Masquerading

3. To the Left

BLOOD running cold at the sound of shrieking, Leif's heart hammered wildly as his drink fell forgotten from his fingers. On the dance floor, cast in the yellow glow of the reflection of the gold pillars, Kyden was brandishing a sword at the Crown Princess.

Leif blinked at the scene in front of him in a stunned stupor. Where in the name of all wishes had the sword come from?

He'd known, with an oddly foreboding feeling that wouldn't leave him, that things would go wrong this evening. It was why he'd chosen his armoured suit in place of a more fashionable one. Unsheathing his own sword in a hurry, he charged the Prince of Faladrin as he threatened the Princess.

As he neared them, Kyden flew backwards into him, sending the both of them tumbling to the ground. More shrieks rang out, filling the large room with a cacophonous resonance as people began to understand what was happening.

Kicking free of Kyden, Leif surged forward to wrest the Princess from the grasp of the man in the silver mask who pulled her back. Their fingers met for a moment; her terror-filled eyes pleading with him to free her.

"No!" Leif choked out as a sword collided with the gauntlet around his wrist, breaking their contact. Another sword came at him and Leif swept his own blade across to deflect the blow. It was only a moment's distraction but it put the Princess out of his reach.

Seeing the arm wrapped around her throat and the sword across her body, bought his stomach up to his mouth. Feyrie, forgive me, he thought, blaming himself for her position. He should have been there; this never would have happened had it been him.

Fear of seeing her blood spilled drove him to make another attempt to reach her; Kyden was already doing the same. This time, they were thwarted by more men, in the same ghastly, smooth mask that covered the full face of the attackers. Leif fell back again, wondering how he hadn't noticed so many men with the same bizarre visor.

The small silver-masked army formed a barrier around the Princess and her captor, and they moved as one. Very few men in attendance had come prepared to fight them, and it made their passage through the hall an easy one. They had just about reached the entrance of the grand hall, and Leif, deflated, chanced a glance at her parents. The red-faced King held up the wailing Queen, both too distressed to even notice him there. Seeking out the palace's guard, Leif noticed the general frenzy about the room and knew it would be too long before they could manage to penetrate the crowd.

Her captors were no longer in the hall, nor even visible through the large arched doorway. She was gone now; only her panicked cries of "Daddy" and "Leif" echoed back to him from the other side.

Gone.

Leif looked once more to the Aradane royalty and steeled himself to erase the distraught expression from their faces. His fault; it was his fault. A deep breath calmed the thoughts whirling in his mind, and he settled on one. Not the sanest of options, but the best one in his opinion.

Brushing off the hand that squeezed his shoulder, Leif quickly dodged through the guests, his breath even as he approached the arched doorway.

They could not have her.

He would not let them have her.

They'd gone into the castle, not out, and if they had any hope of escaping, they'd need to use the tunnels. A wicked grin spread over his face; he knew the tunnels and all their entrances well having played there enough as a child.

"Which way?"

So fixated on working out his best course of action, Leif was surprised by the man at his side. Behind them, two more men broke free of the melee in the grand hall and rushed over. Listening carefully to the sound of Princess Leyva's screams echoing through the corridors, Leif turned and ran into the one that housed the visiting dignitaries' suites.