The Crown Conspiracy

He felt her sliding down his body, the back of her dress tearing. Royce gave up his own toehold, hanging by his arm hooked through the door ring, so that he could wrap his legs around her. The princess’ fingers clawed his body frantically and finally finding his belt, she latched on.

Royce was temporarily blinded by a cloud of dust and powdered stone. When it settled, he found they were dangling in the brilliant sunlight on what was now an exterior wall of the castle’s keep. The debris of the tower fell into the moat, making a pile of broken rocks seventy feet below. The crowd of trial watchers screamed and gasped pointing up at them. “It’s the princess!” A voice shouted.

“Can you reach the ledge?” Royce asked.

“No! If I try, I’ll fall. I can’t—”

Royce felt her slipping again and tried to tighten his leg hold on her, but he knew it would not be enough.

“Oh no! My fingers—I’m slipping!”

Royce’s arm, crooked in the ring, was wrenching his shoulder badly. His other hand, which gripped Arista’s dress and hair, was slowing losing hold. She was sliding down once again; soon he would lose her altogether. Royce felt a tug on his arm. The door opened, and a strong hand reached out and grabbed Arista.

“I’ve got you,” Hadrian told her as he hauled the princess up. Then he pulled the door open wide, dragging Royce into the hallway with it.

They lay on the floor exhausted and covered in bits of rock. Royce got to his feet and dusted off his clothes. “I thought I felt it unlock,” he said, getting up and retrieving his dagger from the face of the door.

Hadrian stood in the threshold of the doorway looking out at the clearing blue sky. “Well, Royce, I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Where’s the dwarf?” Royce asked looking around.

“I didn’t see him.”

“And Braga? You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No. I locked him in the chapel, but it won’t hold. Which reminds me, could I borrow your sword? You’re not going to use it anyway.”

Royce handed him the falchion sword that had been part of his castle guard disguise. Hadrian took the weapon, slipped it from its sheath, and weighed it in his hand. “I tell you, these swords are terrible. They are heavy and have all the balance of a drunken three-legged dog trying to take a piss.” He then looked at Arista and added, “Oh, excuse me…Your Highness. How are you doing, Princess?”

Arista got to her feet. “Much better now.”

“For the record, we’re even, right?” Royce asked her. “You saved us from prison and a horrible death, and now we’ve saved you.”

“Fine,” she agreed, wiping the dust from her torn dress. “But I would like to point out my rescue of you was far less death defying.” She ran a hand through her disheveled hair. “That really hurt you know.”

“Falling would have hurt more.”

A loud bang echoed from down the hall.

“Gotta go,” Hadrian told them, “his lordship is loose.”

“Be careful,” Arista shouted after him, “he’s a renowned swordsman!”

“I’m really tired of hearing that,” Hadrian grumbled as he started back up the hall. He had not gone far when Braga rounded the corner coming toward them.

“So, you got her out!” Braga bellowed. “I’ll just have to kill her myself then.”

“You’ll have to get by me first I’m afraid,” Hadrian told him.

“That won’t be a problem.”

The archduke charged Hadrian, swinging at him in a fury. He hammered stroke after stroke on the fighter in a rage. Hadrian fought to deflect the fierce blows, which fell so fast they whistled in the air. The look on Braga’s reddening face was one of hatred as he continued to pummel Hadrian.

“Braga!” Alric shouted from the far end of the hall.

The archduke spun, panting for air.

-- 12 --

Hadrian saw the prince standing at the far end of the corridor. He was dressed in plate armor and a white tabard marred by a spattering of blood. Alric’s hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed sword, and at his side were the Pickerings and Sir Ecton, each with a grim and dangerous look upon his face.

“Put down your weapon,” the prince ordered in a powerful voice. “It’s over. This is my kingdom!”

“You filthy little creature!” he cursed at the prince. He turned his attention away from Hadrian and began walking toward the prince. Hadrian did not follow. Instead, he joined Royce and Arista to watch.

“Did you think I was after your precious little kingdom?” Braga bellowed. “Is that what you think? I was trying to save the world, you fools! Can’t you see it? Look at him!” The archduke pointed at the prince. “Look at the little maggot prince!” he turned and pointed back at Arista. “And her, too! Just like their father; they aren’t human!” Braga, his face still red from the fight, continued down the corridor toward Alric. “You would have filth rule you all, but not me. Not while there is breath in this body!”