The Secret Princess. Rachelle McCalla

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СКАЧАТЬ him a torch instead, he might just as likely chide her for not choosing the candles.

      To her relief her grandfather said nothing to her as she placed the lit candles in their holders. His attention was instead on the maps being spread out on the table in front of him. Already he quizzed the prince on the exact placement of the borders between them.

      As Evelyn scraped plates near the kitchen door, she kept her ears alert to the sound of King Garren’s voice and so heard him suggest Prince Luke accompany him to the highest tower—to view the borders they spoke of, or so he claimed. Much as she’d have liked to follow after them, she had her hands full in the kitchen, and anyway, they’d smell her coming.

      Though she resented trickery, she hoped for Prince Luke’s sake that the Lydian nobleman was up to something. Otherwise he’d find himself quickly outmaneuvered.

      * * *

      Luke followed King Garren down the dark, twisting hallways, paying attention to every curve and fork so he could find his way back—alone if necessary. He noticed that Garren had whispered something to a couple of his guards, who now trailed behind them. Luke was distinctly aware that he was outnumbered and surrounded and no longer had the added security of a crowd of witnesses to contradict any story Garren might invent.

      Though Luke was not by nature a fearful person, the woman they called Biddy had warned him Garren might be up to something, and Luke knew enough about the man to be always on his guard around him. After all, King Garren’s illegitimate son, Rab the Raider, had killed Luke’s father, King Theodoric of Lydia, through deceptive trickery.

      King Theodoric’s death had left Luke a grieving orphan. Surely he’d learned enough through that loss not to trust King Garren.

      And yet, as they climbed the twisting stairs that led upward to the tower, Luke realized his thoughts were still focused on the pale-haired woman and the mystery of her identity. Though Luke had done his best to keep his attention on King Garren, all through dinner he’d watched the woman at her work, noting the way she kept her distance, darting in silently and unobtrusively, and the way she kept the king’s glass and plate full so he wouldn’t have to ask for anything.

      The woman had a quiet dignity about her and a graceful way of carrying herself that was uncommon among servants. Even with her rag of a dress encrusted with pig muck, she was beautiful. For long months he’d feared his feverish mind had invented her or embellished her appearance.

      To his amazement he found her to be more impressive than he’d first observed, for not only was she lovely to look upon, but her disposition and demeanor were just as attractive. In spite of King Garren’s harsh shouting, the woman neither shouted back nor hung her head, but simply did as she was asked quickly and efficiently, with such grace it caused his breath to catch in his throat.

      They reached the top of the tower, and Garren held the thick wooden door open, gesturing for Luke to pass through. “The window to your left affords the best view of the lands in question,” the king told him.

      Luke crossed the small round room and peered out through the indicated open-air stone frame. “Ah, yes. I can see the river.”

      When King Garren did not immediately appear at his side, Luke turned back. In place of any words, the king’s response was a slamming door. Luke leaped toward it but heard the key click in the lock before he reached it. He peered through the small barred window in time to see King Garren and the two guards hastily making their escape down the stairs.

      Looking down, he could see the sturdy door handle, its keyhole scratched from years of use. No doubt King Garren had often used this tower to imprison his captives.

      With a sinking heart, Luke realized the deceptive ruler had planned to imprison him all along, probably from the moment he invited him to dinner. Everything else, then, had been a ruse.

      Ah, but Luke had discovered much. And the door, though thick and heavy, was not an immovable barrier. Luke inspected what he could see of the lock, then looked around for something he could improvise as a tool.

      A small bundle of straw had been scattered about at one end. From the looks of it, more than one prisoner had used the bale as both bed and blanket. Luke plucked up the sturdiest stems and carefully plaited them together to stiffen them. With any luck, he’d pick the lock and be gone before Garren thought better of leaving him alone and decided to post a guard.

      He shook his head, laughing at his own foolishness. He’d gotten into worse spots before. In comparison, this imprisonment had been quite fruitful. He’d learned precisely how far King Garren could be trusted, which wasn’t far at all. He’d confirmed the pale-haired woman’s claim that Garren resented the peace treaty.

      Most of all, he’d found the pale-haired woman. His imprisonment was worth it if only for that. But he wasn’t about to waste what he’d learned. He had to escape and see her again.

      He tried the plaited straw in the lock but found the stick he’d made wasn’t nearly sturdy enough to budge the tumbler inside. He searched the empty space a bit longer but, still finding nothing, went back to plaiting straw again, hoping to make it stronger this time. From what he could tell, the tumbler that kept him imprisoned was heavy, and would require a prod nearly as strong as King Garren’s key to unloose it. Perhaps he wouldn’t escape as quickly as he’d like, but he wasn’t about to give up, either.

      The sun was dipping low in the sky when Luke heard soft footsteps on the stairs. Judging by the muted sound, he doubted it was a guard coming to check on him. Hope rose inside him that the pale-haired woman might have come to pay him a visit. When he caught a glimpse of fair hair rounding the corner, his heart leaped for joy, only to come crashing down in disappointment when the hair proved to be far shorter than that of the woman they called Biddy.

      Indeed, this pale hair belonged to a freckle-faced youth, who looked at him curiously through the barred porthole. Luke stared back in silence for a moment, wondering if this boy was friend or foe. His features, along with his distinctive pale hair, convinced Luke the youth must be related in some way to the pale-haired woman. So he took a chance.

      “Have you got a key to this door?”

      “There’s only one key, and King Garren keeps it.”

      Luke had feared as much. At least the boy seemed helpful. “How can I open the lock, then?”

      “I’ve tried it all the times I was locked in there. Never could get it without the key.”

      Only slightly discouraged, Luke tried to glean as much as he could quickly in case the youth was called away—or caught. “Is there a guard stationed at the base of the tower?”

      “Yes, but I brought him a drink earlier to help him sleep. He’s dozing now. That’s how I got past. I’d have brought you something to eat, but I didn’t think he’d be asleep so soon. I saw a chance and took it.” The youth peered at him curiously between the bars in the small opening in the door. “They say you’re a prince and a Christian.”

      Luke suddenly felt his heart beating hard, though he wasn’t sure precisely why. “That I am.”

      The boy whispered something. Luke couldn’t quite catch his words, but it sounded almost as though he’d said, “So am I.”

      But before Luke could ask him to repeat himself, the boy spoke again. “I belong in the Holy Roman Empire. If I help you get out of here, can you help me get home?”

      Luke СКАЧАТЬ