His heart skipped a beat.
They were never going to let him leave.
Seven
The Northern Kingdom, Castle Hill
Annise Gäric
A hush fell over the crowd. Annise knew her brother well enough to see the fear in his eyes, despite his attempt to hide it beneath a stalwart expression. As he walked past the royal box, they made eye contact, and she wanted to scream.
Several commoners expressed their outrage at their beloved prince’s situation, but were quickly silenced by the guards, doubling over after being hit in the gut.
Sir Dietrich passed next, his face as calm as ever, like he was just taking a morning stroll, rather than being led to his execution. Both hands were bound, but intact, which meant the icy blue tendrils that had passed into him from the Ice Lord had only had a temporary effect. He even managed to offer her a grim smile.
There were more protests amongst the rabble, this time for the melee champion. More guards moved amongst the crowd to maintain order.
They can’t do this, Annise thought. They were empty words, she knew, as hollow as a rotted log. Her uncle could, and would, do whatever it took to assume power in the north now that her father was gone. And with the Ice Lord and the royal guardsmen on his side, there was little anyone could do about it.
The prisoners’ footsteps were thunderous on the wooden planks, which creaked slightly under their trod. Guarded by three soldiers, Arch was forced at sword point up the steps to the same gallows his mother had just been cut down from. A fresh noose had been fitted and hung.
Sir Dietrich was sent up to the second platform.
The nooses were wrapped around each man’s neck and tightened.
No, Annise thought. Not men. Arch is only sixteen. He can say he’s a man grown, a king now, but he’s still my little brother. And now…
She couldn’t finish the thought, her eyes burning, her lips beginning to tremble. She was gripping the railing so hard she thought her fingers might break off in the cold.
Arch’s breathing was rapid now, his exhalations a ghostly visage before his lips, which opened. “This is a farce of a trial,” he said, his voice remarkably strong and clear. He spoke directly to the people, the commoners. The people who adored him. Where was the boy she saw a moment ago? “My mother has just been murdered before your eyes. And now they seek to murder your rightful king, and your most recent melee champion.”
“The traitor speaks,” Lord Griswold said. “But your voice falls on ears that were loyal to your father. They are deaf to your pleas.” Despite his words, a handful of the commoners attempted to charge the platform. The King’s Defense formed a barrier, shoving them back. The commoners tried again, and this time the guardsmen used deadly force, killing a man and a woman before the remaining people quieted and backed away. Annise watched as the bodies were removed, too numb to feel anything. It was like her father had been reincarnated in the form of her brother, the reign of the Dread King continuing seamlessly.
For the northerners, this was just another day fraught with fear.
“My words shall be heard,” Arch continued. Annise wanted to be proud of her brother’s courage, but her stomach hurt too much. Without him… “With my father’s death, I became the King of the North, Protector of Castle Hill and all who live north of the Mournful Mountains. You, my uncle, are the traitor, and I find you guilty.”
Annise managed to pry her eyes away from Arch long enough to look at her uncle’s reaction, which was filled with narrowly disguised venom. Spit froze on his lips as he spoke. “You have been found guilty of treason against the very crown you pretend to support. And your so-called ‘champion’, Sir Dietrich, has disobeyed a direct order from a superior. Both of your crimes are punishable by death.”
“No!” several commoners screamed. But this time they were just words without action. Despite their protests, they were unwilling to risk their own lives.
Am I? Annise wondered. There were guards at either elbow, gripping her tightly in the event she made a move to help her brother. She could fight them, surprise them with the strength she knew she had. But would it really help? The odds were stacked impossibly against her.
“Executioner!” her uncle shouted. “Mete out the punishment on these traitors!”
The man in the black cloak stepped forward, assuming a position directly between the two gallows. His head swiveled back and forth, as if trying to decide who should go first. Did it really matter?
He turned then, away from the gallows, his shadowed face aimed at the royal box.
“Executioner! Do your duty!” Annise’s uncle shouted.
The executioner threw back his hood to reveal a familiar mesh facemask, dark eyes staring out. The Armored Knight! Annise realized a split-second before the large man reached under his cloak and whipped out the chain attached to the spiked ball.
The guards were too slow by half, the melee runner up having already swung his weapon with vicious force. The barbed ball shredded the ropes over Arch’s and Sir Dietrich’s heads and they collapsed to the wooden platforms. But they didn’t stop there, disappearing from sight as if they’d tumbled into a deep snowbank.
What in frozen— Annise watched as the guards tried to apprehend the Armored Knight, but his spiked ball was a whirlwind of fury, smashing armor and splintering spears until the guards were forced to back off. Several of them dropped to a knee and shot arrows, but his armor held strong against the onslaught.
Nearby, Annise’s uncle was screaming something—ordering the King’s Defense to pursue the prisoners. Jonius and the other guardsmen in the box were clearly distracted.
Be ready, Aunt Zelda had instructed.
She was ready. For what, she didn’t know.
With a roar, the Armored Knight swept forward and bludgeoned two of the archers with a single swing of his chain. The rest fled.
He turned and looked right at Annise. The man who’d kicked out the platform beneath her mother’s feet. The man she’d chosen to win the melee. The man who’d killed her mother and saved her brother and Sir Dietrich.
