Matthew awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the sensation of a full stomach, something he hadn’t experienced for months. Stretching was slightly painful, thanks to the cuts and bruises on his arms and shoulders, but even the stinging didn’t dampen his mood. Not only had he slept well, his dreams had been pleasant. Even lying on the uncomfortable mattress, he found himself smiling, thinking about his Maggie.
Most mornings since he’d been taken prisoner, he found himself reflecting on the visions that had haunted his intermittent sleep. He dreamt of Margaret nearly every night. Generally, those dreams started off as wonderful reenactments of pleasant memories. Moments together watching the sunrise, sharing a laugh over the dinner table, making love to his beautiful bride. By the end, they would become twisted horror stories, concluding with his mangled wife lying on the floor as he screamed, holding her precious head in his hands, begging her to come back to him. Of course, she never did.
Last night, however, the ending had been different. In this dream, as Matthew had sobbed, his head buried in Maggie’s still chest, he heard a gasp. He’d looked at her face, and her green eyes had started to flutter.
Unfortunately, that is where it had ended. With the unexpected movement of her eyelids, and a peek at those emerald orbs, he’d been jarred awake.
Matthew rubbed his swollen face, the pain from the gash in his head reminding him not only that he was still a prisoner but of yesterday’s events. He tenderly felt the wound, still wrapped in one of the cloths his angelic visitor had brought. It still hurt, but it was no longer bleeding. He decided to replace the cloth and dug one out of the mattress, shaking off as much debris as possible. Removing the old bandage caused a bit of fresh bleeding from where the scab had connected to the cloth, and he grimaced as it tore free. His head was swimming, so once the new bandage was in place, he took deep breaths and leaned back against the stone wall.
The little book of poetry had fallen on the floor. He had placed it on the large, out-of-place bookshelf the night before, but now it was turned upside down near a splatter of blood on the stone. With his head still spinning, he carefully stepped across the room, bending down slowly to pick up the book. As he brought it back to rest on the shelf again, he noticed that the shelves were extremely shallow. This was strange for such a large piece of furniture. Though he had been in this room for six months, he had never really paid attention to the structure of the colossal piece.
Matthew wiggled the bookshelf . It was heavy, but it was not attached to the wall at all as he’d assumed it would be. Puzzled, Matthew attempted to scoot it away from the wall, but there was not much room in the tight quarters. He was able to move it forward slightly and noticed that the side was about a foot deeper than the width of the shelf.
As he studied the unit, an idea formed in his mind. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Matthew found himself praying. “God, if you’re up there, if you do exist, would you please send that angel back to me again today?” If the person who’d brought the gifts yesterday returned, perhaps he could request a few items to help him with the plan forming in his head.
While he was praying, he might as well mention Maggie. He said a prayer for her soul. If he could find a way to make this plan work, perhaps he wouldn’t be joining her quite as soon as he’d been expecting.
King Caleb of Arteria had only dozed off a few hours ago. The rapping on his door brought him around quickly, but his initial thoughts were that his men were under attack. Sitting up and wiping at his eyes, he recalled he was home, within the walls of Castle Caine, no longer camped in the rolling hills of Glendor across the Arterian Lake. Shaking his head, he reached for a robe and pulled it on as another knock landed on the door.
Caroline’s eyes were wide, her gray hair coming loose from her hairpins. “It’s happened!” she said in a sharp whisper.
Not sure what to say, Caleb belted his robe tighter and followed her out into the hallway. Caroline was spry for her age, but she took the narrow, winding staircase more carefully than he would’ve liked. Caleb did his best to stay patient as they made their way to the back of the castle, to the private room where their most precious guest had been accommodated for many months.
His caretaker pushed open the door, and they both stepped in to see the physician, Russell, leaning over the bed. On the other side of the room, two servant girls quietly went about setting up a tray of water and what looked like soup. A breeze stirred the white canopy atop the bed, and the snowy fabric billowed as if announcing life had returned to the room.
Slowly, Caleb took a few steps forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. He felt Caroline’s hand resting assuredly on his arm. She was right; it had happened. A wave of relief washed over him, and a genuine smile lit his face. He had waited so long for this moment, and it was finally here. He could hardly believe he was finally looking into those blinking emerald green eyes.
Katherine was up before the sun. She had tried to sleep, but it had failed her. Since there were better ways to use her time than lying in bed, tossing and turning, dozing off, and being jarred violently awake by dreams of nasty remembrances, she’d tried to do a little reading in her room by candlelight, but her mind had kept drifting off. The interaction with Philip the night before had left her shaken, so she tried not to think of him at all.
Instead, she’d let her mind wander to thoughts of King Matthew. Though she’d only spent a few moments with the Zurconian king, he seemed such a contrast to her malevolent betrothed. The fact that he was being held against his will was so unfair and served as further evidence that Philip was a horrid man.
She knew she would pay Matthew another visit as soon as the king left his castle. She had heard Philip say something about riding out to inspect the lines today, and she was hopeful that he would take both Edward and Cuthburt with him. The idea that she could sneak into the rooms of those two nasty scoundrels and mete out some punishment on them seemed intriguing, but she knew she would not be capable of causing the type of injuries they deserved so she gave up the thought. Once she’d seen Joan stirring, she’d decided it must be close to daylight and headed out into the hall.
The castle was quiet, indicating that everyone was still slumbering or had left for the day. Looking out the window, she could see that the sun was just beginning to climb above the horizon. Katherine decided to take a walk out to the stable to see if Philip’s horse was still there. She was fairly certain she could hide among the animals without him even knowing she was there, should that be necessary.
It wasn’t. Philip must have gotten over his inebriation rather quickly that morning because, by the time Katherine reached the stables, his giant black stallion was gone. The stalls that usually held the horses ridden by Edward and Charles were also vacant. She had no idea where Cuthburt would’ve kept his horse, but she imagined he was gone as well. The princess felt assured she could return to the tower without anyone of consequence noticing. A few stable boys bustled past, but none of them seemed to notice her. With a mischievous grin on her face, Katherine went about fetching the items she would take to the captive king.