The Reign of Trees (18 page)

***

Illianah’s eyes flew open. It was pitch black in her bedchambers. A hand was pressed firmly across her mouth, rendering her unable to cry for help.

“Illianah,” a voice whispered. “It is I, Donovan.”

Donovan? In her room? In the middle of the night?

Her heart had already been racing from her harsh awakening, but now it seemed to beat so heavily that it might make her bed crash through the floor.

“Do you trust me, Illianah?” he asked.

She nodded, and he said. “I will remove my hand, but do not speak.”

He slowly moved his hand and waited, possibly making certain she would not scream, and then he placed something on her bed. “Here, put these on. I will wait outside your door. You must not light a candle. You must not make a sound.”

And then Donovan vanished from her room as if he was just a figment of her dreams.

She lay in bed, momentarily stunned. Had he really just woken her, or had she only dreamt it? She moved her hands across the bed’s covers and found a gown and a heavy cloak. She waited for her eyes to focus in the darkness before she stepped from the bed.

She shed her nightgown and splashed cold water from her dressing table onto her face. The gown Donovan had given her was black—or another shade that was dark like the night—and felt like wool. Her hair was in its typical nighttime fashion—braided loosely down her back; she did not think she had the time to brush it out, so she left it as it was and threw the dark cloak over her shoulders.

Donovan waited at the top of the stairwell and he again whispered the same instructions. She must be silent. She must not use light. Then he instructed her to grab ahold of the back of his cloak and not let go.

They descended the staircase faster than she ever did during daylight hours. She held fast to Donovan with her right hand, while running her left hand along the wall of the stairwell. She felt safe with him at the lead, yet every step they descended made her stomach jump anxiously, as she hoped her feet would land softly on the next step.

He did not head toward the royal tower, as she expected he would. Her only thought had been that he was waking her because the king had fallen ill again; yet that did not make sense as there would be no need to run through the castle like blind mice.

Donovan headed toward the kitchens, but then led her through a doorway she had never encountered before. Beyond the door was another set of stairs. She had never been to the castle’s cellar before; why were they going there now, in the middle of the night?

But they did not stop in the storage cellars. They went deeper into the bowels of the castle and what little light they had from the moon entirely vanished. They moved slower now, as Donovan was obviously feeling his way through the passageway, no longer relying on a lifetime of familiarity with the castle. Even though she was wearing the thick cloak, the air was so cold and damp that it caused goose bumps to prick on her arms. And the air had a peculiar smell as well. It smelled musty and foul, almost as if something was rotting nearby. It was the smell of the dungeon.

Her heart sank when she realized this. Was that what the king meant in telling her goodbye? Did they mean to lock her away because of the crimes committed by her kingdom? She grabbed onto Donovan’s cloak even tighter. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice not as quiet as it should have been.

“
Shhh
,” he whispered. “Look up ahead.”

There was a light, growing brighter as they approached—it was a torch mounted to the wall. She could see that the walls were made of the same black stones as the dungeon, and they seemed to seep with the tears of the prisoners. All along the passageway, moss grew on the wet rocks. Other than the sound of water dripping, the corridor was deathly silent. The smell was beginning to make her eyes sting. They must be near the castle’s sewers; Illianah’s skin crawled at the thought of being so near to human waste.

Donovan grabbed the torch as they walked past and used it lead the way further down the passageway. The passageway continued down a steep decline for a time and then they turned to the left and Illianah could see that the passageway began to incline. This gave her hope: maybe he would not have her chained in the depths of hell.

After climbing a set of narrow, corroded stairs, the passageway grew even thinner. There was a wooden door ahead and Donovan stopped about ten feet short of reaching it. He turned toward her and lowered the torch so she could see his face. “This is it, Illianah. We are outside the walls of the castle.” He still whispered, but only slightly.

“What?”

His shoulders heaved as he exhaled forcibly and he said, “My father plans to send you to Cordana. You are to begin your journey before the crack of dawn, accompanied by two dozen soldiers. My father will then notify Prince Harrington that you have been sent to Cordana in preparation for a prisoner exchange. He has agreed …” Donovan sighed deeply again, “to exchange General Montague for you, under the condition that Harrington accepts the surrender of Cordana and allows you to remain there through the duration of the war.”

Illianah felt her heart fall to the floor, causing her to lean back against the wall of the tunnel. An exchange? She had thought King Henrick would never agree to Leif’s terms.

“My father cannot accept the loss of the citizens of Cordana. He knows Prince Harrington will not allow them to surrender, but will instead burn the village with all the inhabitants trapped inside. We fear that the village will fall before the week is out. My father’s only hope is that you …” Donovan stopped, as if he had just been punched in the gut. His voice sounded feeble when he continued, “He hopes Prince Harrington will spare the village if you are there. But I …” again, Donovan seemed to be losing precious air, “I know differently.”

“You think Le …” Illianah stopped, as speaking of Donovan’s sworn enemy with such familiarity did not seem appropriate. “You think Prince Harrington would order my death?”

“I do not question it. You remember the letter we intercepted from Liksland?”

“Yes, they would not pledge their help.”

“Not when no wrongs had been done to them or to their prince. But if his wife were to die while under our care—while on Deltegran soil—well, then that will be another matter.”

“But my death would not be at your hands. It would be Prince Harrington who would cause it.” She shook her head quickly, not believing she was discussing her own death so frankly.

“How would they prove that? How would Liksland know that your death had been a result of Prince Harrington’s barbarism and not just common warfare? I am certain it would be made to look as if you were trapped in a dungeon with no chance for escape as Prince Harrington’s fiery arrows caused an unfortunate fire in the village of Cordana.”

Illianah sank into the wall even further. Had the wall not been there, she would have collapsed to the floor.

