Heir
One chance.
Zakari climbed the stairway that would lead him out of the dungeon. In one hand he gripped a knife given to him moments prior by the strange cloaked man who had released him from his cell.
Your mind's too far gone, the man had said as he unshackled Zakari's hands. But you at least have enough sense to follow this simple order, don't you, Tui?
Zakari gritted his teeth as he recalled the man's patronizing remarks. But he couldn't have said anything to defend himself: that man had given him a second chance at life, and he wasn't about to blow it by arguing back.
One chance. That was all Zakari had left to regain his freedom. If he failed to kill the Princess again, then his own life would end.
And he couldn't let that happen. He had to find Haeva and make things right with her.
Maybe he hadn't been the most gentle, caring husband. Maybe he'd done some bad things. But Hosts consume him if he didn't love her with all of his soul. He needed to chase her down.
I never want to see him again.
No, Haeva couldn't have meant that. She had spoken brashly in the heat of the moment: he knew he'd done that to her a time or two during their marriage.
He'd done a lot more than speak harsh words to her. But who was he kidding? Didn't every husband have to use some brute force to get their woman to see sense once and a while?
A burst of clarity came to Zakari, and he paused on the stairs, staring straight ahead in the darkness.
Perhaps… Perhaps she'd spoken that way to him out of fear and not anger! Not fear of him, of course- that wouldn't make any sense- but fear of the King, and what he would do to her if she didn't comply.
Zakari's shoulders loosened slightly. Yes, this had to be it. Haeva had been acting, and was waiting anxiously for him to escape and return to her.
I will escape. Zakari clenched the knife tighter, examined its double edge in the light of a distant lantern far below him. For you, Haeva. I will escape.
Varasach awakened from unsettling nightmares in the dead of night. Gasping, she pushed herself upright, searching with shaking hands for the locket around her neck. She gripped it, sweat beading on her forehead, blood surging hot through her veins.
Vestiges of the dream remained firmly fixed in Varasach's mind: images of lying on a cot in Cyrus' infirmary, sick from hypothermia. Of a faceless doctor placing a mask over her head, assuring her that it would help her breathe, although it only made breathing harder. Of waiting, weeping, in the dark for someone- anyone- to take the mask from her, because she could not grasp its slippery edges, no matter how hard she tried.
Once, Varasach thought, throwing the blankets from her sweaty body, just once I would like to have a good dream.
Her bedroom was quiet, lit only by a bed of glowing coals in the hearth to her left. She squinted in the darkness, and found her Guard seated on the floor beside the door, fast asleep. Were they allowed to sleep while guarding her? Varasach didn't think so- she hadn't ever seen this before, at least- but she didn't have the heart to wake him.
A low whine to her right startled her, and she turned, heart beating doubly fast before she realized what had made the sound. She relaxed and took Pigeon, clearly miffed about being woken at such an hour, into her arms. He flicked his tail in annoyance, but allowed her to hold him close.
"You try to look tough," she murmured, rubbing his shoulders so he stretched out his forelegs, "but you're such a sweet boy."
Pigeon turned his head to sniff her fingers. She touched his nose, which made him sneeze.
"Ah, chomi," Varasach apologized.
The cat shot her a irritated glare and began to groom himself. Varasach sighed, looking to her window. As her eyes focused in the darkness, she realized that small bits of grayish light were trying to reach through her dark curtains. Strange…why would there be light outside in the middle of the night?
Then Varasach realized how eerily silent her room was. She gently pushed the cat off her lap- he promptly curled up on her vacated pillow- and rose to her feet, walking as fast as her weak legs would allow to the window. Placing one hand its the frame to steady herself, she pulled back a curtain and looked outside.
The moon, a pale gray half-circle high in the sky, shined brightly down on the earth, causing the snow to glow. Varasach could see the garden and the trees, barren from the winds which had ravaged them for so many days.
But now, all was calm.
The storm had broken.
Now, Garmadon would massacre the South.
Oh, moons, she swore, and grimaced at the irony. She closed the curtain.
What was she supposed to do? Barge into the King's room and ask, again, for him to give the South mercy? Yes, she and Garmadon seemed to be on decent terms now, but Varasach was certain he would not listen to her pleas in this matter.
