Flight From Blithmore (9 page)

Isabelle,
eyes wide in fright and confusion, turned to meet him. Henry pushed forward as
he watched the painted man bring his arm out from behind him. He held a long
black object. It looked plenty dangerous from where Henry stood. Then the man
bent forward a little as though he had to say something to her. Isabelle’s head
dropped as the man’s hand moved in farther. Henry shouted and shoved as he ran,
but he couldn’t reach Isabelle in time.

The
man bowed, snapped up as straight as a taut rope, and turned to leave.

When
Henry reached her, he saw Isabelle holding the object in her hands. “Are you
all right?” he gasped at her. “What is it? What happened?”

Isabelle
handed Henry a heavy envelope made from black paper. The front appeared blank.

“Let’s
go home,” he said, panting. “I don’t need any more excitement tonight.”

They
pushed their way back to Shop Street, then to Henry’s front door. Once inside,
Henry held the envelope near a candle. There on the front, as if the light had
some magical effect, in thick shining letters as white as bone:

To Miss Isabelle Oslan

Fourteen
-

The Black Envelope

Isabelle
turned
the envelope over in her hands. The candlelight reflected sharply off the
richly drawn white letters, giving them a pale, but fiery appearance.

“Who—who
would send me such a ghastly thing?”

Henry
handed her a letter knife. “Open it and find out.”

“I
don’t think I want to,” Isabelle said as she tore the thick black paper and
removed its contents—a matching heavy black parchment with the same shining
white ink. In the top corner was an imprinted seal, its meaning foreign to
Henry. Tilting the letter to the light, she read aloud:

To
the beautiful Miss Isabelle,

When
two kindred souls exist in the world, it is always fated that they should meet
that love may blossom between them in fertile soil. It is in my power to
arrange such a meeting between yourself and myself that perhaps we may become
“ourselves.” Therefore, it is my most ardent desire that you will join me for
supper tomorrow night that we may together ponder on the blossoming of such a
growth. I only ask that you keep our meeting an utter secret from everyone
except your father, that I may remain a humble “gardener” in the eyes of your
people. I will be wearing clothes to match the colors of this letter that you
may better recognize me. I will expect you at sunset in your finest at The
Glimmering Fountain.

Very
truly hopeful,

Emperor
Ivan Richter Krallick III

“I
don’t believe this,” Isabelle hissed. “This—I can’t—”

“I
read it, too,” Henry told her. “Do you think your father knew this would
happen?”

“My
father receiving audience with Emperor Krallick? It doesn’t seem possible.”

“Yet
you’re holding the blackest letter I’ve ever seen.”

“And
it’s from the Emperor.”

The
front door opened, and Ruther came in smiling and swaying. “Well, we had a
great adventure, didn’t we? I think my eyes are still—”

“Get
out, Ruther,” Isabelle and Henry said together.

Ruther
turned and left.

Henry
read the letter twice more. “Now we know where he took your portrait and why.”

“The
Emperor intends to court me?” Isabelle asked over Henry’s shoulder. “It makes
no sense.”

Henry
put the letter back into the envelope. “I think we should ignore it—unless, of
course, your greatest ambition includes being an Empress.”

Isabelle
smiled and answered, “It does, actually. Only I counted on being your Empress.”

The
door opened a second time, but this time it wasn’t Ruther. Lord Oslan entered
Henry’s home for the first time and without an invitation. He was an imposing
figure in Henry’s den wearing his dark gray cloak, that ridiculous bright green
hat, and a victorious smile brighter than any light Henry could have put in the
room.

“I
see you’ve received your post,” Oslan said.

Henry
had never seen such hate on Isabelle’s face when she looked at her father.
“You’re mad if you think I’ll meet him.”

“You’re
mad if you think you have a choice.” Triumph laced his voice and his lips wore
a nasty grin.

“Certainly
I have a choice,” Isabelle snapped. “I don’t have to submit to your whims, nor
do I have to make pretenses of following your wishes. Henry and I are marrying
with or without your blessing!”

“It
would be best if you left now,” Henry told him.

“Believe
me, boy, it brings me no pleasure to stand in your hovel. Before I go, let me
remind you of one thing, Isabelle. What you hold there is a royal invitation
which you officially accepted when you took it from the hand of Emperor
Krallick’s herald. Therefore, you are bound by law to fulfill your obligation
to his summons.”

Henry
stepped in between Isabelle and her father. He spoke more forcefully this time.
“The Emperor’s royalty has no bearing on foreign soil, so I’ll ask you again—”

“Except
when on foreign soil by official invitation of the King . . . ” Oslan bared his
yellow teeth fully, “ . . . such as during the Feast of Rulers.” He uttered
these last words with all the drama of a gambler playing his trump card. “I’ll
accept your invitation to leave now, and remember, girl, should you choose to
break the law, I will be more than happy to help the King’s Guard find you.”

Henry
grabbed Lord Oslan by the lapels of his cloak. “Leave us alone! Leave us
ALONE!”

“Unhand
me!” Oslan growled at Henry.

“Gladly!”
Henry shouted, then kicked back the door and heaved Isabelle’s father into the
street. Lord Oslan landed in a puddle of muck with a wet thump and struggled to
get up with his cloak tangled around him and his feet covered in slick manure.
His face was scratched, soiled, and bleeding. “How dare—”

“You
forgot your sword this time, old man!” Breathing heavily, Henry glared at Lord
Oslan and jammed a finger into his chest. “If you trespass onto my property
again, I will use every means I have to protect it.”

When
the door shut, Isabelle slumped into a chair with her face in her hands. “Why
did I take that letter? I am an idiot! A complete idiot!”

“This
isn’t your fault,” Henry told her. “Don’t let him do this to you.”

