The Maid's War (Kingfountain 0.5)

Like a cat, he stalked to the edge of the moat and studied it quickly. He scrabbled down the ravine and landed amidst the soft earth, weeds, and hidden rocks. His heart thundered in his ears, and he knew the moat walls would make it more difficult for him to hear the approaching guards. The moon was out now, and if the dogs tracked him here, the guards would likely see him from above, but then he remembered the dilapidated bridge. He rushed over to the supports quickly and slunk into the shadows they provided, keeping an eye on the ridge of the moat for any signs of the night watch. The perimeter of the grounds was probably also being protected, so it would be near impossible to escape Beauvoir without a fight. Had he made a mistake in coming here?

The guards approached his former camp, and he watched their torchlight illuminate the area, casting moving shadows that stretched and yawned. He was concealed within an arch of the bridge, but he still felt vulnerable. There were some voices he couldn’t make out, and then a hound was suddenly snuffling at the top of the moat. It could probably smell his sweat.

One guard approached the edge of the moat and gazed down before tugging at the leash and pulling the beast away toward where the other one was going. Alensson felt a little thrill of hope when he realized the guards were coming toward the bridge. He imagined they would use it to enter through the porter door. Did they have the key? Probably not, he reasoned, or someone attacking them would gain access. He had no qualms about killing men or beast if need be, but it wasn’t his first choice, especially if there was a chance it wouldn’t get him what he needed.

If there was a password at the door, he might be in a position to hear it. He softly stepped through an arch, moving closer to the foundation of the castle. His boots made a hissing sound amidst the weeds.

There was a sharp knock on the iron door overhead. Alensson positioned himself as close as he could, his stomach wriggling with worry.

A little portal gap opened. “Who is it?”

“It’s Bromin. The dogs have a scent. I think someone was hiding in the wood and went into the moat. Tell Captain about it. I think he’ll want a full search.”

“You sure, Bromin? I don’t want to wake him for naught.”

“It could be nothing, Gollenbock. But with ten thousand coming to fetch her, I wouldn’t put it past someone to send in a poisoner, you know? I’m trusting the hounds on this one. Just to be sure.”

“Stay there. I’ll fetch Captain.”

Alensson knew some of their names, which would be helpful, but now he needed to escape before all the guards were awakened to search for him. Knowing the guards and dogs were nearby, he crept quietly away from the arch, hugging the rim of the moat ravine and increasing his pace with every step he took. The moat didn’t surround the entire castle, just the back half, so he needed to climb some vines and roots to get out. If he made it back into the woods, he would go as far as he could and fight his way clear. It would be a long night still, but if he could hold out until dawn, when other people would appear to add distraction, he would have a much better chance of escaping. He didn’t know how long it would take for the captain to be summoned.

Alensson crossed the dry moat and then looked for handholds to start climbing back up. As he searched, he heard a sound above him and froze, his heart suddenly in his throat.

He looked up slowly, expecting to see a crossbow aimed at his head. There was no one there. His knees were trembling. Turning, he looked around and then heard another noise. It came from high above him. From the tower.

In the moonlight, he saw someone poking out of the window of the tower, a black smudge against the light gray stone wall.

Then he heard a whisper falling down like rain. “Alensson!”

It was Genette. He stared up at her, his heart beating in relief. She knew he was coming! The Fountain had told her! His heart began to thrum with confidence and hope. He could do this. Somehow he’d figure out a way for them both to escape.

He watched in horror as she leaped from the window.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Broken





She fell.

There was no time to rush and catch her. There was no warning whatsoever except that one whispered word. She soared from the window in a giant leap and then he saw her plummet to the bottom of the moat in a heap. The sound of cracking bones hung in the air—sickening and terrifying.

For a moment, he disbelieved what he’d seen, and then he rushed to her side, unbuckling the scabbard from his waist as he moved. She was sprawled out amidst the dirt and rocks, seemingly lifeless, the air crushed out of her from her shattered ribs.

“Genette!” he gasped in shock and despair. She tried to lift her head, then collapsed. She was still alive, if barely.

He dared not roll her over, so he laid the scabbard across her back and offered a silent and impassioned plea to the Fountain to save her life. His healing skills were completely inadequate to save her. He knew that. But he believed the Fountain’s magic could do what he could not.

Listening fearfully for the sound of approaching guards—they, too, must have heard her fall—he knelt amidst the debris, his hands clasped together tightly, his heart hammering wildly. She couldn’t die. If she died, so would his child. Tears pricked his eyes and he mutely shook his head, still not able to believe he’d witnessed what he had. He treasured her friendship, how she had made him into a better man. The thought of losing her devastated him.

There was no sign from the scabbard to show whether it was working, but she was breathing. Then, as he stared at her still form in the moonlight, he saw her shoulders start to rise and fall with greater vigor. He heard little cracks and snaps coming from her body, and it made him shudder at the enormity of the healing taking place in an instant.

Then Genette let out a sigh. “You came?” she croaked.

He was still concerned about the guards finding them. How was he going to rescue her and get her away? Her body was fixing itself, but it would take time. And that was something of which they had precious little.

“Of course I did,” he whispered, bending low. “They’ve sold you to our enemies.”

“I know,” she answered. “They arrive on the morrow. I don’t . . . want . . . to go to Kingfountain.”

“I’m going to take you away. There’s a little cottage tucked into the valley of Izzt. You will rest there. You will get stronger. I need you to come with me.”

“I can’t, Gentle Duke.”

It was like a physical blow. “You need to come, Genette. You said yourself, you said the child needs your magic.”

“I know what I said, Gentle Duke. It was a prophecy . . . of sorts. My whole body hurts,” she added with a groan.

“You just fell from a tower. No, you jumped! Why did you jump, Genette?”

She moved her head, wincing with the effort. There was blood trickling from her mouth. “It was the only way . . . to save you.”

He stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Nnnghh,” she grumbled. “This hurts so much, but I feel the magic healing me. My legs and hip aren’t broken anymore. You shouldn’t have come, Alensson. I don’t want to go to Kingfountain, but I must go there. I must speak to the boy king of Ceredigion. I don’t want to, understand. But my voices . . . the Fountain bids me. I must make a warning before I . . . before my duty is through.”

Alensson shook his head, gazing at her almost with anger. “No.”

“I must, Gentle Duke. I must go there first.”