Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was late in the evening. Everyone had locked themselves away in their bedchambers and settled into their beds. Except for Beatrice, who was wide awake in her room and adjusting the dark green velvet cloak around her form.

Beatrice had been planning this since her quarrel with her mother, and she was now ready to do this. She threw the hood over her head and walked to her window. She listened carefully for the guards patrolling below and pursed her lips, flickering her eyes to the keep across the lawn from her. The guard on duty would be switching out with another any moment now.

Beatrice carefully stepped out onto the balcony and tugged on the vines growing alongside the railing. Peering over, she ensured the vines were long enough for her to reach the ground. The men nearby greeted each other, oblivious to her presence above. She smirked and watched the guard atop the keep again. A young male approached the ladder and whistled up at the woman. She glanced down and nodded at him before beginning her descent.

Beatrice took a deep breath. "Now it is your turn, Mar." She closed her hands tightly, forcing back the tangled mess of nerves embedded inside her stomach.

The woman guard's feet touched the grass and turned around. Beatrice bounced on the tips of her toes and bit down on her tongue. 

What is taking Maribel so long?

The young guard was about to start climbing the ladder when the bloodcurdling scream filled the dead silence of the night. And, in perfect unison, every single guard took off toward the sound. Even the young man leaped off the ladder and drew his sword, chasing after the others.

Beatrice sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mar." She hurriedly threw her leg over the railing, then the other, and turned herself around. She clutched one of the vines with her right hand and spared a peek down, though she immediately wished she hadn't.

"Oh, my," she breathed. "This is high. This is incredibly high." She would die from this fall if she slipped. She would break her neck and spine and die.

However, she was not going to allow this pathetic fear to overpower her.

Beatrice held her breath and uncurled her fingers from the small iron spiral. She nearly lost her grip, and the left side of her body dangled for a short while. She mustered her courage and grabbed onto the vine with her other hand. And though her legs continued to sway, she exhaled, knowing she had some better control now.

With that, she held her breath and slid down, her palms burning the entire way. Near the end, she couldn't handle the stinging anymore and released the vine. The height wasn't drastic, but she still landed roughly on her bottom and grunted, feeling the air knocked out of her.

She stayed there a moment, sitting up slowly. Then she rubbed her lower back until she heard voices approaching.

"Whoever that was, they can handle it," someone said. "Not all of us need to be there."

Beatrice gasped and forced herself onto her feet. She spotted two guards heading toward her, their heads down as one of them pulled something out of his pocket. She lifted her skirts and hurried across the lawn to the keep. There, she pressed her back against the stone and waited for the men to pass her before ascending the ladder.

Once at the top, she wasted no time leaping onto the nearest tree. The branches wildly ruffled, and she froze, holding onto the sturdiest one with both arms.

No one seemed to acknowledge the noise, and she released her breath. She climbed down the trunk and crouched as she sneaked away from the guards in front of the castle gate. They were quite oblivious to every noise, making her wonder just how serious they took their positions.