Princess of Silence, page 16
part #1 of When Kings Collide Series
Matthew awoke with a start, banging his head on the stone wall of the tunnel before he remembered where he was. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he tried to calm his pounding heart as he went back over the dream that had left him reeling.
It was the same dream he’d had every night for the last six months. Only the ending had been different this time. He was back in Castle Ringley, back with his beautiful wife, Margaret. Even if he had not dreamt of that evening more than a hundred times, he would still remember every detail.
They had been aware that the Clovington forces were advancing. Plans for their escape had been discussed. But, they’d felt that they had time. And Beatrice, who had lived at Castle Ringley her entire life, was not ready to flee.
They were also aware that Philip had infiltrated the castle. It was the only way he could have so closely anticipated their every move. While Matthew had his most trusted adversaries attempting to determine who was feeding Philip information, it wasn’t until that night at dinner that they realized the identity of the subversive.
The royal family had taken their seats, knowing this was quite possibly one of the last meals they would have at Ringley, at least for the foreseeable future. Their head chef, Berkley, whom had been preparing meals for the royal family since Margaret was a little girl, insisted on making his queen’s favorite dish, roasted lamb chops. It just happened to be Beatrice’s favorite as well, and they’d sat down to enjoy a feast together, just the three of them.
As they had finished the first course, Margaret was concluding one of her hilarious anecdotes. Matthew smiled, thinking of her storytelling skills. She’d had a way of making him laugh like no one else could. As the main course was served, Matthew had been attempting to regain his composure, laughing so hard he felt like his sides would split.
So, he had not tried the lamb when the women did.
Which meant he did not begin convulsing immediately as they both did.
He didn’t foam at the mouth or cough up blood. His eyes didn’t roll back in his head. He didn’t lose consciousness. He didn’t die a horrible, painful death beneath the dining room table.
But his mother-in-law did.
His wife, his beautiful, precious wife, did.
Closing his eyes as his heart began to still, he reflected on that split-second before the full realization of what was happening sunk in. In that moment, he’d been unsure if Maggie was laughing or choking--or something else. He went back to that moment often, trying to dissect it, to manipulate it, to change it, or to prevent the next events from ever happening. But as much as he dwelled in that moment, there was no stopping the march of time.
He had called her name, a question at first, and then a demand. Though he could see Beatrice struggling next to him, he had to choose whom to run to, and it had to be his wife. He sprinted around the table, catching her as she tumbled out of her chair. By the time he had reached her, she was spewing blood, white flecks of foam dripping from her mouth. Her eyes, those beautiful emerald green eyes, had rolled so far back into her head that he could no longer see any color but white.
As he held her, screaming her name and begging her to stay with him, he also managed to call for help. There were servants nearby who ran off to fetch the physician. One of the servant girls fell to the floor, pulling Beatrice’s head onto her lap and crying. The others were scurrying about, attempting to help Beatrice, not sure what to do.
When the barrage of soldiers filled the room, he thought at first they must be Zurconian, there to assist. It didn’t take long for him to notice, however, that they wore Clovington uniforms. At the time he’d questioned how they’d come to be there, but he’d never gotten an answer as to whether they had been given access to one of the tunnels beneath the castle or if the perpetrator had been so bold as let them in through the front gates.
As the Clovington forces closed in on him, Matthew noticed the cook, Berkley, huddled against the wall near the corner, trembling. A realization set in as Matthew began to put the puzzle pieces together. The expression on his wrinkled face said it all, that he was to blame, that the cook had committed these murders, and that he had done it on purpose!
Matthew would not go quietly. Clovington soldiers reached for him, but Matthew would have none of it, not until he got his revenge. Gently releasing Margaret’s hand, he looked at her lifeless form and then shot up from the floor. Dodging a blow from the first attacker, and taking a quick step to his right, he was able to swing around behind the soldier, evading him and the others.
Berkley seemed frozen in fear against the wall as the king flew at him. “You bastard!” Mathew yelled, drawing his dagger from its sheath and stabbing the cook in the neck. Though he was grabbed from behind and dragged from the room, at least he was able to see Berkley fall to the ground in a pool of blood. Knowing one of his wife’s murderers had paid the ultimate price for his sin brought little satisfaction, however. It could not bring Margaret back. Nothing could do that. And Berkley wasn’t the only one responsible.
Ultimately, it was Philip who had ordered Margaret’s death, and to his knowledge, the King of Clovington was still alive. Matthew’s work was not yet finished.
He ran his hand down his haggard face and tried to focus on the part of the dream that had been different. It had been much the same as every other night, but when he’d reached the point where he cradled Margaret’s body in his arms, shouting her name, pleading with her not to go, the part where he normally would’ve been violently shaken awake, the sound of his own screams bringing him back to reality, in this version, Margaret’s eyes had flown open, and she stared right at him. He’d peered into those green orbs for several seconds, much longer than the last time he’d dreamt a similar dream a few nights earlier where he’d only caught a glimpse of her eyes. The color had rushed back into her face, and all of the blood was gone. He’d prayed this was reality and that he wasn’t about to awake to the heart-shattering realization that she was truly gone.
