A Forest of Wolves (21 page)

“How'd they get here so fast?” Henrik asked.

“It's been an hour,” Marc said. “I told Zora to consider us in trouble if we hadn't arrived within the hour. Ivan must have met them while they were on their way here.”

The color drained from Radek's pale face. His horse danced beneath him. He seized the reins to stop the animal's movement.

Thunder crackled. Rain poured from the sky.

“Well done.” Radek nodded at Marc. “You've come ready to fight.”

Marc shrugged. “You've left us no choice.”

The Protestant army stormed through Prague at full speed. The mass of rebels advanced toward the bridge.

“Enough with the formalities,” Marc said. “If we're going to fight, there is no sense delaying it any longer.”

“Very well.” Radek's cold eyes twitched to me and he smiled. It was a cruel, calculated smile.

My stomach tightened. He was about to do something terrible.

Radek smoothed his wet hair with both hands. “I do have one important announcement before we begin.”

The sounds of the rebel army grew louder. Zora and the others would be here any moment now.

Radek maneuvered his horse so he could speak directly to both his army and us. “Men. Subjects of the Crown. This is a monumental moment. Take heed. What I am about to say will forever change our lives. It will change history.”

Marc glanced at me. A deep crease formed between his eyebrows.

The rebel army reached the bridge. Hooves clomping on the wet cobblestones were louder than the rain. Marc threw his hand out to stop their progress. Both armies stood on the bridge.

All attention was on Radek. It was exactly what he wanted. Excitement lit his eyes.

“Good; now everyone is here to listen,” Radek said.

“Tell us when, Marc.” Zora's voice floated through the rain. She was at the front of the pack with Ivan.

Marc held up his hand.

Radek pointed a short finger at me. “Ludmila Nováková is not only my wife and the Duchess of Prucha. But more importantly, as you will learn, she is the most significant piece of this critical juncture of conflict we are facing.”

“Don't do it, Radek,” Marc said. “If you really love her. Don't do it. They'll kill her.”

Radek ignored him, but the corners of his lips turned up in a cruel smile. “For all these years, we believed Ludmila was the daughter of our great chancellor, Václav Novák. That was a lie. Ludmila is not Václav's daughter but someone else's. Someone extremely important. Someone crucial to our country. Men... I give to you, Ludmila Nováková, daughter and heir of King Rudolf II.”

Gasps moved through the soldiers. Through
both
armies.

Henrik slowly shook his head.

Stephan twisted his neck and looked at me.

I could feel the Protestant army behind me, watching me. Hundreds of eyes burning into me. I could feel the questions in their eyes. I could sense the suspicions forming.

Marc whispered something in his brother's ear.

Henrik hesitated, but then he nodded.

“Yes, that's right.” Radek's voice boomed across the bridge. He raised a hand in the air and gestured to Prague Castle. “My wife, Ludmila, is the rightful heir to the Kingdom of Bohemia and the Holy Roman Empire.”

That was when it made sense.

Everything clicked into place.

The reason Radek would do this now... why he would tell the world my true identity. In classic Radek fashion, he was doing what was in his own best interest.

Archduke Matthias would be in Prague by the end of the week. Protestant rebels were at the castle door, wanting to place their own ruler on the throne. Václav was dying. King Rudolf was incoherent. But if Radek could establish that
his wife
was the rightful heir to the throne, he would be king.

I should have seen this coming.

Radek's plan was perfect. Strike when there was chaos. Establish that I was the true heir and that would fight off the claims of Archduke Matthias. Matthias, being only the King's brother, could not beat a claim for the throne from Rudolf's daughter.

When Radek used the Austrian army to crush the Protestant rebels once and for all, Matthias would return to Vienna. They would kill King Rudolf. I'd become Queen of Bohemia with Radek as my king. I'd meet some horrible accident and die as my mother had, and Radek would rule the Kingdom and the Holy Roman Empire.

I had to hand it to Radek; he knew how to put on a show. How long had he been planning this?

Whispers floated through both armies. Hundreds of eyes were on me. Watching me. Wondering if what Radek had said could possibly be true and, if so, what that meant. As I watched their unknown faces and tried to determine their reactions, I saw Urek on the front line of the Crown's army.

He sneered. Urek was the only person on the bridge who wasn't staring at me. His cold black eyes were glued to Marc.

