Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [112]
Cador slanted a look her way. “Yes, lad. And pigs fly.”
“But she is still the rightful ruler of Amelonia,” Brand said quietly. “Lector will never sit upon the dragon throne.”
His words, which fell into a sudden silence, the sign for which the spy had been waiting. The man in the russet cloak jumped up, sword drawn. “Death to Cador and the rebels!”
At his signal, Lector’s men-at-arms stormed into the inn, and a wild melee broke loose. Tressalara had no time to see more than Cador and Brand lunging across the room, weapons in hand. Quick as a wink she was out the window and running for the stables.
She said silent thanks to Jeday and her old groom for teaching her to be resourceful. The second stall held a fine mare, a roan with a white blaze on her forehead. The bonus of a black and silver cloak in the saddlebag was a pleasant surprise. She threw the saddle and bridle on with ease of practice and tightened the girth, then swung herself up.
Cador and his men had found reinforcements in the others at the inn. Lector’s men were being pushed backward to the door, but it was an unequal fight. More of Lector’s troops were pouring out of the woods. Cador and his men were doomed.
Wisdom urged her to flee toward the main road. Something else turned her back toward the inn. Tressalara convinced herself it was the opportunity to do Lector a bad turn—and if the usurper was busy fighting outlaws, he would have less time to concentrate on finding her.
Wrapping the black and silver cloak around her, she rode up to the front door, where a soldier stood guard against any escapees. “Ho, there! I am a courier sent by Lord Lector. Follow me!” she shouted. “The Princess Tressalara is escaping on horseback along the river road! All troops are enjoined to capture her!”
Round and round the inn she rode, calling out her “news.” Their captain, hearing her cries, called retreat. They scrambled to the wood where they’d hidden their mounts, then rode off after Tressalara.
It had been years since she’d ridden through the Mystic Forest, but Tressalara’s memory was excellent. She led Lector’s troops a merry ride through myriad twisting paths, luring them ever deeper and doubling back until they were totally confused in the darkness.
When they were hopelessly lost, she dropped back and threw off her cloak, then grabbed the branch of an overhanging tree. Her riderless horse ran on. She clambered over to a wider limb and sat hidden in the foliage, her legs hanging free. She was worse off than ever now, for the soldiers would recognize her face if they spied her again. Her hands were scraped from the bark, she had no place to go, and an army was looking for her.
She had never felt so alive.
At the sound of approaching hooves from the road behind her, she drew her legs back up and waited breathlessly. The rider reined in beneath her. Moonlight filtering through the dense leaves showed a hawklike face haloed by golden hair. “Cador!”
“You are a fool, young Trev, but I have never known a braver fool!” He held out his arms for her to jump. “Come. There is no time to waste.”
She hesitated, but sounds from near at hand told that Lector’s men were returning. Tressalara jumped.
He caught her easily in his strong clasp, wheeled his midnight-black horse about, and set off at a gallop. She felt secure and sheltered, protected by his presence, despite their peril. He seemed to know the forest well, running through the velvety stretches beneath the most ancient trees and avoiding the scrub and brambles under the younger growth. Then they reached the open meadowlands deep in the heart of the woods.
Urged on by Cador, the great gelding flew across the wild heath as if it had wings. Tressalara’s blood sang with the excitement of adventure. Every sense was alert, and her whole body tingled. In the distance, light reflected off the dark waters of Mystic Lake, the place where legend said the Andun Crystal had been found in ages past. As they neared, a luminous mist rose from the lake