Isolde's Wish (17 page)

After several hours in the saddle, she came to a dead stop. The android horse was ornery, tossing its head and baring its sharp metal teeth. She jogged it in the side with her boot. “Stop carrying on.”

The world around her was silent. Too silent. Darkness had descended, leaving only a sliver of violent purple on the horizon. The surrounding foliage was black, the tree canopies inky webs against the sky. The wind was bitter.

She mentally thanked Bevan once again for providing a thick leather coat. Isolde took a moment to fasten the top two buttons and stand the collar against her neck. The breeches she wore were uncommonly tight on her thighs, and the unaccustomed seam pressed against her bare sex. She wriggled to ease it and experienced a small thrill.

When Bevan had helped her change into the uniform, she had glimpsed the blood on Isolde’s white cotton slip and met her eyes with understanding. Isolde had nearly collapsed in tears, seeing that look.

“I have to reach him,” she had said, and Bevan had rushed her into the breeches.

Now Isolde threw her hearing into the night, as her brothers John and Colin had taught her long ago. She could not afford to be set upon by bandits. Time was a steel weight on her back.

Suddenly, she heard it. A low thump.
Patter, patter, pat. Patter, patter, pat
. She squinted into the trees, her mind working furiously to discern such a noise. She purposely slowed her breathing. Cold lungful, hold, hold, hold, release. The pattering diminished but did not vanish.

The android horse shied to the left, and she pulled the reins tight before it could make a telltale clanking sound.

Pat. Thud. Scuff. What—

Isolde was torn from the horse and slammed onto the earth. Her spine cracked painfully, and the air whooshed from her just as the massive fifteen-feet-tall zeppelgonger extended a fist the size of the horse’s rump and pinned her to the ground. She squirmed like a bug under a pin, fighting to draw breath beneath its unrelenting grip. The metal joints of its fingers dug into the soft flesh of her belly.

She couldn’t have landed herself in a more dangerous predicament. Convincing a rogue bandit not to harm her would have entailed little more than removing her leather riding helmet and goggles to allow her long hair to spill out as she declared she was the Princess of Weligbyr. Easy.

There was no reasoning with a zeppelgonger.

The pattering sound grew into a drumbeat, and she realized it wore a cadence detector strapped to its waist. Most of Millvale’s zeppelgongers were equipped with these gadgets, all programmed to locate Sadler.

Isolde stared into the bronzed, angular face of the mechanized killer, but her mind was far from her personal situation. She was a child again, seeing Millvale linger over her mother’s fingers as he kissed them, noting the flush of her mother’s discomposure. And she remembered stumbling across a heated argument in the corridor outside Millvale’s great hall between these two adults. Her mother had raged at Millvale for spying on her whereabouts. When the pair had spotted eight-year-old Isolde, they had ceased at once. Her mother had scooped her up and run to her chamber.

Her mother had been shaking.

Could Millvale have known about the queen’s affair with Corbet?

Her breath was hot against the zeppelgonger’s metal skin and created a film of condensation. Its beady, unblinking eyes seemed to look into her soul.

She twisted her torso, hoping to squirm through its fingers. She dug her heels into the ground, and she managed to slide to her hips before it clamped harder. She screamed as it crushed her tender flesh. If it squeezed any more, it would cut her.

Her hand scrabbled along the ground for a stone. Her short sword was tucked against the flat of her spine and unreachable. What part of the forest had she stopped in? If it was the deep core, she’d find plenty of granite bits, but the outer edges were usually barren.

She writhed, scraping her upper thighs against the steely fingers. The pain made her eyes smart. But if she didn’t get out of here, this beast would crush her and leave her for dead. It happened sometimes to people who encountered zeppelgongers—a glitch in the system Millvale had never worked out, or never bothered to.

Then suddenly her attention zoomed in to the cadence detector it wore.
Thump, th-thump. Thump, th-thump
. She focused on her inner workings, listening to her own pulse pound in her ears. A spike of fear hit her as she realized the cadence detector was tuned in to her. It matched her heartbeat.

“Dammit.” That bastard Millvale had sent the zeppelgonger after her, probably suspecting she’d left the castle grounds and could be with a man.