“I demand,” Radek's voice rose against the sounds of the rushing river and the falling rain, “I
order
that the princess be brought safely back to Prague Castle. We must protect, to the death, our royal line.”

“Over my dead body,” Marc said.

“That is what I am hoping.” Radek unsheathed his sword. He signaled the army with his other hand.

Marc threw his hand in the air.

I exhaled and turned around. The collective mass of rebels behind me unsheathed their swords.

Radek tugged on his horse's reins. “What are you waiting for?” he screamed. “Bring me the princess!”

The Royal Bohemian Army awoke. Soldiers pointed their swords and advanced.

Marc, Henrik, and Stephan pivoted and ran away from the army, moving toward the protection of their own men.

“Hurry!” Marc yelled. “Get to our line!”

I stood dazed until Marc grabbed me. I struggled to keep up with him. “Radek told them all.”

Marc squeezed my hand. “It will be all right.”

“Now!” Zora yelled.

Arrows flew above our heads in the night sky. They mixed with the rain and fell down on the Royal Army.

“Mila, when we reach our men, stay with Henrik.” Marc's voice was urgent. “Do you hear me? Stay with him! He will protect you. The army is going to try to take you.”

“All right,” I whispered. I pushed my wet hair away from my face.

“Do you understand me, Mila?” Marc's eyes found mine as we ran. “You must stay with Henrik.”

“I will.”

“Everyone knows now. The Crown wants to kidnap you and the rebels will want you dead. Stay with Henrik.”

The Protestant army advanced.

Marc pulled me to him and kissed me. “I love you, Mila.”

“I love you, too.”

Marc let go of my hand. Almost simultaneously, another hand gripped the top of my arm—Henrik. Marc pivoted and ran with Stephan. They were now advancing with the Protestant army. Marching off to fight.

Henrik directed me closer to the side. We ran parallel with the stone, weaving in and out of the spiked heads. The two armies collided in the middle of the bridge with an earth-shattering boom.

Metal upon metal clashed. I covered my ears. I twisted to find Marc, but Henrik pulled me ahead. “We have to go!”

I peered over my shoulder. A smashing of men, horses, and swords filled the bridge.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“As far away from here as we can.”

“But what about Marc?”

“He'll be all right.”

I glanced back again. Marc moved toward a crowd of men at the center of the bridge. He slashed his sword in every direction, battling his way through the Royal Army.

“Wait!” I screamed.

“What?”

“I've lost him! I can't see Marc anymore.”

“We have to go!” Henrik coaxed me forward. “Come on, Mila. Hurry!”

“I can't!” I twisted around. Rain fell in sheets. My eyes frantically searched through the armies. “What if he's hurt? Henrik, we have to go back!”

The fighting was a mix of horses, men, and steel. It was hard to determine who was a rebel and who was with the Royal Army. The falling rain didn't help. It was complete chaos and Marc was somewhere in the middle of it.

“Mila, listen!” Henrik grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. “We have to go. It's not safe here. I promised Marc I'd take care of you!”

“Look! Up there.” I pointed to the stone road that winded its way up to Prague Castle.

A lone rider retreated behind the towering stone walls. I recognized Radek fleeing the battle.

“I knew he'd run the moment the fighting began.” Henrik shook his head. “What a coward. Don't worry; he's not escaping for good. We'll deal with him and Václav later. Come on.”

We moved along the edge of the bridge toward the parapet. The sheets of rain gradually turned to a drizzle, but all I could hear was the clashing of swords. Henrik gripped my hand and we disappeared under the parapet.

Sounds echoed off the stone.

Henrik and I came out on the other side and sprinted down the road that led to the abandoned city. Doors and windows were boarded shut; the residents had readied themselves for war.

“We have to get away from the army,” Henrik said.

“Are we going back to Kladno?”

“Not immediately, Marc will send word if...”

“If he's alive?” I asked.

“Marc will send word once the fighting is over and it's safe to meet again,” Henrik said. “Don't worry. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I don't feel good about this.” I watched the hundreds of men fighting to the death on the bridge.

It didn't seem like everything would be all right. It seemed as if my nightmare was coming true and everyone I loved was going to die in this bloody revolution.

We ran down the street. My shoes slipped on the slick cobblestones. It was dark and the rain fell in steady sheets. The city felt foreign because it was abandoned. The entire town was hiding.

