Marc went to where my wedding gown lay piled on the floor. He picked up the dress and tore it with a grin. He ripped a long piece of fabric and rolled it into a ball.
“Ludmila, listen to me!” Radek pleaded. “Are you a Protestant now? Are you going to convert like your wretched mother?”
Marc’s eyes flickered to me.
“Gag him,” I said.
I stood in front of Radek while Marc shoved the satin from my gown into his mouth. He took a second strip of fabric and secured the gag around Radek’s head.
Radek’s question troubled me because I didn’t know the answer. I hadn’t given the idea of Protestantism much thought until I heard about my mother’s conversion. I had no impulsive need to convert. Clearly, I was against what Radek and my father were doing to the Protestants, but that didn’t mean I had to give up my Catholic faith—did it?
Marc clapped Radek on the shoulder. “Since tonight is your wedding night, it’s safe to assume that no one will bother you on such a special occasion. You won’t be found until the morning,” he said cheerfully. “Hopefully, you won’t bleed to death.”
Radek grunted.
Marc turned to me. He stopped mid-step as his eyes slid over my gown and down to my bare feet. “Nice dress.”
I glanced at my thin satin nightgown.
“Do you have anything else to put on?” Marc asked.
“Just my wedding gown, but you ripped it.”
Marc frowned. He glanced down at his bloody shirt, but then his mouth turned up into a grin. “Maybe your half nakedness will distract the guards if we get caught. Are you ready?”
“Almost,” I said.
Marc was right about this brewing rebellion. There needed to be a change. Someone had to do something. Someone had to fight this injustice. I lowered my mouth to Radek’s ear. The coppery stench of his blood filled my nose. “Do me a favor and give my father a message. Tell him that he’ll pay for what he did to my mother and that I plan to fight him every step of the way in this rebellion.”
Radek pushed against his ropes, but he couldn’t break free.
I ran to the bed and retrieved my mother’s letter from beneath the mattress. “Let’s go,” I said to Marc.
Marc eyed the letter, but he didn’t say anything. I placed my hand in his. We ran to the terrace and tied the remainder of the rope to the balcony’s railing.
“Hold on to my back and I’ll carry you down,” he said.
“No.” I shook my head. “You’re hurt. I can climb down on my own.” I found his eyes in the darkness. “I can do it.”
“I know you can.” Marc rested his palm against my cheek. He bent down and pressed his lips softly against mine.
“I almost lost you,” I whispered.
“I’m only sorry I didn’t make it to your wedding. I was lucky to get up to the duke’s bedroom when I did.”
“How did you climb with your back torn to shreds?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think about that. Stephan pointed it out and I knew I had to get up there to save you.”
I swallowed. “Radek wasn’t lying. We were officially married at Saint Vitus Cathedral today—”
“No,” Marc said roughly. “It doesn’t work that way. They can’t force you to marry someone. You’re not his wife.”
“But—”
He kissed me again, passionately this time.
“Come on, the others are waiting for us. We have to get out of here.” Marc lowered me over the railing.
I slipped the letter between my teeth. I gripped the rope with both hands and went down, hand over hand, excruciatingly slowly, but I did it. Maybe as a Protestant, Marc didn’t understand the meaning of the vows Radek and I had recited. My father had coerced me into marrying Radek, but I had the choice—and I’d chosen to marry Radek to try to save Marc. I couldn’t think of anything in the ceremony that would nullify the sacred act. As much as I hated the idea, Radek was lawfully my husband.
And if I had a husband, how could I be with Marc?
When I was almost at the bottom of the rope, hands found me and hoisted me down the remainder of the way. Once my feet hit the grass, I cowered from the four guards. I didn’t know whom I could trust, and I felt exposed in my thin nightgown.
I squeezed my mother’s letter tight. I was dying to read it, but it would have to wait.
Marc landed with a grunt. His arms went around me to shield me from the guards. Not for protection, but for modesty. “We’ll find you a dress when we get out of here,” he whispered again.
