The bodyguard is clearly not happy to leave me, but what can he do? He bids me a frosty good night and at last I’m alone. The quiet is a balm to my troubled spirit. So much of my life has been spent in isolation that now I find hours surrounded by others leaves me itching for solitude.
I move to the other side of my room, pausing as I pass the desk to check the drawer remains locked. Satisfied the scroll signed by the King is safe, I push the doors open on to the balcony, drinking in the cold air of the early hours of morning. The moon beams down on the castle, illuminating the delicate nightglow flowers that weave through the stone wall beside me like stars, and for a moment I allow myself to believe that things will fall into place as we hope.
I haven’t felt much peace since I left the West. And it’s not just the fighting. A quiet dissatisfaction is growing inside me like a weed. I don’t know what it is, but it climbs and snakes, spreads and suffocates. Maybe it’s just part of adapting to my new life. Or perhaps it is simply frustration clawing at me from within. But it’s always there, an ever-present reminder that something is not right.
A sharp wind whips my cloak about me, stinging my skin, and as I brush the hair from my face an unexpected movement catches my attention. Leaning forward slightly, I try to identify what it is.
Scaling the ivy-covered walls of the east tower is a figure dressed entirely in black. The moonlight glints off the blade he holds between his teeth as he climbs swiftly upwards. Whatever his intentions, they’re definitely not friendly.
Only one person sleeps in that tower – Torin – and so I don’t hesitate. Moving as soundlessly as the intruder, I remove my cloak and take my dagger from my boot before climbing on to the balustrade and reaching for a foothold on the castle wall. Running through the palace would take too long – this is the only way I’m going to reach him in time.
My hands glide easily over ancient stones, urgency causing the blood to pulse through my body so that even my fingertips tingle. My blade grazes my tongue and sweat runs down my back. I don’t even let myself think of the drop beneath me. A single thought screams through my mind.
Hurry.
I’m closing the distance between us, but then I lose the intruder as he disappears through the bedroom window I opened not long ago. I climb faster. If I don’t get there quickly, it’ll be too late. When I’m close enough, I push off the wall and leap towards the window ledge, only just making the distance and hanging precariously for a moment before I scramble up into the room.
Before my eyes can adapt to the gloom, my hair is grabbed and my head slammed against the wall. Pain streaks through my skull and I drop the blade from my mouth as I gasp for air. He knew he was being followed.
He’s swinging his knife round now, aiming for my guts, but I recover quickly and bring my fist down hard on to his arm, so that now he’s the one who drops his weapon.
I don’t wait for him to collect himself, bringing my hand up into his chin, and causing him to stagger backwards. But he avoids my next blow and lands one of his own, sending an explosion of pain through my shoulder.
I wish it weren’t so dark, because all I can see of the intruder is that he’s wearing a mask over his nose and mouth, his hood concealing his hair. I need to know who would be brave enough to steal into the Prince’s room so brazenly, and I reach forward, hoping to remove the mask. But again he evades me. He’s fast, and it’s like he knows what I’m planning before I do it, because he’s able to dodge every move I make.
He’s good.
But I’m better.
Changing tactics, I kick him in the stomach, knocking him off balance. It’s all the edge I need, and now I’m able to make my strikes count: a punch to the face, a jab to the ribs. And as our silent dance continues, the moonlight catches on his striking amber eyes, which blaze with fear.
‘Who are you?’ I have to know.
His response is to lunge for my neck, his hands seeking to crush my bones. I manage to grab his wrists before they can do their damage, and for a moment we’re frozen in a deadlock.
There’s only one thing to do – I snap my head forward into his. He falters in pain and, with his balance compromised, I kick him again. He lurches away from me and falls on to the bed where Torin has been sleeping, oblivious to the danger.
But the weight of an assassin landing by him is enough to wake him, and Torin groggily sits up. ‘Marianne?’
He’s still half asleep.
The attacker hasn’t fully recovered from the headbutt, but it won’t take him long. I have to be quick. Racing to where my dagger still lies on the floor, I pick it up, and aiming directly for the man’s heart I fling it with all the strength I possess.
Only for him to catch the blade between the palms of his hands.
Such skill, such a reflex, momentarily stuns me and before I can gather my wits the assassin turns and plunges my dagger firmly into Torin’s chest.
My breath leaves me as if the wound is my own. I race towards the attacker but he’s already sprinting to the other window, and I have to make a choice: pursue him or save Torin.
Cursing, I run to where Torin lies, his blood rapidly soaking the sheets.
He’s wide awake now and confused as I pull him into my arms.
‘Marianne?’ He’s clutching his chest, and I move his hand away to see how bad it is.
‘You’re all right; let me look,’ I say as calmly as I can, despite the panic roaring in my ears. The knife has missed Torin’s heart, but he’s losing a lot of blood.
I start to tear one of the sheets, pressing the material hard against his chest. ‘Nothing I can’t fix,’ I say, giving him my most encouraging smile, but I realise his eyes are closing as consciousness escapes him. ‘No, no, stay awake.’ And then I’m shouting to the guards, unable to stem the tide of fear rising in me. ‘Help! Help us!’
‘Torin, look at me.’ I speak with my most commanding voice, daring him to disobey. ‘You’re not going to die, do you hear me? Don’t you dare die.’
I can see him fighting, but he’s losing the battle, and when he tries to raise his hand towards me it only lifts a few inches before it falls back to the bed.
I could save him with magic.
The idea comes from nowhere. Magic is something I haven’t allowed myself to think about since I turned my back on it in the West. But I’m desperate. Could I reach inside myself once more for the power to save him?
The door bursts open, shattering the thought, and the guards stare at the scene before them, open-mouthed.
‘Call for the healer.’ I’m shouting again, angered by their inaction – and my own. ‘And raise the alarm. The intruder can’t have gone far.’
One of the younger guards runs off, screaming murder and waking the castle from its drunken slumber. Another hurries over to us and even through my panic I’m aware of the suspicious look he’s casting over the situation.
‘Pass me that bottle on the chest,’ I say. It’s a weak tonic, and not one I’d normally ever use for a wound like this, but it’s better than nothing and Torin’s running out of time.
The guard doesn’t move. He’s staring down at me and it’s then I realise how this must look.
Me, still in my shift, which is now drenched in blood, and my knife protruding from my new husband.