Blood of Decusia

Chapter Seventeen

Even in the dim torchlight, I could see the boy from the portrait standing in front of my cell.
    Not just the boy, I told myself, The Prince: your future husband.
    In the portrait he looked only 15 or 16, but he looked older now, mid-twenties maybe. Also, in the portrait, even though he was good-looking, he still had some of that awkwardness of being a child in his features. The man that stood before possessed none of that.
    He had the same dark brown hair, which was longer than in the portrait, but he had a closely trimmed beard. His features were the definition of perfection with dark eyebrows, perfectly straight nose, pouty lips, and a strong jawline. He was dressed in a similar emerald green suit that Marcus and Warner were wearing.
    I remembered what I had noticed in the portrait were in his eyes, a deep green, the same as his father's, but lacking the coldness of his father's. I tried to look for that warmth I had seen.
    "What?" he smirked, "You're not going to say anything to your future husband?"
    Hearing him say that made my stomach churn. I tried to back up further in the cell, but my back remained firm against the wall. I didn't want to be anywhere near this guy.
    "Alright," he shrugged, leaning against the bars of the cell, "I'll talk."
    His voice was smooth and deep, with a slight accent I couldn't really identify.
    "Well, my father told me about you. At first, I thought it was some sick joke, and even as I was walking down here, I didn't really believe it."
    I could see his gaze flick to my necklace. Unlike his father however, he didn't linger, instead he looked back up to my face.
    "I guess he wasn't lying," he smirked.
    My hands flew to my neck and his smile grew.
    "Anyway, he explained to me the plan. Send you into enemy territory and let you face him first. Then while you're dealing with him, use the Bellatoro to kill him."
    Like a coward, I thought.
    The Prince let out a small chuckle as if he could read my mind.
    "Real brave man, my father," he laughed, "He probably won't even be the one to actually hold the Bellatoro."
    "But he'll get all of the credit," I muttered.
    "She speaks," he said, flashing me a perfect smile that made my heart skip a beat, "But you're completely right. He's very focused on the power of it all."
    He shrugged, before continuing.
    "That's why you're here, I guess."
    Suddenly the fear and caution ebbed away and was replaced with red-hot rage. How dare he? How dare this man walk down nonchalantly after his father threw me in prison, evidently dooming everyone?
    I got to my feet and walked to the door of my cell.
"You're here because you think you own me now. You and your father are going to use me for your own selfish purposes and then keep me chained for the rest of my life. Force me to get married, to have children, to rule a kingdom. Force me to plaster a happy smile on my face in front of your subjects, while in actuality I'm nothing but a prisoner, a slave."
    I saw the Prince's expression falter for a quick second, the smugness replaced with something that resembled uneasiness.
    "If we even live that long," I continued, my voice growing stronger and louder with every word I spat at him, "When your father's plan backfires, and believe me, it will, your kingdom, your people, the whole world, will fall to the evil that's coming, that's already here. You and your family sit comfortably in your beautiful castle now, but believe me that won't last long. Your greed has corrupted your visions and doomed everyone. Soon, you'll realize that no matter how much wealth and power you think you have, you'll die the same way as the lowest of the low: painfully."
    I was now almost nose to nose with the Prince, my body pressed against the bars of the cell. His expression remained neutral through my whole speech, but I could see something shifting in his eyes, something fearful. For a long moment, there was silence as we stared at each other. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as I held his gaze, waiting for him to walk away, scream at me, hit me, whatever.
    "Well," he said, after what felt like a century, "somebody's dramatic."
    Before I could respond, he pulled a key out from his pocket and unlocked the door, which swung open with a loud creak. I stared in shock at him, unable to move or even speak. He then threw me a black bag that I hadn't even noticed that he had been holding.
    "We don't have a lot on time," he said, his tone lacking the jovialness from just a minute ago, "We need to move."
    I looked into the bag and saw what looked like a pair of boots and a bundle of clothes.
    "What-?"
    The Prince stepped into the cell and grabbed my arm, causing me to drop the bag. His grip was firm, but somehow gentle too.