But who else could she ask? The Middle Lord Rector? He seemed to be on the King's side in this matter, as was High General Derek.
Varasach paused.
Actually, she knew next to nothing of High General Derek's stance on the upcoming war. If she could find him, could he be persuaded to do the right thing?
Of course, if the Middle soldiers were going to war today, the High General would almost certainly be busy preparing them, not loitering around the King's Keep for Varasach to talk with.
Well, then, could Varasach get a message to him? She supposed she could ask Senai to write a letter asking the High General to see her immediately- and as the King's daughter, he would be compelled to obey.
But the question remained: would he listen to her pleas for peace? Varasach saw the middle-aged man in her mind: the thin, disapproving line of his lips. His pale eyes, looking down on her with condescension.
No, Varasach decided. Derek would not take me seriously.
But what other choice did she have? She definitely didn't have the strength to try running back to the South a second time- and if the way her first escape attempt had gone was any indication, it was better to just stay put and wait for someone to come and rescue her.
But if I wait, will there be anyone left to rescue me? She bit her lip, staring into the faintly glowing coals in her fireplace.
And do I even want to be rescued anymore?
The second question caught her off guard. Yes, she wanted to be see Josi and Driniah and Misako again. She wanted to be free from this bed, and to find people to speak freely about the Way with.
But she also wanted to be with Garmadon. What had once been a bitter, distant relationship with her newfound father now promised to become sweet and close. She had discovered new aspects herself, both good and bad, and had intimated with Garmadon her darkest secret, which, even years afterward, still haunted her dreams.
But the world was in turmoil, and Varasach feared what would happen if she did not stand up and do something.
You placed me here for a reason, she prayed. Please, help me find out what I am supposed to do.
The sleeping Guard behind her snorted in his sleep. She looked at him with pity. She would have to wake him, eventually. It would be embarrassing if her morning Guard, Deniel, eventually came in and saw him fast asleep.
Deniel!
Varasach's heart jolted at the realization.
Deniel had spoken, back on his first day here, about how he had been assigned by High General Derek himself to guard her. That meant that Deniel had at least some access to the the High General. Deniel seemed like a kind man- perhaps he would see the truth of Varasach's words and speak to the High General on the matter?
It wasn't much. But it was worth a shot.
However, Varasach reflected ruefully, I do have to wait for Deniel to arrive. That will be several more hours.
What was she to do in the meantime, then? Go back to bed? Varasach glanced at Pigeon, asleep in a tight ball on her pillow.
Well, she wasn't certain she'd be able to go back to sleep, anyway. Varasach reopened the curtain, looking down on the surreal, gray, snowy garden. A bit of fresh air actually sounded wonderful: she hadn't been outside since before the blizzard began. Not since her journey with Zak. She shivered at the recollection.
Varasach found a latch on the window. She lifted it, and then pushed on the windowpane. It took a bit of strength to move the frozen hinges. They creaked and grated, but gradually relented. Cold air carried into the room on a light breeze; Varasach cringed and looked back at the Guard who somehow managed to stay asleep. The poor man: Varasach would not like staying up all night, either.
She turned her attention back to the window, peeking over the sill. Her bedroom was on the second story: far too high to jump. And she couldn't see herself climbing down the wall. Especially not in her current state.
Varasach noticed two small bits of reddish rope hanging under the sill, barely visible. She would have missed them if not for a breath of wind which made them shiver in the corner of her vision. She pulled on them tentatively: they budged a few inches, revealing that the small bits of rope were wrapped around…was that a stick? Varasach pulled again; more rope, another stick emerged from their hiding place in the wall under the windowsill. The dangling device quivered in the chill breeze.
It's a way down! Varasach realized, smiling with excitement. A…what do they call it…a ladder. She continued feeding out the rope until the end of the ladder nearly touched the ground.
She gave the ropes a firm tug to make sure they were securely fastened, then paused, arms crossed on the cold windowsill, to admire her handiwork.
She had no idea how she would put it away when she was done, but for now, it suited her purposes wonderfully.