“Lady Nováková,” Stephan bowed. He kept his eyes respectfully averted.
“Stephan? I don’t understand—”
“Stephan has been good friends with Henrik for years,” Marc said. “I couldn’t have escaped without his help.”
“Where’s Henrik?”
“Outside the walls by now,” Marc said. “He was in charge of leading a group of supporters from the castle.”
“Branka?” I asked hopefully.
“I told Henrik to find her,” Marc said.
I squeezed his hand in thanks. I’d been worried about her safety since Radek had cryptically mentioned her. Sweet, sweet Branka who came through on my plan and gave me a knife on my wedding night. It was crucial that she leave the castle tonight. Once my father found out what happened, he would immediately take his revenge out on Branka.
My father. Was he? Or was the king? I shook my head. I couldn’t think about that now. I had to focus on getting out of here.
“We need to go,” Stephan said. “Stay close and be on the lookout for Urek, too. He’s around here somewhere, and since I was the one who put the lashes on his back, I really don’t want to run into him.”
“Urek?” My blood turned to ice.
“He escaped when they broke me out of Daliborka Tower,” Marc said.
“How?”
“Stephan sent in a group and they didn’t know where I was. Urek was accidently let out. He took off before the others could stop him.”
Urek loose in the dark was a chilling thought.
Marc found my hand in the darkness. “We’ll worry about him later. Let’s get out of here first.”
We raced toward the eastern edge of the grounds. The six of us crept in the shadows from building to building until we reached the side of Vladislav Hall.
“Should I do it now?” one of the guards asked Stephan.
“Hold on, Ivan.” Stephan looked at Marc. “What do you think?”
“The gate is on the other side of this building,” Marc said. “There were fifteen guards at last count.”
“Let’s do it.”
Stephan gestured to the guard—Ivan—who slipped away from the building and headed back toward Daliborka Tower. The tall man moved against the walls and snatched the single torch that burned outside the tower. With the fire in hand, Ivan darted across the grounds and back toward the front gate.
Rudolf’s prized cherry blossom trees, brought here all the way from the Far East, were lined in a row near the wall. Ivan lit each tree—seven in all—igniting their beautiful pink leaves into fiery balls of flames.
The trees blazed orange.
Ivan tossed the torch into the final cherry blossom. Fire lit up the dark sky and, almost immediately, the sounds from the peasants protesting at the front gates grew to an ear-shattering chant.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Marc threw me a crooked smile. “That was the sign. Now our friends at the gate are going to give us a little distraction.” He pulled me into the shadows as a group of guards raced toward the flaming cherry blossom trees.
Stephan led us in the opposite direction through Vladislav Hall. As we ran over the enormous hall’s shining marble floors, the peasants’ cries rose to a fever pitch. The sounds of their shouts echoed off the towering walls.
We raced out of the building and rounded the corner. The enormous Eastern Gate was unprotected now that the king’s guards were dealing with the tree fires
and the unruly crowd at the front gate. Stephan retrieved a set of keys from his waistband. The jingle brought a smile to my face. We were going to make it.
Marc urged me forward, willing my legs to run faster, even though we were already sprinting. We could sense our freedom—so close, so near. We converged around Stephan as he lifted the brass key to the lock.
“Halt!”
A sharp voice cut through the sound of the blazing trees, even through the peasants’ cries. Marc closed his eyes and my heart sank to my toes.
The six of us turned around.
Fifteen of the king’s Royal Army stood with their swords drawn and pointed at us. We were trapped with our backs to the gate.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The king’s army spread out in a semicircle. Not only were we outnumbered fifteen to six, but they were in front of us and on both sides of us.
“Stephan!” A guard stepped forward. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Stephan discreetly handed the keys to Ivan before he moved to the front of the group to stand beside Marc. “I sincerely request that you let us go.”
