Henri's p.o.v.
"Where the hell did you get this?!" I asked Sir Clark frantically. He did not look as desperate as I would have liked. I was desperate. Ella had been missing for days now. My unkempt hair and the bags under my eyes bore witness to that.
"A girl gave it to me in the marketplace, sire." Clark said. "I knew enough to get it to you immediately."
I bit my tongue to hold back a sarcastic comment. Then I decided, "Gather four men besides yourself and prepare to ride to Brighton's. If we're lucky we can get there in less than a day."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Dismissed." At my words, Clark spun on his heel and went to carry out my bidding. I turned too, going back to my own quarters to change for the journey. I ran my fingers over the perfectly stitched lettering, and wondered if I could get there in time. As I looked at the message though, I noticed that she had included her last name. Moore. Where had I heard that name before? I changed my course to Father's study. He would know.
I didn't even knock when I entered. Father rolled his eyes at me then kept pouring over the papers on his desk.
"Father." I said to get his attention.
"What is it, Henri?" He didn't even look up.
"Do you know anyone of the last name Moore?" I gaged his reaction. This time he looked up with sad eyes.
"I could never forget that name. Why do you ask? Have you finished looking for that 'Ella' girl yet?" H asked, his voice solemn at first.
"I have received a message from her, and she told me her last name was Moore." I told him.
Father's eyes widened as a look of shock came over his features.
"What is it?!" I asked quickly, approaching his desk. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
"No. It can't be. Ella Moore died in a fire alongside her father." He mumbled.
"Who was Moore?!" I was becoming more anxious for an answer and my aggression was obvious. Father did not answer. Why couldn't he answer me, dammit!
"Thomas Moore was one of the best knights I have ever known." He finally answered in a soft voice. "He saved a battalion all on his own when no other dared to. The man was a hero. He had a daughter, named Ella, but they were both reported dead in an accident fire. But if the Ella we know was really alive—"
I interrupted. "She said her stepmother had hurt her before. Who is her stepmother?!"
"The Lady Tremaine." He answered. "Son, do you know where Ella is? She was named the benefactor of all Moore's money and estates."
"If Lady Tremaine faked Ella's death, she would receive all of the riches Moore left behind. Meanwhile she could use Ella to do all of her bidding." I connected the dots. "And yes. She said she is being held captive by Friedrich Brighton. I was going to leave within the hour—"
"You must go, son. I will summon Lady Tremaine to the palace and talk to her while you do so. Now go!" He commanded me and I ran out the door. I clutched the handkerchief tightly in my hand, thinking. Just hold on a little while longer, Ella.
Ella's p.o.v.
My head hurt. Probably from the little water in my body. Or the blood loss. Both is the likely answer. My wounds were trying to heal themselves and I wasn't doing anything to help that process along. It had been two days since Calista had left. She should be returning soon. Which meant that I would be married to that sadistic pig soon. And the way my body was faring, it didn't look like I could do much to fight the impending future. I hated being so helpless!
I was left alone the entire time, and that was a good thing, in my opinion. If I didn't see them, I couldn't be provoked to do something I would regret later. I should have behaved that night. Then maybe I would have a bedroom I could actually escape from. In this jail cell, I could do nothing, which sucked royally.
Royally.
Henri.
Did he get my message? Would he do anything if he did? I mean, I admitted to liking me, in front of the King, no less, but was I really worth it? Or was I just some fling who provided entertainment for the day? I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had to stop thinking like this. Of course Henri was going to come for me. He wasn't the kind of man to forget about a "damsel in distress." At least, I thought he wasn't.
Then, I heard men yelling in the distance. I sat up straighter, straining my ears for any other sign of noise. It was getting louder. I pushed myself to standing on the cot and try to look out the barred window. Before I could see, though, a wracking cough overcame me. My lungs heaved and I leaned against the wall for support. I was going to catch my death if I stayed down here another night. My nose was running too, and I sniffed every other second, annoying myself to no end. Still, I had to see out that window.
I pushed myself up against the wall, and stood on the tips of my toes. I could just barely watch what was happening. My vantage point let me see out into the woods where part of a road was. A series of horses and their riders had stopped there. I could see the colors of the guard's uniforms, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. They must have been here to help me. Surely, they were!
"Oh, God help me." I murmured.
The crashing of the dungeon's door slamming open and closed brought me down from my hopefulness. One of Brighton's ugly fiends approached my cell, and unlocked the door.
"Get down from there, girlie." He ordered. I did as I was told. As soon as my feet had touched the floor, the brute picked me up around the waist, and slung me over his meaty shoulder. I felt like the perfect rag doll. There was nothing I could do as he ascended the stairs without breaking a sweat. This man was overly strong. And me? I was overly weak at the moment.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Shut it." He practically growled. My head throbbed more as all the blood rushed there because of my awkward position. As we traveled through the hallways I tried to form a plan. My mind was thinking too slowly though, and when the man finally put me down, I was seeing double and nearly tripped over my own feet. I needed a plan! I slowly looked around the room as my vision settled. Brighton stood by a fireplace, one hand on the mantle and the other holding a glass of scotch. He obviously thought his situation was grim.
Placing the glass on the mantle, he turned to me, "How did they know you are here?" Brighton didn't have to explain who they were.
"My men were discreet about who they worked for and you have had no contact with the outside world, so tell me," Brighton paused. "How?"
