Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [108]
Tressalara slid the panel open, grinning in relief. “I can’t believe he was deceived by our ruse!”
Jumping down, she pulled out an enormous length of knotted fabric. Gowns, shifts, sheets, and cloaks had all been tied into a sturdy rope. “To think I believed that learning to knot a fringe was a waste of my time.” She laughed ruefully. “Now help me tie it to the bedpost, and I will make my escape.”
The drop from the tower window to the ground outside the castle walls was precipitous. If Tressalara had not been one to delight in heights and feats of daring, it would have made her dizzy with fear. White water foamed over striated boulders. A fall would mean instant death.
They fed out the makeshift rope and saw that it came woefully short of reaching the ground. Tressalara heard her maid take in a shaky breath. “Don’t be concerned, Elani. I have done this before—in my younger days, you know.”
She bit her lip as an unexpected sting of tears made her eyes smart. How angry her father had been at her reckless disregard! And how proud of her daring. Oh, Father! She dashed her tears away. She must act now and mourn later.
The two young women embraced. The princess looked solemn. “Have no fear that I will abandon you. I will return to rescue you, Elani.”
Clambering to the casement, Tressalara yanked on her rope, testing its strength, then took a deep breath and began her perilous descent. One wrong move and she would be dashed to death on the rocks below. Thank Saint Ethelred that this wall was hidden from the view of anyone inside the castle and that the tall trees of the woods across the river screened her from view of the village.
She reached the end of the rope and let go, springing into a crouch to absorb the shock of impact. She rolled into a tangle of brambles and came up cursing and winded, with dirt on her face and burrs on her ripped smock. Her knuckles were scraped, and a hole was torn in her breeches. All in all, Tressalara was pleased with her appearance. She looked a proper ragamuffin now. No one would suspect that the young urchin, Trev, was actually a princess in disguise.
A princess with a price on her head.
As she slipped into the shadows of the Mystic Forest, Tressalara stopped for one final look at the turrets of the castle. “I will return, Father,” she said, the words both vow and prayer. “I swear it on my life. I shall rally the people and lead an army to reclaim your kingdom.”
Despite Elani’s opinions, she would not need the help of any man to do so.
Niniane paced the Caverns of Mist, snagging her floating white robe on a protruding quartz crystal. She yanked it away impatiently. Her fellow apprentice was supposed to be working on a spell to help Tressalara, but there’d been no sign of him for hours.
The sorceress projected her voice until it filled the caverns. “Illusius, I have grown tired of waiting for your magic to work. I believe you aren’t conjuring at all. In fact, I believe you are just off sulking somewhere!”
“Not so!”
In a puff of dark smoke the apprentice sorcerer appeared not two feet from where Niniane stood. With another wave of his hands, they were both transported to the entrance of the Caverns of Mist in a twinkling. She was very impressed but worked to hide it. “Swaggering coxcomb!”
Illusius glowered. What a tiresome girl she was. Well, this would convince her of his superior powers. “Help is on the way.” He clapped his hands, and the thunder of hooves echoed through the forest. “I ‘called’ Lord Cador, and he has returned from the borderlands! He is meeting with Brand, leader of the rebels.”
A great band of men rode by the hidden cavern mouth. They were not decked out as splendidly as Lector’s men in their black and silver livery emblazoned with the scorpion emblem. Truth to tell, they looked a bit disreputable in their shabby leather jerkins, their humble tunics and cloaks. But here and there the gleam of armor shone beneath their weathered garments, and their eyes were those of warriors.