Varasach went to her wardrobe. She tugged on a new pair of boots- which had no laces, to her relief- and threw on a heavy cloak over her silken nightclothes. After slipping on a pair of gloves, she shut the large, heavy wardrobe doors and returned to the window. She peeked over the sill again to make sure there were no Guards around. No sign of life- not even footprints, animal or human, in the snow. Perfect. Varasach carefully crawled onto the sill and searched for the first rung of the ladder with the toe of her boot. Her hands shook slightly, but she willed herself to stay calm.
Her foot finally found the ladder. She placed her weight on it, carefully, hands gripping the inside of the windowsill, and then put her other leg on the next rung down.
The ladder shook terribly. Varasach's breath came in thick white plumes, lit by the moon, and her heart pounded in her chest. She closed her eyes, praying that she would not fall.
Why had she thought this was a good idea? Was this really worth it, just for a bit of fresh air? Maybe it was better to just…enjoy the scenery from her open window, nice and safe. No need to put her life at risk- and make Garmadon upset- just for a stroll through the garden in the middle of the night.
Ohhh, moons. If she got caught, that would be the end of all privacy for her. She would have dozens of Guards with their eyes on her at all times.
Against Varasach's better judgement she slowly, carefully inched her right hand from the windowsill to the rope. And then her left. She held on so tightly she feared her hands would cramp.
She took one step down. The ladder quivered, rattled against the brick wall.
Another step.
And then another.
Each foothold gained granted her confidence. Her breathing eventually leveled out as she descended; her heart didn't beat quite so rapidly.
She still held the ropes with a death grip, but that was another matter entirely.
Her left foot unexpectedly stepped into snow, and she gasped, retracting it, hugging the rope ladder as she looked down.
…She was at the bottom already?
Varasach set her foot back into the snow- she sank nearly to the top of her boots before finally finding solid ground- and then put down her other foot. She stared at her hands, willing them to release the ropes. They finally obeyed, and she turned from the ladder to regard the garden.
It looked like something out of a dream. Snow covered everything; even the branches on the small, ornamental trees were hugged by thick, gray blankets of ice. Vara couldn't distinguish the stone path that she had walked over a week ago to get to Lloyd's grave from the rest of the flat white garden.
Varasach paused, frowning at herself. Is that why she'd come out here? To visit her half-brother's grave again? She hadn't consciously considered it before, but now that she was here, it seemed the only reasonable course of action.
She looked back at the ladder. What if a Guard or servant walked by and saw it?
It's the middle of the night, she told herself, and gave the ladder a rueful tug. Who's going to see-
The ladder jerked from her grip and slid, faster than Varasach's eyes could follow, back up the wall and into its hiding place under her second-story window.
…Nobody, apparently, Varasach thought, and crossed her arms, equal parts impressed and frustrated. She'd have to go through the mansion to reach her bedroom again. How was she supposed to do that without getting caught?
Varasach sighed and let her hands fall at her sides. She'd burn that bridge when she got to it. For now, she had to find Lloyd's tree.
She started forward, trudging through the nearly knee-deep snow on what she hoped was a path, and not a flowerbed.
The garden was so beautifully silent. Varasach watched the moon as she walked, admiring its pearly color, as bright as the snow itself. There was no need for a lantern to help her find her way.
Lloyd's maple tree was a small thing compared to the other trees in the garden. Standing at about five feet- slightly shorter than Varasach- its branches were slender and sparse. Varasach ran a gloved finger along one such branch; it quivered under her touch, loosing sparkling ice crystals.
Varasach was still unsure about her feelings regarding her newfound brother's death. She hadn't really known him all that well, though he had seemed like a good man. Mischievous, but nice, with glittering green eyes and a smile warm enough to melt the hardest of hearts. Loud laughter, terrible jokes, strong hugs.
Her father- their father- had raised that boy.
"It hardly seems fair," she said, "that I have survived so much, while you…" She faded, eyes downcast.
Her brother, who had always had everything, now had nothing.
And now she, who had always had nothing, now had everything. She had his home, his crown, his father. Even his dear, stupid cat was hers, now.
And it just wasn't fair.