“Besides,
the solution is simple,” Ruther added with only a slight slur, entering the
main room from the kitchen. He was eating an apple.

“When
did you come in?” Henry asked his friend.

“I
went around the house when you so rudely told me to leave. I was listening to
your conversation, waiting to see if you needed help.” Ruther drew a finger
across his neck. “You know . . . . ”

“Why
didn’t you come out sooner?”

“Because
I didn’t think you needed help.”

“How
can the solution be simple?” Isabelle asked.

Ruther
crunched loudly into his apple. “All you need to do to fulfill the requirement
of the law is meet the Emperor for dinner, tell him you enjoyed the meal, and
say, ‘thank you, but no thank you.’”

“I
still don’t feel safe,” Henry said. “Her father is up to something.”

“I
don’t care what my father says,” Isabelle started, “I want to leave. You and
Maggie can come with us if you wish.”

“Leave?”
Ruther repeated with a barking laugh. “Who said anything about leaving?”

“It
doesn’t matter.” Henry felt an unusual heaviness in his chest. His voice
sounded tired and flat. “I agree with Isabelle. I want to get out of here. I am
through dealing with that—that—that—”

“Do
you need me to supply you with some good words, friend? I know plenty.”

Maggie
walked into the room behind Ruther. “Leaving? Henry, why are you talking about
leaving again?”

“Henry
and Isabelle are letting the wicked Lord Oslan force them into his nefarious
trap so he can have them arrested!” Ruther dramatically informed her through
his mouthful of apple. “It’s sad, really.”

“I’m
not letting him force me into anything!” Henry exclaimed. “We’re choosing this.
We’re walking away with our heads high. You can come with us, Maggie, if that’s
your preference. We want you in our life. It’s him we don’t want.”

“Maggie,”
Isabelle said. “I don’t feel good about this.”

“Neither
do I,” Maggie answered, “but I feel worse about you going to prison.”

Henry
didn’t believe for one second that Isabelle would go to prison, but before he
could say so, she spoke.

“My
father has done something. I don’t know what.” She shook the black envelope at
Ruther and Maggie. “This is more than an invitation.”

“What
if it’s not?” Maggie pressed. “What if this is his last attempt to make a
profit from his daughter?”

“She’s
right,” Ruther cut in, then he winked at Maggie. “Please don’t take offense to
me agreeing with you. Isabelle, Lord Oslan thinks if you meet the Emperor,
you’ll forget Henry, and before the day is done, he will suddenly be rich and
powerful.”

“You’ll
be a criminal!” Maggie looked to her brother, pleading with him. “Henry, you
can’t let her do this. You both deserve a better life. Her father knows you
don’t trust him. What if running away is what he wants you to do? Then he has
the final laugh as he ruins both your lives. She gets arrested—possibly you,
too, and he gets his gold back.”

“This
is the drawback of falling in love with the most beautiful woman in the world,”
Henry said with a wink to Isabelle. “Emperors take notice and try to steal her
away. I’ve seen it happen time after time.”

Isabelle
smiled at him. Ruther made a gagging sound, and when the others looked at him
with annoyed expressions, he held up his apple. “Almost choked to death.”

A
distant roar from the crowds in the streets told Henry the parade had moved far
enough south that the excitement was over in this part of the city. Maggie
watched him with a very upset expression. Ruther munched nonchalantly on his
apple.

Henry
didn’t know what to say. He knew Ruther and Maggie would never agree with him.
“I’m sorry, both of you. I agree with Isabelle—”

“Don’t
tell me that, Henry!” Maggie turned to Isabelle. “You are both being too
dramatic. This is easily fixed. Ruther’s right. For once in his life, he’s
right! All you have to do is meet the Emperor to fulfill your obligation to the
law. Then leave town and get married where he can’t bother you. You’re already
packed. Can’t you see how much easier that is than becoming criminals?”

“She’s
right, friend,” Ruther added, “about me being right.”

“Please
be quiet, Ruther,” Maggie said in a heavy voice.

Henry
stared at the floor. He didn’t want Isabelle to see his indecision. What was
the best choice? Run away with Isabelle and change their identities? Would that
keep them safe? He couldn’t imagine the King making much fuss over a woman who
turned down the Emperor’s dinner invitation. What if he was wrong?

“Henry,”
Maggie pressed, “you’ll be making a mistake if you choose to ignore the
invitation. How will you know when you’ve run far enough from her father’s
reach? What kind of life is that?”

Isabelle’s
hand rested on Henry’s shoulder. He saw sadness and hope in her eyes. “Let’s
listen to Maggie. I’ve been afraid for a long time. I shouldn’t—we shouldn’t be
making such rash decisions based on our worst fears.”

“I’m
not going to let you meet him alone,” Henry said. He looked to his friend for
help and asked, “What do you suggest?”

“Where
is the meeting taking place?” Ruther asked as he sat himself into a chair and
crossed his legs importantly. “Did I hear The Glimmering Fountain?”

“Yes,”
Isabelle answered

Ruther
took another large bite from the apple and chewed several times before speaking
again. “If I were an Emperor meeting an unknown woman in an unfamiliar inn for
the finest dining in a foreign city, a woman who my spies—or even the father of
the woman—have told me has a lover—”

“Betrothed,”
Henry corrected.

“Often
the same thing.” Ruther gave Henry a dismissing wave and crunched his apple
again. “I would be wary of repercussions from said lover—betrothed—and would
therefore make arrangements with the owner of the inn to secure the entrances
from any suspect personage, and certainly would have all patrons checked for
arms. Wouldn’t you?”

Henry
and Isabelle exchanged a weary and wary glance. When the moment passed, Henry
turned back to Ruther and said, “Alright, what do I need to do?”