The guard snorted. “You’ve broken a convicted criminal out of Daliborka Tower and you kidnapped the duke’s wife—by the looks of it, you took the duchess straight from her wedding bed. Sorry, but there will be no letting you go.” A murmur of assent rumbled through the guards.
“Are you going to continue to be their hired killers?” Stephan asked. “Do you want to be responsible for all of their bloodshed? They don’t care about you! Will you stand by as they slit your comrades’ throats?”
“We are loyal to the king!” the guard replied.
“Rudolf doesn’t know what’s happening,” Stephan said.” Your hands are stained with blood, yet you comply with every order the chancellor gives.”
“Lower your weapons and release the duchess.”
Stephan spoke to the row of guards. “Join us! We can stop this bloodshed.”
A light jingle rattled behind me. Ivan was working on the gate’s lock. How much longer would it take?
“Step aside, Stephan,” the guard said. “Or you will be slaughtered like the rest of them!”
Marc handed me his dagger. “Stay behind me. If something happens and you have to defend yourself, remember what I taught you. Use all of your weight when you lunge.”
I nodded.
“Spare the duchess!” The guard slashed his sword in the air, signaling the attack.
The army rushed forward. Marc pushed me back and raised Radek’s sword. Stephan, Marc, and the other men in our group formed a protective circle around the gate and me.
Ivan fumbled with the key.
“Hurry!” I shouted.
“I don’t know which one it is!” Ivan shoved one key into the lock and then another. There were at least twenty on the ring.
The clash of swords sent chills down my spine.
“Open the gate!” Stephan yelled as his sword raked across a guard’s chest.
“I’m trying! I’m trying!”
The crash of metal on metal filled the air. Marc’s steel fell heavily against a guard’s sword. Marc pivoted and swung his blade upward, slicing the man’s arm.
The lock clicked. “Oh, thank God!” Ivan jumped up. “I got it!”
I helped Ivan push open the heavy iron bars. I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s open! Come on!”
Marc turned, as quick as lightning, and plunged his sword into a guard before shoving his boot into the chest of another.
“Let’s go!” I shouted.
The detachment pushed forward, essentially forcing us out of the gate. The lead royal guard, the one who had demanded our surrender, moved like a whirlwind. He traded blow for blow with one of Stephan’s friends, and then, with a momentary advantage, the guard ran his blade through his opponent’s chest. The man collapsed to the grass with a gaping wound showing through his shirtfront.
Stephan cried out in anger.
The castle’s grounds were full of shouts and screams. The air was heavy with the scent of blood mixed with the thick smoke from the cherry blossom trees.
“Stephan! We have to go!” Marc kicked another guard, spun and ducked under a sword, and lashed out with his own blade.
“Out!” Stephan barked. “Everyone out! Now!”
Our group of five fighting men turned to three as one of the guards buried his axe between the shoulder blades of another of our men. Marc swung his steel in a gigantic arc and pushed the line of guards back.
“Let’s go!” Marc seized my hand and we sprinted with Stephan and Ivan on our heels. Ivan pushed the gate shut behind us and twisted the key.
“Go! Go!” Stephan yelled. “Faster!”
“I locked them out!” Ivan stuffed the key ring in his pocket.
“They have their own keys, you idiot!” Stephan yelled. “Hurry!”
Marc cursed. “Where are the horses?”
“Over there!” Stephan pointed to the woods.
The four of us—Marc, Stephan, Ivan, and I—ran between the trees. Iron groaned as the guards opened the gate behind us. The sounds of the king’s army thundered at our heels. I didn’t look back—I couldn’t risk the seconds. Up ahead, a group of horses were tied to the base of a tree. I recognized Jiri’s brown mare.
“Get on the horse!” Marc yelled.
I ran to Jiri’s mare and climbed onto its back. Marc slashed the rope tethering the horses to the tree and jumped on behind me. The mare galloped away before I could take a breath. Stephan and Ivan’s horses sprinted by our side just as the king’s guards entered the tree line.