She flailed about, searching for a weapon. A hard object brushed her knuckle, and she gasped. Reaching, stretching, extending every joint from shoulder through little digit, she forced her hand toward that rock. Her index finger nudged it, spinning it closer. And then she had it in hand, and her arm swept the sky in a great arc. The fist-size stone connected with the zeppelgonger’s face and peeled away the outer layer of metal.

She tore at the guts of wires and tubes and latched on to the one searing-hot tube that would short-circuit it. She yanked it out with a grunt just as its huge fingers sank into her side and cut off her air.

A hiss of steam burst from its head, and its grip slackened enough for her to wiggle free. She staggered to her feet and swiped at the hoses and tubes connected to the brain center. They pulled away, spilling from the horrific face like thick white worms and rotted things. The stench of stale air and mildew fogged the air. Scalding water hissed from its exposed circuit board.

It collapsed to its knees with an earth-shaking crash. Isolde leaped away. Her sword was in her hand, and she pointed it at its face, but it slumped forward, creaking gently until its great chin dragged the ground.

The charge of adrenaline reached her at last, and she began to shake uncontrollably. She sat heavily upon the thick leaf mold, holding her weapon in both hands. Her teeth chattered. Her stomach quivered.

If it weren’t for Colin’s long discussions with Millvale about his inventions, Isolde would never have defeated the giant.

A nudge against her shoulder made her shriek into the sky, and it took a moment to comprehend that the android horse was trying to comfort her, make friends.

“Stupid horse,” she muttered. She gained her feet, grabbed the reins, and buried her face against the horse’s neck. The hide felt warm and good beneath her tearstained cheeks. She spent a long minute breathing its oily smell and getting control of herself. When she swung up into the saddle once again, she felt stronger. She’d bested one of the most fearsome creatures walking this land. Surely she could help free one man from Nyon Prison.

* * *

Isolde galloped into the castle yard to cries of joy. People ran at her from all sides, their faces shiny with glee that she had returned home.

She looked toward the raised castle portcullis. From the open gate, Colin flew at her. He intercepted her, dragged the horse to a halt, and pulled her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms about his neck and hugged her beloved brother tight. His hold on her waist caused a sharp cry to burst from her, as her sides were lined with bruises from the zeppelgonger attack.

His mouth was at her ear, whispering hotly. “Sadler was captured today. He’s in the gaol.”

She jerked. “I need Father. Where is Father?”

She was rushed past the population of the castle—servants and men-at-arms reached for her, patting her hair and back and chattering excitedly.

Colin sped her into the castle. Her brother John caught her other elbow, and they towed her into the study, where her father stood with the Earl of Millvale.

A fissure of shock broke across Millvale’s face. For a moment his eyes flashed in fury, but he quickly checked it and crossed to Isolde with his hands extended. “Dear Princess, I’m glad ye’ve come. I was telling yer father about our night together.”

“What?” Colin’s bellow of outrage echoed off the high walls.

Isolde shot her father a look and saw his calm demeanor. Whatever Millvale had told him, King Adlard had bought it, airship and goggles.

“Explain this, Isolde,” Colin said. John spoke to him quietly, and Colin’s face mottled bright red.

Isolde opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Millvale spoke over her. “Princess Isolde and I have come to a marriage agreement, with the blessing of her father.” He bowed his head to Adlard.

“I must admit, Isolde, I was shocked when I learned ye’d run away to spend the night with the earl, but I’m overjoyed at this union. Millvale is a great man.”

She shut her mouth with a snap. She caught Colin’s eye, trying to impress upon him that she did not sanctify this. He came to her rescue.

“Father, Isolde and I seek yer counsel. Alone.”

She extracted her hands from Millvale’s stronghold and turned pleading eyes to her father. She knew he saw her mother in her face, and didn’t know if it would help or hinder her at that moment.

King Adlard templed his fingers beneath his chin and nodded. “Leave us, John, Millvale.”

The instant the heavy door closed behind them, Colin spun on her. “What is going on?”

She ignored him. “Father, I don’t wish to be joined to the Earl of Millvale.”

He sputtered. “Ye’ve spent the night in his arms, Isolde, and though it’s not the course I would have chosen for ye, I agree the Earl is well suited to ye.”