"I never asked this," she said. "I wanted none of it, and I am sorry. Please, do not be angry with me." She positioned her cloak around herself and sat in the snow, resting her tired legs. "I wish things had turned out differently. I wish you were alive- I think you deserve this so much more than I do. But…but it just wasn't God's Way, I guess." She took a deep breath. Turned her eyes to the trunk of the tree, half buried in snow. How surreal it was to think that her brother's body was down there. He was so close- so, so close to her- and yet so far away.
A light breeze blew through the desolate garden. Varasach drew her cloak tighter around herself; it did a remarkable job of keeping the snow from chilling her where she sat, but wind was another matter altogether.
"I didn't know you well," she said. "But I think I knew you well enough that you would agree." She took a deep breath. Touched her mother's locket where it lay over her nightgown, its dark, beautiful red gem glimmering in the moonlight. "I need to become Queen. Someday. Not now, but…when our father is gone. I need to rule. Maybe Misako can help me. I can stop all the terrible things that are happening to Cyrus, and to all of the Way-followers. Please, Lloyd, I hope you understand. I don't want to take your place. But if it is the Way I have been given, then I must take it."
A hot, tingling sensation surged through her bones without warning. It seemed to reach up her spine and into her head; her heart fluttered, and she inhaled sharply, grimacing, a hand on her chest.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the feeling was gone.
Varasach breathed slowly, deeply, carefully through parted lips, heart hammering in her breast. She glanced about, though the sensation had definitely been internal.
Perhaps it had been a bad idea to come outside. She'd been able to ignore her fatigue up until this point, but now she remembered just how weak she still was: after the climb, and that walk through the garden, and now her body was working hard to keep her from freezing…
I should head back, she thought. This was a bad id-
There was a rustling sound behind her. She tensed, turning to see what had caused the noise.
And then, a bright red light shined between her fingers.
"What-" She gasped and swatted at the light on her chest, trying to get it off of herself. But she realized it was fastened around her neck- the light was coming from her locket!- and she reeled backwards into the snow, crying out in alarm.
Kaeli? a voice that was not her own spoke in her mind.
Varasach froze.
Warm, probing fingers seemed to touch her mind, like a blanket, or a gentle embrace. Varasach trembled, staring in disbelief at the light streaming between her fingers. She wished to throw the thing far from her, but she could not will herself to move.
…Oh, the voice in her head murmured. I see. You're-
The red light in her hand flickered, then went dark.
A different voice- not from inside Varasach's head- spoke behind her.
"Who's out there?"
Varasach let out a breath of relief. It was Deniel's voice. She released the locket and pushed herself with difficulty back to a sitting position.
The locket hanging over her nightclothes remained dark.
Deniel trudged loudly through the snow toward her. "Hey!" There was the sharp hiss of a sword pulled from its sheath. "Stay right where you are. How did-"
"Deniel, it-it's me." Varasach's voice shook as she pulled her hair from her eyes and turned to face him.
Deniel stopped in his tracks, only a few feet from her. He squinted at her in the silvery light, sword glinting in his hand. "Vara?"
"Y-yeah."
Deniel exhaled and slammed his sword back into its sheath. "What in Mena's name are you doing out here? Without your Guard? In the middle of the night, no less!" He paused. "How did you get here?"
"There was…" Varasach struggled to find words. She touched the locket, now cold and silent. "There was a ladder under my window."
"A what?" Deniel glanced at the keep, a vague shape through the tall trees. "I didn't see a ladder…"
"It's not there anymore."
"Did somebody move it?"
"Um… No. It moved itself."
"It moved its…" Deniel stared at Varasach as if she had lost her mind. Perhaps she had.
"I can show you," Varasach said. She planted her palms in the snow and tried without success to push herself back to her feet. Deniel rushed forward.
"Here, Vara. Grab on."
Varasach reached for his outstretched gloved hand. She realized that her own hand was trembling uncontrollably. Deniel grabbed her firmly and helped her to her feet.
"Are you all right?" Deniel asked, brushing snow from her cloak. "You look a little pale." He glanced around the trees. "Did you see that red light? I thought there was a fire over here!"
Varasach nodded.
"You did see it?"
Another nod.
