Darkness greeted Prudence and Céleste once they slithered past the secret door and into the cliff. Derek had left a few torches lit, knowing she'd have to come home this way. The flames reflected on the dampened stony walls, showing the steps up. Chunks of rocks and crystals loomed around and above, acting as protection from the outdoors.
The drip-drop of water splattering on the floor accompanied them as they began their trek upwards. Prudence recalled how nauseous she'd been looking down, and that same nausea reanimated realizing the dangers she and Céleste were in. She gripped the sturdy banister and led the way.
Each step was coated in dry stone and marble, spiraling up in a circular pattern. As she climbed, Prudence's heart tightened. Antoine and Sébastien had wandered straight to death; Romain wouldn't be forgiving if he found them. But how to tell Céleste that her fiancé might never be released from the Giromian King's dungeons? How to send her home to her father without her beloved?
"Secret stairs inside a cliff," said Céleste, her voice faint. Her shoes clicked, echoing in the cave-like space, and her hand trembled as Prudence held on to it. "I would have never imagined that."
"I had no idea of their existence until an hour ago," said Prudence, remembering yet another of her mother's secrets.
Prudence panicked on the inside. On her path to the Inn, she'd eavesdropped on citizens claiming a carriage and several riders with Giromian colors had fled via the bridge. Had Pauline failed to catch Romain before he took off? Or were those riders decoys, used as ruses to trick Antoine?
Romain was smart and military-inclined; but Cornelius was the one pulling his strings. Cornelius would have suggested something as dramatic as setting fire to the forest and parts of town to draw Antoine out of hiding, wouldn't he?
It was a trap, flagrant and frightful, yet Prudence had allowed Antoine and Sébastien to rush head first into it. But there was no convincing them otherwise. The brothers were stubborn and sought peace, not war. Sébastien was skilled at keeping his cool and negotiating, but Antoine...
He thinks I have been wronged and will employ violence to defend my honor.
She'd sensed her feelings for him reanimating the instant she'd laid her gaze on him. The moment he'd pulled her deeper into his embrace, all her repressed emotions had exploded in her gut and she'd nearly fainted into his arms.
She'd never stopped loving him, and now was the worst time to figure it out.
"I am sorry for the commotion." Céleste's voice yanked Prudence from her thoughts. "We never anticipated this adventure would turn so perilous."
They weren't even halfway up, and Prudence was already breathless. "How many accompanied you on this adventure?" She heard Romain screeching in her head about armies and gunfire and revenge, and gritted her teeth as she grasped the banister tighter.
"Julia, us, a few dozen guards. Two carriages, one filled with luggage; that is the one the King and I hid in." Céleste's lips pinched, showing how she tried to conceal her amusement. "His idea."
Prudence rolled her eyes. "Naturally. A stupid plan, but one he would have hoped Romain would overlook, thinking him to be wiser."
Céleste snorted. "It was a bit last minute, as we left hours after Charlotte and Jules' wedding."
Prudence halted her climb, winded. Her soul ached as she imagined the fickle, flirtatious Jules uniting with the prim, overly proper, and ever secretive Charlotte.
"No invitation for me?" Her shoulders drooped as she remembered she was no longer a member of their family.
Will I be permitted to attend Céleste's wedding, at least?
"You missed little," said Céleste, taking every step with caution, and tugging Prudence upwards, urging her to continue. "Charlotte sported a huge dress, Prince Jules seemed happy, and the groomsmen wore yellow."
They reached the final round of steps faster than Prudence had expected despite their reduced pace—their bulky gowns slowed them down.
When they arrived at the landing, Prudence signaled the small staircase leading to the trap door. They trudged up, and she pulled the lever Derek had showed her when she'd first entered the tunnel.
The door creaked open, but smoke and fog hit their faces. Céleste coughed, and Prudence stumbled backwards.
"What on earth—" Prudence jerked her cloak over her nose. "Why is it worse up here? Did the fire spread to the castle?" Her tone was muffled by the stale-smelling cloth over her mouth, but she slid outside and took in the scenery.
She couldn't see much ahead of her, in the courtyard. When she spun to check the other way, more smoky clouds blocked her vision. She brushed off her skirts, and someone—appearing out of nowhere—almost hurled into her.
"Hey! You—"
They stumbled into the castle wall, and the person—a woman, from the outline of breasts and an hourglass-like figure under her black cloak—grunted. After adjusting the gray mask over her features, she regained her balance and hastened off before Prudence could grab her.
Céleste began to flutter after her, but Prudence caught her sleeve and held her back. "Did you see her mask?" Prudence cleared her throat. "How are the fumes reaching us up here?"
As the two women linked arms, they waded down the path, towards the courtyard—where everyone else seemed to run to. Several other individuals shimmied past them, all wearing the same charcoal-colored masks and barely paying them any heed.
We are incognito with our hoods up—they have no clue they are slamming into their Princess!
Once they broke into the courtyard, the smoke cleared enough for Prudence to see people darting out the building and jumping into carriages, or atop horses, or hurrying down the bridge on foot. All were riled up and rowdy, shouting, barking orders, screaming senseless sentences that curdled Prudence's blood.
