The Tale of Mally Biddle (28 page)

“How?” Adam finally gasped. “Romore and Molick are the only ones with keys.”

Mally shook her head. They shouldn’t be out of the castle much longer—there would be time to explain everything later.

“That’s not important—”

Lita snorted.

Mally looked at her friend in surprise. Lita was still an unhealthy shade of gray, but amusement glittered in her light brown eyes and a hint of an exasperated smile touched her lips. Mally felt her own lips curve.

“Mally!” Ivan snapped impatiently.

“What is important is that we got in,” Mally continued, addressing the men again. “And we found Princess Avona’s tomb.”

“And?” asked Galen.

Mally inhaled. “It was empty.”

The old man collapsed into one of the chairs, a hand over his eyes. Triumph swelled in Ivan’s face.

“Now what?” he asked Adam.

But Adam was far from jubilant.

“This doesn’t change anything, Ivan. Princess Avona could have been killed elsewhere.”

Ivan spun around to Mally and Lita.

“Do you have any
proof
that she’s alive?”

An embarrassed sinking weight filled Mally’s chest. She saw Lita out of the corner of her eye scuffle her shoes.

“No,” Mally said quietly.

“Nothing?” Ivan demanded, his voice weak.

Mally couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She dropped her eyes to her feet, feeling so horribly stupid for dragging Lita and Edwin all this way for information that now seemed completely useless. The overwhelming excitement of drugging Molick and sneaking into a sealed chamber had erased all rational thought.

A loud crash that made everyone jump suddenly sounded b
ehind the door. For one wild moment, Mally thought the other rebels had given up on patience and were ramming their way in. But her senses caught up with her as she heard the shouting. The door burst open and the strongly muscled man who had let them in emerged.

“Cian! Adam! The knights are here!”

Mally stood frozen as Adam and the old man—who must have been named Cian—charged out of the room without a backwards glance.

“Move!”

Ivan grabbed Mally and Lita by the arm and ran into the main room. Galen was right behind them, a terrified Edwin in tow. The rebels had rushed the stairs, and from the clashing of sword on sword, were apparently fighting the knights in the hall. They were the only ones in the room.

“How do we get out?” asked Lita, spinning on the spot, trying to find an exit.

“We—
Garren
!” Ivan cried as the man who had warned them tumbled down the stairs to their feet unconscious, a nasty, bloody gash on his forehead.

“There’s a window up the stairs,” Galen yelled to them as the shouts and clanging increased in volume. The rebels were being forced back. “Up the stairs. Come on!”

Between the two of them, Galen and Ivan lifted Garren. But they would never be able to defend themselves if a knight broke through the rebels and charged them.

“Give me your sword,” Mally demanded. Ivan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. But Mally didn’t wait for a reply. With Ivan’s arms preoccupied, she tugged it free of its sheath.

“What are you doing?!” Ivan yelled, his mouth finally catching up with his eyes.

“Which way is the window?” Mally asked, ignoring Ivan.

“Up the stairs to the left,” Galen answered. He shifted his weight slightly and pulled out his own sword, passing it to Lita. She looked a little surprised but took it without hesitation. “Edwin, stay next to me,” Galen ordered.

Edwin looked like wandering off was the last thing on his mind.

With their heavy load, Galen and Ivan moved up the stairs, Mally and Lita in front of them. Mally gripped Ivan’s sword in her sweaty hand. She had no idea how to use a sword. Its weight was the only thing keeping her hand from shaking.

Halfway up the narrow stairs, Mally and Lita tensed as they heard a clamor. Then one of the rebels was falling head over feet toward them. Unlike Garren, he was not unconscious.

“Egan!” Galen yelled.

Egan shook his head, perhaps to get the blood out of his eyes. He grabbed hold of Edwin’s hand and tried to stand before cursing and doubling over—a hand pressed tightly to his thigh.

“There are too many of them,” Egan bit out.

“We have to get to the window,” Mally ordered, her stomach twisting at the sight of Egan’s bloody leg. “Edwin, Lita. Help him.”

