Mags stepped in after her and pulled the stone door closed. It swung with a grating sound that raised goose pimples on Vrell’s arms. When it was closed, Mags lifted the torch and led Vrell down the dark, narrow passage that smelled of mildew.
“Jax said to get yeh to the kitchens. He’d of come hisself, but he’s too tall for this route.” Mags giggled.
Vrell nodded and scurried along behind Mags, praising Arman every step of the way.
“Hold.”
The guards jerked Achan to a stop on the landing between the first and second lower levels.
The guard who had been leading them whirled around with his sword in hand.
Achan’s heart thudded. What was this?
They stood on the far side of the landing between the two floors. A lone torch burned from an iron loop on the wall.
“Trizo,” said the guard on Achan’s right. “What are you doing?”
“The keys, Jarek,” the guard with the sword said.
Jarek reached to his belt and drew his sword instead. The third guard followed suit. “You cannot beat us both,” Jarek said.
A wide smile stretched across Trizo’s face. “I don’t have to.”
Footsteps pattered on the stairs below. Sir Rigil and Bran stepped into view on the landing, swords drawn.
Bran flashed a wide smile. “Hello, Achan.”
“Bran!” Sir Rigil snapped.
Bran’s pink face darkened a shade. “Sorry. Hello, Your Highness.”
Achan managed a nervous laugh. “That’s really not necessary.”
Trizo lifted his weapon. “The key?”
Jarek lowered his sword and held out a single key on a scrap of leather. “You’ll hang.”
Trizo snagged the key from Jarek. “Not when he takes the throne,” he said, nodding at Achan. “And he will. Let go of him, now, and back away, both of you.”
The guards released Achan’s arms and stepped back.
Trizo waved him over. “This way, Your Highness.”
Achan stepped to Trizo’s side in a daze, shocked at his good fortune.
The third guard spoke. “You know we’ll report you as soon as we walk away.”
Sir Rigil drew his sword and jutted his head at the guards. “Which is why you won’t walk away.” Sir Rigil jerked his sword up the stairs. “Up you go, quickly now.”
The guards turned and climbed the stairs.
Bran followed and spoke over his shoulder: “See you later, Your Highness.”
Achan smiled in spite of himself.
Trizo led Achan down the stairs to the bottommost level. There they followed a long a corridor that stretched out the length of the stronghold just like the one on the entry level had. Trizo tapped his fingers lightly on each door they passed, as if counting. He stopped in front of a battered narrow door. He knocked three times, coughed, then knocked twice again. The door swung open to a servant’s chamber decorated with a rough-hewn table and sleeping pad. They entered and the door swished shut behind them.
Achan turned to see Prince Oren twist the lock on the door. The prince, in his fine clothes, looked very out of place in the shabby room.
Prince Oren’s taut lips stretched into a wide smile. “Achan, my boy. It’s good to see you! What happened to your face?”
“Gidon— er, Esek.” Achan shook his head.
Prince Oren took Achan’s chin in thumb and two fingers and turned it from side to side. “He did this, but did not kill you?”
Achan swallowed, shaken by Prince Oren’s intense scrutiny. “He said he needed to trade me for his bride first. Said someone holds the lady hostage and wants to exchange her for me.”
“Lady Mandzee?”
“No. Lady Averella Amal.”
Prince Oren’s brows sank and he gripped Achan’s shoulder. “Truly? I had heard she was safely hidden. This is most distressing. I hope the poor child is all right. Should Esek get hold of her, Nitsa will never forgive me.” He patted Achan’s shoulder. “Your wounds need tending, but there is nothing I can do here. They are not life-threatening, and my priority is to see you safely out of this castle.”
“Will you be taking me out?”
Prince Oren gave a tight smile. “I’m afraid that would be unwise. The knights can get you out unseen.”
“You really believe I’m…who they… Your…”
“Aye, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I know Esek is false, and I know Arman has not spoken to me as king.”
Achan tilted his head at Prince Oren. “You as king?”
“I am King Axel’s brother, as you know. But if Arman had chosen me to serve as king, He would be speaking to me, preparing me, guiding me.” Prince Oren sat back on the mattress. “Has he spoken to you, Achan?”
Achan opened his mouth to explain about the voice he’d heard in the Council chambers and elsewhere, but a noise outside stopped him.
Three knocks, a cough, and two more knocks sent Trizo to the door. He opened it, and Sir Rigil and Bran slipped inside. They appeared out of breath but exhilarated.
Bran wiped his hands on his doublet. “Two enemy guards are taken care of, Your Highness — Highnesses.”
Achan chuckled despite the pain in his cheeks.
“Shall we leave, then?” Sir Rigil asked.
“Aye.” Prince Oren removed a ring from his pinky finger. He took Achan’s hand and set the ring on it. “You are also a mirror image of my big brother when he was your age. We share the same blood, you and I. On that you can take my word. This ring will bring you help if shown to the right people. Sir Gavin will know who to trust. Stay with him, Sir Inko, or Sir Caleb at all costs. Obey them, for they know best how to make things right.”
Prince Oren walked to the door. “You and I have much to discuss, Achan. When you are safe and have learned the basics, bloodvoice me. Hold the ring when you do, and it will be easier. Until then, my nephew, I bid thee well.”
Achan glanced at the ring. At the top of the wide circle of gold, the shape of a castle was engraved with the letters OAH. He blinked rapidly to deflect the mist wetting his eyes. He gazed at Prince Oren, at his blue eyes and the thin crown of gold nestled into his black hair. This man was truly his family — his blood uncle. He was no longer a stray. He had family. Perhaps he was no longer even Achan. He stifled a shaky breath and stuffed the ring on his middle finger.
Prince Oren drew him into a quick embrace and patted him on the back. “Go.”
Achan followed Sir Rigil to the door.
“Wait, men,” Prince Oren said. “I’ve had news of Lady Averella.”
Bran straightened. “What news?”
“Achan tells me Esek planned to trade him for her. That someone is holding her captive.”
“How could that be?” Bran’s eyes darted wildly around the room, as if this girl might jump out from under a rug. “I was told she was in hiding.”
“I do not know. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation. Once Achan is safe, I will do all I can to help you find her.”
Sir Rigil gripped Bran’s shoulder. “And I.”
Achan looked at the floor. He shouldn’t feel guilty about this situation. He’d never once laid eyes on Lady Averella of Carmine, after all. Yet he felt responsible for her somehow. Esek had agreed to trade her for him. What would become of her when Achan didn’t show? “Maybe if I went along with the exchange, and you were watching, you could get the lady to safety, then come for me later.”
Bran’s lips curved in a small smile. “I thank you, Your Highness, but no. It’s too risky. Plus, Averella would maim me if she found out I had risked the true king ‘just’ to help her. She hates Prince Gidon — forgive me: Esek—more than anything.”