The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(84)

As he was passing the first cell, he saw Jorgen inside. Their eyes met and his chancellor gave him a nod. Reinhart nodded in return and kept going. At the second cell, one of his guards was pacing the floor and also acknowledged Reinhart with a silent nod. The same thing at the third and fourth cells.

When he reached the place where the three corridors intersected, he stopped and listened, his back against the wall.

Geitbart’s guards were hardly saying anything. They seemed to be playing a game, possibly backgammon. He could hear them rolling some dice and occasionally discussing their moves. It should be almost time for them to leave for the prisoners’ evening ration of bread and water.

He slipped back into the cell where Avelina was still pacing. She stepped closer when he began to whisper, “Can you unlock the other cells on this corridor?”

She nodded, pulling out her little tool. She moved quickly and quietly into the corridor and to the first cell. She worked at the lock for only a few moments before they heard the telltale click. The door opened with a tiny squeak.

They all froze, waiting for the guards to investigate. But nothing happened.

Avelina moved to the next cell door. Her hands weren’t even shaking as she worked at the lock. It took her a little longer this time, but the lock finally clicked. Reinhart stood by her and held the door so it would not swing open. The prisoner, one of his knights, took over holding the door as they moved on to the next door.

Just as Avelina inserted the little metal rod into the lock, a noise like a shout, then another and another, erupted outside. He and Avelina jumped and spun around. The guards must have had a similar reaction, because they both said together, “What? Who is that—?” Then there was a clatter, and he pictured them dropping their backgammon game pieces all over the floor.

Their footsteps scrambled up and away even as more shouts came and then a long trumpet blast. Was it all-out war going on above?

Avelina was back to frantically trying to unlock the door of the last cell on the corridor. His other three men were out of their cells.

Reinhart peered around to where the guards had been sitting. They were gone. No one was there.

Avelina opened the last door and hurried into the next corridor and continued her task.

“Sir Klas? Are you here?”

“I am here, the last cell. Lord Thornbeck?”

“Ja. We are coming.”

Shouts continued above, but Reinhart could make out nothing that was happening.

“Here are the keys!” one of his knights cried. “They were hidden in the tinderbox.” He immediately started opening the doors in the third corridor.

Soon, all his knights and guards had been freed, a total of fourteen, and they surrounded Avelina and him.

“If you go above ground”—Reinhart met their gazes—“you could all be killed. Geitbart’s guards outnumber us, and we do not know what has become of the rest of our guards.”

“Then we shall die defending our lord and his castle.” Sir Klas raised his fist.

The men rushed toward the stairs, and Avelina appeared to be going with them. He caught her arm and pulled her back.

“I can help.” She gave him a defiant stare.

Reinhart stared at her, trying to think how he might keep her safe.

“We shall dedicate this battle to the woman who freed us.” Sir Klas turned from halfway up the stairs. “She is the bravest of us all.”

“Ja!” the other soldiers shouted. “She is our lioness! We shall fight for her!”

They all shouted their war cries as they scaled the stairs. None of them had weapons. Reinhart kept hold of Avelina’s arm as they made their way up behind them. “I want you to stay here,” he said quietly. “Stay out of the way of the fighting.”

“Are you going to go fight?”

“Of course. I am a trained knight, and I am the margrave.”

“Then I will fight too.”

“But I very well may die. We all may die.”

“If you die fighting, I want to die fighting with you.” Her eyes were so beautiful, shining up at him.

He knew her well enough to know he could not stop her. “Then stay behind me until I find you a weapon.” He would watch out for her and protect her, as would the rest of his men.

She smiled, so beguiling it made his heart stutter. He started up the stairs behind his men.



Avelina let Lord Thornbeck clasp her hand as he led her up the stairs. Truly, she was prepared to die for this man. All these men were prepared to die. Lord God, if I must die, take care of my precious brother and sister and my father.

Her knees trembled a bit, but Lord Thornbeck glanced back at her, concern in his eyes, then faced forward again. She could do this. She could fight for him, and die, if she must.

They emerged to a sudden cessation of shouting. All around, dozens of Geitbart’s men were kneeling and bowing toward a mounted figure. Lord Thornbeck’s men started dropping to their knees as well.

Lord Thornbeck whispered, “It’s the king.”

Avelina fell into a deep curtsy while Lord Thornbeck knelt and bowed his head.

All was silent. Avelina peeked up to see many horsemen behind the king. King Karl wore a tunic of hardened leather tiles, and sleeves and leggings of mail were visible underneath it. Something about the way he sat, so straight and tall, made him seem regal, even though he was actually wearing a mail hood instead of a crown.