Page 86 of The Huntsman's Heart
I’m prevented from answering when the Robards rushes toward us, red faced and breathing hard. He pushes his thinning hair back over the crown of his head. “Princess Guinevere! Oh, but you look a fright. Is it really you?”
I take the key from him with a sorry smile. It would take too long to explain now. I’m surprised he could recognize me after my ordeal in the courtyard, but perhaps the magic is working faster than I realized to heal me. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I think you had better return to your rooms while we open the crypt. I do not know what is inside.”
“Surely there is someone who could do that for you, Your Highness.” He gives Corvin a strange look. “Though I see you have brought support.”
“I have and I will be fine. I want you to go back upstairs and keep the other servants away for now until I give the word.”
He bows. “Yes, ma’am.”
I turn back to the door. Keeping one hand on my sword, I approach slowly, slipping the long metal key into the lock. I hear Corvin move into place behind me.
I turn the key, expecting the banging to start at any moment, but there’s only silence.
We wait, but for a long moment nothing happens.
When I can stand it no longer, I reach for the brass handle and fling the door open, lifting my sword, but I am not prepared for what steps out of the dark.
His face is paler than I remember, the eyes sunken in pits of black. He wears his finest robes, and there’s a light circlet on his head. His hair has been neatly brushed.
My father shuffles forward on bare feet, and for a dreadful moment my breath catches in my throat and I raise my arms ready to embrace him. “Papa!”
Then I remember, and the bitter memories of his withered frame in the huge bed flood back, bringing stinging tears to my eyes. I make an incoherent noise, frozen in place as the wight approaches. I cannot speak. Cannot move. I can only watch as he staggers from the crypt.
Corvin’s sword slashes through the air. I scream.
On instinct, I dive in front of the blow, catching the blade in my back.
I cry out, stumbling into my father’s arms, holding him though he can’t hold me back. Above the cloying scent of perfumed oils is the stench of death. His rotting flesh seems brittle on his bones. Cold and hard, unyielding to my touch.
“Princess! Forgive me.” Corvin pulls his sword away, leaving a gash I feel in the sting across my shoulder.
He reaches for me, and I push him away. “Do not touch me.”
“Princess, this is not your father.”
I drag my father’s corpse away from Corvin, backing toward the crypt. “This is all I have left.”
Corvin’s face is contorted in horror. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Leave me,” I sob.
My father’s corpse shuffles aimlessly toward the door again. I try to catch him, but Corvin darts into the way. “I cannot do that.”
With a growl of frustration, I run to my father and pull on his arm, trying to get the ghoul to turn. “Come back to bed,” I tell him. “Come and rest.”
He doesn’t react to my touch. His unseeing eyes face forward toward the corridor. I drag his body back to the uncovered sarcophagus closest to the door. The one laid out for him. Silken pillows line the coffin. He should be resting here.
Every time I try to push him down, he sits again, straining to get up. I’m weeping now, tears and snot streaming down my face, but I can’t make him lie down.
Curse this black magic that did this to me. Curse the magic which has disturbed the well-earned rest of good people. It’s not right.
“Come, let us go. We’ll lock the door again now we know it’s not a threat.”
I round on Corvin. “I won’t leave him like this!”
Alaric
Raban and I gather weapons and hurry through the corridors out into the courtyard.