"What was it?"
"I…don't know. Not fire."
Varasach felt the locket's weight around her neck. She still longed to take it off and throw it far, far away from herself. But its voice- its words- lingered in her memory.
It knew my mother's name.
What are you? she asked in her mind.
"Vara?" Deniel gently took her arm. She gave a start and jerked away. "Hey- hey, are you all right?"
Breathlessly, Varasach nodded. She gripped his hand. Deniel squeezed back.
"Where's your night Guard? He didn't come out here with you?"
"He is asleep."
"Asleep?" Deniel repeated incredulously. He glanced back at the keep, brows low over his eyes.
"Was anyone else out here with you?" he asked finally.
"N-no."
"You're sure?" Deniel faced her. "Vara, this is important! Please tell me the truth."
"I was alone," Varasach insisted. "I just…I saw the storm was over, and I wanted to walk-"
"You can't do that!"
His harsh tone took Varasach aback. She gasped.
Deniel sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "Listen to me, Vara. You're the Princess. You've already managed to get kidnapped once. It's not safe for you to be alone; you've been told so multiple times. How do you not understand?"
"I…I'm sorry," Varasach murmured.
The creases on Deniel's forehead softened. "I forgive you," he said. "I'm sorry, I know that was harsh. But this is a serious situation." He sighed. "I'll make you a deal."
"A deal?"
"Yeah. I'll get you back up to your room secretly. No one- not even your father- has to know that you…er, climbed a disappearing ladder through your window and were gallivanting through the garden with a mysterious red light. And in exchange…"
"Yes?" Varasach prompted.
"You never do this again," Deniel said. Then he smiled. "Or, at least have someone fetch me so I can escort you on your secret walks." He glanced at his hand, still clasped in hers. "Oh, look. It appears we've already shook." He bowed. "Nice doing business with you, Princess."
"H-hey!" Varasach exclaimed.
Deniel chuckled. He appeared distracted, though, as he glanced around the trees once more. "We'd better get you back to your room," he said. "Hosts, you never should have left. I'm glad I found you before anything happened. That light…"
Deniel guided her away from Lloyd's tree. She glanced back; the tree's branches shivered with a soft gust of wind, as if waving farewell. Varasach stared numbly; she touched Kaeli's locket again.
"Can you show me where the ladder is?" Deniel asked when they neared the keep. "Or, was?"
"Yes." Varasach pointed up at her window- which was only distinguishable from all the other windows on the second level by the fact that it was still open. "It was made of rope. It's rolled up under my window."
"It rolled up itself?" Deniel asked, forehead once again creased.
"Yes. After I pulled on it." She paused. "All the windows don't have those?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Deniel said quietly. Then he laughed softly. "Ah, of course. It's Prince Lloyd's old room. He probably built the ladder himself, as a way to sneak out when he was grounded." He shook his head ruefully. "That kid was a handful." He gave Varasach a sidelong glance and winked. "It's not hard to see how you two are related."
Varasach blushed. They continued walking through the snow toward the garden doors.
"Why are you here?" she asked after a minute.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's not morning. You don't need to be guarding me yet. How did you find me out here?"
"Oh! I have the night shift in the garden," Deniel explained.
"You're up all night?"
"Heh. I guess so." He shrugged. "I have the garden shift from nine in the evening 'till three in the morning. Then I take a 'lunch' break and go to my Princess shift- that's you- until ten in the morning."
"Do you ever sleep?" Varasach asked, horrified.
"Heh. Yeah. I go home after my shift with you and eat 'dinner,' then go to bed around eleven in the morning."
"That sounds terrible," Varasach said.
"It's not all bad," Deniel defended himself, looking amused. "Gives one lots of time to read. And avoid people. And look at the stars." He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly, still smiling. "Moons, it's good to see the stars again."
Varasach hadn't noticed the stars until now. She looked up and saw them twinkling, dancing merrily around the moon.
"I mean, it's…" Deniel shrugged. "It's good to see the stars again. But I also kind of wish that the blizzard was still blowing."
Varasach tilted her head up at him curiously. "Why?"
The light was dim, but Varasach swore she saw his face redden slightly.
