Page 45 of Beholden
Apparently, I wasn’t the first person to try to rescue one of the women, but I hoped I’d be the last. Once I killed Grendel, no other maiden would have to suffer this custom ever again.
“I must go in,” I insisted.
Curly was silent for a moment, his keen gaze studying the palace. “They’ll be starting the dance erelong. Maybe ye can creep inside and pull her away then.”
My mind whirled with the possibility. How would I be able to haul her off without everyone seeing me? Especially with the grime of the mines filling every crevice. “I shall need to bathe and don the appropriate attire.”
Both Curly and Ty lifted their brows.
“I’ll attend the dance as a guest. As I’m twirling with Gabriella, I’ll guide us toward the side of the room, to a secluded area. Once there, we’ll sneak off.”
Curly nodded, his red hair wild and untamed in the dampness that permeated the summer air. “That might work. I know a place by the buttery that leads down to a cellar entrance. Ty and I can wait for ye there.”
“But transforming the master?” Ty gave me a once-over that told me I looked as bad as I smelled.
Curly assessed me as well. “Aye, ye be needing some work if ye hope to pass for a nobleman.”
“Can you aid me?”
“I can be getting ye clothing and hot water. Beyond that, I’m no good.”
“If you find those items,” Ty whispered, “I’ll take care of the rest.”
An hour later, I was ready for the ball. Curly had located garments in the servants’ quarters amongst the mending pile. Though the tunic needed a few stitches to close up a gaping hole under one arm and the hose required the patching of a rip in the backside, Ty had worked magic not only on the clothing but on me. In an abandoned part of the cellar devoid of servants, he helped me scrub two months of filth from my body, washed and trimmed my hair, and helped me shave.
By the time I hovered on the outer edges of the milling crowds in the grand hall, I blended in so well no one glanced my way. The atmosphere was decidedly quieter and more somber than any ball I’d ever attended, even with the cheerful music the minstrels were playing on their flutes, fiddles, and lutes.
No one was yet dancing, and I scanned the crowd for Gabriella, hoping to identify her by her red hair. At the pause of the music and the silence descending over the gathering, I shifted my attention to the double grand staircases made of gleaming marble and the rounded balcony connecting them.
In the center and poised above the hall, the queen stood, elegant in a gown with layers of gauzy green and bedecked with spotless ermine. Her dark hair hung in long waves and glittered with what appeared to be dozens of pearls and diamonds. The crown resting on her head also gleamed with hundreds of iridescent jewels.
For a queen in her midlife, she had retained a youthfulness and beauty that would have made her a contender for the fairest maiden if such a thing had existed when she’d been younger. Although elegant, her bearing contained too much haughtiness for my liking.
At the commotion around me, I realized the lords and ladies had lowered themselves to their knees and bowed their heads, and now I was the only one standing. Something inside me resisted having to bow to this queen. She wasn’t my ruler. I didn’t owe her my allegiance. And I most certainly didn’t respect her, not after everything I’d learned about her.
But I forced myself down to the ground. I needed to blend in better and exert more caution until Gabriella was safe. After several more long moments of silence, the queen spoke. “Let the presentation of the fairest maidens in the land begin.”
As I rose with the others, I realized the queen was staring directly at me, her green eyes cold and yet inscrutable. My failure to immediately bow had garnered notice. Or perhaps she was curious because I didn’t cower before her like everyone else.
Using the self-control I’d developed during my time in the mine, I pushed down my rights along with my pride. I dropped my gaze and bowed my head, attempting to show her the subservience she commanded of her people.
When the music began again, this time softer and more melodic, I glanced up to see that the maidens had started their procession. Thankfully, the queen’s attention was diverted from me. From each of the staircases, the women descended, pausing briefly on each step as though to give the queen plenty of time to assess them. Attired in vibrant green gowns and with flowing hair, the sight of so many beautiful women would have been breath-taking, except I could only picture the brutality awaiting one of them in a few short hours.
At the image of blood darkening the green, anger sliced through me. How could the queen perpetuate this sickening ritual year after year, not only putting the women and their families through this choosing process, but then subjugating a helpless maiden to Grendel’s slaughter? How dare she? And for what gain? So she could have more wealth for herself? More jewels for her hair and gowns?
My fingers found the hilt of the stolen sword at my hip, and I gripped it tightly. I understood more clearly why Gabriella wanted to kill Grendel, why she’d been willing to sacrifice herself if need be.
At that moment, Gabriella arrived at the top of the grand staircase to my left, the last of the two dozen women. The layers of her fluttering emerald gown served to highlight the paleness of her skin and the golden red of her hair that swirled in long, wavy curls. Her features glowed with an almost ethereal beauty, more so than I remembered.
My heartbeat raced forward into a thundering gallop, first in awe of her beauty, but then in dread. She was easily the fairest woman present. And tonight of all nights, beauty was a curse.
As she started down the steps, pausing at each one, I had to hold myself back from running to her, sweeping her up, and carrying her off.Patience.If I had any hope of stealing her away, I had to have patience. Even then, my task would be more difficult, since the queen would likely be watching Gabriella the closest.
My frustration mounted when the dancing started and guards took their places at every doorway in the room—including the buttery. I stayed in the shadows of the grand hall for the first few dances, studying the entries and the open windows, trying to determine how to accomplish the rescue. But the longer I attempted to map a new route, the more discouraged I grew.
We were trapped. Would I have to fight our way out?
Finally, as the music of a dance came to an end, I strode out into the room, heading for Gabriella. One young man stood with her, a sad smile upon his face. He likely knew as well as everyone else that Gabriella would be chosen, and he’d probably danced with her out of pity.