    "Behind our family portrait, there's a safe," he said, "The only way to access it, is the power of another stone, so it's never been opened, but when you do get it open, I imagine something is going to go off, so you'll only have a minute, probably less to get out of here. I'll do my best to slow them down, but you need to be quick."
    My mind was spinning, trying to process everything that was happening.
    "Why?"
    It was all I could get out. His gaze softened and I could see the warmth I had seen in the portrait. His hand moved from my arm to my hand, squeezing it gently.
    "You're right about my father," he said, "He's so blinded by the idea of power that he's lost sight of the bigger picture. His plan will fail, tremendously, Decusia will be wiped clean of everything good."
    He sighed.
    "I never really wanted to be King, but I care about the safety of my people and my kingdom. I know what's right."
    "Thank you," I said, softly.
    "We would've made a great team," he said, dropping my hand and walking out of the cell.
    Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned back to me and smirked.
    "And I'm a fantastic lover."
    My face burning red, I turned away from where he had been and pulled the clothes out of the bag. There were simple high waisted black cargo-combat pants, a fitted black t-shirt, black combat boots, and a holster belt very similar to what Marcus and Warner wore when I first met them. I quickly shed the beautiful gown and slipped the clothes on. I pulled the pins out of my hair, letting it tumble down and slowly crept out of the cell and started up the stairs.
    With each careful step, I expected the charging of feet from a guard, ready to throw me back into my cell, but no one came. When I reached the top of the steps, I slowly pushed open the door of the dungeon, cringing against the loud creaking of the hinges. I stepped out into the empty hall.
    As I approached the end of the hall, I peeked my head into the throne room. It was empty. I walked briskly past the empty throne and slowly stepped through the open doors and into the equally empty ballroom. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, before I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps  approaching from the other side of the ballroom. Quickly, I darted into the portrait room.
    As quickly as I had stepped into the room, a hand suddenly covered my mouth and another strong arm grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the side, behind the large door to the portrait hall. Before I could even try and struggle, the person who grabbed me whirled me around so my back was against the wall.
    Marcus was inches away, his body pressing into mine, he was no longer bleeding and I could see the relief in his eyes of seeing me and I know my expression mirrored his. Slowly, he took his hand off of my mouth and put a finger to his lips. I nodded, unable to hide my smile at seeing him. I could hear the footsteps getting closer and accompanying voices, but I couldn't make out what they were saying yet. Marcus squeezed my hand as I prayed they would just pass by.
    The footsteps suddenly stopped and I took a sharp breath as I realized they were right outside the door. The voices rang clear now. It was the King and Prince.
    "We leave in the morning," The King was saying, "A small unit will go with her through the west and we'll follow by going south across the river and loop through into Tenebris. Hopefully, the Malum will be so preoccupied with her, that we can sneak through."
    "So you're coming, Father?" the Prince asked.
    "No, of course not!" the King let out a deep belly laugh, "You will lead the second unit."
    "But, shouldn't I go with her? I mean if we're to be married, shouldn't I be there to protect my bride-to-be?"
    Marcus's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He looked at me incredulously. I shook my head, squeezing his arm.
    "You're an honorable man, son," the King said, his voice full of warmth, "But I need you to take the final blow. I need you to finish this for us, for me."
    So the King was just going to gamble countless lives, including his own son's, while he sat comfortably far away from the battle?
"Coward," Marcus breathed, his thoughts no doubt the same as mine.
"Yes, Father," the Prince said, no sign of the sense of humor he had exhibited down in the dungeon.
My heart ached for him, thinking about how he had to grow up with a father who cared more for himself and his image than his own son. I might not have grown up with my father, but during the time I was with him, I had never doubted how much he loved me. I could tell that the Prince was desperate for his father's approval, so I realized how big of a deal it was that he was aiding me.
Finally, I could hear the King and Prince's footsteps walking away, towards the throne room, probably. If they decided to go down to the dungeon, the whole castle would go into lockdown and escape would be futile. We needed to do this now.
