Songbird Page 3

  “I’m sorry.” She pulled away from him and wiped at the tears on her cheeks, realizing they carried just as much anger as pain.

  He hesitated, uncomfortable with her apology. “Come on then, let’s go.”

  In a gesture of kindness, he motioned her to lead the way, letting her set the pace to work the stiffness from her joints. As she passed him, she sent a fleeting smile of gratitude, and he responded with a tight nod.

  The long walk from the cellar and up several flights of stairs to her room in the north tower took longer than normal, but gave Teya time to gain control of her emotions. Once at her door, the guard let out of breath of relief to be rid of her, and ushered her into Clare’s capable hands.

  Clare rose from her chair in a huff, and sneered at Teya’s hesitation to enter her own room. “Come in, you stupid girl. A fine mess you made of things. You’re lucky they don’t whip you for your disobedience. They should. It might teach you some respect.”

  Teya sighed inwardly and closed her mind to the woman’s unending tirade on her lack of wits. Clare had only been with her a few days, replacing another woman who had loathed her even more. She wondered what Clare had done to displease the king. He had some hold over all of them, but Teya never found out any of the details. Her keepers never stayed with her long enough.

  Teya had learned to cope with their verbal abuse, mostly by not responding. She found that her blank stare could unnerve the best of them, and they always backed off. After all, she wasn’t totally defenseless. The small amount of magic at her disposal was enough to play a few tricks. Along with the rumors, it kept them off balance and wary.

  Of course, it hadn’t always been that way. Her first keeper, Bea had been kind and loving. She had doted on Teya and told her how special she was. Bea had taken on the role of mother, teacher, and mentor, bringing books and conversation to fill the empty hours. But most of all, she had served as a buffer between Teya and the king.

  Bea had been with Teya nearly four years before the king had her executed. A shudder of pain and anger knifed through Teya with the memory. It was her fault. She never should have tried to escape. Since then, her jailors had come and gone, serving their sentences with brutal vigilance no different from Clare.

  After setting a tray of food on the small table, Clare left the room, bolting the door behind her. The sound of that bolt was like a stab of despair through Teya’s heart. Her plan had failed. She was trapped and alone, and would never get out of this prison. Hopeless tears ran down her cheeks.

  As anguish engulfed her, she fell on the bed and let the tears flow. She was tired of her life, tired of being a prisoner. Nothing ever changed. Last night would have been the perfect time to humiliate the king. She had planned to lash out with her magic, no matter how much it hurt, even if it killed her, but the pain was too great and she’d failed.

  In anger, she tugged at the golden circlet around her neck, wishing in vain that it would break. If it wasn’t for this, she’d be free. Using all her strength, she tried to break it, but only accomplished turning her neck red with welts. She closed her hands into tight fists, and pounded against the bed until her anger drained away. Finally giving into exhaustion she collapsed, knowing it was useless to fight anymore.

  Revenge and hope that she could escape had been enough once. It didn’t seem like enough now. Tonight, she would end her captivity in the only way she could. She’d thought of it many times, but never had the courage before. Now, it gave her peace to think she could escape, even if it meant death by her own hand.

  The day turned cloudy, and then started to rain, a reflection of her despair. She spent the time lost in misery and sorrow for the kind of life she’d lived. There was still so much she wanted to do, but she couldn’t go on. This wasn’t living, and she realized she’d been slowly dying every day she’d been held captive.

  By the time evening came, she had bathed and changed her clothes in preparation for her death. It had quit raining, and she opened the windows between the bars to let in the fresh air. Outside it was spring, with the promise of new life, and she breathed deeply, wanting to take it all in one last time.

  Once she was dead, where would her soul go? She could imagine leaving her body behind and flying right out the window. Somehow, that thought gave her an inner peace she hadn’t believed possible, and her mood brightened.

  Clare came with her dinner, setting it on the table with a flourish. “I don’t know what you did to the king, but he’s been in a foul mood all day. You’re lucky to be out of his way. From how he’s been carrying on, he may keep you locked up for a week.”

  That brought a small smile to her lips, and she was grateful it hadn’t been all for nothing. At least she had caused him some humiliation. Then she imagined how upset it would make him to find her dead, and raw satisfaction made her smile even bigger.

  “I hope you think it was worth it,” Clare said.

  Teya glanced at her with surprise. “It was.”

  Clare sat down beside Teya, surprising her even more, and patted her hand. “You never heard this from me,” she whispered. “But I’m glad you did it, and so are plenty of others. You’re not alone. This may come as a surprise, but there are people on your side. Don’t give up.”

  With that Clare swept out of the room, locking the door behind her. Teya’s breath caught. What did she mean by that? Would someone risk their life to rescue her? Impossible! It was a fool’s errand that would only result in death.

  Long buried hope rose in her chest, but Teya tamped it down. She couldn’t allow hope to change her plans. Nothing would come of it. How could it? She was too closely guarded, and allowing herself to believe she could escape would only bring her more pain.

  She sighed deeply and glanced at the tray of food. She was starving, and realized that planning her death had given her an appetite. Why not enjoy her last meal? Picking up her fork, she dove in and ate the light fare with enjoyment.