He extended a hand toward her, and she started to climb over the rail.
Be ready.
Two guards grabbed her arms, and though she fought them with all the strength she had, they held firm. Something whizzed past her face. Then another something, and the pressure was gone from her skin. The guards thudded to the floor, arrows protruding from one’s neck and the other’s eye.
Be ready.
Annise flung herself over the railing as Sir Jonius reached for her. His fingers clamped on the hem of her skirts, but her momentum was too much, the fabric tearing away. She was free!
An arrow zipped past her ear, shot by one of the royal archers who’d retreated to a safer vantage point across the platform. He quickly nocked another arrow to his bowstring. Pulled back. Released.
A dark form sprang in front of her, the arrow plunging into the gap between his gauntlet and vambrace. With a grunt, the Armored Knight scooped her up in one powerful arm and launched himself toward the gallows, clambering up the ladder and diving through a hatch that had opened in the platform floor.
Annise tumbled into darkness, her ankle twisting as she landed awkwardly atop her rescuer, his armor clattering.
“Sister!” Arch said from somewhere in the inky black.
“Allow me, princess,” said the voice of Sir Dietrich. Strong fingers grasped her beneath the arms and pulled her to her feet.
“He’s injured,” was all she could think of to say. “The Armored Knight. An arrow struck him between his plates.”
“I’m fine,” the knight grunted, his armor clanking as he rose to his feet. “We have to hurry. Go!”
Someone grabbed her hand and pulled her down a black corridor that reeked of…filth. Wetness splashed around her legs with each step. “What is this place?” Annise asked, wishing she could see something—anything.
“The royal sewers,” Arch answered enthusiastical
ly, like they were off on a grand adventure. “Zelda set the whole thing up. Who knew she was such a rebel?”
“Quiet!” the Armored Knight hissed. “We have company.” Even as he said it, Annise’s ears picked up the sound of heavy boots landing in water. Shouts echoed behind them.
“We need light,” Sir Dietrich said.
“No,” the Armored Knight said. “You need me. Now turn right. This way.”
Annise was yanked to the right before she could even begin to consider how the knight could navigate in complete darkness. Somewhere behind her, a swathe of flickering light danced on the walls.
“Ten more steps and then left,” the Armored Knight instructed.
Annise counted in her head, wondering whether she should add a few steps because surely her strides were shorter than his. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Arch tugged her along behind him. “Keep up, sister,” he said.
Annise cursed. She was reasonably quick over short distances, but she had a feeling her stamina was about to be pushed to its limits. Her legs were already feeling heavy and she was limp-running because of the throbbing pain coursing through her ankle, radiating up her leg.
Three turns later, she could barely breathe. She tried to say Stop, but it came out as a pant. With no other choice, she pried her fingers free of Arch’s grip, doubling over and sucking in lungful’s of air.
Arch cried out and she could hear his boots splash to a stop. Annise was about to tell him to go on, that she would catch up after a quick rest, but a strong hand grabbed her arm and stifled the words in her throat.
“Going somewhere, princess?” Sir Jonius said, his breath hot on her face. He spoke calmly, his voice low.
“Please,” she said. “You know me. Don’t you?”
The knight stiffened beside her. “I know nothing,” he said.
“You cared once,” Annise said, still breathing heavily. “No one has to know. No one. You can come with us. You can be free.”
“You don’t know what you ask,” Jonius said. There was sorrow in his tone. Regret.
“Please,” Annise said again, placing her hand atop his. “If you won’t come, let us go.” One by one, she pried his fingers away. He let her, saying nothing. “Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled away.
“Save yourselves,” the knight said. “Go east. It’s your only hope.”
“Thank you,” Arch echoed. “For everything.” Once more, he found Annise’s hand and pulled her into the darkness.
As the distance widened between them and Sir Jonius[1], she heard more shouts and then the faithful knight said, “There’s nothing but a dead end this way. We should go back and find another passage.”
The sounds of their pursuers drifted away.
The sky was gray and full of snowfall when, hours later, they finally pushed aside a barrier of dead foliage and emerged from the wet darkness of the sewers. A filthy creek burbled nearby, fed by the sewers and, in the summer, snowmelt.
Annise blinked against the snow-reflected brightness as her eyes tried to adjust to daylight once more.
Her legs were cramping, her lungs aching. But she was alive, and so was Arch, which was what mattered the most.
“We cannot linger here,” Arch said. “They will know the sewer’s tributaries. They’ll be searching them all.”
“Not this one,” the Armored Knight said. “It was secret to all but the king and queen. A last resort in the event there was ever a coup and they were sent to the gallows.”
“Then how do you know about it?” Annise said, glaring at the knight under the hand she was using to shield the light. She didn’t know this man. Yes, he saved them, but to what end? Where was he leading them?
“Your…mother told me,” he said.
“My mother?” Annise said, her voice rising. Icy tendrils crept into her blood, but they had the opposite effect, heating her skin rather than chilling her. “Don’t you dare—”
“Annise,” Arch said, cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this. We have to keep moving.”
