Colton swallowed and glanced around once more, at a loss for what to do. Finally he mounted the horse again, which he had never meant for himself, and rode to the front of the palace. There he gazed out across the field before the palace entry, bright in the afternoon sun, the grass far too green and happy to fit the sorrow in Colton’s mind. Then the palace doors swung wide, and from the towering entry galloped nearly twenty horsemen, spreading out across the field towards the cities below. Their long-legged, strong-muscled horses and meager supplies meant pursuit, and Colton guessed he was their target. Outside the palace walls and beside every door and window the guards had been doubled, standing solemn and alert with weapons ready by their sides.
Colton studied the scene and realized it would be a death warrant to attempt to enter. He sat still on the horse for a moment, his mind in agony, the great walls separating him from Fianna and whatever fate awaited her within. At last he forced himself away from the palace and turned his horse to the west, where Adoceyn ought to be awaiting him. He gave little thought to his pursuers, riding hard and fast and willing to take his chances with regard to their catching him.
Now it was not so consequential, whether he escaped or not, whether he was killed or his life was spared. It only mattered that Fianna was freed, and that was out of his hands. With him dead, she might even have a greater chance to live. He hated that he was a danger to her. That he could not protect her. His own presence was a threat to her life, and all because one hot day he had been so foolish as to talk to a servant girl minding only her own business, she had now been dragged into the king’s schemes and her life was hanging in the balance.
Colton sped through the streets, not caring for the surprised glances and occasional shouts thrown toward him. He must have appeared a madman, or a very guilty criminal, riding so hard as he did. Only when Adoceyn’s mansion rose directly before him did he pull to a halt, though his heartbeat did not lessen any as he approached the gates. He received many stares from the guards, but no one stopped him. At the gate he knocked loudly, ignoring the disapproval of the guards beside it. A servant answered the door.
“I am here to speak to Aiza,” Colton said shortly.
She paused. “You are Colton?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said.
She did not move from the door. “My lady Aiza is not here. She left this for you.” The woman handed him a piece of paper.
Colton glanced at the guard, who stood close by intently staring at him, and the guard removed his stare. He opened the paper and read the following, written in elegant, though hurried, handwriting: “My father never returned from the palace. I fear what has taken place there. You may stay here at my father’s house. Use whatever you need.”
Colton sighed in frustration. “Where did she go?” he asked harshly.
“I do not know, my lord,” the maid answered.
“Tell me the truth! Where did she go?” he demanded, but the woman only shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
He sighed again.
“I’ll need a fresh horse,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ll have one readied at the stables,” she said, turning to go, but paused. “Would you like some water? Some food, perhaps?”
Colton nodded, a little wary at her change in behavior, and followed her inside. The doors were fastened behind him, an echo ringing through the great entryway as they shut.
“If you’ll follow me,” she beckoned, and led him away through the halls.
Colton kept a close eye on the guards and the woman’s back, but as she turned and he saw the concern in her eyes he let go his uneasiness. She left him in a broad hallway while she retrieved the food and water, and he paced impatiently for her return. As he waited his eye fell on a great map hung on the wall in the next room over, and he deserted the corridor to study it. It was there that the servant woman found him upon returning, his eyes fixated on the map.
“What is this?” He pointed to a mark just west of the city.
“It is a valley, my lord,” she said, giving him a strange look. “Well known to any men from these parts. It was a place of execution for criminals and foreigners during the first days of Vellatha.”
“What is the land like there?” Colton asked quickly, his mind grasping an idea for a plan.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I believe it is wooded.”
“Do you have a pen and a paper?”
“I… I can fetch one,” she said, thrown off guard by his sudden change in behavior.
“Be quick,” he hurried her.
She disappeared, the food and drink forgotten. She returned quickly with the paper and ink and laid them on the table, and Colton sat to write his message.
“King Alastor,” he wrote, “I offer terms for the exchange of Tyran’s freedom for my own. You have set my execution for five days’ hence; you need me to be there. All of Vellatha knows my face. They will be awaiting my execution eagerly. You will not want to disappoint them. West of Vellatha is a great valley; you know it well. There Tyran must be taken and set free with a horse, weapons, and food to last several weeks.
“I will be at the top of the valley with a bow and arrow. If you or your men try anything or harm Tyran, they will be dead with too little time to ever think to draw a sword. Once Tyran is freed and safely away, I will hand myself over to you. He is not to be told anything but circumstances have arisen and he is being freed. For the present, I am of greater value to you than Tyran. You would be a poor king indeed if you let the very man who was intended to be hung escape. You have three days to consider and send soldiers to the valley. If Tyran is not brought to the valley and freed by then I will be gone.”
Colton signed his name at the bottom and folded the paper, placing it within his jacket and looking back to the maid.
“I’ll need a bow and quiver,” he said.
This the woman did not seem so willing to give him, but his tone was incontestable. She led him to the armory and allowed him to select his own weapons. He might have thanked her, had not more pressing matters laid so heavily on his mind.
“The horse?” he asked.
“In the stables,” she said shortly, her own determination rising not to be of any further assistance to him.
Colton was in far too impatient a mood to walk all the way to the back mansion to reach the stables, but he was left with no choice. He reached them to find a horse saddled and waiting. He mounted and was ready to gallop away in an instant, but on second thought sent the stable boy back inside to gather food and water for a week-long journey. Colton hoped that would be far more food than he would need, but caution forbade him from bringing any less. Upon the boy’s return he was gone immediately.
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