King's Exile: Book 1Teaser Preview

Chap. 1, Part 5: Planning

5

Back in his room, he collapsed on the bed. Badly chilled, he gathered the comforter over him and tried to recapture his thoughts about getting away. Dax had no doubts now. The thought of another dose of Mathilde’s evil brew scared him badly.  Yet if he left the castle, how could he get by? Dax knew nothing about the way ordinary people lived their lives. He had gone on occasional trips with his father to visit special people in their own homes, but visiting with the King was not the same as dropping in by himself. Who did he know who would take him in?

He knew the answer as soon as he thought of the question—Aunt Lesley, Dutchess of Ostdell. Aunt Lesley was his father’s only sister, and she and her husband, Kerwin Tremayne, owned a horse breeding farm up the Ostdell River from Tazzelton. Their farm was a two-day ride up the river road, and he had visited his aunt, uncle, and cousins many times with his father.

A two-day ride? That raised another question. Could he take a horse? He could get out of the castle unseen easily enough, but horses were kept in the stables next to the main west gate. That gate was busy, and he even if he got a horse out of the stable unseen, he could not get out of the castle on horseback without being noticed. If he tried to leave through the east gate, not only would he have to get a saddled horse all the way across the training yard, once outside the east gate, he would have to ride down the east face of Adok on the Serpentine Road into the city itself. On the Serpentine Road, he might as well shout, “Look at me!”

Could someone bring a horse to him outside of the city walls? He thought about this for a time as he lay in the bed, his shivers diminishing. Involving someone else in his escape meant that person would know what had happened. Even if Dax could think of a person he trusted enough to ask, could he risk that person being discovered? How ruthless was Mathilde? What would she and Keir do if she suspected someone had information about where Dax had gone?

No, he had better go alone and on foot. Once out of the city, he could stay off the river road to avoid being seen. It might take several days longer, but Dax felt the more mystery there was to his disappearance, the better his chances would be of getting to his aunt and uncle’s estate.

He felt relived having made a decision about where and how to go for help. Now, when should he leave…tonight? Since Mathilde knew he was feeling ill, she would probably send someone to check on him in the morning. If he wasn’t in his room, the search would start.

What about tomorrow? If he tried to get some sleep tonight but begged off his schooling because he was ill, he might have the morning hours and maybe into the afternoon before anyone knew he was gone. He could travel much faster through the city during the daylight hours, but daylight held a greater risk he would be seen. Seen, yes, but would he be recognized? Dax did not think too many people outside of the castle knew him by sight. He would dress plainly to not attract attention—another good argument for not riding off on one of the sleek mounts from the royal stables.

How should he prepare for the trip without attracting attention? After more thought, he decided to pack what he needed tonight before he slept. He would leave early in the morning. Dax forced himself out of bed. His chills had mostly subsided, but his legs still felt weak and wobbly. He stood uncertain for a moment, but he felt his determination return. He would do this.

He knew his closet held clothes and equipment which he had used on hunting trips with his father. He pulled out a well-worn pack and looked at it. Serviceable, but not large. He had remembered it as being bigger. Still, he would not need that much. He looked in the closet. Maybe an extra shirt and some underclothes.

Of greater concern were his hunting clothes. Nothing fit. He hadn’t worn them since his father had fallen ill—was poisoned!—he reminded himself and felt a quick pulse of anger. A moment later he realized that since he had worn them last, he must have grown. He dug out an older pair of his current leggings which would work, but what about a coat? Spring weather had arrived, but the temperatures, especially at night, would still be cool if not cold. His training clothes were obviously Guard-issue, and all his other coats, with their fine material, fancy embroidery, delicate lace, and shiny brass buttons were fit for royalty, but very conspicuous. Thinking about the dun and drab dress of people in the market place, he realized if he wore a coat from his closet, he would stand out like a peacock in a chicken coop.

What he really need was a worn, everyday coat—not royal finery or even a new coat from a shop. He needed a commoner’s coat, and he had an idea how to get one. He pulled out the richly colored red coat he had received from the Duke of Bington when he had visited two months ago. The coat was two or three sizes too big for Dax, but Mathilde had instructed him to put it in his closet for the future. Now it was a perfect fit for a trade. If he could find someone with a good, sturdy work coat, Dax would try to arrange a quiet exchange.

Finally, well after midnight, Dax threw himself into bed determined to get what sleep he could. He was exhausted, but still his mind raced from one worry to another about things he should take.