Henrik veered down a side street. The colossal astronomical clock mounted on the wall off the main square came into view. The strange-looking clock had two faces stacked on top of each other. The peculiar contraption depicted both time and the earth's movements with the sun and the moon.

Each corner had four scenes that were considered threats to Prague—a lender with bags of money, a Turk wearing a turban, a mirror that depicted vanity, and, finally, death, represented by a skeleton carrying an hourglass and tolling a bell.

Usually the giant dials towered over crowds of people watching the brass hands ticking away the minutes. Now, not a single spectator could be found watching the famous clock.

The skeleton with the hourglass felt ominous. Was our time running out?

We ran past the clock and entered the wide-open area where seven winding streets converged. Henrik and I were the only souls in the usually bustling square.

The enormous space was lined on all sides by buildings. This was the center of Prague, but I would forever associate it as the place where Marc had been publicly whipped.

“Are you all right?” Henrik asked.

“I need to catch my breath.” My breathing was heavy; we'd been in a full sprint since the bridge. My lungs would not make it at this pace all the way to a neighboring town. We needed a more efficient way to escape.

“We can't stay here. It's too open,” he said.

“Where should we go?”

“This way.” Henrik tugged me in the direction of the old blacksmith shop, but we hadn't taken more than a few steps before hooves clopped behind us.

Henrik heard the sound at the same time I did. We both stopped. We didn't need to turn around to know we were in trouble.

Henrik sighed.

Five of the king's royal guards entered the square on horseback. The men had followed us all the way into town from the bridge. They were following Radek's orders to bring the princess back to the castle. We would have to fight if we were going to escape Prague.

How big was the bounty for my return? How much was Radek willing to pay to have me brought back to the castle? How much was being crowned king worth to him? I would imagine a substantial amount.

The five horses approached.

My stomach sank.

We were in serious trouble. We were outnumbered, but that wasn't the worst part. A man at the back of the group of guards maneuvered his horse to the front. The worst part was
who
was leading the charge.

Henrik cursed under his breath.

Urek smiled. “Where are you running to, blue eyes?”

W
e couldn't outrun the men—they were on horseback and we were on foot. The wide expanse of Prague's town square left no place to hide. We found ourselves at Urek's mercy. Again.

Henrik shoved me behind him. He retrieved his long sword and pointed the tip of the blade at Urek. “It looks as if I'll get my revenge for what you did to my father and Jiri. Marc will be disappointed that he wasn't the one lucky enough to kill you.”

Urek grinned. “Don't you wish? Kill him. Bring me the girl.”

The four guards under Urek's control dismounted and advanced with their weapons drawn. Two of the men held swords. One had a broad-bladed axe and the last man had a long, jagged spear. The guards strategically spread apart, advancing toward Henrik from different angles.

I stepped forward and stood beside Henrik.

“Get back, Mila.”

I pulled out my dragon dagger from under my skirt. “I'm fighting with you. They can't hurt me, remember?”

Henrik frowned. “Get back, Mila,” he repeated.

The first guard lunged with his spear. Henrik met the jagged weapon with his sword. Their weapons clashed in a metal-shattering clang, but the guard was no match for Henrik, who pivoted and swung the broad plane of his sword up and over. The steel slashed against the man's calf.

As soon as the first guard went down, the other three attacked Henrik, but I jumped between them.

I slashed my dagger back and forth at the man. “Stay back.”

“Do not hurt her,” Urek said. “Grab her. Do not harm her. Those are the duke's orders. I don't get my pardon if she's hurt.”

The guard sheathed his sword and cautiously advanced with both arms outstretched—as if he wanted to hug me. I ducked under his arms and sprang, burying my blade deep into his chest.

Right into his heart.

His eyes widened in disbelief. I withdrew the blade and the guard sank to his knees. Blood poured from the wound and I watched his unfamiliar face as the life slipped out of him; I had never killed before.

Rain washed his blood away.

Urek laughed. “You've toughened up, blue eyes.”

Henrik ran his sword through the other man's stomach. He rapidly pulled out the blade and faced the last two guards; one held a sword and the other was brandishing the axe.

I wiped the guard's blood on my dress and moved into position beside Henrik.

“You killed him?” Henrik nodded at the body.

