Bash kept his gaze locked on the man holding the knife. He didn’t let himself look away from those dark, desperate eyes. “Not so powerful now, are you?” the man sneered. “Now that I’ve got something you want. How does that feel, huh?”
“Please… just relax.” Bash fought to keep his voice calm. He pushed forward, trying to get a better view of the scene through the narrow window in the wall. “You’re scaring the boy.”
The man had one arm around Pascal’s shoulder, the other one pressing the knife to his throat. His hand was shaking. The blade was dangerously close to Pascal’s skin. “Now the tables have turned, noble!” the man yelled, his voice rising with fury.
“You have mistaken me for someone I’m not,” Bash said. “I’m nothing more than a bastard.… I can’t help you.”
He took a step forward, moving slowly, with purpose. The man was skittish. Bash knew one wrong move could mean Pascal’s death. As Bash walked he turned slightly to the side. He brought his hand to his hip, reaching for the dagger that was secured in his belt. Then he pulled it from his waistband and hid it behind his back. He did it so quickly, it didn’t seem like the man had noticed.
“Don’t lie to me!” the man yelled. Pascal stood there, frozen, tears running down his cheeks. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving.
“I’m not lying,” Bash said. “I have no negotiation powers. I can bring you food, water if you want. But beyond that…”
“You all lie,” the man yelled again. Pascal tensed with each word.
Bash looked around, scanning the edge of the palace, wondering if any guards would come to his aid. They were all inside the courtyard, just beyond the gardens. He doubted they would venture any closer and risk exposure. He was on his own, with just the dagger to save the boy.
“I didn’t lie,” Bash said, trying to keep his voice even. “I never lied to you.” He caught the eye of one of the archers on the palace parapets. He tipped his head toward the guard, and saw him notch his arrow. If he couldn’t have reinforcements on the ground, at least he might be able to have some above.
“You nobles in your palace,” the man spat. “My family is dying out here, my little boy is sick. I’ve spent days burying my neighbors. And you sit inside the palace walls, you sit there and have your feasts. Well, now it’s my turn to make demands. I want food… I want medicine. And you’re going to get it for me now, or…” He reached down, grabbing the back of Pascal’s shirt. He drew the knife closer.
Bash turned his head, noticing the crowd coming toward them. Some of the other villagers had seen what was happening. Bash knew that it was over. Even if he could control this one man, he wouldn’t be able to talk down five… or ten.
“Come make your demands,” the man yelled, gesturing toward them. He turned, letting his grip on Pascal loosen. “I have one of the children, and now this noble—”
Bash didn’t think. He pulled his dagger back and aimed, throwing it through the window. It hit the man squarely in the chest, just to the left of his sternum. The man wheezed. He staggered backward, then fell to the ground, blood spilling from the wound.
“Now!” Bash yelled to Pascal, who was still standing there, frozen. The other villagers ran toward him. One had already reached the man on the ground. He bent over him, examining the wound.
“Quick!” Bash yelled, pointing at the tree. “Go now! Run!”
Pascal scrambled away from the villagers and ran to the tree. He climbed faster than before, his footing sure as he moved from one branch to the next. He didn’t struggle. When he got closer to the wall, he swung his leg up and over, straddling the branch. He was only a few feet away from the top.
Bash threw the rope up to him. The boy worked quickly, tying it around the thick branch. His eyes met Bash’s, and Bash nodded. “Yes! Now!” he called. “I’ll get you when you come down.”
Pascal took a breath, then gripped the rope and swung down over the other side of the wall, his grip sliding as he tried to hang on. The villagers were already gathered at the base of the tree. One climbed a few branches, hoping to grab his feet.
Bash held out his arm, and as Pascal swung past he stopped the rope, sending the boy rolling across the lawn. As soon as Pascal was safe Bash grabbed the rope, pulling it back, the knot sliding a few more inches toward the end of the branch, just out of the villagers’ reach.
“Murderer!” one of the villagers yelled. The man pressed his face into the stone window. “You killed him!”
Bash helped Pascal to his feet. More townspeople were at the wall now, some throwing rocks they’d found outside the gates. A few flew past Bash’s side, some past his head, just missing him.
“You won’t get away with this!” a woman yelled. “You’re heartless, you know that?”
Bash picked Pascal up in his arms and ran. As he did he glanced at the guard on the parapet. The archer had his arm drawn back. He let the first arrow fly. It was wide, not in danger of hitting anyone in the crowd, but it was enough to stop them from coming at the wall. The man loosed two more arrows, and the crowd quickly dispersed, the villagers heading away from them and back to the front of the palace.