“Arch, he killed—” Her voice vanished in a sob, which arose so suddenly she couldn’t stifle it. “She’s dead. Mother is dead.”
“I know,” he said, placing a gentle hand on her arm. Her anger faded and she shivered. “She did it for us. It’s what she wanted.”
No, Annise wanted to say, but she knew it was true. She remembered the way her mother had looked at her. At the way she’d said Guilty with such conviction and courage. It was the first time Annise had seen her mother look anything but angry or sad. It was the first time she’d looked truly alive.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” the Armored Knight said. His voice was low and gravelly and…sincere. Annise wondered how the man who had kicked out the platform could even begin to apologize for what he’d done.
“Stuff your rotting apology,” Annise said. “Just get us somewhere safe and warm.”
She knew it was a rare moment when she sounded like a spoiled-brat princess, but she didn’t care. Her status was the only armor she had left against the weight of grief pressing on her chest.
Heavy snow filled in their footprints as they trudged away from Castle Hill, which shone through the gale like a beacon in a storm.
Despite her knee-high sheepskin boots, Annise couldn’t feel her toes when they finally took shelter within a copse of pine trees. The fallen nettles made for a soft cushion, and she gladly settled onto them, pulling off her footwear, which were sheathed in frozen snow.
Arch settled beside her, shucking off his own boots and massaging his feet.
Sir Dietrich traipsed through the trees, collecting firewood, while the Armored Knight stood sentry, his eyes probing through the snowfall. The arrow was still protruding from his arm, but he showed no signs of being affected by it. His dark armor was slick with blood, which looked strangely black.
“Arch,” Annise whispered, quiet enough that only her brother would be able to hear her. “We have to get away from these two. They will ransom us. They are strangers who have no other reason for risking their own lives to rescue us. They are—”
“Annise,” Arch said.
Something struck her, so obvious now that she thought about. “They knew each other the whole time!” she hissed. “They’ve been in league since before the melee. They’ve been planning this from the beginning. They’re—”
“Annise,” Arch said again. “There’s more to the story than you know. Aunt Zelda came to me.”
“Me too,” Annise said, frustrated. “She spoke of Mother.” Annise managed to get the last word out, barely.
“Yes,” Arch agreed. “There were more layers to Mother than we ever knew.” Arch’s gaze traveled down to his pale feet, and Annise followed it. A moment of silence stretched its wings, before flitting away like a snow moth.
“She saved us,” Annise said. “But what about the arrows that helped free me? Where did they—”
“Women loyal to Zelda,” Arch said.
Annise blinked. “Women?” Women didn’t train in archery. Even her own battling with the lordlings in the yard was looked down upon by the lords and ladies of the castle.
“Yes. Zelda has been training them in secret for a long time.”
All these years her aunt had not been idle. Annise hoped she’d get the chance to thank her one day. But it still didn’t make sense.
“But why did Mother have to die? Couldn’t she have dropped into the sewers like we did? Couldn’t we all have escaped together? Couldn’t we have—” Annise’s words had come too fast and she’d forgotten to breathe. She gasped, and Arch’s arms closed around her. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, held back by anger alone.
“No,” Arch said. “If she had escaped first, then we wouldn’t have been able to.”
Annise closed her eyes, feeling the truth of his words wash over him. She’d died so they could live. In the end, she had loved them more than herself, a thought which made Annise unbearably sad. “But how could”—the me
mory of the platform being kicked out by the Armored Knight, her mother’s body dropping, and the struggle that ensued, seared through her mind—“he have done such a thing?”
She glared at the Armored Knight, wishing she could rip off his mask and smash her fist against his face, again and again and again and ag—
“Because she asked him to,” Arch said, snapping the rope between her eyes and the knight.
Sir Dietrich scattered a load of firewood before them, and began angling them upwards in a pyramid shape, meeting at the top in the center. Vapor rose from his skin as his body heat met the frigid air. He never seemed to tire or falter.
“I’ll have you warm and toasty soon enough, princess,” he said, flashing a handsome smile.
Just his smile was enough to warm Annise’s cheeks. “Thank you, Sir,” she said.
“You can call me Dietrich,” he said, using a flint repeatedly, trying to get a spark. He cupped his hand to block the wind as a bit of kindling began to smoke. “I’m sure Castle Hill will be stripping me of my knighthood soon enough. Arme too.” He gestured to the Armored Knight, who’d begun pacing along the edge of the tree line.
“Arme?” Annise said, raising an eyebrow. The smoke turned to flame, creeping up the dry twigs and underbrush, orange and red fingers reaching for the firewood.
“I’ve traveled with him for weeks, and still he won’t tell me his true name,” Dietrich said with a shrug. “The Armored Knight is too long, not to mention pretentious, don’t you think? So I just call him Arme.”
Annise was about to suggest something else less kind they could call him, but Dietrich cut her off.
“If I may be so bold, princess, Arme was only doing his duty, same as the rest of us. He didn’t want to do what he did, but protecting you and the prince—rather, I should say king—were his first priority. It was what your mother wanted.”
“What do you know of my mother?” Annise said, feeling the warmth of the crackling fire begin to seep into her skin and unfreeze her bones.