“Nay, he’s not. He’s twisting this. I never spent the night with him. Father, it’s Sadler I love.”

Her father jerked as though stabbed. A dark purple stain bled over his skin. His eyes bulged with bloodshot anger. “Explain yerself.”

Colin gave her a queer look.

“Sadler, son of Corbet. He saved me from being killed by a wild boar near the loch some weeks ago. He is a good man, Father.”

“He tried to kill me,” he roared.

“Nay. I mean, aye. But he was a grieving boy, lost and alone and beside himself. Please pardon him for his crimes, Father.”

“Isolde,” King Adlard said in a voice that was deadly calm. “I never believed I’d hear this treachery from my daughter’s lips. Ye’ve betrayed me, as yer mother betrayed me.”

“Father, Millvale guided yer decision about my mother, did he not? I believe he had a personal stake in it. He was in love with Mother. He asked her on several occasions to break off her relationship with Corbet and take up with him. If she didn’t, he would inform ye of her infidelity.”

Colin sucked in a breath, and King Adlard ignited. “Colin, lock her in her chamber, and post half a dozen guards before it.” His gaze locked on Isolde, his jaw quivering with fury. “If I hear ye so much as speak of yer mother again, I will banish ye from my kingdom.”

Isolde squared her shoulders. “Fine. But ye must free Sadler from Nyon Prison. He must be pardoned and every wanted poster burned. Every zeppelgonger destroyed, every cadence detector with his heartbeat deactivated.”

“Do not tell me what to do,” her father bellowed.

Colin seized her elbow and swung her toward the door. King Adlard continued to scream at their backs.

“After ye’ve bolted her in her chamber, bring me the key. Set ten guards beneath her window. She is not to escape. She is to be punished. Sadler, son of Corbet, will die at dawn. Shortly after, she is to be wed.”

Isolde’s chest burned with dread. Sadler, dead. She, married to the cruel man who had wanted her mother. She may have recalled those early memories of her mother and Millvale’s argument, but she had gained nothing. She could not go through with her original intent to marry Millvale in return for Sadler’s freedom. Millvale wouldn’t have honored his end of the bargain anyway.

She dug her heels into the stone floor and threw out a hand, bracing herself in the doorway. “Father, if Sadler is to die at dawn, then I wish to die with him.”

Chapter Sixteen

If Sadler could have reached through the bars of his cell and attacked the zeppelgonger assigned to guard him, he would have ripped away the cold metal face and pulled the plug on its mechanical system. He’d only had the chance to deactivate two of these creatures in the past, and his blood pulsed with the need to destroy.

He’d made the wrong choice in leaving Isolde. He should have listened to her, fled into the countryside. They could have defected to the adjoining realm and perhaps carved a new life for themselves. He working as a stable man, she with a string of babies.

He glared at the zeppelgonger. It embodied the downfall of his life. Too late he understood he shouldn’t have made an attempt against the king after his father’s death. Sadler had lost the last fifteen years determined to make the king pay for a crime that had actually been committed by his own father and the king’s wife. And now, Sadler had left his one and only joy, Isolde, with his enemy, Millvale.

“Ye there,” Sadler called through the cage. “Boltface. Bring the warden.”

The zeppelgonger blinked at him stupidly, as Sadler knew it would. He lured it closer with a wave of his hand. It leaned in slowly.

With a lightning-fast move, Sadler thrust a fist through the bars and tore the cadence detector from its waist. He bashed it against the stone wall, exposing metal and glass shards. He gathered these carefully in his fingers and clutched them together so they created a weapon.

He was about to drive it through the zeppelgonger’s eyes when it fell against the bars with an earsplitting crash. The iron gate bowed beneath its weight, hung precariously for a moment, and collapsed inward.

Sadler’s back slammed into the opposite wall as he tried to keep from being crushed. Through a fog of dust, he saw a tangle of golden hair was flying at him. Isolde’s soft, warm body struck him hard. He grunted. Before he could draw breath, she was in his arms, kissing him, overwhelming his senses with crushing lips and womanly smell and tears on her delicate cheeks.

He gripped her to him desperately. “What are ye doing here?” he asked between kisses.

She angled her head and drew his tongue into her mouth. “Shut up and kiss me.”