Time has never gone so slowly for Jennifer. She is lying on the shabby blankets, wrapped in her cloak. Her anxiousness for Reynodlus and herself has worn her out. Every bit of her
longs for the relief of sleep yet it will not come. She wonders what time it is and how long she’s been here. She wonders where Reynoldus is and what will happen to her if they cannot find him?
I shouldn’t even worry about him. He’s probably safe in another world by now. He probably just left me here to figure it out. She thinks, angrily. Within an hour, she finally drifts off into a troubled sleep.
Jennifer wakes up and the sinking despair returns as soon as she realizes all that had happened was not a nightmare as she so desired it to have been. She has a pounding headache and her throat is parched from lack of water. Her stomach grumbles for want of food. Her whole body is sore from sleeping on the hard floor and she leans against the wall, not even caring about the sour smell coming from it. What did it matter anymore? She was going to die soon anyway. She wonders why she ever agreed to help Reynoldus and why she didn’t just kill Arlette the moment she saw her. She is obviously no good, just like Reynoldus had said.
The clatter of footsteps on the stone stairs pulls her from her thoughts. Four guards come and unlock her cell.
“You will come with us.” A tall, muscular man says.
Jennifer obeys without question. She has a bad feeling that they found who they were looking for.
They lead her up the stone steps, the guards standing around her, prepared if she tries to escape. Her mind is still groggy from sleep, but she is able to remember the dagger she somehow still has in her belt. She moves one hand under her wrinkled cloak and grasps it, making sure it truly was still there. Warm relief stabs the thick despair looming around her.
Her heart is racing again. She was preparing herself for what was ahead.. She releases the hilt of the dagger and brushes her hair out of her face. Her hair is tangled and dirty.
Her skin is smeared with dirt and her eyes red from lack of sleep and stress. Her fingernails are dirty and a few of them are chipped. It is surprising how disheveled one can get after a night in a dungeon.
They finally make it to the throne room where Arlette is sitting, waiting for their arrival. Arlette eyes meet Jennifer’s as she is forced to kneel in front of the elaborate throne. Her eyes are cold and full of disdain. The four guards are still standing by her.
“Bring in Reynoldus.” Arlette high voice echoes slightly in the vast room.
Jennifer’s heart drops at these words. A moment later, Reynoldus is being dragged through the same door that Jennifer had just come from. He is disheveled, much like herself, and has a long cut on his right cheek as well as a badly bruised eye. She tries to catch his eye but he seems to be looking everywhere but where she is kneeling.
“Thank you for your help, Jennifer.” Arlette sneers, “I could not have found him without you, dear.”
“I didn’t…” Jennifer’s voice trails off as she finally catches Reynoldus’ gaze, hurt and angry.
“She sang like a bird and I did not even have to inflict pain, not even the slightest.” Arlette continues. “Now, Jennifer, I know we are both curious about why King Ranulph would ever request that you to take back Ashaedorel, are we not?” Jennifer nods once. “Well, will you not be so kind as to enlighten us on your father’s last wish, Reynoldus?” Arlette’s eyes follow him as the guards surrounding Reynoldus lead him right next to Jennifer and make him kneel down as they had done to Jennifer.
“I do not know what you want me to confess.” Reynoldus almost whispers.
“Come, come, Reynoldus, you know perfectly well. But if you must act as if you are unaware of what I want to know, I will ask. Why did your father need her,” Arlette motions toward Jennifer, “to be the one to help you?”
Reynoldus looks at Jennifer and asks. “Did you leave anything out?”
“I...I…” She stammers, not knowing what to say and feeling like she betrayed him.
“Tell me!” Arlette practically screams.
“Fine! What does it matter anymore?” Reynoldus replies. He takes a deep breath. Still looking at Jennifer, he begins. “Twenty years ago, my mother had...had an affair with a
wealthy man from a neighboring town. My father, who loved my mother very much, could not have her executed. Instead, he banished her and the man to earth where they would live the rest of their days, never able to return. They had a daughter whom they named Jennifer.” He is still looking at Jennifer as he says these words. “The affair was kept from everyone. It was said that the queen had a tragic accident and did not survive. She is dead to everyone except the royal family, except for me now.” His voice grows softer, like he is telling a secret. “Then, the most famed fortune teller, Nemius Reamer, predicted that a girl, by the name of Jennifer Pennington, would recover Ashaedorel when all things seem hopeless.” He finishes and no one speaks.