"Get going, fast!"
"We must leave now!"
"What is the matter with everyone?" Prudence perched up on her tiptoes, scanning through the foggy crowd. It was like earlier, when she left with Derek, and yet the situation had shifted, becoming worse. An uncomfortable heat saturated the air, and the fumes, though not as abundant here, were more toxic to her lungs.
What sort of crazy rumor had prompted the nobles and staff to act so irrationally, and why was it so hot?
She braved forward to take a gander at the bridge, and what she viewed chilled her to the core, despite the heat surrounding her.
Flames—bright oranges and blinding yellows—stretched to the right and left of the bridge at the rampart entrance, miles across the way. The fire tried to seep into the city, though miraculously it appeared controlled, kept behind the gates. But still it rampaged along the dark contour of the forest, like streaks of lightning flaring through a midnight sky. The bridge itself was intact, and the arched entryway under the fortifications was clear.
Westten Forest was on fire; so why was everyone fleeing towards it? Was the castle not safer for them?
She waddled closer, risking being trampled by those scampering off towards the thickening fog and suffocating air. Most of these alarmed aristocrats didn't wear masks, but held their cloak collars up over their faces, or cloth kerchiefs over their mouths and noses. Some dared to hop down the steep bridge stairs, determined to get below, to get away.
"Have they lost their minds?" Her fists clenched. "Why are they leaving?" The smoky vapors worsened, as if spilling over her from above, but she couldn't move, stuck in terror as her people turned to insanity. "What is happening?"
She sensed a gentle tap on her shoulder, and Céleste appeared beside her. "You should—"
Prudence snatched her forearm and shoved her behind her. "Stay shielded. I have no inkling what is going on, and I am to keep you safe." She panted, and waves of burning oxygen slithered down her throat, scraping its linings.
"But wait—" Céleste yanked her around and lifted a finger towards the castle, begging Prudence to pay attention. "You want to know what is going on? Look!"
Prudence flipped to what Céleste pointed at—and her heart stopped. The blood pumping to her brain paused. Her knees buckled and her eyesight blurred—and not because of the vapors.
Flames. They curled over the white walls of her home. Flickering drizzles of gold and sunset swished out of several windows, showering the ground in sparks. Some parts hadn't been touched, but as she trailed the surface with her gaze, following the fire's intensity, she detected it seemed harsher from a window to her left, on the second floor—
She'd recognize those white curtains anywhere, even as they turned a burnt brown. She'd imagined them burning only weeks ago, while overwhelmed with her new lodgings, with her new life.
"That is my room!" With a trembling arm, she gestured at the building and held Céleste's wrist so tight she heard the girl hissing in pain. "Did someone knock over a candle? How... what..."
Her saliva was salty, scratchy. She veered to the right and sighted another glob of flames gushing out of a window. She wasn't positive, as she'd never gone inside of it, but according to the tour she'd had, it was another bedroom.
"Oh, heavens... that is Mother's room!" She motioned at the fire roaring out, racing into the night sky.
She lost her footing, but Céleste broke her fall before she toppled into the wet grass. "Careful," said the latter, helping Prudence to stand up straight. "Your room? Your mother's room? Why?"
Fighting the fear and sickness in her belly, Prudence gulped, but couldn't prevent the bile from clogging the top of her throat. "My home was attacked?
Céleste jutted her chin at the crazed folk bolting from the premises. "We should go with them! We cannot stay here, Highness!"
The flames continued to pour out, each crash like thunder in her ears. Prudence couldn't remove her gaze from them as they licked down to where she remembered the chapel and the clergy to be.
"I... my home... I cannot..."
Where was Romain? In all her haze, Prudence refused to believe he'd permit such a diversion to trap Antoine. Set his own home aflame? Set his forest aflame? It made no sense. And why would he do so knowing his mother—
A massive gasp filtered from her sealed lips. "Mother." Adrenaline pumped through her as she knocked Céleste aside and made for the entrance. Her boots splashed in puddles, and more than once she slipped, nearly tumbling onto her face.
Céleste scurried after her. "Do not go in there!"
Prudence flipped around to either grab Céleste and keep her close, or yell at her to move aside.
Instead, she froze, spotting the flames now swarming right above the hidden cliff entrance they'd exited from minutes prior. The orange glow threatened to engulf the entire balcony, but a few guards appeared atop it, heaving huge buckets of water below and onto the windows, desperate to wash away the toxic fire.
The sight of her men fighting the fire gave her seconds of respite—but she still needed to locate her mother.
"Inside. I must get in."
"Please, Princess," said Céleste, crouching as she coughed and shielded her face with her hand. "Do not risk your life! The guards are handling this!" Her timbre was strained, and she sounded older than she was, smoke swirling around her vocal cords.
Prudence pushed through the crowd of those still seeking to depart. The main entrance was wide open, somehow cleared of flames, and as she set her foot on the first step, she pivoted to Céleste, who'd decided to follow her despite her warnings.
"My mother is inside! I am going nowhere until I am sure she is alive!"
•••