“I told you they couldn't harm me.”

“I'm impressed. Will you get behind me now?”

“No.”

Henrik shook his head, but he didn't tell me to retreat again. The guards advanced, their eyes glued on Henrik. I swiped my dagger at the guard who held the axe. My blade swiped inches from his side. He jumped back in surprise.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He sneered and clutched the broad-bladed axe in his hand. He swung it around in a full circle before wielding his axe at me. The blade whipped through the air, slicing toward my head. I sprang to the side and the steel clanged heavily against the cobblestones.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her!” Urek hopped off his horse. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

The two guards simultaneously attacked Henrik. I went to help him, but Urek stalked toward me. Coal-black eyes narrowed. He drew a short knife—the same one he'd used to kill Petr—and waved it at me. “I'm the one who will bring the princess back to the castle.”

“I'm not going back.”

“The hell you aren't,” Urek said. “You're my ticket to freedom. I'm either dragging you back to the duke or I'll be lying dead on this street.”

I sliced the air with my dagger to keep him away, feeling less confident than I had against the other guards. I hated to admit it but Urek scared me. “Stay back.”

“I was surprised by Radek's revelation. Heir to the throne? Blue eyes?” Urek whistled. “I wish I had known that before. I would've ransomed you off for a nice sum of money—probably more than the crown jewels I stole. Oh, well; Radek will give me a nice prize for your return.”

“I'm not going back,” I repeated.

“Don't you want to be queen? Isn't that why your slut mother slept with the king? For your benefit?”

My grip on the dagger tightened.

“Ooh, you don't like me talking like that about your mother, do you?” Urek flashed a grin. “She must be a sore spot.”

Henrik's sword slashed against the guard's sword. He twisted and slammed it down against the second guard. The men were on both sides of Henrik, so he had to pivot from side to side.

Urek moved closer.

I swiped at the air a few feet from his face.

He smiled.

“Come on, Queen Blue Eyes.” Urek summoned me with his fingers. “I know you want a shot at me.”

I took the bait.

I was so full of hatred and fury that I lunged with the dagger. Urek moved, quicker than I imagined he could, and dodged the blow. He stepped to the side and brought his fist around, punching me hard in the gut.

The blow sucked all the air out of me. I fell to the ground at his feet, lapping in gulps of air, trying to catch my breath.

“Get up.” He stood over me laughing.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed air. I gripped the dagger and blindly aimed upward. I didn't care what I hit—I only wanted to cause harm.

The blade sank into Urek's thigh.

Urek screamed and stumbled backward. “Damn you!”

The dragon dagger was covered in Urek's blood.

Three more horses arrived in the square—more royal soldiers. Henrik rammed his sword through one of the guards. The man collapsed in a heap. Henrik pulled his weapon from the man's body and then crashed his sword against the second guard's axe. Sparks flew as metal collided against metal.

Urek pressed his hands against the thigh wound to stanch the bleeding. “Good timing, men. Kill the blond rebel. Seize the girl.”

The guards dismounted.

“Mila!” Marc's voice floated through the air.

My head snapped up. Oh, thank God; he was alive.

Marc sprinted down the road.

Three more guards advanced. Henrik sank his sword through the second guard's throat. He pointed his blade at the oncoming men. “I can do this all day long.”

The laugh enraged the men. One guard lurched forward. Henrik brought his sword down in a sweeping arc. The blade scratched the front of the guard's chest armor and skidded across to his unprotected arm. The cloth tore and a bright red line appeared against the guard's skin.

Urek hobbled on his bad leg. He drew his sword. He now had a knife in one hand and a sword in the other. Marc's eyes found Urek standing over me. I'd never seen his face so full of rage.

Marc's sword collided against Urek's as he charged at full speed. The blow shoved Urek back a few steps. Urek laughed.

I stood on wobbly feet. My breath finally returned from Urek's punch to the gut.

Marc and Urek danced around each other with their weapons drawn. Urek feinted to his side and Marc countered. They circled each other like caged animals. I couldn't watch them, though; Henrik was fighting three men at the same time.

I had to help Henrik.

I moved quietly behind the fight and stabbed a guard in his lower back.