"I just…don't really like the war, I guess," he muttered. "I mean, my grandfather says that the South has already surrendered. Why aren't we showing them mercy? It makes no sense. I don't like it." He shook his head. "I don't like any of this."
"I don't, either," Varasach said. Her shoulders loosened; she lost a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying.
After all her anxiety and fearing she was alone, she finally had an ally.
"Is there anything we can do to stop it?" she asked.
"Not without more violence," Deniel said grimly. "All the heads of government agree with the King- even Regent Santi in the North. I was sure he, at least, would be sympathetic to the South's cause, but he's pledged troops to help the King fight."
"What about High General Derek?" Varasach asked.
"No. I've already tried talking to him."
"Oh." Varasach bit back a disappointed sigh.
"I'm assuming you've tried talking to your father?" Deniel asked.
"Yes."
"Argh…" Deniel rubbed his forehead. "Hosts, you'd think we, at least, would be able to do something about this! They expect us to take charge and be leaders, but then treat us like children."
"Yes," Varasach agreed sadly, but paused to ponder his wording. He is expected to be a leader, too?
They reached the glass garden doors. Deniel pulled one of them open and held it for Varasach.
"Thank you," she said, and walked through.
She hadn't realized just how cold she was until Deniel shut the door, closing out the cold. She shivered and drew back the hood of her cloak, letting the warm air waft through her curls.
"No need to linger here," Deniel whispered, a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Let's get you back to your room quickly. Before you're seen."
"Okay." Varasach gestured back at the doors. "Aren't there usually two Guards here?"
"Yes, but the High General cut back on the keep's defenses yesterday," Deniel explained. "He wants as many men as possible on the front lines in the South today. Which is another reason why we should hurry: I'm the only one guarding the garden entrance. And if someone with bad intentions gets in- or out- on my watch, I'm in big trouble…"
They made their way down the hall and into the main foyer without any resistance. Varasach paused at the stairs to the second floor, knees shaking.
"You okay?" Deniel asked; his quiet voice echoed faintly in the large, open room. A crackling hearth across the room behind them offered the only light.
"Yeah," Varasach answered, and started to climb. Deniel followed close behind.
"Try not to walk so loudly," he whispered.
"Sorry." Varasach stepped carefully in her boots, taking the stairs as fast as she could in her weakened state. The burns on her feet began to ache; she hoped the doctor wouldn't notice that she'd been walking longer than the time he'd allotted for her.
"You good?" Deniel asked when she paused on the landing halfway to the second floor, and glanced around nervously. Distant firelight shimmered in his narrowed blue eyes.
Varasach nodded, gasping as silently as she could. In and out her chest heaved, burning in a way that could not be healthy. She screwed her eyes shut, holding the shiny wooden railing so her legs would not collapse beneath her.
"Here." Deniel took her arm and slung it over his shoulders. Wrapping his other arm around her midsection to support her, he murmured, "Is that better?"
Varasach nodded, too breathless to dare try speaking, and they continued more quickly up the second half of the flight of stairs.
In truth, the angle at which he held her arm hurt her burned skin. But she said nothing: she knew the risks he was taking. He didn't have to help her in secret: he could have loudly dragged her back into the keep, proclaiming for all to hear that he'd caught the Princess disobeying a direct order to stay with her Guard at all times.
But he hadn't done that, and Varasach was grateful. So she did not complain.
They finally reached the wide hall at the top of the stairs. They went right, and continued at a good pace past all of the various articles decorating the walls, barely visible in the dark.
There was a light up ahead as a door near the end of the hall opened. Without missing a beat Deniel pulled Varasach to the left, where he jerked on the nearest door handle. "Locked," he muttered, and glanced back down the hall. He cursed. Varasach barely suppressed a gasp.
"…still don't feel that this is the best course of action," Garmadon was saying as he left his study, followed by Lord Rector Waren. He shut the door, and the hallway was once again dark. The Lord Rector answered in a quiet, unintelligible voice.
What were the two of them doing here in the middle of the night?
"We need to hide," Varasach hissed.
