22. Chapter 22
Fitz
I couldn’t bring myself to go in, not yet. I kept hoping she would show up, burst through the double doors like a whirling dervish of wild energy, apologizing for the misunderstanding and begging me to stay true to the promises we’d made in the forest.
But she didn’t come.
“Your Highness,” Reginald spoke softly, aware of the turmoil I was caught in, “I’m afraid we can’t wait any longer. They want to announce you.”
I clenched my teeth and nodded. “Very well.”
He shot me an unsure glance, but moved to pass the word along. The prince had arrived. The night could begin. With only one contestant left, of course the wedding would be imminent, and yet I couldn’t commit, not really.
Beyond the heavy double ballroom doors, trumpets announced my arrival. In my mind, I imagined Michaela at the opposite doors, much as I’d seen my parents do at this type of function. Queen on one side, king on the other, entering and coming together, symbolizing the strength of the monarchy drawn from their eternal bond. I brought my chin up, nodded to Reginald, and held my breath as the doors parted.
In full royal robes, I entered the room. Every person within the ballroom dropped in respect of the title I held. Ladies curtsied lower than I’d ever seen. Men took to their knee, arm crossed to their shoulder, a symbol of devotion. I tried to take comfort in their confidence and reverence for the title change they sensed would come this night. But Michaela wasn’t there. I doubted my ability to rule without her.
I followed the natural path carved through those who still bowed in loyalty. At the corner, I took the last leg of the path that I knew would lead toward the thrones. It was then that I saw her. Standing near the thrones, she’d bent low, purple dress clinging to her gentle curves, other than the back where it flared out and pooled behind her, almost a peacock’s feathers at rest. Sadira dared not lift her head before I called for her, but I still saw the beauty in her. If not for Michaela, I would be content with the choice to marry her.
Was it so bad for me to settle?
I thought of Michaela’s note and the way she’d encouraged me to go through with marrying Sadira. She’d pushed for the quiet girl the entire competition. Should it surprise me that in the end that was her choice?
Before I took the stairs to my throne, I stopped at Sadira’s bowed frame. I hooked my finger under her chin and tilted her face to look up at me. “Lady Sadira, arise.”
For a moment, her dark eyes were blue, her dark hair a rich auburn shade that seemed to glow like embers. In a heartbeat, I traveled back in time to that first time I walked in on Michaela as a prince and called for her to stand. The innocence, the curiosity, the beauty unmatched, was it then that she stole my heart all over again?
“Good evening, Your Highness.” Sadira’s voice brought me back to the present, and with it the sharp disappointment of reality in her amber eyes. “It is an honor to be here.”
I nodded and lowered my hand, swallowing back the negative feelings that bombarded me. It wasn’t Sadira’s fault that she wasn’t Michaela, and yet I couldn’t help but blame her. “It is my honor to have you.” I turned but offered my elbow.
Duty.
Bishop was right. It dictated every choice I made. Her gloved hand curved around the crook of my elbow, and I escorted her toward the thrones. One for Father. One for Mother. One for me, and I noted a second smaller throne had been added for her.
Like a knife in my gut, I took my space with Sadira beside me, occupying the spot I intended for Michaela. As soon as we were seated, the room rose, chatter resumed, and I did my best to keep from showing how badly my heart had shattered to pieces.
Micheala
My head went light and airy as if all the oxygen had burned up in an instant. I wasn’t scared of heights, or rather, I had never been scared of heights before. But standing there, staring at the fall that waited on me, I felt a healthy phobia sprout to life.
“You can’t wait,” I coached myself. “You have to go.”
Yes, best to get going before that rational voice told me all the ways I could die again. Tentatively, I lowered myself to the edge of the window and stretched toward the ledge. My feet touched down, surprisingly steady on the skinny foothold. I kept a tight grip on the edge of the window as I twisted to face the wall. I felt like a toddler lowering herself down from a stage to the ground, except a toddler wouldn’t bonk her head and I would splatter into Michaela goo if something went wrong.
Breathing had to be controlled, and thoughts were next in line. I couldn’t allow my breathing to speed up too fast or my thoughts to race ahead of me. I really couldn’t allow myself even a moment to consider what I was doing. Even without letting go, I felt like I was shaking from head to toe with fear I refused to acknowledge. I kept my feet planted on the ledge as I moved, opting to slide rather than step. Logic said it was better to face the wall, so I didn’t have to look out at my possible fall, but with every new step, my balance faltered and left me feeling vulnerable. I had nothing to hold, and with my palms against the stonework, I felt unstable, like at any second my backside would pull me in reverse and send me plummeting to my death. I had to turn around.
I snuck a glance at my progress. New sections of ledge were illuminated as I moved around the curve in the tower. In about eight feet, a gargoyle sprouted from the turret. Because of the sculpture, the ledge swelled out another five or six inches. It would give me something to hang onto while I turned, and maybe enough space to do it without losing my balance.
