A Ghost in the House of Iron

Chapter Twelve

SINDRED

"The boy needs to be protected. Sindred, I want you to watch over him."

I watched him. Watched as he and his friend snacked on apples and sausage out in the fields, safe within the palace walls. Kept my distance, but made sure they didn't go sneaking off where they were told not to go. When the sky filled with fire, I watched one boy run back up the hill and I waited… I was so sure the other would be close at his heels. I crept closer, only to be knocked off my feet when a falling rock smashed to the ground nearby, sending out an explosion of dirt and debris. By the time I caught my breath and pushed myself to standing, there was no sign of the prince. Darkness clogged the air and the forest was in flames. I stood there, frozen in place, for longer than I'd like to admit. My world was spinning; I could barely see through the searing clouds of smoke. What was more frightening: the stars crashing down from the sky, or how utterly I had failed at my most important assignment?

"I want you to watch over him. You're right. It is a lot of responsibility."

By the time I reach the palace, it's in chaos: a cacophony of screams and pounding feet. Ironborn swarm the grounds in their gold-plated armor and spiked helms, holding up magical barriers against the onslaught of flaming rocks dropping from the heavens, herding groups of terrified people with stern commands, putting out flames with a sweep of their wands. The boy Leon goes straight for a company of king's guards who stand sentry at the front gate of the palace. Desperate to find Ezebel, I dart inside through the kitchen entrance.

She's not in the apothecary, but that's not surprising. I don't find her in the king's study, either, or his war room. The halls leading to the ballroom are crowded with people, noble and peasant alike. I try to push through, but it is impossible. They huddle together, forming a solid blockade. There are people crying, others trying to console them, some begging for an audience with the king, others shouting obscenities. There is a constant banging of many fists on the door, a few yelps of pain as guards do their best to keep folk from barging in. 

"Please," I say to a young maid I've seen a few times before. "I need to get through."

She glances over her shoulder, looks right through me and gives a man behind me a dirty look.

"I need to get through!" I repeat loudly. No one reacts.

I squeeze my way out of the mob, determined to find another way in. There is a guard at the stairway to the ballroom balcony, spear at the ready. "I need to speak with the king! Or the White Witch," I tell him.

He doesn't hear me, doesn't see me.

"The prince is in danger!" I scream.

The man doesn't even twitch. His eyes continue to watch the nearby crowd.

In the distance, something hits the earth with such force that the floors of the palace tremble, the weighty tapestries flutter. Everyone staggers, a few fall.

"Somebody!" I plead, spinning around.

Ezebel made a mistake. I should never have said I was ready. The prince is my responsibility. It was my task to watch over him. But when danger arrived with unexpected severity, I did nothing. I didn't go to him, try to protect him myself. I watched, and waited. I lost sight of him, and then went running to get some hero who would swoop in and be the rescuer. It's my assignment, but I expected someone else to do the hard part for me. I'm just a coward. A child. Useless and invisible.

That boy, Leon. He's the prince's best hope.

Back outside, the air is heavy with dark smoke. I find the closest king's guard and tap him on the elbow. "Do you know where the prince is?" I ask. "Or his young friend? Can you help me?