We fled through the forest and down Hradany Hill. Gray smoke from the flaming cherry blossom trees clouded the sky. Marc steered the horse around the corner of the wall.
Hundreds upon hundreds of peasants were gathered near the front gate. They banged against the bars with shovels and sticks. Others held torches. The crowd turned as we rounded the corner on our horses. All eyes fell on Marc and the crowd erupted in cheers. Fists pumped into the air in celebration.
“To the forest!” Marc yelled.
“Go, go, go!” Stephan crouched on his stallion’s back. “They’ve stolen some of our horses! They’re coming! Go!”
The crowd dispersed in a fury of chaos and scattered like mice. Some of the peasants near the back were already on their own horses. They joined us and we raced down the hill and over the stone bridge.
“What about the rest of them?” I asked.
“Some will come with us now,” Marc said. “Others are only here to help us escape. They’ll hide after this, but we will find every single person who wants to join us. We won’t leave anyone behind. I promise.”
Four of the king’s guards followed us on horseback. The unruly peasants converged at the bridge and blocked the army’s path across the river. They threw objects at them, pelting the guards atop their horses.
The front gates opened and a pack of guards raced from the castle on foot.
Our horses clopped over the stone bridge as we crossed over the Vltava River and into town. Ivan and Stephan rode beside us, but the general was crouched over his horse—a deep gash in his thigh bled freely.
A large bald man had joined us from the peasant mob. He smiled as he raced beside us on a giant white horse. I recognized him from Marc’s lashing—he was the enormous angry man next to Henrik and me. He tipped an imaginary hat and winked at me.
Our group had grown to eight. I didn’t know the other riders, but I knew they were friends and allies of Marc and Henrik. The peasants who’d converged at the bridge had slowed the king’s army and the delay had created a sizable distance between us.
We galloped over the cobblestone streets, and Prague’s lights faded as we entered Kivoklát Forest.
Marc kissed the back of my head. “We made it.”
I soaked in his words. His touch. His smell. I never wanted to be away from him again.
“Vlad!” Marc shouted to the bald man besid
e us. “Where did Henrik say to meet?”
“Outside of Rika.”
“We’re not that far,” Marc whispered to me. “Rika is where we saw Radek behead the pastor. It’s only a few hours away. We’ll meet up with Henrik and the others and decide what to do next.”
“The guards aren’t following us anymore?” I looked behind us, but it was too dark to see anything.
“No, they turned back once we reached the forest,” Marc said. “They know they don’t stand a chance out here against us in the dark, but they’ll come for us in the morning. All of them.”
All of them, meaning the entire Royal Army that was at my father’s disposal and, more important, Radek. I didn’t doubt the duke’s last threat—he would search for us. He was too proud not to. Radek wouldn’t stop until we were dead or he was dead. I was his wife. My stomach clenched at the thought. Maybe it had been a mistake to spare his life.
Even more frightening than Radek or my father was the knowledge that Urek was out there, too. Would he come after us? Would he seek revenge? Where was Kristoff? Would the two men find each other and join forces?
As if sensing my worry, Marc pulled me against his chest. “Don’t worry. The duke won’t hurt you again. Ever.”
I leaned against him for support. I wasn’t worried about myself. I was worried about what would happen to Marc when he met Radek and Urek again. Because I was certain they’d meet again.
“I heard what Radek told you,” Marc whispered. “About your mother and the king.”
I twisted around, but it was hard to see his face in the darkness.
“Mila, Rudolf’s son is dead. If the king truly is your father, then that makes you heir to the throne.”
“I could never—”
“The Protestants want Rudolf off the throne. So do the Catholics—they want Matthias, a devout Catholic, to take the Crown. What do you think will happen if people find out that you are Rudolf’s only living heir? Both sides will hunt you down. No one can know about this.”
“Radek knows.” And then it all made perfect sense. If I truly was King Rudolf’s daughter and only living heir and I just married Radek . . .
“If Rudolf dies, then Radek would be king.”
Marc hissed between his teeth.