My fingers locked around the open mouth of the screaming stone goblin. Tightening my grip, I shifted and started to turn. I dared not breathe because I felt like the extra oxygen might tip me over the edge. I changed my grip and one of the teeth on the gargoyle cut into my hand. Wincing, I forced myself to deal with it. I exhaled slowly and started edging around the statue.
Immediately, I understood the new risk. The drop surrounded me on every side. With a harness and a team of burly men keeping me from falling, it would have been beautiful. The lights of the city looked like a sea of stars, twinkling and winking as if they all knew I was there. With nothing in front of me, I felt like I was flying or walking on air. With a shaky step, I slid to the left. My fingers curved around the stonework behind me, though I knew it would do little to save me if I fell. Every five or six steps, I had to stop, let out a shaky breath, and allow a couple tears to fall. I was standing on the brink of death’s door, one wrong move away from claiming me as its victim. Another gargoyle blocked my way, but as I considered flipping back to save myself from the view, I noticed another ledge below the one I was standing on. If I could lower myself to that one, I would be that much closer to the ground. Maybe something else would show up on that path, because if I kept on the current one, I was just going to end up where I started.
The daredevil in my mind had me convinced all over again. Hanging onto the gargoyle, I lowered myself to sit on the ledge. Just like in the window, I rolled onto my stomach and lowered myself until I felt the ledge underneath me.
“Don’t think,” I reminded myself. It wasn’t a luxury I could afford. Instead, I started moving again. One step turned to six, six to nine, and then I found another gargoyle. Clutching its wide-open mouth, I chanced a glance over the side. Sure enough, another ledge waited for me.
Could I follow this pattern all the way down? Was that feasible? Or was my luck running out with each one?
Once more, I didn’t allow myself time to think. A lower ledge meant I would be closer to the ground. Closer to the ground meant safer. More importantly, it meant I would be closer to Fitz.
I wrapped my grip into the gargoyle’s mouth, careful not to catch my bleeding hand on anything else. With uneven breathing, I lowered myself, twisted my body, and stretched my toes toward the ledge below me. It wasn’t as close as the last one. The more I stretched, the more I flailed in the open air. I groaned as my foot still didn’t find stability.
“Come on,” I whispered. Panic was creeping up on me, helping me see that it was only a matter of time before I realized just how much danger I was in. My foot scraped, but only barely. The ledge was there and it was directly below me. In theory, all I had to do was let go and I would land on it. But then I also knew that meant trusting that everything would go right, when there was a chance nothing would. Once more, I faced death by falling.
“You gotta do this,” I told myself. “It’s a three-inch fall at most. Just let go and—”
My grip slipped. It was as if my brain knew it would have to trick me into letting go. I fell, but within a second, my feet landed squarely on the ledge. I exhaled and curled my fingers into the ridges of the rough stone wall.
A nervous giggle burbled up in my chest. Relief or stress from hypothermia, or I don’t know, just gratitude I wasn’t dead brought it out of me. I exhaled and inhaled again, trying to regulate my heart that raced out of control. I was a good twenty, maybe twenty-five feet closer to the ground. Falling would still mean immediate death, but at least I had a process at this point. Maybe there was another window I could crawl through part of the way down. I slid another step to the left, hopeful for the first time. This was working. I slid another two steps. That was what I needed to focus on. It wasn’t fast, but it was progress. I slid another step to the left. All I needed to do was—
Crack!
The ledge gave way beneath my feet. My hands flailed to gain purchase on the stones, but my skin tore as I lost my grip.
Gravity took hold.
My stomach flipped and turned as I dropped into an absolute free fall.
Fitz
Thankfully, traditions still held. Despite the supposed pending nuptials, I was still expected to dance with most of the ladies. At least the eligible ones. Sadira stayed seated, speaking in hushed tones with Mother as I went through the rituals of the night alone. Mother looked the part of either a grieving widow or a dominating villain, I couldn’t be sure which. Dressed in a long slinky gown of black silk, the overlay looked spun from spiderwebs of silver thread. Something grated at the way she and Sadira conspired, as if they’d planned this all themselves. My mind flashed back to what Bishop had said about Michaela’s suspicions. Mother was from Eshein Province the same as Sadira. She’d failed to change the law to rule without Father, but was it possible playing puppet master to a younger version of herself would serve the same purpose?
“Your Highness?” The young maiden’s voice gathered my attention. “Are you quite all right?”
“Yes,” I cleared my throat and forced a charming smile, “why do you ask?”
“You’ve stepped on my foot three times, Your Highness.”
“Oh, uh, I—” The music ceased, saving me from both an answer and the embarrassment of explaining where my mind had gone. With a bow, I turned away from her and strode toward the perimeter of the room. I needed air. I had to clear my head somehow.
A short whistle caught my ears. To the right of me, standing near doors that led to the balcony, Bishop motioned for me. By the look of him, he had news. I changed direction and made my way toward him.
Reginald intercepted me, oblivious to the task at hand. “Up next you’ll be dancing a waltz with the Princess of—”
“I need a break.” I didn’t wait on permission but kept walking. “Play something American that people can dance to.”
