The King's Cursed Bride

Attacking the Fortress: Part 3

            

Regardless of the trouble Algernon had gotten himself into, she needed to escape and assist with her part of the plan.

As she tried forcing her hands through the manacles, the joint at the base of her thumb began to ache. Her hand was too big. Perhaps if she broke her thumb, it'd slide through. But with her hands separated, pinned to the wall on either side of her head, she didn't have a way of doing that.

As she scanned the cell to assess her options, a crash sounded from up the stairs.

The Reapers' gazes swiveled to the commotion, and one asked, "Should we go—"

"No," the other answered. "We were ordered to remain here."

Carissa leaned back against the cell wall and felt the objects of her pack jab her back. The Reapers hadn't thought to confiscate it. If she could just reach the lock picks within, escape would be hers.

Carissa scooted, giving her left hand access to the top of the pack. She began to fumble with the knot keeping it closed.

Boots thudded against stone, and the yellow-orange light of a torch illuminated the cells. The Reapers withdrew their weapons as someone approached.

Elon? Perhaps he'd come for her sooner than expected. She glanced up, heart surging.

The man came to a halt at the entrance of the dungeons, and his thick beard identified him well enough. Algernon.

Carissa blinked. When his image didn't waver, she concluded this wasn't a hallucination. But what was he doing here?

One of the Reapers' eyes narrowed. "What do you here? Aren't you supposed to be leaving the fortress with your servant by now?"

Algernon grinned, his skin gleaming with perspiration beneath the torchlight. "First of all, she's my sister—though if you called her my servant to her face, I'd love to see her reaction. Secondly, I've changed my mind."

The Reaper grunted. "We've made the deal, agreed to your terms, now leave the fortress."

"It's funny... you said you agreed to my terms, yet there were armed Reapers shadowing us as we walked through the corridors."

"To ensure you left safely. There's been a rebellion, and—"

Algernon wagged his finger. "Ah-ah-ah. No lying, boys. I'm a bit smarter than I look, you know."

The Reaper leaned towards the other. "We can't allow him to just freely roam the fortress. What if he discovers—"

"But we can't abandon our post," the other replied.

"You go after him, and I'll remain with the prisoner."

As they'd spoken, Algernon had set his torch on the ground, withdrawn an arrow, and held it above the fire until flame licked the wood.

One of the Reapers withdrew his Scythe and approached him. "Cease what you're doing or—"

Algernon whipped out his bow, aimed, and fired the flaming arrow. The arrow thudded into the Reaper, and the Reaper jerked back with a shriek that threatened to bleed her ears.

The second Reaper charged Algernon, his Scythe raised high.

Algernon had provided a distraction; she'd best take advantage of it. Carissa strained her left hand until her wrist ached from the awkward angle and plucked at the knot sealing her pack. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her tremble—which most definitely was not helping.

The knot finally came loose, and though she heard sounds of fighting and pain, she didn't dare look up lest she become distracted. She gripped the top of her pack and pulled it higher, so she could access the contents pooled in the bottom. Her hand brushed rope, steel, then slim metal rods. Lock picks. She pulled one out and held it with the edge of her fingers tips, so she could position it into the manacle beneath her hand.