“It makes sense, does it not?” Donovan asked.

“Well yes, but …” a thought crept into her mind that made her rise with hope. “Prince Harrington cannot inherit the throne of Burchess without me. We have not had a child; therefore he is not qualified to take my father’s place. He cannot order my death …”

“Ah, but he does not need you to inherit the
Deltegran
throne. Once he conquers my kingdom, your father will place him upon my father’s throne as a reward for his service to Burchess. He will become King Harrington of Deltegra, kin to the throne of Liksland and in league with the king of Burchess, not to mention the ally he has made with the throne of Normandisle. That puts Harrington in a very powerful position. And when your father dies—which my guess is that it would be sooner rather than later—your cousin, the insolent Lord Nolan will be placed on the throne. Harrington will not wait a year to dethrone Nolan. With Harrington’s powerful connections and his cunning war strategies, dethroning Nolan would be as simple as swatting a fly. Then Harrington would take your father’s throne, without the aid of marriage.”

Illianah’s chest hurt so badly she thought her heart had just been obliterated by the blow of a hammer. Not only was she unwanted, by anyone it seemed, she was also unneeded. Leif, with all his lofty plans to inherit the throne of Burchess, had only married her to get close to her father. He had used her, and now he planned on discarding her as if she was a piece of used parchment which could only be used as kindling.

“My father does not think Prince Harrington to be so heartless, but I do not have any reason to think otherwise. I have not seen anything in his correspondence to make me believe he cares for you, Illianah. Please tell me if I am wrong,” he said softly, almost fearfully.

She had hoped not to cry in front of Donovan, yet again, but her throat became thick and she knew the tears would push their way to the surface. “No,” she whispered, the sound of defeat echoing through her heart. She was unloved by her own husband. She knew it. Donovan knew it. There was nothing to deny.

“Then you must go,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and leading her a few steps closer to the door.

“Go where?” Was he sending her to Cordana early, so that her death could come more quickly? Was he hoping to end her anguished life all the sooner?

“To Vieve.” He stopped and turned to face her again.

 
Vieve? Vieve was to the south of both Deltegra and Burchess. An independent kingdom. Vieve had nothing to do with the war. “I am to escape?”

“Yes.”

“And your father …?”

“He does not know. He will be furious with me when he finds you gone in the morning, but I will take the blame. You will need to ride all night. Keep to the highway we traveled on the day we received the news of Tudela del Sans. From there, you will follow the river. The river will keep you in the lowlands so you will not have to climb the mountain pass. You must not stop. And you must ride fast. Kasba will do well. You should make it to Vieve by sunrise. You will know you have arrived when you cross the rocky crest of Liet.”

“I am to go by myself? In the dead of night?” Her voice sounded winded, as if she had already been galloping on horseback for several hours.

“It is the only way. I cannot risk sending a rider with you, as I can be the only one to know your location.”

She fell backwards, clutching at her chest. It was hard to breathe. She wanted to collapse at his feet and beg for another option— for another way to escape her eminent death. “Will you not come with me?” It was the innermost desire of her heart which had spoken without first warning her mind that such a request was uncouth; but her heart sounded so desperate, so broken, that surely Donovan would have to comply.

“Illianah,” he whispered. “I cannot.” He also leaned against the wall of the tunnel, facing her, their bodies two feet apart. “I cannot leave my father at a time like this. I cannot leave my kingdom.”

She wished she could kick her own heart for asking as much, but his rejection did not stop her heart from asking another question. “But do you want to, Donovan? Do you want to be with me?”

It looked as if his body was sinking into the ground. He slouched farther into the wall, making him appear shorter. The torch light now illuminated his face perfectly. His eyes looked sorrowful; his brows creased. “There are words I wish to say, but I am not fool enough to speak them to the wife of Prince Harrington. But if you could,” he paused and gently grabbed her hand and brought it to his chest, “if you could but look into my heart, you would have that answer.”

Illianah held her hand across his chest, but looked into his eyes instead of his heart. Underneath her palm, she could feel the pounding coming from deep within. At that moment, his heart spoke to hers. “Yes,” it said.

He let his eyes reach deep into her soul for but a moment, then with his hand still on hers, he pulled her closer to the door. “You must go. Do not stop until you reach Vieve. Lietstan is the first village you will encounter. Once you are there, go straight to the chapel. Find a priest and claim sanctuary. He will have to grant you your request. No one will harm you once you are within the chapel. Then write to your father, and only your father. Tell him you fear for your life and that you do not wish your location to be known to Prince Harrington. Once you are back safely within the walls of St. Moraine, tell your father of your suspicions of Prince Harrington’s quest for the throne. Make your father wary of Prince Harrington, and never leave your father’s side. You will be safe that way.”

Donovan reached to his waistband and pulled out a dagger sheathed in leather. “Take this, for your protection in the forest.”

She froze with fear. What would she meet that would require her to use a dagger for protection? Wild animals? Thieves? Spies from Burchess? Her breaths became very shallow and rapid, almost like she was breathing ice instead of air. Sharp, painful tears fell from her eyes as she struggled to breathe.

“Here is money to pay the rector for his services,” Donovan said, handing her a small pouch. “There is a small amount of food in your saddlebag, but it is only for an emergency. Remember not to stop.” His words sounded like that dagger was about to be jabbed into his chest, making him speak quickly to try and dodge a blow from the blade.

“I cannot do this,” she sobbed. She wished to bury her head into his shoulder and cry, but instead he grabbed her hard upon the arm.

“You must do this. It is your only chance to live.” With his other hand, he mounted the torch on the wall. “You are strong, Illianah. You are brave. You are the only woman I know who could do this. Go quickly. May God guide you.”