“They’re going to kill Rudolf, aren’t they?” I whispered.
“Yes.” He wrapped his arms around me as we rode in the darkness.
I’d folded my mother’s letter into a thick square and squeezed it in my hand. What had she written in the letter? When had she written it? Did she know she was going to be murdered? Did it say anything about Rudolf? The urge to rip open the letter and read it was almost too much to bear, but I wanted to read my mother’s words in private.
We fell into companionable silence as we rode toward Rika. Time seemed to pass quickly—I was too caught up in the night’s events to relax.
Marc slowed the mare to a trot.
A torch blazed between the trees a short distance from the road. Stephan, Ivan, Vlad, and the others slowed as Marc moved to the front of our group.
“Hello?”
“You certainly did burn down the house on your way out.” Henrik stepped out from behind a tree.
“You know how I love to make a statement.” Marc laughed.
“That was some statement.” Henrik patted our mare’s neck. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it out.”
“We almost didn’t.”
Henrik helped me to the ground and then lifted a hand to his brother. Marc slid off the horse with a grimace. He was still in a significant amount of pain from the lashings. How had he managed to climb all the way up to Radek’s bedroom? Or fight with a sword?
The brothers embraced. Henrik was careful of Marc’s wounds.
“Thank you,” Marc whispered to his brother. “Thank you.”
Henrik turned and handed me the dragon dagger. “I didn’t need to trade the gems away. Stephan came cheap.” He grinned. “I had half a plan in place when Ruzena showed up with the dagger, but I didn’t know where they were keeping Marc or how much time I had. Your information was invaluable. Thank you, Mila. You saved my brother’s life.” He kissed the top of my head.
“Thank you,” I said. “I was worried you wouldn’t get the message.”
“We’re safe now.” Henrik glanced down at my skimpy nightgown. “Should I even ask?”
“No.”
“I have the cloak you gave me packed with my things. I’ll get it for you.”
A group of people emerged from behind the trees—peasants and servants from the castle. They swarmed us in congratulations. We’d done it. We’d broken Marc out of prison and escaped the castle.
A small blond woman ran to us.
Ruzena.
“Marc! You’re alive!” She raced past me like I didn’t exist and embraced Marc. Her arms clamped around his back.
He winced. “Hi, Ruzena.”
“I was so worried they wouldn’t save you in time!”
Marc patted the top of her head and unattached himself from her death grip. “I heard about what you did. Thank you. And thank you for getting all of those people out of the castle.”
She grinned. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“We’re all safe now.” Marc smiled and Ruzena beamed back at him.
He reached down to take my hand and the smile slid from her face.
“Will you see that the others are all right?” Marc asked Ruzena. “And can you find a dress that will fit Ludmila? She doesn’t have any clothes with her.”
Ruzena finally acknowledged me. She didn’t bow, but she inclined her head. “Duchess.”
“She’s not the duchess,” Marc said.
“But she married—”
“She’s not the duchess. Call her Mila.”
“Of course,” she whispered.
But I was the duchess. I was the princess.
Marc guided me away from the former kitchen servant. Ruzena’s cold, hard stare pierced through me. It was a reminder that I’d have to keep my eyes open, even out here among friends and allies.
The group flocked around Marc and me, smiling and patting us on the shoulders. I searched the crowd for Branka, but I couldn’t find her.
“What’s the matter?” Marc asked.
“I don’t see Branka. Do you?”
Marc scanned the crowd, but we couldn’t find her.
Henrik handed me my cloak. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you see Branka?” I asked.
Henrik frowned. “She wasn’t in her room, Mila. I’m sorry. I looked for her, but I couldn’t find her.”
I swallowed. “Do you think she’s—”
“It only means she wasn’t where Henrik went to look for her,” Marc said. “That’s all. Don’t worry. We’ll get Branka and the others out of Prague. We’ll find her.”
“I know, but Radek,” I whispered. “And my father. If they—”
“Maybe she already left the castle,” Henrik said. “Maybe she sensed the danger.”
There was a chance. Hadn’t I begged her to leave? Maybe she’d slipped out after she gave Leticia the knife. Maybe it was her plan all along. Save me and then escape.
“If she’s in Prague, we’ll find her,” Marc promised.
“Now that we’re all assembled here, we need to leave,” Henrik said. “We can use the night to put distance between us and the castle. They won’t come after us until the morning.”
Most of the group of thirty or so peasants who had escaped with Henrik and Ruzena were women and children. It wasn’t a group that could risk running into the king’s army. We needed to get as far away from Prague as possible.
“Double up on horses,” Marc said. “Make certain the older women are riding. Let’s head out.”
“Where are we going?” I slipped the cloak on over my body.
“To Kladno,” Henrik answered. “My father and uncle are there. It’s become headquarters for us this past week. I arranged for all of our weapons to be transported there. The plan was that once we freed Marc, we’d go there to regroup.”
“Headquarters?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I was walking in my mother’s rebellious footsteps. I would finish what she started.
Marc brought our intertwined hands together and kissed the back of my hand. “People are waiting for us there. Allies. Peasants. Protestants. Defectors of the Crown and the Catholic Church. It’s the headquarters of the rebellion.”
Mila will return in
A FOREST OF WOLVES
THE UPRISING, BOOK TWO
A Lyrical e-book on sale September 2016.
Photo by Jenny Williams: Whimsy Willow Photography
Chelsea Luna received a Juris Doctor from New York Law School and a BA in sociology, with a concentration in criminal justice, from the University of Tennessee. Chelsea is also the author of the Amazon bestselling New England Witch Chronicles, a young adult paranormal romance series comprising four novels. Chelsea is an attorney and lives in Tennessee with her son. For more information, please visit: www.chelsealunaauthor.com.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2016 by Chelsea Luna
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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First Electronic Edition: March 2016
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3509-3
First Print Edition: March 2016
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-510-9
ISBN-10: 1-60183-510-8
Chelsea Luna, Lions in the Garden
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