Out of Time

Chapter 49

Dani woke up entirely too early. She felt exhausted, like not a single muscle in her entire body had the energy left to move, and yet her mind was wide awake, and all she could think about was her daughter.

The maids had brought the little angel into a room beside her chambers, with a maid to sit watch over her all night, but that wasn't good enough for Dani. She needed to see her, hold her, touch her.

Beside her, Arthur slept deeply, a small smile on his face. She touched his face, and he leaned into the touch, though he didn't wake. With careful maneuvering, she slipped out of bed, waiting to see if he would wake, but he simply rolled over, and let out a sigh.

Dani walked to the door, her mind filled with the image of her daughter that still felt more like a dream than anything else. She rubbed her stomach, but that only made the emotion, whatever it was she was feeling, all the more intense. Through two doors, and she stepped into the dark nursery. She couldn't see well, just well enough to see the outline of the cradle where her daughter rested. Where was the maid?

Her foot slipped on something wet, and she steadied herself against the wooden framework of the cradle. Too dark to see her beautiful daughter's visage, she reached down and touched her soft skin. Her cheek, she thought. She trailed her hand down, the back of her hand bumping into something hard, her fingertips touching on something wet.

"What?" Her hand shook, and she hated the darkness, though some part deep inside of her feared the light in that moment. Some part of her knew something her conscious mind refused to admit. "Baby? Sweetie?" She rocked the baby, trying to wake her, but it did nothing. She pinched the baby's arm, at this point only wanting to hear anything, even a scream.

Nothing.

She breathed heavily, shaking her head. "No." No, no, no. Backing up, she slipped and fell, landing hard against something soft on the floor. One hand landed in something wet while the other gripped wool cloth—someone's clothing.

The maid.

#

A scream jarred Arthur from a sound sleep. He reached for Danielle, but the bed was empty. It took a couple moments to settle himself and wake up. "The nursery." He jumped out of bed as continued shrieks erupted from the room next to his own.

When he reached it, the room was open, early morning light lit the carnage within. A woman screamed in the foreground, hands to her face, the sound echoing off the walls. A body lay on the floor, someone he wished he could say he recognized, but he'd paid less attention to the female members of the castle than the male.

He took several deep breaths, steeling himself for what he knew lay in the piece of furniture sitting in the middle of the floor. His feet moved forward almost without his intention, and before he knew it or even wanted it, he stood at the edge of the cradle, looking in.

Blood pooled on the linens that had swaddled his infant daughter, a knife sticking out of her tiny chest. Her little face was frozen in a sleeping visage, for which he was grateful. "Where's my wife?"

No one answered, and the screams continued to fill the room, though he heard it as if under water. He reached out and touched the little girl's face, her head. Arthur tried to hold on to some modicum of control, of balance, but anger and a need for vengeance nipped at the edges of his mind.

#

It was his favorite time of day—that moment right when the sun rose, when dawn held all its promise. The sky glowed red and orange, and while the morning still held a chill, the colors warmed his soul, if not his body. He had spent the early morning hours hunting, as he so often did for the people of Camelot, working under Alden. He'd managed to get a half dozen rabbits before turning back, his prizes dangled over his left shoulder as he waved his bow back and forth in his right hand.

As he approached the walls, he saw someone on the wall. That wasn't out of the ordinary, and he waved a greeting, though the person failed to wave back, which was unusual. He passed it off as someone having a bad day and proceeded to whistle, determined to start the day in a good mood.

But as he got closer and the wall and castle began to take on more detail, he realized that the person wasn't standing on the wall, but upon it's edge, and by the way cloth flapped around the person's ankles, it was clearly a woman.

He picked up into a run, afraid that the woman would jump. Why else would someone be on the wall in such a precarious position? He wanted to call out, to warn someone, but he feared that doing so would startle her, causing her to fall.

Why hadn't he trained to be a better runner? Sure, he could run with the silence of the night, sneak up on an animal and kill it without it ever sensing his presence, but as the gates grew steadily closer, he felt as slow as a toddler making its awkward way along.

Would he be too late?