He cried out in surprise and leaped forward. His hands went to his back and he slowly twisted around. The man's eyes flashed. He lunged at me, but Henrik's blade pierced through his stomach from behind. The man looked down at the sword blade protruding from his belly. His mouth opened in disbelief.

The sword vanished as Henrik removed the blade. The man's eyes grew wide before he collapsed on the pavement.

Someone grunted and I twirled around.

Urek's blade had sliced Marc's upper arm. Urek laughed, but Marc swung upward with his sword. Urek pivoted out of the way, but Marc moved forward. He swung again, a long, broad stroke over his head, and sliced it down onto Urek's collarbone.

The blade sliced into Urek and he staggered to his knees.

Marc didn't hesitate. He lifted his heavy sword again. “What did I tell you, Urek? Do you remember?”

Blood bubbled from Urek's lips. He sneered.

“I told you I was going to kill you,” Marc said slowly. “That you would beg for your life and I would ram my blade down your throat.”

“You're not going to win, Sýkora,” Urek whispered. “You're a dead man. You all are. You can't beat the Crown.”

In one broad swoop, Marc slashed the blade through Urek's throat—right through his Adam's apple. The sharp point protruded from the back of his neck. Urek's lips smacked together as his mouth filled with blood. Marc pulled out the sword and Urek fell on his face.

I exhaled. An enormous weight lifted from my shoulders.
Urek was dead.

Marc stood silently over his body while Henrik fought the two remaining guards. He reared his sword back and forth, but the men no longer looked confident. They were backing away from Henrik. Marc snapped out of his daze and helped his brother fight off the last of the men.

More hooves stomped in the distance.

A group of soldiers—at least eight of them—rode toward us on horseback.

“Shit,” Henrik said. “They're never going to stop coming.”

“They're not.” Marc grabbed the reins of one of the guard's horses. “Here, take Mila and go.”

“Marc, there's a small army coming,” Henrik said. “We have to get out of here. All of us.”

“I'll distract them so you can take Mila and go,” Marc said.

“
No
!” I screamed. “You can't fight all those men! Not by yourself! We can help you. Please, let us help you.”

Marc shook his head. “You are too important, Mila.” He kissed me quickly. “I love you. Now go.” He turned to Henrik and hugged him. “Keep her safe. Do you hear me? Remember what I said.”

“Marc—” Henrik started.

“Remember what I said! It's our only chance! Go!” Marc grabbed his sword and ran at the oncoming men.

Henrik lifted me onto the horse and jumped on behind me.

“What are you doing?” I yelled. “We have to help him. We can't leave!”

“We have to go.” Henrik dug his heels into the horse's sides. “Marc's right; you're too important. You're the heir, Mila. We have to keep you safe.”

Henrik and I ran away from the central square. Away from the battle. Away from the eight men converging around Marc.

Henrik veered the horse down a narrow alley and took another sharp turn. I recognized the street, and soon the familiar green sign came into view. Henrik stopped the horse in front of the blacksmith shop. He hopped off and quickly pulled me down.

“What are we doing here?” I asked. “Why are we at your old house?”

“Hurry; get inside before anyone sees us.” Henrik led the horse and me into the shop. He walked the mare through the room to the open area outside, where Henrik and his family forged metal for the weapons they made. Henrik tied the horse to a post.

The blacksmith's shop had been destroyed. The Crown had performed a thorough search of the Sýkora home. Shelves had been knocked down. Chairs overturned. Dishes shattered. The giant wooden table that sat in the middle of the room had been split in half by an axe—the sharp, gleaming tool still protruded through the wood.

Henrik pushed a corner shelf aside and kicked away an old rug on the floor. His bandaged fingers dug at the boards until one came loose. I knelt down beside him as he pulled out the contents of his secret hiding spot beneath the floor.

It was a stash of weapons. Not many, but a handful of knives, daggers, and a small velvet sack containing a few coins. He also pulled up a bundle of material—dark cloaks.

“We need these supplies to get back to Kladno?” I asked.

“Mila, put this cloak on.”

“Why do I need a cloak? Everyone knows who I am.”

Henrik stood and slipped on the heavy fabric. He extended his hand to help me up from my knees. “We're not going to Kladno.”

“Then where are we going?”

“And we can't go back to help Marc fight because we have to do something first. You and I.”

“Do what? What's going on, Henrik?”

Henrik sighed. “We have to break into Prague Castle.”