They lifted Egan between them and once more traveled up the remaining stairs. Upon reaching the landing, Mally’s heart rate tripled. The rebels were fighting tooth and nail in the tiny hallway. But there was so little room to maneuver. Only two rebels could stand at the front and battle against two knights before they fell back and two more took their place. The knights were steadily pushing their way farther into the hall, the rebels coming closer to the stairwell.

“The window!” Galen shouted in Mally’s ear.

She jumped—she’d been in some sort of panicked trance, watching the fighting. She turned to the left away from the rebels and knights and came upon a window. Tossing the sword aside, Mally pushed the window open and stepped back. Lita jumped out first into a deserted alley. The knights were attacking the front of the building, while they were escaping out the side.

Lita turned back to the window and raised her hands to help Egan out. After Egan had dropped the short distance, Edwin climbed through. Galen and Ivan lifted a still unconscious Garren through the window and Lita and Edwin managed to catch him.

“We have to get the others out,” said Galen, but before they could reply a terrified shout was heard over the yelling and clanging of swords—a shout that made Mally, Ivan, and Galen’s heads whip around.

“CIAN!”

Mally didn’t understand what had happened. She could barely see anything in the dark hallway. Her brain couldn’t form a reply to Lita’s panicked shouts outside the window, demanding to know what had happened. What she did understand was that Ivan had just retrieved his sword from the floor and had rushed straight into the commotion.

“Ivan!”

Mally made to go after him, but Galen’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

“Galen, let me go! Let me go!” Mally screamed, clawing and straining against his hold.

“I’ll get him,” Galen panted into her ear, fighting just as hard to keep his hold on her. “Go through the window.” He released her and jumped into the fray.

Mally stumbled backwards until she bumped into the window frame. Shaking from head to foot, she climbed through it and joined the others.

“Where’s Galen?” Edwin shouted and when Mally didn’t reply he rushed at the window, but Mally grabbed hold of his shirt.

“Let me go!” Edwin snarled.

In the deep recess of her mind, Mally found it interesting and ironic that she was now doing to Edwin just what Galen had done to her.

“Mally!”

Edwin stopped struggling at the exact same second that Mally let go of his shirt. Their heads both jerked up to the window where Galen and another rebel who appeared uninjured climbed down to them. Mally’s heart nearly stopped.

They didn’t have Ivan.

“Where’s Ivan?” Mally demanded.

“Where’s Adam? Cian?” Egan shouted.

“Captured” Galen answered thickly.

“
Captured?
” Egan repeated hoarsely. He swayed on his feet and Lita quickly took hold of him.

“We need to move, the knights will see us in seconds.” Galen looked close to retching. He turned his pale and suddenly hard face to Edwin.

“Take them to Maud’s,” Galen ordered. “I’m going to get Mom and I’ll be right there.”

“But—” Edwin started, looking beyond terrified. “We should stay together. We’ll all go—”

“Don’t argue with me, Edwin!” Galen shouted, making everyone around him flinch and stare. Mally had never seen Galen like this and from the looks of those around her, she wasn’t alone. “Take them to Maud.”

And with the fiercest glare Mally had ever seen, he ran past them in the direction of the Lone Candle. For a moment the lot of them just stared at each other before Edwin swallowed and said, “Come on!”

Edwin wrapped an arm under Egan’s, Mally and Lita and the rebel who’d jumped down from the window with Galen grabbed a still unconscious Garren. As quickly as they could, they hobbled down the alley.

No one spoke. Only their heavy breathing filled their ears. E
dwin was in the lead of what looked to Mally like some bizarre troop—bloody and torn, wide-eyed and terrified, all painfully shuffling one after the other as quickly as possible. Mally’s shoulders ached from Garren’s weight and she was beyond thankful that the rebel was helping them carry him. Her legs screamed; her head pounded. She was excruciatingly aware of how long they were taking.

“Knights!” Edwin hissed and they all pressed themselves against the shadowy wall of a store.