"Yeah." Deniel pushed them both against the wall. Considering their predicament, he looked far too calm. "They won't see us if you hold still." He quickly flipped up the hood of her cloak, hiding her face in shadows.
Hold still. Varasach stiffened, her back pressed against the locked door. Yeah, she could do that. She'd been doing that her whole life. Hold still, pretend she wasn't there. Hiding, waiting for the danger to pass…
Oh, God, please… Specks of light filled her vision, spinning like stars, and her head fogged as though it was filled with mud; she would have collapsed if not for Deniel's hand, still gripping her around the middle. Please, no. We cannot get caught!
"Of course, Lord Rector." The King sounded resigned about whatever the Lord Rector had said. They traveled without another word down the dark hall toward Deniel and Varasach.
Varasach held her breath as they drew close. The pair were hunched and weary; they looked as though they had not slept a wink yet that night, despite the fact that it was nearly morning. The Lord Rector looked straight forward. Garmadon's head was down.
They came within a dozen paces of Deniel and Varasach.
Six paces.
There was a heavy, solid slapping sound right as the King and Lord Rector stepped in front of Varasach and Deniel.
"Son of a-!" The Lord Rector reeled backwards, cupping his nose in both hands, shouting a long string of words which Varasach did not understand. Deniel clapped a silent hand over his mouth.
"Lord- Lord Rector!" Garmadon exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
The Lord Rector calmed himself and waved Garmadon away. He touched his nose tentatively, then looked at his hands. "I… I ran into something," he said, and glared at the empty hallway before him.
"There's nothing there, Lord Rector."
"My nose is bleeding, Garmadon! Don't tell me that there isn't something there!"
"But…there isn't, Lord Rector," Garmadon said slowly, and stepped toward Varasach. Still not daring to breathe, she shrank even further into Deniel's shadow, hoping beyond hope that they would not be seen.
Garmadon looked directly at her.
And then he looked away.
"See?" he said, and gestured with a wide sweep of his hand. "There's nothing here."
The Lord Rector followed Garmadon's hand, also briefly eying Varasach.
Not me, Varasach realized. He's looking through me. At the door.
The Lord Rector harrumphed. "I know I hit something," he muttered, dabbing his nose with a handkerchief. "My nose-"
"I don't doubt your bleeding nose, Lord Rector, I'm simply saying that there's nothing here. Perhaps you should visit a doctor…" He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and led him further down the hall. The Lord Rector glanced back angrily, but acquiesced.
It wasn't until they descended the stairs that Varasach finally allowed herself to breathe. She stepped away from Deniel with shaking legs- she hadn't realized they had been standing so close together- and leaned against the wall, terrified, confused, and nauseous.
What in the name of the thirteen moons had just happened?
Did it have something to do with how Kaeli's locket had glowed and spoken to her in the garden?
"Are you okay?" Deniel asked. His voice sounded strained.
Varasach wasn't sure whether she should nod, shake her head, or faint.
Deniel never gave her time to decide. Grabbing her arm, he all but dragged down the final stretch to her bedroom. He threw the door open with his free hand, pulled her inside, and shut the door.
And then he covered his mouth again and doubled over, roaring with laughter. Varasach stepped back, dumbfounded.
"That-" Deniel chortled. "That was the funniest…" Leaning against the wall, he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "I have never heard my grandfather swear like that before!"
"Your…grandfather?"
"Ye-yeah. You didn't know? The Lord Rector is my grandfather." Deniel slapped his knee. "My grandfather, the most important and pious Priest in all three realms, swearing like a shady merchant!"
Varasach stared at him in shock.
He was the Lord Rector's grandson.
Deniel was the Lord Rector's grandson! The man who had been next in line to take the throne, until Varasach showed up.
It all made sense now: Garmadon disliked Deniel because, should Varasach not become Queen, he would be the one to take the throne, thus putting an end to the green-eyed dynasty.
Varasach's legs finally gave way. She sank to her knees on the carpet next to her sleeping Guard. Darkness flooded her vision. Her heart hammered rapidly and unsteadily under her mother's locket.
