Ruins of Camelot

Chapter 3

It was very late when she awoke. A thrill of fear came over her as she looked around in the darkness, momentarily forgetting where she was.

An arm, not her own, curled around her. She gasped. "What is it?" Darrick asked sleepily.

At the sound of his voice, everything rushed back. This was the first night of her honeymoon. Darrick lay next to her, his warm body pressed against hers beneath the blankets. Gabriella felt a pang of belated anxiety about being naked with him, but it was small and perfunctory. Beneath it, she felt a deep sense of belonging and was quite certain that this was a feeling she could become very accustomed to.

"It's nothing," she said, pressing against him. "Something woke me up."

Mentally, she replayed the beginning of their first night together. To be sure, it had been somewhat awkward, and at first, she had been quite sure that he had been just as nervous as she. But then, gradually, she had ceased speaking, ceased thinking about what was happening, and given herself over to it, to him. Darrick had done the same, and in that wonderful bliss between the words, she had tasted the depths of what was to be their life together. In the end, of course, they had slept, at least until now.

"It's so hot," he said, squirming away and pushing off the covers. He plucked a robe from a nearby hook and shrugged into it. The black dragon sigil hung around his neck, catching the dim light with its glittering green eye. "The steward stoked the fire as if it was the dead of winter," he laughed, and reached for the window. "What woke you up? Do you remember?"

"It was a noise," Gabriella answered, staring into the fire. "I don't remember what—"

A knock came at their door. It was so hard and so sudden that Gabriella jumped.

Darrick still had his hand on the window knob. "What is it?" he asked loudly. Both of them knew that no one would knock on this night if it was not important.

"Sire," the muffled voice came, "there is trouble in the dungeons. A prisoner has escaped into the castle proper."

Darrick absorbed this, and his face hardened slightly. He glanced at Gabriella and said, "I will return, Bree. There must be a mistake."

With that, he strode to the chamber door, opened it just enough to frame his body, and stood there, half in and half out.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked quietly. "Surely, you know this is the Princess's bridal chamber and our very wedding night."

"I do, sire," the guard's voice replied in a hushed tone. "But you are the ranking officer in the castle this night, save the King, and I dare not wake him on such a matter without the order of such as yourself."

Gabriella could see Darrick's face, lit in profile by the brighter light of the corridor. He looked pensive for a moment and then said, "You say there is trouble in the dungeons. How is this possible?"

"The night watch was killed, sire," the guard said, nearly whispering. "His throat was cut. By the time he was found, the prisoner had already been released. The perimeter guards report no one leaving the castle during the past three hours. We must assume that the prisoner and his rescuer are still inside. This is an immediate threat, sire. Shall I wake the King?"

Darrick did not answer immediately. He leant back and peered aside, meeting Gabriella's eyes, which were wide in the darkness.

"Yes," Darrick nodded, and then turned back to the doorway. "But allow me to do it. You gather the palace guard, those not watching the perimeter, and begin a thorough search of the castle. Begin at the top and work down. We wish to flush them away from the royal chambers, not towards them."