A group of ten knights walked across the street a few yards before them. With a twisting of her stomach that made her want to vomit, Mally thought of Galen—alone. Edwin had been right. They shouldn’t have separated. It was too dangerous.

How had this happened? How could she have been stupid enough to take such a risk? They were no closer to discovering the truth of the princess and now, thanks to her idiocy, the entire rebel force was captured! Mally’s stomach turned. It was all her fault. How had the knights known where they were? Had she and Lita and Edwin been followed? But that was ridiculous, Mally argued. No one had followed them—they would have known if they had been. Wouldn’t they?

But the whirling in Mally’s brain suddenly took another turn as they stepped before number 113. This time she couldn’t see the display on the other side of the glass, for all the candles in the apothecary had been extinguished, but Mally knew the skulls and carvings were still there. And not for the first time since Galen’s departure, she wondered why they had been sent
here.

Edwin, still supporting Egan, walked with difficulty up the two stone steps and knocked four times, with a deliberate pause b
etween each knock, on Maud’s door.

29
The Doctor's Declaration

They shivered. A cat yowled in the shadows. Mally wasn’t sure she could stand much longer. They didn’t speak. They didn’t move. They just stared at the door. Mally didn’t understand why they were even here—would Maud heal their wounds? Mally wouldn’t have placed any bets that Maud would willingly help anyone—she didn’t seem the type. But she willed with every ounce of her being for that door to open. Then, quite suddenly, it did.

“Quickly,” Mally heard Maud rasp. Edwin helped Egan limp over the threshold and Mally and the others followed.

Maud stood stooped in an old, grey nightgown, the hems frayed, her feet in moth-eaten sli
ppers. A single candle shined light from her claw-like hand, making the lines upon her face stand out even more sharply. She gave them all one piercing stare over her hooked nose.

“Follow me.”

Mally stared after Maud’s retreating back startled. Maud didn’t seem at all surprised that a group of wounded people stood in her shop. She led them behind the counter and down a few narrow, rickety steps that groaned and bent with their weight. They stood in a very small kitchen.

A small mug and a chipped plate with a half-eaten roll sat alone on a tiny table. On the floor was a heavy rug, its rusty reds faded to rusty pinks. Maud moved to a narrow table against the wall where a battered tea service was set up. She pointed to Edwin and the other rebel.

“You two. Push this aside.”

Mally, Lita and the rebel carefully lowered Ga
rren to the floor and Egan collapsed in the only chair at the table, white hands clutching his blood-stained leg. Lita rushed to him and murmured something soothing in his ear. He nodded, biting his lip, eyes screwed up in pain. Mally was amazed he was still conscious, with the amount of blood he was losing. From the paleness of his face, she wondered how much longer it would be before he gave up and lost consciousness.

“Quickly!” Maud snapped.

Grunting, they pushed the table aside and Maud bent down and drew back a corner of the rug, revealing a trap door. She grasped hold of the iron ring in her twisted hands and yanked.

“Down there,” Maud ordered. “Quickly!
Quickly!
”

With difficulty, they managed to get Garren and Egan down a short staircase. Maud came last, swinging the door shut behind her, and they were flung into darkness so impenetrable Mally couldn’t see the hand that she lifted before her eyes. There was a shuffling and then light flared. Maud was lighting lamps and candles that were placed in brackets against the walls. Mally stared about her in startled surprise.

They were in an underground room. It was well furnished, though dusty, with tables and bookcases and chairs.

“You,” Maud barked, looking at Mally, “hold this to his for
ehead.” She tossed a cloth to her and pointed at Garren, propped up against one wall.

Within seconds, Maud had given all of them jobs before clim
bing back up the stairs in search of herbs and bandages from her shop. Mally desperately wanted to know where Galen was. He had said he’d be right there … but that had been so long ago. What if he’d been caught? What if he was now in the dungeons like the others? What if he was …
no, don’t think that. Galen is fine. He’ll be here. He’ll—

The trap door swung open and a pair of boots appeared on the top step. Everyone tensed, sta
ring as the newcomer emerged.

