Page 86 of Reign of Light
Rage simmers beneath my skin at his clear insult to Weston. This man shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be anywhere near this gate, or this castle. I don’t even want him in the kingdom.Mykingdom. And I refuse to let him bring such a disgrace to the guards of Blackwood any longer.
“Is there a problem here?” I lean farther to the side so I can see past Weston, and cross my arms over my chest. Guthrie’s eyes slide to me, and I catch the barely there widening and the flash of recognition, before his jaw clenches and his gaze hardens. It’s gone a moment later, as a sneer plays at his lips, his attention turning back to Weston. He looks him up and down and takes a step closer, shifting his hand to the hilt of his sword.
“You know, it’s a crime to impersonate a member of the guard. The same goes for impersonating the royal family. Both of you have committed crimes against the crown and are to be arrested immediately.” He nods over his shoulder at the guards behind him, who don’t say another word before they advance.
Weston’s hands fist at his sides, his knuckles white and his arms tense as if he’s ready for a fight. But he doesn’t move. Each guard takes hold of one of his arms, yanking them roughly behind his back and holding him in place, and I feel the simmering rage explode inside of me.
“Bullshit!” I yell, stepping up beside where the guard holds Weston back. “You know exactly who I am!” I point to my feet, grinding out thenext words. “The last time I saw you, you were on your knees reciting your oath after insulting me before you were sent away for your piss-poor personality. If you want to threaten the princess of Blackwood, then you’re the fucking idiot. As soon as Brynne?—”
“Oho, she’s got a mouth on her,” he interrupts with a cruel laugh. He saunters forward, stopping right in front of Weston, but his eyes are fixed on me as he raises a hand, pointing in my face. “Keep talking like that and I’ll give you something to do with that mou?—”
There’s a thud followed by a groan of pain as Weston’s head slams into Guthrie’s, knocking him to the ground as he clutches his face. Blood oozes from between his fingers, and in a flash Weston is free, and both guards that held him in place a moment ago now lie on the ground. A sing of metal cuts through the air as the point of Weston’s sword settles in the dip of Guthrie’s throat.
Fear coats the man’s face as he looks into Weston’s eyes.
“If you dare to finish that sentence and insult the princess, I will personally cut out your tongue before having you extracted from the guard and shipped off to the labor yards for treason.”
Guthrie’s eyes narrow, but his throat bobs, giving away his displeasure at Weston taking the upper hand. He scrambles backward just as motion catches my eye.
A shriek pierces my ears, and I realize it came from my throat as one guard swings the hilt of his dagger at the back of Weston’s head. He lets out a grunt and stumbles forward, doing everything he can to keep from falling to his knees.
I start toward him, but he holds up a hand, halting me, as the guards use the opportunity to secure him again, the rest of them standing in the entrance jumping to aid the two in holding him back as he thrashes against them.
Guthrie stands, swiping his thumb at the blood dripping down his face and smearing it crudely over his cheek. “Bring him to the fucking dungeon. Both of them.”
The guard who swayed warily on his feet steps away from the struggle of the others and moves toward me, but his steps falter the moment Weston steps closer, dragging the guards with him.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” he snaps. The guard halts and looks between Weston and Guthrie, but Weston doesn’t give anyone a chance to speak. “The moment any of you lays a finger on her is the moment you put your lives in your hands.”
The young guard that moved toward me looks between us before stepping next to me, leaving his hands by his sides.
“Dungeon! Now!” Guthrie screams, his face reddening as he gestures to the castle.
“Walk, lady,” he says sternly, but he can’t hide the slight tremor in his voice. I’m sure after witnessing how easily Weston got the upper hand over all the other guards, he is taking the threat seriously.
The gate slams behind us as they lead us through the grounds, following the winding path toward the back of the castle, completely ignoring the staff entrance to the kitchens that I came and went through before. I keep quiet, and after his last outburst, so does Weston, but when we stop at a wooden door, I can see the thoughts churning behind his distant gaze.
The guard at my side pulls a set of keys off his belt and unlocks a large bolt, followed by a series of others that must keep the dungeon’s secured from the outside. He huffs loudly as he pulls the thick wooden slab open and stands to the side. The guards surrounding Weston push him through the entrance first, and there’s a twinge of pain in my chest as I watch them disappear into the dark corridor ahead.
We can’t be separated. Not here. Not when we were so close.
I still can’t wrap my head around what is happening, why Guthrie is back and why he is pretending like he does not know who I am. Dread fills the pit in my stomach as I wonder what is going on inside these walls, and what Weston and I are actually walking into.
My guard stands next to the opening and gestures for me to gothrough, but I hesitate for a moment as a lesson from Edmond pops into my mind.
Edmond. Where is Edmond?
He would get us out of this mess, but they won’t go get him, no matter how much I ask. They will, however, need to get the highest-ranking guard, especially if they are locking prisoners away. I need to connect with him, make him see me on an even playing field, and once he does, convince him to bring me to her.
“What’s your name, sir?” My voice is soft as I try a different tactic than the authoritative one Weston already had. Even after my brief outburst toward Guthrie, hopefully he can see that I respect our guards enough to talk to me.
He hesitates for a moment before deciding that it is impolite not to answer.
“Park, my lady,” he mutters.
“Nice to meet you, Park. I’m Lennox.” I step through the doorway, doing as he asked, as yet another way to show I’m not trying to fight.
His mouth forms a line as he turns away, pulling the door closed behind us, and quickly turning the key to bolt the locks. The light in the corridor is snuffed out the moment he shuts the door, leaving me barely able to see, if it were not for the dim lanterns that line the hall. I peer down as far as I can, but I can see no doorways or splits in the corridor through the darkness.
