard first.”
Two hours later, I was crouched down behind barrels of meat and salted fish, scanning the courtyard for an opening.
Usually vacant in the first weeks I’d been here, the yard had become the epicenter of bustling activity since the arrival of the Crimson Host. Every day, laborers loaded supply wagons to feed the army, drawing vegetables, meat, ale, and grain from the castle’s winter stores.
One of those wagons was going to be my way to freedom.
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best I had.
I’d considered sneaking out disguised as a servant, but the guards at the postern gate were too wary, and my eyes were a dead giveaway.
I’d also considered using the drainage culverts that channeled rainwater and refuse away from the castle, but I was fairly certain that they exited the sheer face of the outcrop.
Moreover, the subterranean journey would leave me sodden and covered with filth—not the way to start an escape into the cold forest.
So, stowing away in a wagon it was.
My target was parked near the stable, hitched and already heavy-laden with fodder for the army’s livestock. Peeking from behind the barrels, I watched the overworked hands load it with hay and sacks of oats, piling it as high as the axles could carry, with two guards and the carter keeping count.
They were nearly finished. Time to make my move.
I pressed my hand against the cask of salted fish in front of me and channeled my magic into it. Roll across the courtyard. Make a distraction.
The wooden planks turned cold beneath my fingers, and the barrel began rocking back and forth.
For a long moment it tilted on edge, then crashed on its side and trundled over the cobblestones.
I withdrew behind the other casks of meat and ale as shouts erupted from across the courtyard, and men leapt into action, chasing after it.
“Loose barrel!”
“Someone stop it!
“Gods! Is it the ale?”
The massive barrel bounced and turned, evading their grasp as it crashed into crates of tubers and vegetables, spilling them across the ground. A man screamed as he dove out of its way, cracking his chin on the stones and crawling frantically to safety. All eyes were on the cask.
I broke from cover, skirting the edge of the stables and diving into the shadow of the wagon.
Only the mules seemed to notice. Releasing my connection to the cask, I hurled my bow and pack over the edge of the cart, hauling myself after, then pushed my magic into the mounded sacks. Make a burrow for me!
The bags of oats shifted apart and arched, creating a tiny cave. I scrambled in. Hide me but make sure I can breathe.
The bags slumped together, blocking out all the light except for a thumb hole. I waited, uncomfortable and confined, the air warm and dusty and laden with the scent of oats.
Muffled voices rose outside, the commotion in the courtyard slowly subsiding. Moments later, the bags jolted as more were thrown on top. The minutes ticked by and the air grew stifling. My leg began to cramp, and I pressed it against the sacks to stretch it. How long were they going to take?
Finally, some men shouted, and moments later the cart lurched forward. The wheels clacked against the cobbles, bouncing the sacks as we rolled out. They slid down, crushing against my arms and chest, my claustrophobia rising. I need a little more space.
The sacks shifted, and I drew in a deep breath.
The cart halted, and I held my breath.
Muffled sounds rose, hands patting over the sacks, and voices chattering as they inspected the load. Then, after a minute, the cart began to move again. I exhaled slowly.
Thank the Fates.
The sound of the wheels changed from clacking to grinding, and the angle tilted, my head pointing down.
We were descending the path from the postern gate. I should’ve been happy that we’d made it out of the castle, but I couldn’t shake the sharp edge of misery. I was leaving Loreli and the library. The man I’d thought was different.
I swallowed the burning ache in my throat. All that mattered now was getting word to Ella.
I forced myself to picture our progress to keep my thoughts from straying to Valen.
First, the winding path down the side of the cliff.
Then the flat stretch to the edge of the woods.
The cart bounced over the deep ruts in the road, and I waited, breathing shallowly, searching for any clue to our location.
The rutted path began to wind, which meant we should be well within the woods. I thrust my hand down between the sacks and through the hay bedding, touching the wood of the wagon and pouring my magic into the cart. Unhitch the tongue and harnesses and let the mules run free.
I shivered as cold flooded out of me. Something clattered, and the wagon jerked to a sudden halt. Sacks of oats shifted, smothering my face and pinning my legs.
Muffled shouts burst out. “The mules!”
“Catch them, you idiots!”
“Who hitched the cart? You?”
The voices moved off, and I pushed against the crushing weight of the load. “Let me free,” I rasped.
The sacks spilled away, and I emerged, gasping and desperate for air.
The carter and the guards were running down the path, trying to corral the mules.
I yanked my bow and pack from the cubby and launched myself over the side of the wagon, stumbling as my leg cramped.
I forced myself to run, hobbling through the trees until I was in deep cover. The pain didn’t matter. I was out of the castle. I was free.