“It’s lousy being the only one to see in the dark sometimes, isn’t it?”
Royce cursed and ran off, pausing in homes and sheds to call the little girl’s name as loudly as he dared. It got easier to see his way as the light from the hill grew larger and brighter. The Gilarabrywn screamed repeatedly and Royce looked over his shoulder to see the castle walls engulfed in flames.
“Royce,” Hadrian shouted, “it’s coming!”
Royce gave up stealth. “Pearl!” he yelled aloud.
“Here!” she screamed, darting out from the trees.
He grabbed the little girl up in his arms and raced for the well.
“Run, damn it!” Hadrian shouted, holding the rope for them.
“Forget the rope. Get down and catch her.”
While Royce was still sprinting across the yard, Hadrian slid down the coil.
Thrump. Thrump. Thrump.
Hugging Pearl close to his chest, Royce reached the well and jumped. The little girl screamed as they fell in together. An instant later, there came a loud unearthly scream and a terrible vibration as the world above the well erupted in a brilliant light accompanied by a thunderous roar.
Arista paced the length of the little room, painfully aware of Bernice’s head turning side to side, following her every move. The old woman was smiling at her; she always smiled at her, and Arista was about ready to gouge her eyes out. She was used to her tower, where even Hilfred gave her space, but for more than a week, she had been subjected to constant company—Bernice, her ever-present shadow. She had to get out of the room, to get away. She was tired of being stared at, of being watched after like a child. She walked to the door.
“Where are you going, Highness?” Bernice was quick to ask.
“Out,” she said.
“Out where?”
“Just out.”
Bernice stood up. “Let me get our cloaks.”
“I am going alone.”
“Oh no, Your Highness,” Bernice said, “that’s not possible.”
Arista glared at her. Bernice smiled back. “Imagine this, Bernice: you sit back down and I walk out. It is possible.”
“But I can’t do that. You are the princess and this is a dangerous place. You need to be chaperoned for your own safety. We’ll need Hilfred to escort us, as well. Hilfred,” she called.
The door popped open and the bodyguard stepped in, bowing to Arista. “Did you need something, Your Highness?”
“No—yes,” Arista said, and pointed at Bernice, “keep her here. Sit on her, tie her up, hold her at sword point if you must, but I am leaving and I don’t want her following me.”
The old maid looked shocked and put both hands to her cheeks in surprise.
“You’re going out, Your Highness?” Hilfred asked.
“Yes, yes, I am going out!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “I may roam the halls of this cabin. I may go to watch the contest. Why, I might even leave the stockade altogether and wander into the forest. I could get lost and die of starvation, eaten by a bear, tumble into the Nidwalden and get swept over the falls—but I’ll do so alone.”
Hilfred stood at attention. His eyes stared back at hers. His mouth opened and then closed.
“Is there something you want to say?” she asked, her tone harsh.
Hilfred swallowed. “No, Your Highness.”
“At least take your cloak,” Bernice insisted, holding it up.
Arista sighed, snatched it from her hands, and walked out.
The moment she left, regret set in. Storming down the corridor, dragging the cloak, she paused. The look on Hilfred’s face left her feeling miserable. She recalled having a crush on him as a girl. He was the son of a castle sergeant, and he used to stare at her from across the courtyard. Arista had thought he was cute. Then one morning she had awoken to fire and smoke. He saved her life. Hilfred had been just a boy, but he had run into the flaming castle to drag her out. He spent two months suffering from burns and coughing fits that caused him to spit up blood. For weeks he awoke screaming from nightmares. As a reward, King Amrath appointed Hilfred to the prestigious post of personal bodyguard to the princess. But she had never thanked him, nor forgiven him for not saving her mother. Her anger was always between them. Arista wanted to apologize, but it was too late. Too many years had passed, too many cruelties, followed by too many silences like the one that had just hung between them.
“What’s going on?” Arista heard Thrace’s voice and walked toward it.
“What’s wrong, Thrace?” The princess found the farmer’s daughter and the deacon in the main hallway. The girl was dressed in her thin chemise nightgown. They both looked concerned.
“Your Highness!” the girl called to her. “Do you know what is happening? Why was the bell ringing?”