“Galen!” Edwin cried, rushing forward and throwing himself into his brother’s arms. Mally grinned like a fool, taking in every inch of him. He was fine—not a scratch. He looked at her over Edwin’s head and smiled slightly. Her heart raced so fast it hurt.

“
Edwin!
” Olive Dunker had joined them, still in her dressing gown. She swept up her son in such a strangling grasp that Edwin gasped for breath. “Thank Lenzar!” she moaned. Then she pushed him from her, holding him tightly at arms length. Her eyes inspected him with frantic scrutiny. “You’re not hurt. You’re not hurt,” she repeated in dazed relief.

“Come, Olive,” Maud ordered. She clamped a gnarled hand over Olive’s elbow and pulled the pale woman through the only door in the room. Olive still hadn’t let Edwin go and dragged him with her. That’s when Mally noticed that a third person had d
escended the stairs, a tall, neatly shaved man with short, slicked-back, white hair. He carried a small briefcase with him. Without waiting, he hurried over to Egan and inspected the damage to his leg.

“It’s not that bad, Dr. Keaden,” Egan bit out, his eyes scrunched up in pain.

“It needs stitches,” Dr. Keaden replied. “Maud, did you—”

“I already cleaned it, William,” Maud replied, poking her head back through the open door. “He needs stitches. That big one against the wall should be coming ‘round soon, he mostly got knocked out,” she said. “The cuts are sha
llow.”

“Lucky for him,” said Dr. Keaden, turning his attention back to Egan.

“Mally, you’re bleeding.”

Mally looked up startled as Galen knelt down beside her, frowning at her right shoulder. She stared at it in surprise. She had no idea she’d been cut—when had that happened? Maybe when she’d climbed out of the window?

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s bleeding,” Galen repeated and before Mally could do an
ything, he’d grabbed hold of her arm and gently tugged her into the room where his mother, Edwin, and Maud sat.

“But I need to help—”

“Dr. Keaden will take care of them. He’s brilliant,” Galen replied. “And Lita and Daniel are in there. The only one seriously injured is Egan and if I know him, he won’t let some stitches slow him down.”

They had entered a very small room that seemed to be a storage area. Olive and Edwin were already sitting at a small table in the ce
nter. There were cabinets of dusty silverware, and a washing basin. Ropes of garlic, dried flowers, and herbs dangled above their heads. Along the walls were shelves filled with wines, pickled vegetables, containers of tea leaves, yarn and string. Maud had her stooped back to them, busy boiling a pot of water over the most minuscule fireplace Mally had ever seen.

“And how do you know him so well?” Olive demanded, eyes flashing at Galen.

Mally was taken aback not only by the harshness of her tone but the fury burning in her eyes. Edwin seemed to shrink in his chair, his eyes shifting from his mother to his brother tensely.

“The reason couldn’t possibly be that you joined an illegal group that I specifically forbade you from joining?” Olive conti
nued, seeming to swell in anger.

Mally unconsciously took a step back.

Galen stared at his mother, his back stiff, before he abruptly turned from her and retrieved a damp clean cloth.

“It was my decision to make, Mother.”

“
Your decision!
” Olive exploded. “Your decision has not only risked your own life but mine and your bother’s! Were you thinking at all?”

Galen didn’t respond as he returned to Mally, pressing the cloth against the cut on her shou
lder, making it sting. But Olive, in her old and faded dressing gown, looked wild with anger.

“Because of your decision we are all in da
nger!” she raged. “If Thomas were here—”

“He would be proud of his son.”

Everyone in the room turned to Maud, startled. She carefully poured tea into a large mug before splashing a healthy amount of whisky in it. Maud gazed sternly at Olive, while handing her the cup. 

“Thomas never approved of the rebels,” Olive argued, though she took the mug without hes
itation.

“Thomas never approved of the knights either,” Maud cou
ntered. Suddenly Mally felt such warmth for the frightening old woman that she wanted to grasp one of her gnarled hands in appreciation. Galen’s neck looked slightly warm, as if he was just as startled by—and thankful for—this unexpected aid as Mally was.