Deniel sobered. "Oh, Hosts… I'm sorry. You don't look well." Kneeling beside her, he unfastened her cloak and threw it aside with her gloves. Hooking his arms under her shoulders and knees, he lifted her- in spite of her weak protests- and carried her to the bed. He set her down carefully. Glancing back at the sleeping Guard, he hastily pulled off Varasach's boots. "I'll put your things away for you," he said. "I can't hide that they're a bit damp from the snow, though… Try to keep your servant out of the wardrobe for a while. Do you need anything before I go?" He pulled Varasach's blankets over her body and she buried herself in their folds gratefully; the soft, plush coverings gave her an odd sense of comfort and calmed her pounding heart somewhat.
The blankets were cold, though, and she shivered.
"Can you shut the window?" she asked. It hadn't been a good idea to leave it gaping open like that.
"Ah, yeah," Deniel said, and went to pull it shut. He poked his head outside. "Hey, where's the… Oh. I found your ladder." He pulled his head back in.. "I'm impressed that you were able to climb a rope ladder in your current…eh, state of health. Those things are awful."
"It wasn't so bad." Varasach flushed, remembering how terrified she had been while climbing down the shaky ladder. But he didn't need to know about that.
"Heh." Deniel shut the window. "Well, I suggest not telling anyone about this way out."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not safe," Deniel said. "If the King learned about the ladder, he'd probably have it removed. But I think it's a good idea for you to have a way to escape, if necessary."
"Why would I need to escape from this room?" Varasach asked.
"Well…" Deniel shrugged. "There are many reasons. A fire. Or if you're running from an attacker."
Deniel drew the curtains closed, then went to throw more wood on the fire.
"Of course," Deniel said eventually, and returned to the bed. "There's a lot going on that I don't understand… What did the Lord Rector run into in the hallway? And what was that red light? I swear, it was right by you! I could see it from the garden doors; I'm surprised no one else saw it and came to check it out. You're sure you didn't see what it was?"
Varasach hesitated. Then, she lifted up her locket.
Deniel frowned. "I've seen you wearing that before. What is it?"
"I don't know," Varasach admitted. "The Lord Rector gave it to me. He said it was my mother's."
Deniel sat on the bed and leaned in, taking the locket to examine it. "It's got a red stone," he said. "Is this what made the light?"
"I think so." Varasach's face flushed. "It, um, talked to me."
"It what?"
"It said my mother's name. It started to say more, but then you came."
"Hmm." Deniel turned it over in his hand, forehead creased. "What's inside of it?"
"I don't know. It doesn't open."
Deniel pondered this for a minute. Then he reached around Varasach's neck- she tensed at the sudden move- and undid its clasp.
"Don't wear this anymore," Deniel said. "Not until you find out more. Maybe ask my grandfather." He set the locket and its chain in her hand.
"But he's the one who gave it to me," Varasach reminded him. "Wouldn't he have told me if he knew it could do these things?" Another thought occurred to her. "And why did it not speak to me until tonight? I've had it for a week, now."
"I don't know," Deniel admitted. "But I stand by my word; ask the Lord Rector. Maybe your father, too. Has he looked at it? I mean…" He scratched the back of his head, looking away. "He did know your mother. Maybe he'll recognize it, since it used to belong to her."
Deniel stood. "I've already been here too long," he said. "I should get back. I'll return for my shift in a few hours, though."
"Thank you," Varasach said. "For bringing me back."
"You're welcome." Deniel winked and walked backwards toward the door. "Remember our deal, Princess."
"Yes," Varasach answered as he knelt before the sleeping Guard on the floor.
"Hey," Deniel said. "Didn't get enough sleep this afternoon, or what? Hey!" He shook the man's shoulders.
There was no response. Deniel frowned.
Varasach sat upright. "What's wrong with him?"
Deniel grabbed the man's wrist and felt for his pulse. "Well, he's alive…" He took the man's canteen from his belt and sniffed its contents. His jaw tightened, and he stood, carefully screwing the cap back on.
"I think he's been drugged."
You guys, I feel terrible right now. I failed to mention in the last chapter that my dear friend, StoneByrd, helped me beta the last chapter. That was a huge help. (I know you probably don't think it's a big deal, but it's a big deal to me. I'm sorry D: Thank you so much for your help, sis)