Of course, that hadn’t been the case. While he hadn’t screamed himself awake this time, his mind had caught up to his imagination eventually, and he’d opened his eyes to find himself here, in this tunnel, dirty, alone, and without his beautiful bride.
The dream still seemed significant, though. On this, the night that he had finally acted on his plans to escape, she had been alive again. Could it have been his newfound freedom that allowed a variation in the dream? Thinking on it now, it hadn’t just been the fact that her coloring was back and the blood was gone, they hadn’t even been in the dining room anymore. He distinctly remembered now, they had been sitting in a rolling green meadow, Castle Caine in full view in the distance. She had been wearing a flowing white dress. And she had been laughing.
He’d even had time to speak to her. “Maggie,” he had said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might make his fear that it was all a dream spark truth. “You’re here. You’re alive!”
She’d reached her hand up and gently caressed his cheek. “Matty, I’ve always been here. I’m not dead.” Her soft giggle had filled his ears even as his eyes opened and the dream faded from memory.
Letting out a sigh, Matthew looked around. It was night, and the sounds of horses and soldiers he’d heard earlier were gone. As real as the dream had seemed, it was nothing more than that. His Margaret was dead. He had seen her die. But at least, with the freedom of escaping Philip’s clutches, he was once again at liberty to dream happy dreams.
He’d slept off and on all day, finishing the food and most of the water Angel had provided him. A few times, the sound of hooves had him sliding deeper into the tunnel, but now that night had fallen, he needed to emerge. With any luck, he’d find himself near Arterian forces. While he had no idea where he was, he knew the tunnel had led away from his brother’s kingdom. With any luck, the twists and turns had brought him into the interior of Clovington, as far away from the Gradenian border as possible
Only the chatter of forest creatures and the hooting of owls disturbed the night air. It was time to go. Stretching his back and gathering up the few items he’d need to take with him, Matthew studied the grate above his head.
Clearly, the tunnel had been closed tight for many years. Removing the cover wouldn’t be an easy job. He shook it a few times, but it didn’t budge. Fortunately, Matthew still had the knife that Angel had given him. He wedged it into a rusted spot between the grate and its casing, and after several moments of prying, he was able to remove the cover, sliding it out of the way.
Matthew paused, listening for human sounds again. Hearing nothing alarming, he hoisted himself up, straining to maneuver his shoulders through the narrow circle. Once they were through, he was able to pull his legs up, crawling on the soft grass and then flipping onto his back and letting out a few deep breaths. He was a free man at last.
Breathing in the fresh air of the forest and stretching the cramped muscles in his back and shoulders, Matthew sat up and surveyed the area. It appeared he was in more of a thicket than a forest. He could see a clearing in the distance, the same direction he believed he needed to travel to reach Arteria. His knowledge of the northwest region of Clovington was limited, but he thought the heavier forests lay to the south and east. A glance at the night sky told him nothing, but still, he felt confident in his bearings.
The king hopped up off of the ground, a renewed energy in his steps now that he was free of Blackthorn completely. With light steps, he headed off in the direction he believed he must go. He knew he needed to reach Arterian forces by the time he entered the Lowetian Forest. If he didn’t, it would be difficult getting through the swampy expanse by himself. In the meantime, he thought he should be walking out of a hilly area known for its rocky terrain, with scattered trees and not as much cover as he would like. Cover of darkness should work to his advantage, as should the dark colored clothing Angel had brought him, which was a dark green tunic, brown trousers, and a long black cloak. That should make it easier to blend in, should he need to hide.
Only the sound of the hooting owls and the occasional scamper through the bushes accompanied him as he moved from tree to tree, listening for any noise that might be human. Expecting help from anyone not wearing an Arterian uniform would be foolish. The citizens of Clovington were not his friends. It was because of him that their kingdom had been invaded, and now they were left with no ruler, no kingdom, and no hope. He assumed many of them had lost family members as well since Clovington had a mandatory military service for all men once they reached fifteen. He could possibly enter war-torn areas where the citizens may have lost their homes and their livelihood. No, he would trust no man, unless he was wearing an Arterian uniform.
Even then, Matthew would need to be cautious. Running across a frightened sentry in the dark was a good way to find a sword in one’s gullet. Nothing about this journey would be easy, but when he saw his brother again, when he stepped foot in Arteria, he knew it would be worth it.
As he walked along with both ears wide open, thoughts of home brought a smile to his face despite the situation. Perhaps one day, he’d stand at the entrance to Castle Caine, his arms around Angel as he welcomed a new love into his new life.
Queen Eleanora of Nadoria tore the parchment between her hands. With steely eyes, she said to the messenger, “Thank you,” but her tone conveyed anything but graciousness. Wadding both pieces together, she rested her free hand on the ornate gold armrest of her throne and tried to control the raging fire within her.
“News from the east?” Kenneth, her husband and most trusted advisor, asked from his seat to her left.
Eleanora nodded. It took her a moment to formulate the words needed for a verbal response. Eventually, she managed. “Blackthorn has fallen.”
Kenneth was quiet for a moment. He knew her well enough to give her a moment before asking for any sort of elaboration. When he did, it was simple. “No word?”