When we could no longer hear their footsteps, I pushed away from Marcus and started to move quickly toward the painting, but Marcus grabbed my arm, freezing me in my tracks.
"He was going to make you marry that guy?"
I slowly pulled my arm.
"Marcus, we need to move-."
"Clove, I swear if he did anything to hurt you,-."
"Actually he was the one that saved me," I said, my voice sounding harsher than I meant, "I would really love to tell you the whole story, but we really don't have a lot of time."
He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and nodded his head. I turned and walked back to the portrait. I looked up at the Royal Family, unsure how the Prince could share any DNA with a man like the King, but I couldn't dwell on that for too long.
"Help me move this," I said, grabbing one side of the painting.
We stumbled under the weight of the giant painting, but, together, we lifted it from where it hung and set it on the ground. The Prince was right, where the painting had hung there was a small, gray safe. However, this safe didn't look like a normal safe. There was no keypad or a combination lock, or any obvious way to open it.
Marcus cursed under his breath.
"How are we supposed to get in?" he asked.
I could feel the stone on my neck, starting to warm. Instinctively, I put my hand on the safe. As soon as my hand touched the metal, it felt like I had touched a hot oven. I yelped and removed  my hand, which was now bright red and burning.
"Oh my god! Are you alright?" Marcus asked, grabbing my shoulders and moving me away from the safe.
As I cradled my burnt hand, my eyes stinging from the pain, I looked back up at the safe.
"Marcus," I breathed.
Now on the safe, where my hand had been, was a glowing red handprint. It wasn't just glowing but getting brighter until I had to look away. I shielded my eyes as the room suddenly filled with violent whooshing and wind, like we were standing outside in the middle of a bad storm.
When I opened my eyes, the door to the safe was gone and I could see inside. Sitting on a small silky pillow was a dagger. It was sheathed in a brown leather case, so only the hilt was showing. It was silver and on the very end, crafted into the handle, was a beautiful stone, identical to the one I wore around my neck, but this one was emerald green. It was the Bellatoro.
"Holy shit," Marcus breathed.
Before I could respond, I could hear shouting coming from outside the room. It sounded far off, but I knew we didn't have a lot of time. Quickly, I grabbed the blade and shoved it into the holster the Prince had given me.
"Where's Warner?" I demanded, turning back to Marcus, "We need to leave. Now."
"Let's go," Marcus said.
He took off, not out the door that led to the ballroom, but the one where we had been led up to our rooms the night before. I wanted to ask where we were going, but I could hear the shouting and stampeding of footsteps getting closer, so I just followed him up the stone steps and into the room he had slept in last night.
It was identical to mine, down to the green furniture and the landscape paintings on the walls. The only difference is that instead of just a window, Marcus's room had a large glass door that led onto a balcony that looked over the city. Marcus pulled open the door and I followed him onto the balcony.
"What are we supposed to do now?" I asked, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was about to burst into the room, "Where's Warner?"
"He's waiting," Marcus said, not looking at me, and instead looking down at the ground.
I walked next to him and looked down. It was at least a 50 foot drop and I couldn't see an easy way to get down.
"Marcus-," I started.
Marcus grabbed my arms, turning me to face him. His face was determined and his eyes were intense, but I could see a little bit of fear, as if he didn't know if we were going to get out here.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Marcus-," I tried again.
I was interrupted by the door slamming open. Instinctively, Marcus pushed me behind him and took up a defensive stance.
"What are you morons doing?"
It was the Prince. His expression was fearful and his eyes were wild. Marcus quickly pulled out a knife from his boot, which he had obviously hidden from the guards. I pushed by him and stepped toward the Prince.
"I got it," I said, gesturing to my side, "But we're trapped."
"No shit," he muttered, looking frantically over his shoulder, "So your plan was to jump off the balcony?"
"Well, what do you suggest, Your Highness?" Marcus said, his voice dripping with venom.
Instead of retorting, he walked over to the large wardrobe in the corner and with a grunt and a shove, moved the thing over. It was only then could I see a small door, probably just barely  big enough for a normal size person to fit through.