Jennifer feels like she was just punched in the gut. She was partly royal, Reynoldus was her half brother, her mother and father were both from this world! She feels as if she might faint, but she forces herself to stay conscious. “You should have told me.” She says.
“I did not see the need to then.”
“You didn’t see the need to tell me that you’re my half-brother?” Her voice is rising. “That wasn’t important enough, huh, because that seems pretty big to me!”
“Please, just calm down.”
“Stop!” Arlette shrieks. “You both will calm down and not utter another word.”
Everyone falls quiet, though Jennifer wants to say a whole lot more. She refrains herself.
“Now, I wish to speak with each of you alone in turn and then decide your punishments. Starting with Reynoldus,” she says. The guards take Jennifer back through the door she first entered through, and into a little room off to the side. It is bigger and much cleaner and nicer than the cell she had been in. It is simple with bare walls and a small table and a chair, where she sits down. Her back is aching and her hands are shaking as she waits, alone in the room.
At least an hour passes by before a single guard leads Reynodlus out of the throne room and into the same room where she is still sitting on the hard chair, her feet propped up on the table. She is startled by the door opening and him being shoved in. The guard roughly grabs her arm and pulls her away. This time, it is she who is avoiding Reynoldus’ look.
The guard is tall and brawny. He has hawk-like eyes and a hooked nose. His face is expressionless and cold. His grasp on Jennifer’s arm is tight and painful, but he doesn’t seem to notice her sharp gasps as he pulls her forward back into the throne room. He yanks her back in front of the throne and again forces her to kneel again.
“Thank you, Petrik.” Arlette waves her hand and the hawk-eyed guard backs away until he is standing beside the door. “Your brother was very informative, was he not?” The sound of her voice makes Jennifer want to scream, but she manages to keep from saying anything she would surely regret. Arlette continues. “What is your mother’s name?”
Jennifer replies. “Layla, but she once told me she changed it from Sharmina.”
“And your father’s?”
“Sebastian.”
“Those were the names of your brother’s mother and the man exiled with her. Being that way, I have no other choice. Bring Reynoldus back in.” She commands the hawk-eyed guard called Petrik. “You both will hear the ruling together, like a brother and sister should.” She taunts. Petrik leaves the room, now containing only her and Arlette.
In one swift movement, she whips out the silver dagger, slashes at her cloak, and jumps at Arlette, grasping her throat. Arlette can’t scream, for Jennifer is clutching her throat too tightly. She claws at Jennifer’s face with her long nails. Jennifer tugs a couple times on the spot where she sliced her cloak and rips off a long piece of cloth. She quickly releases Arlette and spins her around. In the slight moment of confusion, Jennifer throws the strip of cloth around Arlette’s face and fastens it into a gag. She then shoves her toward the wall and pins her there, her face inches from Arlette’s. The knife still clutched in her right hand, which is holding one of her arms to the wall.
“How stupid you were to not have any other guards in here with us. Not so tough now, are you?” Jennifer is breathing heavily. It has to be now before Petrik comes back with Reynoldus. “Now, you will die.” She releases Arlette’s left arm that she was securing with her right hand with the dagger. She raises the dagger and closes her eyes. A split second before she is about to plunge it into Arlette’s helpless body, a sharp pain rips through Jennifer, causing her to gasp. She looks down and sees through blurred vision, Arlette’s
hand around the jeweled hilt of a dagger that is deep in her stomach. Her eyes feel heavy and darkness blots her vision. Her legs unable to keep her body upright any longer, she feels the blade slide painfully out of her body as she falls to the ground.
“Jennifer Pennington, I sentence you to death.” Arlette says, for she had gotten the gag off.
