She hugged him and giggled. She wanted to giggle forever. At the absurdity of everything; giggle at the Russian White, at The Brotherhood and Bedlam. Dismiss them all with giggles. His shoulders rocked as he giggled too. If they could stay like that, together, giggling at the world forever, then nothing else mattered.
A deep thump and a roar from behind the door shook the floor. She draped his arm over her shoulders. “We’ve got to move my darling.”
He leant against her, and she took his weight on her hips and they rose together.
“One step at a time,” she encouraged. His feet shuffled with jerky steps, and their progress, though slow, took them away from the fire.
“Have you got a pistol?” she asked.
“No. Why?” He stopped and frowned. “Will we need to fight?”
“Only if we meet The Brotherhood. I want to shoot them, one by one.”
Chapter Thirty Seven
They reached her bedroom, and she sat James on a chair in the corridor to rest, while she crept up to the door.
William and Terrington had gone, and Konstantin lay where he had died, beside the bed. The fire blazed across the ceiling and down the walls, and black smoke poured through the broken window. She shut the door and hurried back to James.
His breathing came in laboured gulps, and his shoulders rose and fell to the rhythm.
“The Guest Staircase is close.” She longed for water. Her dry mouth tasted like a dusty grate.
“Where are The Brotherhood?” James wheezed.
“I don’t know.” Somewhere safe, she guessed, and the prisoners left to their fate.
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to fight them.”
“Rest a little longer,” she suggested.
“No I’m all right. I just wish—I’m sorry. This is hard for you.”
“You’re walking much better.” His stiffness had eased, and with each step, he took more of his weight. She held his hands. “There’s a short flight of stairs a little further along. Then the Grand Staircase, and then we’ll be out of here.”
Did marble burn? She didn’t know. She hoped not and, with luck, the staff might be there to help. With luck, The Brotherhood would be nowhere in sight.
He rested his hand on her shoulder and pushed himself up. She looped her arm around his waist, and they set off once more. Smoke curled under her bedroom door, though the threat of immediate danger wasn’t urgent.
At the Guest Staircase she let him rest to catch his breath, and dabbed the sweat from his face with her sleeve. “The steps are quite shallow, and there’s a bannister to hold onto.”
“Yes—let me—” He took hold of the wooden rail with both hands, turned sideways, and descended one step at a time.
“Hold on tight.” She went in front, her arms outstretched, ready to catch him if he slipped. At the bottom, she hugged him.
“Hurray!” he croaked. “Going down is easy. Let’s not go up though.”
The fire’s noise diminished, a short reprieve, but a welcome one. James held her hands as a child does when the mother teaches her baby to walk, and he stepped towards her, head up, his eyes fixed on hers.
The corridor turned sharp left. At its corner stood a curtained doorway with a staircase down to the kitchens; The Servants Stairs.
She thought they might escape that way; the stone steps though, were deep, and the descent steep, and she didn’t think James would manage. The Grand Staircase would be much easier.
They turned the corner, and James halted, and his eyes widened. She glanced round, and her heart jumped.
Halfway down the corridor stood William; Terrington too, and Dunyasha, the Russian Ambassador’s wife. Isobel froze, and James fell against her as he lost his balance.
Terrington had Dunyasha in an armlock, her head pulled back, her long thin neck exposed. William stood before her, the edge of a blade resting against the white skin under her chin. Dunyasha stared straight up, her eyes avoiding William’s, her lips thin and tight, her face hard and grim.
“Why do you care so much about the diamond?” William concealed his menace with a tone of controlled calm. “Your life is over. Your work will be forgotten. No one will know what happened to you.”
He stroked her chin with the tip of the knife, and bunched up a fold of skin, which he nicked with a twist of his wrist. Dunyasha’s breathing sharpened.
“So tell me,” William drawled. “Where to find the diamond, and your passing will be swift and painless. Or,” He drew the knife across her throat in a long lingering sweep. “Slow and painful. The choice is yours.”
Flakes of white ash floated down and settled on the boards.
Isobel took a step back, and her grip on James tightened. She didn’t dare breathe. She wished she’d followed her instincts and taken The Servants Stairs. It might still be possible, if their movements didn’t alert her brother.
William pressed the knife harder against Dunyasha’s throat. “The diamond serves no useful purpose anymore. It is a forgotten relic, something from a bygone age. It has no relevance today.” He pushed harder, and Dunyasha’s eyes flared.
“Peter the Great knew it was obsolete,” William continued. “Yes, even then. But he didn’t trust the Church not to use it against him. That’s why he gave the diamond to our King. And now you’ve stolen it, and I want it back.”
James leant into Isobel’s arms, and she took another step back.
William cut Dunyasha’s skin, and a drop of blood ran down her neck and settled in the hollow at the base of her throat. She gasped, and Terrington tightened his grip.
“Where is the diamond?” William pressed. “Tell me, and the pain will stop.”
From above, a loud crack, as the ceiling buckled, and plaster dropped, hit the floor, and smashed. Distracted, William turned, and saw them.
“Get them,” he yelled. He grabbed Dunyasha’s arm from Terrington. She bent double with a loud cry as he wrenched it into a half-nelson.
Isobel screamed. “Run!”
She wrapped her arms round James and dragged him towards the curtained door. He moaned at the unexpected force of her demand, and his legs juddered, and he slumped to his knees. Terrington leapt upon them and pulled him out of her arms.
“Let go!” Isobel punched Terrington in the stomach. It made weak contact, and he didn’t flinch. “Get away James!” She grabbed Terrington’s arm to pull him off, and he swung round and punched her in the face.
Dazed, she stumbled against the wall and collapsed. Her sight blurred, and blood dripped from her nose into her lap. She saw double. Unable to do anything, she cried.
Terrington yanked James up by the shoulders.
“Bring him here,” William shouted.
She tried to stand, and her stomach heaved with the dizziness in her head, and she slithered and jerked and thought she might vomit. Everything wavered out of focus, and she rubbed her head to clear her eyes.
Terrington hauled James in front of William.
“Leave him alone,” she croaked. Her arms and legs melted, weak as water, and blackness flickered at the edges of her sight, but she refused to lose consciousness. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you dare touch him!”
James crawled towards her, and Terrington grabbed his hair and pulled, so that he had to stand or risk losing his scalp. Then he yanked his head round with a violent shove, and forced him to look at his Master.
William glared, and his breathing rasped as he raised the knife. “Where’s the diamond?” and he plunged the tip into James’s chest.
Isobel sprawled across the floor. “No!”
The tiles on the roof of the East Wing cracked in the heat, and the russet-bricked chimney stacks blackened. Thick smoke, filled with red hot sparks, belched and pumped and then blew away in the wind.