“American?” Reginald looked ready to pop every button on his waistcoat. “How uncivilized.”
I shrugged. “Go Canadian then. German. Put on polka. I don’t care. Just buy me five minutes, yes?” My palms hit the doors and the cold air welcomed me into its embrace. I hadn’t realized how hot I’d become in that oppressive room. Though massive, I felt the walls were closing in on me, my future inevitable, and the world crumbling.
“You have news.” It wasn’t a question I posed to my cousin, but rather a demand for answers. “What did you find?”
“First of all,” Bishop put up his hands as though he needed to calm me, “remember I had no way of knowing she was onto something.”
My heart sank as my stomach tied into a knot. Fists clenched tight, I strode toward him. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” His hands came up farther, blocking his pretty boy face from damage I badly wanted to inflict. “But all things considered, maybe I could have listened a little better.”
“Out with it.”
“The cellar, at first it looked normal, but then…” Bishop’s shoulders slumped. “I turned the corner and clearly there had a been a struggle. Crates are busted and it’s a mess. I found Michaela’s phone under some of the rubble.” He didn’t want to say the rest. “Close as I can tell, someone dragged her out of there.”
Stunned, words raced through my mind but wouldn’t form in my mouth. How long ago had she been abducted? Where had they taken her? And what about—
“The note?” I asked aloud. “Did she—”
Bishop shook his head. “I doubt it. My money is on someone forcing her to write it.”
Sincerely, Michaela.
It was a cry for help. Something so far off our normal, she wanted me to know she was in trouble.
“But where is she?” I asked. “Do you have any ideas?”
Bishop shrugged, obviously hopeless. “I’ll keep looking, but it would help if you would stall a bit. Dance more than you should, demand the wedding at midnight, whatever it takes. I know your mother is eager to get this done but—”
“I’ll do what I can,” I assured him. The cold started to get to me. I shivered and bounced to get my blood moving. On nights like tonight, no one could stay outside long without risking hypothermia or frostbite. “Take Kabir. Tell him what you found. You’re the only two I trust.”
“You better get back in there,” Bishop cautioned. “Someone didn’t want Michaela here tonight and the last thing you want is to tip them off.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. My feet started to return to the ball, but my thoughts remained locked in on what Bishop said.
Someone didn’t want Michaela at the ball. Unfortunately, that list was longer than I wanted to admit. Remaining undeterred by the night’s events might spare Michaela’s life so that Kabir and Bishop could find her. But with everyone I knew in attendance at the ball, who was responsible?
Who would want to hurt Michaela?
Who could be that cruel?
Michaela
My back collided with the metal roof first. Tumbling, rolling without brakes, I flipped down the sheer slope of the neighboring roof. The world swirled in a haze of stars and city lights, unable to tell the difference between the two. I tried to grab something, anything. Determined to slow my momentum somehow but my grasp was too slick and I found no handhold, just terrifying descent.
The edge of the roof cut into my shoulder and I had seconds to react. I locked my grip around the metal lip and clung tight. My legs slid off the precipice, dangling below me, but my grip remained true. Oxygen rushed in and out of my lungs as tears carved down my cheeks in exhausted relief. A delirious laugh rocked my frame, but sobs threatened to take over and I clamped my mouth shut, determined to ignore both.
I dared not look down. Even with the fall and the distance I’d gained in my early climb down, I knew I was still way too high to let go and drop. Instead, I stretched with my toes, hoping for some kind of ledge or outcropping. The toe of my shoe caught stone. My breathing turned heady and desperate, eager to feel something solid underneath me again. But as much as I tried, I couldn’t keep a hold of the stone with my toes.
Within a second, I knew the answer.
Once more, I had to drop. Only this time, the landing zone wasn’t directly underneath me, it was angled inward. I needed to swing and drop at once, all without losing my balance.
The metal cut into my hands. Blood curled down my wrist, the injury from the gargoyle’s teeth torn open by my fall on the roof. Every second it oozed, my grip turned slippery. Within seconds, my body would make the choice for me and I would have to give the reins to gravity again.
Closing my eyes, I started to swing my legs. “One,” I counted. “Two.” I noted the way I didn’t meet resistance in either direction as I swung my legs forward and back. “Two and a half.” My hand slipped until my grip became almost obsolete. I didn’t even have seconds left. “Okay, three.”
I released my hold on the roof just as my legs swung forward. I expected to feel the ledge beneath me, but this time, I found myself falling again. But instead of a free fall to death, I swung through an open window, lost my grip, dropped, and collided with a set of stone stairs.
For a moment, I held still and tried to breathe through the discomfort. The sharp edge of the stairs caught my fall, which was better than the ground but still painful.
I blinked once, twice, but slowly my eyes started to focus. Sitting up, my heart quickened. Stairs meant climbing down instead of falling. I wasn’t in the tower any longer but hooked back into the palace again.
I forced my feet under me. There was no time to rest, not yet.
I had a prince to save.