Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

23

"Who shall accompany her? Does His Grace permit it?"

"His Grace is doubtless asleep at this hour. Do you wish to go ask him? My lady must go where she wishes. His stipulation was only that she be accompanied."

"Two men at the least, then."

"Two is enough. She'll remain on the palace grounds. Right, my lady? The place is well-guarded. You will be safe."

Mhera nodded, already wishing that she had simply gone back to bed.

"Very well. We're six of us out here; take Rem and Nallan. Lads, attend to my lady."

Two of the men from outside the doors stepped forward to attend Mhera. They each bowed. Mhera saw one of them look at her face and as quickly away, as if ashamed, and she knew it was because she was not wearing her veil. When she took her permanent vows, she would be bound to the Haven forever; perhaps the veil would feel natural after a time, but she could not bring herself to put it back on that night. She wanted this last moment of freedom to go naked-faced among strangers, to have them see her for who she was beneath all the gray.

These guards seemed absurdly young. In her youth, Mhera had felt as if years separated her from her uncle's men. To her child's eyes they had all been impossibly tall, strong, in the prime of their adult years. Now, an adult herself, she thought these two armed men seemed like stripling boys.

Mhera started forward, throwing her veil over her shoulder so she could pick up her skirt to descend the steps. Outside the palace, the ethereal effect of the moonlight on her surroundings was heightened. The softening beams of light painted a different city; it was peaceful, subdued. The courtyard stretched before her, the pale flagstones seeming to glow. Far to the right were the palace outbuildings, and to the left, wrapping around the palace proper, were the seemingly endless gardens.

In the middle of the lush green expanse of the gardens would be the Tomb of the Sovereigns. Mhera intended to visit her cousin and her aunt before she left the continent, because she was certain she would never return.

Just as they turned in that direction, however, a disturbance at the far end of the courtyard drew Mhera's attention. There was a shout and a metallic clatter, as of something falling onto the flagstones. Mhera stopped, her blood running cold with sudden fear. "What was that?"

The men behind her had already drawn their swords. "Back to the palace, my lady, if you please," said Nallan. He immediately placed himself at Mhera's left hand as she turned back the way she had come, positioning himself between her and potential danger. With one arm outstretched to guide her, he moved with her as she hurried back toward safety. Rem, for his part, had rushed off in the direction of the noises to investigate.

A flare of ruddy light burst into life—a torch. Mhera glanced back and saw a group of nine or ten men rushing into the square. Some waved weapons; others seemed to have grabbed whatever was at hand: a plank, a pitchfork.

"Halt!" Rem cried.

Facing the palace again, Mhera heard the sound of a blow and the clang of metal on metal in the distance. Just as they reached the steps, the men remaining at the door to the palace came rushing down toward them. To avoid being trampled, Mhera stumbled out of their way.

"Inside, my lady! Inside!" Nallan urged her.

"There's more! Bastard rebel sympathizers, they are—look! Captain—the gardens!"

Mhera caught a glimpse of Nallan's wild-eyed face just as he turned away, joining the men rushing from the palace into the courtyard. She looked past the steps to the gardens, where another group of folk with torches could be seen at a distance, coming toward them. Her heart hammering in her breast, she turned away, stumbling over her skirt. But there were more guards now coming from their stations within the palace, pouring out of the palace doors and bristling with arms, and seeing them darting toward her with swords drawn was almost as frightening as the other threat.

Panicked, Mhera ran away from the palace doors in search of shelter, heading along the wall toward the outbuildings and stables. She looked desperately for someplace to hide as she ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but the buildings were all closed and boarded up for the night.

As she rounded the corner and came into the smaller courtyard to the side of the palace, where the embers in the blacksmith's forge still glowed in the night, she saw something she did not remember from her youth. There, some distance ahead, was a door built into the palace wall. It was fashioned of dark wood with heavy bands of metal riveted across it. On either side were tall stone statues carved to look like men; in the darkness, their eyes glittered red as if lit from within.

Mhera ran toward the door with welcome relief. She knew it would lead into the palace. She could get to safety without going back to the courtyard, from whence the shouting and clamor of a true skirmish now came.

She had no time for consideration. She seized the handle with both hands. It was difficult to grasp with her fingers lost inside her trailing sleeves, but she pulled as hard as she could and the door began to slide open.

In her distraction, Mhera did not notice that the stone golems had turned their heads slowly to look down at her, their red eyes aglow.

As soon as the door had opened wide enough to permit her passage, Mhera slipped inside.