  However, as the evening passed her euphoria wore off. Thoughts of killing herself were quite different from actually doing it. Without something sharp, the only choices she had to accomplish the task was to either hang herself, or set her clothes on fire. Neither sounded like a good way to go. She’d much rather slit her wrists.

  She spent the next hour looking for something she could use to achieve that, but the only thing she could find was a knitting needle. Would that work? Possibly, but it would take a lot of resolve to shove it through her skin deep enough to do the job. Maybe hanging would be better after all.

  A sheet would do, but figuring out where to hang it was another problem. She opened the closet door and shoved her clothes to either side, exposing the wooden dowel that held them. It was about two inches in diameter, but still didn’t seem strong enough to hold her weight. But what did she know unless she tried it out?

  She pulled the top sheet from her bed and tied the end to the dowel, then held on and lifted her feet. The dowel sagged, but didn’t break. Still, she’d have to tie the sheet around her neck close to the dowel for it to work, and her feet might still touch the ground, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. At last, she had it ready, and stood back to admire her handiwork.

  Not long now and she’d be free. As enticing as that sounded, she wasn’t quite ready to be dead yet. One last look at the stars seemed in order, so she blew out all the candles in the room, leaving the one on the mantle to cast a warm glow.

  She moved to the broad windowsill and made a bed out of her pillows, then sat with her back against the recessed wall. The cool night air wafted over her, and she stared up, hoping to see one last shooting star before she died.

  Her eyelids drooped. Half asleep, she didn’t hear the door to her room open. It shut with a soft click, startling her. She jerked to her feet and found a cloaked man standing inside her room. In the dim light, she recognized the Ambassador from Braemar, and gasped.

  “Shh.” He held a gloved finger to his lips and waited like a coiled spring for seve
ral seconds.

  Teya’s heart beat furiously. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s all right. I’ve come to get you out.”

  “Are you crazy? It’s impossible. You’ll only get yourself killed. Believe me, it’s happened before. You should leave now before you get caught.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t want to be rescued?”

  “Of course I do. But…it won’t work.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry you have so little faith in me, but I assure you, I can get you out.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I have my reasons, and I’ll tell you once we’re away.” He stepped further into the room and pushed his dark cloak back, revealing several tools and a long rope.

  As he moved to the window, she stepped in front of him. “It won’t work. The king has guards everywhere, and I’m watched all the time. We’ll never get out of the palace, let alone the city. They’ll kill you.”

  He considered her for a moment. “I have everything planned to the minute. I can get you out. Do you want to leave?”

  His boldness shocked her, but he waited patiently while she gathered her wits. There was kindness in his eyes, and it was hard not to believe him. “Do you mean to keep me enslaved? Or can you take this off?” She lifted the kundar from her skin, hardly believing that she had the gall to challenge him.

  Here was someone willing to get her out of this hell, and she was bargaining over the kundar? If she went with him, she would be out of her prison with a better chance of getting it off than she had now. She swallowed, regretting that she’d asked, but wouldn’t take it back now.

  He stared at her with surprise. After a pause, he came to a decision. “I can’t guarantee anything. But even with it on, I can promise you more freedom than you have now.”

  “So you can own me?” Defiance laced through her tone.

  “No. That’s not my intention.” Pity and anger creased his brow. “I think the way you’ve been treated here is deplorable, but I have to be able to trust your magic before I can take that thing off.”

  She didn’t mind the anger behind his words, but his pity upset her. “What do you want from me?” She knew there had to be more to it. The risks were too great.

  “I just need your help. After that you’ll be free to do whatever you wish.”

  Right. How could she believe that? He didn’t trust her, but he certainly expected her to trust him.

  “There’s no time,” he said. “Do you want to leave, or not?”

  What choice did she have? None. She had to take the chance. “Yes. But I’ll not be used, ever again. By anyone.” Her voice shook with conviction and she held her breath for his answer.

  “I’ll not use you. I just need your help.”

  His eyes held genuine concern. With a surge of hope, she gave in. “All right.”

  He smiled, and her breath caught at the change in his face. His brow relaxed and the playful crinkles at the corners of his eyes held a promise of friendship. With a shadow of beard covering his strong jaw, and his dark penetrating eyes, he also seemed a bit dangerous. She suddenly hoped trusting him wasn’t based on something as foolish as a handsome face.

  “Good. We’d better get moving.” Looking at the band on his wrist, he announced, “We have sixteen minutes to get out the window and down to the ground before the watchman comes back.”

  He stepped to the window and tested the bars, then took out a tool, which he wedged into the space between them. He rotated the handle on the tool, and the bars began to bend. He spared her a glance. “Put something in your bed to make it look like you’re asleep. Then find some dark clothes to wear.”

  Teya nodded, but could hardly take her eyes off him. Was this really happening? It was like a fantasy dream she had given up on years ago. This man was even more handsome than the one in her dreams. He stopped his work and glanced at her with an arched brow.

