The Black Death (A Medieval Action/Romance)

Chapter 18

“What did you do to me!?” Izzie looked around, backing herself up against the wall; she had only ever believed in the power of what a human could do for themselves.

She had fought God at every turn and now it was truly possible that she might have met the Devil himself.

The Prince; a handsome man despite his dark deeds with his thick hair and ebony eyes, smiled at her, “I wanted to have a word with you,”

“You can have your words with my sword in your throat,” Izzie stumbled to her feet and gazed around her surroundings; they seemed to still be below the castle if the brick room was anything to go by, “Now . . . where is it?”

“You can have your meagre instrument back-”

“-meagre!?” Izzie snapped, getting her sense of self back.

“-once we have finished our conversation,”

“What conversation?” Izzie growled, “All I hear is you talking,”

Dressed in tight leather breeches and a flimsy cotton white shirt she couldn’t help but notice his fit figure as he walked around the room with an air of superiority and she instantly wanted to knock him back down to her level.

She still didn’t know how he was able to make her fall asleep so fast or how he appeared to come out of thin air but she had to believe that there was a logical explanation to it.

“Where’s Marianne?” Izzie grumbled, “I’d like to hit her too,” She narrowed her eyes as she looked around the room but the traitorous maid was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s with Colt,”

“Colt?” Izzie snapped her head back to look at the Prince, his eyes boring uneasily into hers.

“Yes, Colt,” he started to pace in front of her, “The man who, at this moment, is sat on my throne and feasting with his merry men,”

“I’d hardly call them merry,” Izzie raised an eyebrow and sighed  but it stung a little to think that he wasn’t even looking for her; if he was feasting then enough time had passed with her not there for someone to be worried.

But Isadora had learnt long ago never to trust anyone.

The Prince was staring at the ceiling as if Colt and his men were directly above them, “He shall pay with his life for this betrayal; only royals sit upon that chair and once I have dispatched of my tedious father I shall have my chance to rule,”

“Then why didn’t you just do it?” Izzie snapped, “Why wait for all of this,” she waved her arms about at their situation, “You have . . . magic,” she struggled to say the word because she still didn’t believe in such things, “Why not just take the throne?”

“Oh, my dear girl,” the prince chuckled darkly, lowering his head to gaze at her.

Izzie gritted her teeth at being called ‘girl’.

“You don’t see anything, do you?” he scoffed, “You go around killing my men but you don’t see what’s really going on at all!?” He let out a loud roar of laughter before his voice turned serious and he gazed at her with a dead-set eyes, “Come, I’ll show you.”

* * *

“You need to come!” the inner door was thrown open to their small cubby hole to reveal Brandon.

He looked frantic as he looked over his shoulder, waving them out.

“What’s wrong?” Drystan rushed to his side and gazed out into the empty hallway; the fresh air a joy after being trapped with Iagan.

That man let out some of the worlds most unholiest of smells and sounds when he slept.

“It’s the King,” Brandon panicked as he stepped back to let them out, “Come, come! We must hurry!”

Drystan looked back into the room as Jarred and the others joined him on the outside and looked upon Dawn; she was looking up at him with trust and belief that he would let her go.

“Drystan?” Dawn whispered, her eyes wide and shining in the candlelight.

“Shut the door,” Drystan ordered Iagan, still watching Dawn as she started to perceive what was happening; he was locking her away.

“No- No, Drystan! Drys-” Dawn’s screaming voice died out at the stone door was sealed and shut leaving her trapped inside and tied to a chair.

Drystan had to save Izzie and couldn’t be worrying about Dawn; he would be back to let her out when everything was over.

“Let’s go,” Drystan turned, unsheathing his sword and ignoring the strange looks the others were giving him.