"This tunnel was built after people stormed the palace to kill my great-great-great grandfather."
"Gee, I wonder why," Marcus murmured.
The Prince ignored him and continued.
"It will take you deep under the castle and you should come out on the other side of the gate."
"You've got to be kidding me," Marcus muttered.
"Or you could stay here," the Prince said coldly, "And face whatever punishment my father seems fit for a pair of thieves."
Marcus opened his mouth, but the sounds of voices and footsteps coming from the stairs  below was enough to make him shut up. The Prince smirked and opened the door. It was pitch black and I couldn't even see how far down the steps went.
"Ladies, first," he said.
Before I walked through the door, I turned to face the Prince.
"Thank you, Your Highness," I said, "For everything."
"Malik, Clove," he said, "Call me Malik. We were engaged for a bit, afterall."
I could hear Marcus let out a huff and could practically feel the eyeroll. I started for the door again, when Malik grabbed my arm.
"Be careful, beautiful," he whispered, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek.
I could feel myself blushing and not looking back at Marcus, I went through the door. I could hear Marcus's footsteps and then a second later, the door shut behind us, plunging us in darkness. It was almost a suffocating blackness and I forced myself to take a deep breath and with one hand on the wall, I started carefully down the steps with Marcus close behind.
We continued down the stairs in silence for what felt like hours. I was starting to wonder when this tunnel would ever end when my foot made contact with something solid in front of us. I reached forward and realized we had reached the end, but it seemed to be only stone. I felt around the wall for a second until my hands met with something cool, metal, and cylinder. A ladder.
"We need to go up," I whispered, grasping the first rung.
Slowly, I started climbing, being very careful that my feet and hands were stable on the rungs. After what was probably about 20 feet, my head bumped slightly against something metal above me. I reached up slowly and felt another metal thing above me. I pushed on it and it moved slightly.
    "Marcus," I said, "Hold me steady."
    He wrapped his arms around my legs so he was supporting both of us on the ladder. I reached up toward the  cover and pushed with both hands. The thing shook and moved and I could see a sliver of sunlight. I took a deep breath and pushed again with all of my might. The cover flew off and crashed wherever the ladder led us too. I squinted against the harsh light that flooded in. I only got up one more rung, my hands barely gripping the edge of the hole, when strong arms grabbed me and hauled me up and out.
    I let out a yelp and tried to pull away, falling to the ground.
    "Hey, calm down!"
    As my eyes adjusted, I realized that Warner was standing over me.
    "Oh my god!" I said, jumping to my feet and tackling Warner in a hug.
Warner squeezed me tight and a second later, Marcus pulled himself out of the hole.
"Clove, are you alright?" Warner asked, looking me up and down, "These guys grabbed us and then they took you and we didn't know what had happened."
"I'm alright," I laughed.
"Yeah, she got a fiance," Marcus said, coming up beside us, "Douchebag Jr.,"
Warner's jaw dropped.
"The Prince?"
"Actually, Malik is the one that saved us," I said, turning to face Marcus.
Warner's shock became disgust.
"Malik?"
"Anyway," I continued, pulling the dagger out of my holster, "We got it."
Warner's eyes widened.
"Holy shit," he murmured, "You got it."
"Yeah," I said, unsheathing the dagger without thinking.
It looked very simple, like any other knife, but as I truly held the knife, the cold metal biting against my skin, I felt something. The warmth from my necklace, except this was different. It was a burning sensation, but the kind from extreme cold, not heat. The burning cold seemed to be spreading.
I suddenly couldn't breathe.
"Clove?" Marcus asked, "What's wrong?"
I tried to open my mouth, but only a wheeze came out.
"Clove!"
Warner grabbed my arm and then yelped and released me.
"Marcus, her skin's ice cold! Like literal ice!"
I could feel my body shaking and my legs buckled from underneath me. I realized I had no feeling in my legs, or anywhere in my body. I hit the ground hard and everything went black.