Heart of Stone

3. The Knight in Shining Armour

Thistle sat on the side of her bed, twisting Cat's ring around her finger. Three days left. Her head throbbed and her body was sore, but she couldn't afford to rest.

The gargoyle nudged its head against her side.

She looked down at the creature and stroked its back, managing a shallow smile. "What am I going to do, little one?"

It stared back at her with wide eyes and tilted its head, its tiny wings fluttering.

She sighed and looked around the lavish room. It was a beautiful room, but old and dusty, like the library. Unlike the library, this room made her feel uncomfortable. The room looked as if its owner had simply disappeared, without packing anything.

The chests were filled with dresses that were too short for her. The bed had been made, covered with dust. The desk in the corner held personal trinkets and jewels.

She felt like an intruder.

Thistle shook her head and glanced back at her ring. "I have to do something. I need to talk to him."

She pushed herself up from the large bed. Her dress and boots had left dried mud on the bed, but she hardly noticed. She would deal with that later.

Brushing some dirt off the dress, she left her room, the gargoyle padding after her. Muddied and rumpled, her attire was no longer decent for a noblewoman, but it sufficed for her. She would have preferred to wear her tunic, but the days of travel and sleeping outside had taken their toll on the garment.

She shook her messy hair out of her face as she climbed the staircase.

Thistle hesitated when she reached the study. She walked towards the front door, her hand lingering on the thick, old wood. What if he was still out there, waiting for her, a giant stone beast sitting on the bridge? She shook her head. Of course he wouldn't be there.

She straightened her back and strode out of the tower. The bridge was empty.

She let out a slow breath, her hand slipping from her dagger. The afternoon sunlight made the palace bright and beautiful, floating on a sea of pine trees, as if the beast was simply a bad dream, made up to scare children. The statues that lined the towers and bridges reminded her that the beast was no dream. It was very real.

The gargoyle padded up to her, looking up with large, curious eyes.

"Come on," she said, nodding her head towards the central tower. She had a feeling he'd be there.

Her soft leather boots made no noise as she strolled over the cold stones, hundreds of feet above the pine forest below. She smiled at how quickly she had grown used to the height.

The clapping of hooves on stone made her look up. A small figure galloped over the bridge on the far side of the palace, the bridge she had walked over that first day. The rider's armour reflected the sunlight as he dashed towards the central tower.

Someone had come to fight the beast.

Thistle glanced down at the gargoyle, holding up a hand. "Stay here. Stay."

She spun around and ran straight towards the tower, lifting her skirts as they flapped around her legs. Her heart pounded against her chest. She had to stop him.

The knight reigned in his horse on the platform around the central tower. He dismounted, drawing his sword, his red cape billowing behind him. She ran faster.

"Sir Knight, wait!"

The knight looked up and took off his helmet, golden locks falling around his handsome face. He hurried towards her, sheathing his sword as he took her hand. "My lady, you are not the beast's prisoner, are you?"