I shook my head. I didn't have an answer to that. At least, no one that would save me from more pain. That was what I was really focused on. Keeping myself conscious was vital if I wanted to make it out of here alive.
"I can't tell you that." I whispered, knowing full well that if I spoke any louder and harsher, my voice would crack.
"You can, and you will." Brighton drew his sword and leveled it at my stomach. I stared at the blade wearily before replying.
"What are you going to do?" I asked. "You've already abused me. Starved me. Almost had me freeze to death. Is that what you want? My death? Because I assure you sir, my death is just around the corner anyway, and I will die knowing that my death is protecting others."
Nobody moved. A vein on Brighton's forehead grew as he became more frustrated at me. However, not a single word was spoken. I prodded at him further, engaging him in a battle of 'wits'. Anything to buy myself more time before the palace guards could come and save me.
"Are you having second thoughts, Brighton." I provoked. "You're fine hitting women, throwing them 'round, and roughing them up, but as soon as the time comes to do the deed of taking a life, you leave it to your henchmen."
The brute behind me growled. My words were working as the lines on Brighton's face grew deeper, and his face redder. Come on. I thought. What could be taking them this long? I swallowed as I swayed on my feet. Black was starting to creep into the edge of my vision. No. I had to resist. Resist my physical needs and get out of here before more damage was done.
I blinked a few times, not paying attention as Brighton raised his sword and swung. Good news: I reacted in time. Bad news: I ducked out of the way by throwing my body to the right, toppling myself into a table. We both fell, adding to my never-ending list of injuries. Would I ever get a break?
My fall only led to more stars and darkness. I didn't have any more time to spare. If the guards weren't coming to help, I would have to help myself. The only problem was that now, because I was on the floor, I didn't want to get up. How easy would it be to just close my eyes and—No! Can't think like that.
I pushed myself to my hands and knees while Brighton laughed cruelly. If could just get to the fireplace…
"Do you really believe you can make it out of here?" He taunted. I tuned him out. The logs and sticks were crackling with fire and sparks. I just needed to get close enough. I forced myself to move, and inch by inch, I did.
An unexpected kick to the ribs knocked me down again, and I lost vision for all of ten seconds before continuing my way, the three feet ahead of my outstretched hand feeling like a lifetime away. Next came a strip of leather slashing at my back. I choked on my gasp of pain. A knock at the door saved me from another lashing.
"What is it?!" Brighton yelled. The door burst open with another of his men. This one had tried to feel me up at the dinner days ago. This distraction bought me enough time to get me back on my hands and knees and make it the rest of my way.
"Hey! What is she doing?!" I heard someone yell as I grabbed a fire poker and knocked a piece of wood into the room. The heat was intense against my face, but I was determined to set the rom ablaze. The flames latched onto the ornate carpet and furniture, and all the while, I finished seizing the scorched logs from the fireplace. Crawling into the small area, a scream escaped my throat, as I yanked my hands away from the burning hot bricks. My hands appeared red and blistered, and I was breathing heavily through my mouth, inhaling the smoke deeply.
Faintly, I could hear the screaming of the other men. I smiled dimly. I really was Cinderella. They were right all along. But my time in fireplaces helped me know a few things. For instance, this fireplace, because it was in a main room, it was wider. I couldn't escape like I had before, but I could climb the built in "ladder" of sorts meant for chimneysweeps. Hand and foot holds had been carved into the brick when the estate was built.
A cough overcame my body and I pushed myself to my feet. I just had to get to the top. That meant getting to the second floor. Somehow, hand over hand, and foot over foot, I made it. I had to pause every few seconds to catch my breath. The smoke from the burning room below me was escaping just as I was. Up.
It was dark. The soot clogged my throat and eyes. Yet moving until I reached an opening in the chimney, leading off to another room. I crawled my way through, not afraid of the small space. Then I fell a few feet into another fireplace. This was a parlor. Someplace women of dignity used to have tea. I wasn't a lady of dignity or importance. I wasn't even a lady.
I stumbled to the iron paned window, and unlatched it hastily. Momentarily, I had forgotten my fear of heights and falling. Nausea crept into my stomach and my eyesight dimmed. I lurched away from the windowsill.
Then I heard him.
"ELLA!" Henri bellowed, running towards the window. I held desperately to the frame and looked down at him. In all of his glory, he was beautiful. Who would have thought that I could have fallen so appallingly in love with that man? I had never seen a better sight. Unfortunately, I did not like the words that were coming out of his mouth.
"You have to jump, Ella! I will catch you!" He urged. I stared at him as if he were crazy, and believe me, he was.
"I can't!" I cried.
"I would never let you be harmed in any way!" Henri pleaded.
"How can I trust you?" I called hoarsely.
"I can for you, didn't I?" He replied then said, "It was me, Ella. I was the boy who pulled you off of that ledge so many years ago."
I leaned a bit out of the window, "What?"
"It was me." Henri repeated. Could it truly be him? I wondered. He pleaded again, "Ella, the estate is on fire! You must jump. I will catch you. I promise."
I swallowed and set my shaking hands on the windowsill.
"That's it." He encouraged.
I slipped my legs over the edge, so I was sitting on the ledge. I looked to Henri.
"I promise I will catch you." He repeated. I took one more glance behind me. Black smoke was sliding under the door, filling the room.
Then I turned back, closed my eyes, and fell.