  That jolted her out of her stupor and she sprang into action. First, she pulled the sheet down from the dowel, then stuffed it, along with a blanket, under the bedcover. She stepped back to admire her handiwork and a wave of relief that she hadn’t gone through with her plans washed over her. What a mistake that would have been.

  Next, she rummaged through her wardrobe and found her black traveling trousers and the black silky blouse that went with them. Her boots and belt stood in the corner and she grabbed them too, then pulled her closet door partway shut for some privacy to change. She completed the ensemble with a black jacket that would help keep her warm in the cool night air.

  He waited at the window. The two bars from the center of the window now lay at his feet, leaving enough space for them to squeeze through. “Come quickly,” he urged, “and step into this.”

  He bent down, holding a belt with loops that would go around her legs and cinch up at the waist. She stepped into it, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance. As he drew it up her legs to her waist, he stood close enough that her pulse leapt at his touch. It was all she could do to stand still while he pulled the belt tight around her waist. Once he attached the long rope, she stepped away and caught her breath.

  “I’ll lower you down. There’s someone waiting at the bottom. If you can, try to stay facing the wall. Don’t hold onto the rope. Use your hands and feet for leverage. Understand?”

  She swallowed, more afraid than she cared to admit. “Yes, but how are you getting out?”

  “I’ll follow after you.” She hesitated, so he continued. “I won’t drop you. But we need to hurry.”

  Teya took a deep breath and moved to the window. A few minutes ago she would have willingly jumped out the window, so what was there to be afraid of now?

  “Feet first,” he said.

  She nodded and took a deep breath. Then put one leg over the windowsill. Holding the bars tightly, she followed with the other. He firmly held her weight, but it took all of her courage to let go of the bars. When she did, she automatically grabbed for the rope. As he lowered her down, she started to twist and turn. Realizing she could hit her head or shoulders against the wall, she finally released her grip the rope and used her arms and legs the way he’d told her.

  She glanced down to see how much further it was to the ground and her heart picked up speed. What if there wasn’t enough rope? What if he lost his grip? Panicking, she clenched her eyes shut, knowing she had to trust that the ambassador knew what he was doing.

  Enduring a long moment of dread, she opened her eyes again. This time it wasn’t so bad. She caught sight of a man standing just below her. Soon his hands reached for her feet, and guided her safely to the ground.

  “I’ve got you,” his rough voice said. “Now, let’s get that harness off you.” She unbuckled the belt and slipped it off her feet. He took it, and smiled to reassure her, but all she could see were his white teeth in the darkness. “Take cover in those bushes until Bran gets here.”

  He pulled the rope toward him taking the extra slack, and then steadied it. Teya moved back toward the bushes and crouched down to watch the ambassador step out of the window.

  He seemed to have a little trouble squeezing his broad shoulders and head through the bars, but he finally made it out, and soon worked his way down the side of the building. Once he hit the ground, he quickly untied the rope, and his companion pulled it free of the bars.

  With no time to lose, Bran reached for Teya’s hand and led them through the outer gardens to a small building at the back of the grounds. Teya knew this was the gardener’s shed. At Bran’s tap, the door opened and a slight figure in black stepped out.

  “Any trouble?” Bran asked.

  “No. Everything went as planned. Hello Teya.”

  “Clare?”

  “Yes. Sorry about the way I spoke to you, but I had to convince the guards and the king.”

  “Oh,” Teya said, stunned. Now she understood Clare’s words of comfort.

  “This is Jax,” the ambassador said. “And I’m Bran.
” Jax gave a brief nod and Bran continued. “Follow me and try to stay low.”

  She followed Bran, keeping to the edge of a path. They followed it all the way to the far end of the palace grounds. Here, a rock wall separated them from the city, and Teya groaned at the alarming prospect of climbing over it. Jax and Clare moved some dead branches away to reveal a small crawl space under the wall and she sighed with relief.

  Jax ducked through first, followed by Clare. They gave the all-clear sign and Teya went next. The ground was wet and soggy from the rain, and dirt smeared all over her clothes and hands, but she didn’t mind. As she came out on the other side, Clare ushered her across the street into a dark alley.

  Bran soon joined them and nodded to Jax. “Get Clare out of here.”

  “But…” Clare began.

  “No. You can’t go back,” Bran said.

  Clare let out a sigh, then reluctantly agreed. To Jax, he said, “I don’t know how long we’ll be, but watch for us at the inn, and make sure Clare gets back to Braemar safely.”

  “Be careful,” Clare said, then she and Jax quietly slipped into the darkness.

  “Where are we going?” Teya asked.

  “We have to split up. It’s easier this way. Come on, we need to get out of the city before they discover you’re gone.”

  He led her through a maze of back alleys until she was totally turned around. She hadn’t been away from the palace grounds since her capture, so nothing made sense to her anyway. Still, she was out, and this amazed her.

  Why had Bran done this? He said he needed her help, but what did he want her to do? What if it was something terrible? Would he really let her go after she’d helped him, or had he just said that to get her to leave with him? There were many who would pay handsomely for her. Was this a possibility? The thought curdled her stomach. He didn’t seem like the type, but how could she know?