When they reached the door leading to the tower, he motioned for them to open it. He knew Alix was above him, for he’d sensed her going up the stairs. Why would she go to the tower, though? There was no way out from there.
The knight opened the door, a sword in his free hand, and then backed away.
A torch bracketed to the wall revealed Cecily sprawled on the first steps, a dagger still in her ribs. He recognized the hilt on the blade—it bore the symbol of the Elder King. All the knights of the castle had one. He’d seen it a hundred times. Blood had soaked her dress.
No! Ransom hurried to her side, seeing her eyes still partly open. Had she died already?
“Ransom?” she whispered, her brow twitching.
“Get the night watch here! Now!” Ransom ordered, and one of the knights rushed away and began to shout the alarm.
Alix was nearly to the top. He grabbed the arm of the other knight. “She’s up there.”
“I’ll go,” said the knight with determination.
“She’ll kill you,” Ransom said. “But the prince . . . the princess . . . Cecily, are they here?”
He looked at her face and saw her nod once.
“Ran from her . . . needed . . . keep them safe.”
The knight began to run up the steps, sword in hand.
Ransom just gazed at her for a moment. She’d lost so much blood already. The wound was fatal. His heart panged. No—he couldn’t let her die. The Ondine had suggested he would have to forfeit his life. When he hadn’t fallen in battle, he’d thought there was a reprieve, but he’d only let himself believe that because he had so badly wanted it to be true. Drawing his sword, Ransom leaned it against the wall and unbuckled the scabbard.
“Tell . . . Dawson . . .” she whispered.
He would need the scabbard facing Alix. But Cecily needed it more. “You will live!” he said firmly. “You will go to the poisoner school, and you will protect the Argentines from such treachery in the future. And you and Dawson will be married. I swear it.” He left the belt attached and pressed the scabbard against her bosom. He placed her hand atop it to hold it there, and the raven sigil sparked to life once again.
Pain flared from his leg, and blood began to seep from his pants. He tugged his belt loose and wrapped it around his leg, tightening it to the point of it aching. He cinched the leather strap and then rose, pressing his hand against the wall.
Cecily’s head lolled to the side, but he saw her chest rise and fall, the scabbard going up and down with it. He pulled the dagger from her ribs, and no surge of blood came. He grabbed his bastard sword with the other hand and started up the stairs.
Why was he in the tower? How had Alix escaped the dungeon? He couldn’t comprehend how anyone could have been so careless as to set her free. Or maybe one of the Espion was secretly loyal to Occitania? His mind was a jumble, but he knew his path. With his leg screaming in pain, he lurched up the steps, taking them two at a time.
A shout of surprise came from above, and the knight who’d ran ahead came plummeting down the shaft of the tower. Ransom saw his body go rushing by, something that happened too quickly for him to intervene, and then there was a sickening noise as the knight landed on the paving stones at the base of the tower.
Ransom looked up into the darkness. “Alix!” he shouted.
He grunted as he continued up the stairs, his chest heaving with the exertion. A bitter taste came into his mouth again. He gritted his teeth, stumbling into the wall of the tower. One wrong step, and it might all end now, before he even reached them. Slow. He was too slow.
Sweat streaking down his back, he found himself thinking of the previous occasions he’d climbed this tower. He’d come to this very tower to visit Claire. Claire and Emiloh. Now the former queen’s daughter was out to destroy the last of the Argentines.
He couldn’t let her. Whatever it cost.
When he reached the upper landing, the door at the top of the tower was already open. He sensed Alix in the chamber beyond it and charged forward. His leg spasmed, and he nearly collapsed, but through sheer strength of will he kept himself up.
Alix stood at the far side of the room, facing Emiloh’s old bed. The curtains of the bed had been yanked aside, and the only light came from the balcony window. The moon was a silent witness to the scene.
The poisoner turned to face him, her mouth a snarl of frustration.
“You will not stop me,” she said threateningly.
“I must,” he said, shaking his head. He feinted with the sword and lunged at her with the dagger.
She dodged the blow and kicked his injured leg, making him hiss in pain as he dropped to one knee. Wrenching his arm, she forced him to drop the dagger and jabbed her fingers into his throat. He couldn’t breathe.
Ransom grabbed her by the fabric of her dress and yanked her down to the floor. He lifted his sword to finish her off, but she landed a kick to his groin that made him double over in pain.
She swept free of him, kicking him in the temple to knock him down to the floor.
Then she yanked up the bedcover and dropped low, looking in the darkness beneath the bed. He was gasping, struggling to breathe, but from his position, he saw the underside of the bed as well as she did. The space was empty.
Alix shrieked in frustration. She went to the curtains and shoved them aside, one by one, revealing nothing. The children were not there.
Then Ransom heard the creak of the roof. He looked up, and so did Alix.
The children had gone outside and climbed up on the roof. If they’d held still for a moment longer, the trick might have worked.
A smile of triumph came to Alix’s lips as she drew another dagger and walked to the balcony window. The sound of shouting came from the bottom of the stairwell. Men were running up the steps in hastened fury, but it would not be soon enough.
He watched as Alix opened the latch of the balcony door and stepped into the night. What fragile moon was left glowed in her hair. Ransom saw a pair of legs dangling there, the prince’s. He no doubt had helped his sister up first. The boy was honorable, nothing like his father.
Ransom grunted, his loins throbbing with pain still, but he rose and charged Alix.
She’d pulled back her arm to stab the boy in the leg. One cut was all it would take for the poison to destroy him. But she didn’t finish the stroke. Ransom grabbed for her wrist, thinking of nothing but saving the boy, the young king, and was nicked by the blade as he deflected it. He felt a sting of pain shoot up his arm as his body collided with hers. He had time for one thought—it’s over—and they both tumbled into the stone barrier of the balcony. When she lifted her leg to kick him, she fell backward, and the momentum carried them both over the edge. In a panic, Ransom grabbed at the stone ledge, and his fingers found a firm grip.
Alix grabbed his foot.
He hung at the edge of the balcony, his fingers straining from the weight of holding them both.
“Don’t! Don’t!” Alix screamed with real fear throbbing in her voice.
Ransom twisted slightly, his muscles and tendons strained beyond endurance. He tried to reach up with his other hand but missed.
Alix’s fingers dug into his pants and then the fringe of his chain mail as she attempted to climb him. The added strain of the swaying made him moan with despair. They were both going to fall.
He looked down at Alix’s upturned face, at the desperation and terror in her eyes. She’d dropped the poisoned dagger to cling to him with both hands.