The queen shook her head, fighting off tears that threatened to fill her eyes. She had known better than to send her sister to Philip under the circumstances, and yet, she’d let a promise made long ago, to a mother who’d known a different world, compromise her thinking. Of course, if their mother had known the incompetent swine Philip would turn out to be, she would’ve never suggested Katherine be the one to bring the two kingdoms together. It was a foolish decision on Eleanora’s part to let her go, to make her go. She should’ve listened to Kenneth and her brother, James, who said to wait until the issue with Arteria was settled, but Eleanora thought she knew best, thought Philip would be intelligent enough to understand he was no match for Caleb, and he would simply release King Matthew and have the matter settled.
Now, the castle had fallen, her sister was missing, and Philip had fled to Gradenia. This rider had just returned from Leopold’s stronghold, confirming what Eleanora had suspected. Not only had Blackthorn changed hands but Katherine had not arrived with Philip.
And while Leopold hadn’t confirmed his next move, she knew his non-answer was the response she most dreaded hearing. Gradenia was now involved in the feud as well.
“We must prepare the army,” Kenneth said, his voice calm and collected. He reached over and placed a hand on her arm. “We will find her.”
Eleanora nodded. She would listen to his wisdom this time. “We will find her. And if anyone so much as harms one hair on her head, I will unleash my wrath on all of them.”
“I’m certain Katherine will be found unharmed.” Kenneth patted her arm. “Philip may have been too foolish to understand what would happen should he engage Arteria, but Caleb and Leopold are far too intelligent to tangle with the Queen of Nadoria.”
Shifting her gaze so that she was staring out the wide window across from her and taking in the view of the moonlight illuminating the snow topped mountains to the west of her kingdom, Eleanora said, “I certainly hope so.” Men liked to think they were strong and brave, that they could run into each other head first and consider the consequences later. Eleanora would be far more calculating, swifter, mightier. When her sword came down, it would be with a blow that would bring any kingdom that opposed her crashing to its knees.
Chapter 18
Caleb crossed the courtyard in front of Castle Caine, frustrated. With the rising sun, the first of the carriages full of prisoners from Clovington had arrived, and he’d been out immediately to greet them. Mostly aristocrats, though a few of their servants had managed to make their way into the cart, none of them had been particularly cooperative. Even those who’d seemed wise enough to understand the situation and want to help had been unable to.
A few confirmed what he already knew—that Matthew had been held in the tower he and David had already searched. Others said they had heard Philip speak of executing the king before the Arterians arrived, though thankfully none of them had witnessed any evidence that Philip had carried through. For the most part, he’d wasted an hour or so of his valuable time talking to uncooperative bastards who wouldn’t help him if they could.
One piece of information had stood out, however. It had been an older couple, the Duke and Duchess of Cambrulette, they had mentioned. They said they were certain they’d seen Matthew in the hall near the passage that led to the underground tunnels just before the Arterians stormed the castle. While they had never seen the King of Zurconia before, they said the man they spotted fit his description and was certainly dressed like a prisoner. If what they described were true, David should be able to find Matthew before he exited the tunnels. In fact, having had the prior day and all night to search, Caleb was hopeful he’d receive word from David soon that Matthew had been located.
With David gone, Caleb had to rely on others to keep him informed. It was an adjustment, as no one was as skilled as his most trusted officers. But the others he surrounded himself were competent. As Caleb headed back toward the castle, thinking of a thousand tasks he needed to do, one of them hurried to his side.
“Your Majesty, another wagon approaches. This one is full of servants and villagers. We thought perhaps you’d like to speak to them.”
Ricard Dale, one of the younger officers, had a thick accent which was sometimes difficult for Caleb to understand, particularly when he was over-tired as he was at the moment. But he understood the message and thanked the other man, stopping in his tracks and turning back toward the castle gates.
His list of tasks to oversee would have to wait. Though he hadn’t lost many men, he’d still need to check in with quartermasters. He’d instructed the soldiers in charge of the nobles to move them to the fortress at Everlilly, far away from Clovington and any thoughts they may have of escaping. There were others he’d need to check in with, and he wanted to check on his special house guest as well. The night before, he’d arrived too late for a visit.
As he walked back toward the gate, Dale strode along beside him, his sword clacking with a sound that grated on Caleb’s nerves. He did his best to ignore it. “Still no word on Katherine?” he asked.
“No, sir. We’d hoped the princess would be with the other nobles, but as you know, she’s not.”
The king nodded. He hoped he’d find the princess among the prisoners, not just because he wanted to question her about the situation with Matthew since the map had been located in her room, but also because returning her safely to her sister in Nadoria could potentially ensure Eleanora did not bring her armies in on the side of Philip and Leopold. While he was confident he could handle all three of them, keeping Eleanora out of the fight—or even having her assistance—would be better than stretching his forces to take on Nadoria as well.
“One of the nobles said she saw Katherine being loaded into a wagon, but she wasn’t a reliable witness,” Caleb said as he approached a group of officers discussing their next move near the gate. “And none of them had any inkling who this Angel might be that my brother mentioned in his letter.”