Bash ran up the lawn in the other direction until he was certain they were safe. He let out a long breath, settling Pascal on the ground. “Are you hurt?” He checked the boy’s neck to make sure the man hadn’t broken the skin. He scanned his bare legs, which were scraped and dirty, but otherwise fine.
Pascal just shook his head. His face was covered with sweat. He looked up at Bash, his brown eyes filled with tears, then threw his arms around Bash’s waist.
“You’re safe,” Bash said, hugging him back. He pulled the boy close, pushing his wet hair off his forehead, trying to comfort him. “It’s all right, Pascal. I’m here. You’re with me now.”
The boy only cried harder. He gripped Bash’s shirt in his hands, holding on. Bash took a breath, feeling his eyes well. He could still see Pascal’s face as the man put the blade to his neck. How frightened he was, his whole body rigid with fear. Bash hadn’t realized just how much the boy meant to him until he saw him there, like that… until he realized he might lose him.
“It was so scary,” Pascal said as he drew back and wiped his hand across his nose, leaving a streak of dirt. “His hand was against my throat. I could barely breathe. He was going to kill me.”
“But he didn’t. I would never let that happen—never. Nobody’s going to hurt you anymore,” Bash said as he combed back Pascal’s hair. It was the truth. As long as Pascal was here, inside the palace walls, Bash would make sure he was safe.
Pascal let out a long breath. “I want to go back inside,” he said, glancing up at the palace.
“Me too,” Bash said. He brushed the dirt off Pascal’s shirt, then wiped his cheek with his hand. “Besides, I think a bath is definitely in order.”
“Not necessary,” Pascal said with great authority. He shook his head, but Bash just laughed.
“I think it might be necessary… but afterward, we can get you a treat from the kitchens.”
“Cake?” Pascal asked, a smile curling his lips.
“I’ll see what we can do.” The thought of a bath and cake sounded pretty good to him as well. Now that it was over, he could feel the effects of the long hours of searching and the struggle by the wall. His arm hurt from where it had caught the rope. He couldn’t think straight, he was so tired. He wanted to get back to Kenna, to show her it was all right… he was all right.
Bash wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulder, leading him up the great lawn, back toward the palace courtyard. As they approached the entrance, two of the guards stepped forward, blocking their way.
“I’m sorry, sir,” one said. It was the same pair of guards, Bash noticed, who had tried to prevent him from leaving in the first place. “We can’t let you in.”
“Why not?” Bash demanded. But then he noticed they were looking past him, down at Pascal. They each took a step back.
“He was with the villagers,” the other guard said. “He was exposed. And now…” he said, pointing to Bash’s hand on Pascal’s shoulder, “you probably have been as well.”
Bash glanced behind him, staring at the crowd outside the palace gates. They had dispersed a bit, but Bash could only imagine what would happen if he went back there—the hated noble who had murdered one of them.
“But where are we to go?” he asked. “Surely you’re not going to force us off the grounds.”
“The queen gave her orders,” the other guard said, looking warily from Pascal to Bash. “Anyone attempting to get into the palace should be killed.”
Bash shook his head. “But I never went beyond the palace walls,” he said. “And even if I did, you can’t prove that we’re infected. This doesn’t make sense.”
“You didn’t, but that one did.” The other guard pointed to Pascal. He leaned in, whispering something to the other guard. Bash couldn’t quite make out the words. Bash pulled the boy closer, feeling his heart speed up. He’d saved him from the mob, only to bring him here, to more danger?
“Please,” Bash said, moving in front of Pascal. “There has to be a way. Lock us both in the dungeons. I’ll stay with the boy there. We’ll stay for as long as we need to so we can prove we weren’t infected, that we don’t have the plague.”
The first guard raised his eyebrows. “And if you’re wrong? If you were infected?”
“Then we’ll know that soon enough, won’t we?” Bash said, his voice grim. He knew it was a risk—he might not have the plague yet, but if Pascal had been infected it was only a matter of time. Still… he wasn’t about to send the boy off on his own, locked away in the dark. He couldn’t. Not after everything that he’d already been through.
The guard nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Come with us. But keep your distance. Don’t try anything or we’ll have to draw our weapons.”
“I won’t,” Bash promised. He gave Pascal a smile, hoping that it didn’t reveal his uncertainty. As they walked inside, Bash turned back, looking to the balcony above. Kenna stood there, leaning over the railing, her face a mixture of hope and confusion.
Bash raised his hand to her in a wave, trying to alert her that they were all right. He wanted to call out that Pascal wasn’t injured, just scared. He wanted to tell her he’d see her in just a few days. He wanted to tell her he loved her.
But the guards were already heading into the servants’ wing, gesturing for them to follow. “Come along,” one yelled. “We don’t have all day.”
Bash glanced up one last time before slipping inside, then the door slammed shut behind him.