Page 24 of The Huntsman's Heart
In the awkward silence that follows, I try to find something to say. “How long have you lived here?”
Raban smiles. “Since we were made to guard it. Perhaps three hundred years ago.”
“So… you are three hundred years old?”
“True.”
“But what happened to the people who used to live here? What happened to the castle?”
Évandre shakes his head. “There was a war and we couldn’t save them. Some of our brothers were damaged. Some smashed. We are all that remain. Even now one of our brothers who survived the war stirs no longer. I suppose that is the fate that awaits us all. One day the sun will set, but we will remain frozen.”
This makes me sad.
Raban shrugs, perhaps sensing the change in my mood. “But not this night. Nor the next night, I think. And now we have a new princess to care for. That gives us purpose.”
The others murmur their agreement.
“Then will you help me?” I look between them hopefully.
Évandre smiles. “Of course. We are made to be guardians. We have been growing moss waiting for someone to take care of since our humans were taken from us.”
“Yes, but will you help me?” I stand from the bath, pulling their offered cloth around me, grateful for the steam which keeps me warm. “I need to get back to Blackthorn Keep on the other side of the forest.”
Raban’s face falls. “That’s the one thing we cannot help with, princess. We’re bound to the castle. We cannot go out of sight of this place.”
I stare at him in frustration. “Have you ever tried?”
“There would be no point. It is who we are.”
Turning my back on him, I reach for my dirty clothing, only to find it has been removed. “Where are my clothes?”Évandreholds out a bundle of things to me. “We will wash them for you. For now, take these.”
The garments he holds out to me are beautiful, despite being a little dusty. They were once ornate robes, fashioned for a queen or a lady of high standing. Heavy velvet skirts with beaded details; delicate underthings with fine stitching. They do not suit my purpose at all. I must prepare myself to leave this place as soon as possible. “Have you nothing else? More suited for activity?”
He seems to consider. “There are things made for the prince, before he died. He was slight. Taller than you, but we could make them work I think.”
I thank him, and the gargoyles leave to fetch the new clothes. Left alone, I lean over the bath, trying to catch a glimpse of myself in my reflection, but it is too dark. I see only a blur.
Will anyone recognize me as the princess, or have I changed so much? Would they pay me any heed if they did? All my life I’ve been treated like baggage to be passed around or burden others. Something to be traded, bought, and sold. If I order the guards to arrest Alaric, will they listen?
Even if they do, it might take very many of them to overpower him.
I will have to be sneaky. To hide a blade and wait for the opportunity to get close to him. And if I have the chance, I’ll have to strike quickly. I doubt he’ll give me a second. I know from experience how fast and strong he is.
I have no doubt I’ll be condemned for it afterward. No one would murder the queen’s man and go unpunished. Though, up until a few days ago I would have thought no one could murder the princess either. Is there any law left in Erenvold?
The only problem with my plan is if it forces me to choose between revenge on Alaric and ridding the kingdom ofMelantha. In my heart of hearts I know who is the greater threat, but I also know for whom my anger burns brighter.
I will just have to find a way to slay them both.
I sigh. In order to do either of those things, I must return to Blackthorn Keep.
If the gargoyles cannot help me, I’ll go alone. After all, what’s the worst that could happen to me now?
As morning comes closer and the sky lightens, the gargoyles prepare for their rest. Évandre lifts a heavy longsword and adjusts his wings, preparing to fly up onto the remains of the central keep. “Wait,” I say, just as he crouches.
He stops. “What is it, princess?”
“Do you know how to use that? The sword?”
