Sisters Three (Completed)

45. Brenna (1/2)

On the way home from the North, they entered the city of Latterstill only to be stopped halfway to the castle by a solid wall of peasants and citizens, watching with stony faces as the royal carriage rolled to a stop. Brenna instantly gripped Robbin's knee, waking him from his restless sleep. He struggled to wake, wiping a hand over his damp forehead and clearing his throat.

"What is it?" he asked, voice still rusty.

In answer, Brenna pointed out the carriage window at the sea of faces that stretched as far as the eye could see along the roads. Robbin stiffened at the sight, his hand going to his sword thought it would do them little good in the confined space.

The soldiers who hadn't returned to their homes when the party had rode through the countryside on their way to Latterstill, rode to the front, circling the carriage and pressing back the tide of people. One hopped down from his mount, coming to the door and saluting Robbin.

"This is dangerous," he said, obviously. "There's not enough of us to hold any attacks off. We need to get you and Queen Brenna out of here as fast as we can."

"Very well," Robbin said, opening the door to give the orders to the carriage driver.

This was a mistake.

As soon as Robbin's face came into view, a shout came from the crowd, and then it was if a storm suddenly developed in the middle of an ocean. They surged and moved, crashing against the pitiful excuse of a shield the soldiers made on their horses, pressing toward the carriage with such primal screaming that Brenna's blood ran cold. Robbin cursed loudly, slamming the door back shut, and slamming his fist on the opposite carriage wall.

"Driver, move it!" he shouted above the roar of the approaching crowd. But either the man on the driver's seat didn't hear him, or perhaps he sympathized with those that now were pushing over the soldiers and nearly upon the carriage.

Robbin cursed again, his chest heaving while he took a moment to think. Then he grabbed Brenna's hand, pulling with her to the door on the other side of the carriage. He kicked it open, smashing the polished wood against the very close brick wall next to them, and handed Brenna down. She had to squeeze, inching along the wall, Robbin close behind her. He guided her with a hand on her back toward a narrow opening of an alley a few feet away. When she stumbled into it, he gripped her hand and dragged her down the cobblestones. Behind them Brenna heard a chant rise from the general screaming and shouting, the clarity of it shaking her bones.

"Long live Queen MORNA and the TRUE heir!"

She swallowed hard, watching as Robbin's jaw clenched. But he didn't say anything, and they didn't stop. They raced through a seemingly endless warren of alleys and passages, bursting through homes to cut to another road, startling the faded wraiths that occupied the spaces.

A pinch in Brenna's side forced to her slow, pulling on Robbin's hand until he also amended his pace.

"Just give me a moment to catch my breath," she said, puffing. Robbin didn't look pleased, but he let her walk behind him as he passed by two alleys before ducking into the third. "Where are we even going?"

"The palace," he replied.

Brenna frowned. "I'd like it if you talked to me in more than two words, thank you."

Robbin sighed, but actually did what she bid. "I'm trying to get us to the palace with enough time to have the gates shut before those dissenters can get there. We're about near Westpyre now, if we can get across this avenue with no one noticing us."

He paused as they came to the end of the alley, and looked both ways before pulling her across a paved road that looked more like the kind of place that she was used to. The crumbling and packed buildings of the poorer districts were now replaced with the townhomes of the new money. Trees grew within their own little metal fences, spaced down the paved road. Robbin ducked his head, Brenna following suit, as they passed from shadow to shadow, aiming for the alley on the other side. Brenna only released her breath when they slid between the two walls and once again were out of plain view.

"I thought perhaps the people would forget about Morna after a while," she said.

"Can you run now?" Robbin asked. Brenna nodded.

While they picked up the speed, Brenna continued. "They seem even more determined now, Robbin. I think they won't give up on having her child as the ruler."

Robbin frowned, but he nodded his head once. Sharply.

Before she could say anymore, they were at the end of this alley and spilling out into the only road that lead to the palace gates. Robbin took a moment to assess the situation, but as he looked around, Brenna could hear the roar of the crowd turning around the bend a few hundred yards down the road. Her legs felt like melted wax, her knees crumbling, but Robbin had her arm, yanking her into a run before she could fall.

A glance over her shoulder revealed the mass of people turning the corner and seeing the fleeing king and queen heading for the palace gates. A louder shout went up, and then the sound of thundering feet as they all began to run in pursuit. Brenna had never seen anything quite as frightening. She imagined this must be what soldiers felt like when they saw the wall of their death approaching. She spun around to face forward, clutching Robbin's arm tightly and praying that they were fast enough.

The iron gates came into view, the guards stepping away from their posts to stare as the king and queen raced down the street toward them. Robbin began shouting things, orders to secure the palace, and the crowd behind them grew louder. So loud that Brenna couldn't help but risk a glance over her shoulder. What she saw stopped the breath in her lungs.

Only a few feet back, the front of the pack glared at her. A burly man put his head down, gaining enough speed that he snatched the back of Brenna's skirt and tugged sharply on it. This brought her staggering to a stop, her hand ripping from Robbin's. For a moment, she wondered if he'd keep running. The gates were within distance that he could make it. He would be safe, and the country would be safe from another debate over the crown. Yet, as the burly man hauled her backward into his rough arms, Brenna sobbed in relief as Robbin came skidding to a halt and turned to rush back.