Keziah

 What I had wanted most for the last few days was to be alone.  

Traveling to Breccia on horseback, under such close supervision, had left no room for privacy. Uncle’s knights had even escorted me when I had to pee. Once I arrived this morning the maids of Breccia had hovered even when they ignored me. 

Now, that I had finally gotten my wish, it was terrifying. 

Locked in like a statue. There was nothing to think about beyond the smell of food on the tables and the muffled shouts from outside. My imagination had free reign to run to every possible dead end.

The Scarlet Blade Knights would be coming for Uncle, the Marquis, or both; I was the link between them. Sitting in the lord’s chair and holding a dagger I couldn’t release. I would appear to anyone who came like an enemy and would not have the voice to explain myself.  

My only hope lay in the walls holding out while Uncle escaped. His woven words would lose their hold over me the farther away he got and the more time passed. But that would require the sacrifice of scullery maids and stable boys holding out against some of the most feared knights on the continent. The dreadful math did not add up in my favor. 

An eternity of minutes ticked away counted out by the rushing of my pulse and the painful stiffness in my spine. The sounds outside grew louder, closer, and more fearsome. A baby’s pitiful cries sounded impossibly loud to my ears.

Bang. 

Someone was at the door. I would have jumped out of the chair if I could have moved an inch.

It didn’t seem possible. The fortress couldn’t have fallen so quickly. No matter how great they were the Scarlet Blade Knights couldn't walk over walls.

Bam.

The wood around the iron lock splintered sending the door swinging into the hall. Knights, in shining armor, smeared with the gore of battle, stepped inside. They were searching and the only thing to find was me. 

I watched, helpless. As a knight more blood-covered than the rest crossed the long room in slow measured steps. He stopped a few feet in front of me and raised his blade. 

A single red drop formed at the tip and dripped onto the white satin of the bridal dress. I stared at the bloody blade that came so close it was nearly all I could see. Unable to look up at the man holding it. 

“Drop your weapon and surrender yourself.” His voice was stern, but not cold.  

It struck me as strange, that he did not say it as an absolute order, more of an offer. Perhaps, my last option for living. But, I could not drop the dagger even with my life depending on it.  

“Is she dead or daft?” This came from another voice farther away and full of impatience. 

“She's not dead. She just blinked.” A third voice, big and deep, with a bit of softness. 

“Then let’s leave her or kill her,” the impatient voice again. “We’ve got a pair of bastards left to find, Cal.” 

“Can you hear me?” It was the man with the bloody sword pointed at me. He didn’t have the anger or impatience of the other man, but there was a hard edge to his voice. “Drop the dagger and tell us where to find the Marquis and the Earl Verbodine.” 

My skin crawled with the need to move. To utter a syllable of noise. To do something other than breathe shallow breaths and listen to my heartbeat gain pace. It hurt to push against Uncle’s orders. The pain of disobedience grew with every thought of betraying their escape until it felt as if my head would split apart. His control was still too strong. 

The sword moved fast, flipping so its broadside smacked the dagger in my hand. It sent my arm flying to the physical limitations of my shoulder’s reach. 

I screamed inside my mind from the sudden pain of rigid muscles moving against their will. No sound escaped me other than a small hitch in my breathing. With the energy of his swing spent. My arm flopped down like a dead thing over the side of the chair. The dagger still secured in my stone-clasped fingers. 

I wondered, for a very stupid instant, if it would have hurt less if he had cut my arm off.  

“That’s not right,” Impatience said, disturbed by my puppet show. “This smells like a trap.” 

“And you smell of shit.” This came from a new voice tinged with playfulness.  

Impatience did indeed smell, he had stepped into my field of view. A foul brown smear ran from the crown of his head, over his shoulder, and down his back. It appeared one of the stableboys had true aim with their buckets. 

“Shut it, Holwick!”  

“Shut it, all of you,” the man standing over me cut them off and the snickers quit immediately. 

I could feel him assessing me. He appeared to be in command, if so, it would be his decision that affected the length of my life’s thread. I wanted to see him, not just the blood-smeared tabard in front of me. I wanted to know what he saw when he looked at my unmoving body. I needed to know if he was considering adding my blood to his look of the day.

“Jas stay here with her. Arne and Janyck search the upper floors. Remi, Holwick, and Octayvo with me. Stay alert.” 

The knights dispersed and with the commander’s pressure gone I felt a small reprieve from death. He hadn’t killed me instantly. Perhaps he would forget to come back to finish me. 

Alone with Jas, the giant of a man made himself comfortable. He cleared a space on the table, removed his helm, and sat on the tabletop with his arms on his knees and hands steepled. Long minutes ticked by as he looked me over. His gaze didn’t feel leering like Erewald’s, instead he seemed curious. 

He centered himself in my fixed eyeline. A small kindness.

His great bulk filled my view, tall and wide, the kind of body that came from a balance of hard work and great excess. His curly auburn hair and matching beard were lightly peppered with stark white strands. That and the slight wrinkling around his blue eyes were the only indicators of his age. He appeared the cleanest of all the knights I had seen enter. Mud caked his boots, but no blood splattered his armor. 

I wondered if his commander had found the tunnel. I hoped they would pull Uncle from its depth like a rat from its hole. The thoughts caused a tinge of pain, but it was worth the joy of imagining the scene. 

“Girl, I’m going to take this dagger from you and would mightily appreciate it if you stay, as still as you are, and not hurt me with it.” His voice had a unique roughness as if the sound formed from rocks tumbling together deep in his belly. “Because if you hurt me. I will have to hurt you. And I don’t like hurting women and children. And the way I see it, you’re a little bit of both.” 

He approached me like a wounded animal, with slow movements and open hands. He grasped my arm, his grip strong, but not painful. Holding my wrist down firmly so the blade faced the floor he peeled my fingers away from the hilt one at a time. The dagger finally dropped to the floor and he kicked it away. 

Cradling my wrist gently, he brought it up to rest on the arm of the chair. My fingers awkwardly stuck out like a claw, frozen in place where he had peeled them back, but having my arm supported again took the pressure off my side. 

His fingers were callused and rough as he patted my wrist with a practiced softness. “That’s much better, eh?” 

I wanted to thank him. All I managed was to blink twice. 

“Hey now, there’s no need for that lass,” his voice was hardly more than a whisper and his eyebrows knitted together like one long fuzzy red caterpillar. He reached up to my face and wiped away a tear with the back of his knuckle.  

I hadn’t realized I was crying. It stopped as quickly as it began with only a few drops falling ticklish trails down my cheeks. 

When was the last time someone had shown me such genuine kindness?

Under Uncle’s reign, no one could get close to me. I lost my friends, my nanny, and my maids to accidents, plots, rumors, and disappearances. 

It hadn’t taken long for me to stop looking for such companionship either. After so many ‘accidents’ few dared to approach me. Those who did were always his spies, reporting back to him everything I said or did. 

I spent years building my defenses and learning the value of being alone. 

I didn’t cry.

I would not go back to that life. 

These knights could give me my freedom or take my life, but I would not be sent back to Verbodine.