“But you lied to me.” Olive choked on the tears now glittering in her eyes as she turned to G
alen. “How long have you …” She squeezed her eyes shut as if she couldn’t bear to name those who had endangered her sons.

“Nearly two years. Since Dad died,” Galen a
nswered softly.

With those words, whatever restraint Olive was clinging to crumbled and the tears streamed down her round cheeks. Galen knelt beside his sobbing mother, taking one hand in his own.

“I’m so sorry,” Galen continued. “I couldn’t stand what happened to Dad … I had to do something. Please, please understand. I never wanted to upset you.”

“Like I said, Thomas would be proud,” Maud repeated firmly, approval glittering in her eyes. She nodded to Galen, picked up the tray of tea she had just finished pouring and limped back into the main room.

Mally shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t something that she should be witnessing. She doubted any of them noticed when she quietly exited after Maud. While they had been talking, Dr. Keaden had stitched up Egan’s leg. Lita was in the process of trying to convince an ashen-faced Egan to drink some tea, and a fully conscious Garren was cursing and grumbling darkly under his breath. Mally wondered what had happened to the other rebels—if they were even still alive. Their capture was probably the greatest of Molick’s triumphs.

Dr. Keaden turned and glanced at Mally who still held the cloth to her shoulder. “One more patient,” he said cheerfully to Mally, giving an obvious stare to her shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” said Mally. “Just a scratch.”

“Scratch or not, it needs to be looked at,” the doctor replied.

Mally withdrew the cloth. To her consternation, he ripped her sleeve open to get a better look. He stiffened.

“Is it bad?” Mally asked nervously. She really hadn’t looked at it, and though it stung and throbbed she hadn’t thought it was worth fre
tting over.

Dr. Keaden exhaled shakily, which only increased Mally’s co
nsternation. He hadn’t reacted this way to any of the other injuries—even Egan’s, which Mally hadn’t been able to look at for very long without her stomach turning.

“Let’s go up to Maud’s shop,” said Dr. Keaden. “I need some of the ingredients to make a paste.” And without even waiting for a reply, he had pulled her to the stairs and they soon stood in Maud’s kitchen. “Let me have another look at that.”

Mally sat at the table and Dr. Keaden pulled up a chair so closely that their knees bumped. His nose was inches away from her shoulder and Mally blushed uncomfortably. His brow was furrowed, his eyes shining with some emotion that Mally didn’t understand, and his mouth was in the thinnest of lines. Finally he looked up from her shoulder to her face.

“What is your name, my dear?” he asked quie
tly.

“Mally Biddle,” Mally answered, wishing he would move back some.

“Mally Biddle?” Dr. Keaden repeated slowly and carefully, his frown even more pronounced. Mally had the strange feeling that he didn’t believe her.

“Yes,” Mally replied a bit forcefully.

Dr. Keaden leaned back in his chair, expelling a caught breath. He entwined his fingers and stared hard at Mally as if debating with himself whether he should say the thing that was obviously on his mind.

“I don’t think that’s true, Miss Biddle,” the doctor finally mu
rmured.

Mally blinked. It took a moment for her brain to process what he’d just said and then to realize he was serious.

“I’m sorry, but that is my name,” Mally replied, frowning in confusion and irritation.

“No. It’s not.”

The sharpness of those words took Mally completely by surprise. She stared at the doctor.

“You may think of yourself as Mally Biddle but you are most certainly not
just
Mally Biddle
,
” Dr. Keaden continued.

The only response Mally managed was to blink at him stupidly. Was the man crazy?

“You have a birthmark on your right shoulder,” Dr. Keaden stated, nodding to the shoulder that he had moments before been inspecting with such close scrutiny.

“So?” Mally asked slightly rudely. “People have birthmarks.”

“But no two are the same. Yours is quite distinctive. A paw print.”

Mally nodded, still not understanding what this had to do with anything. She had always been fond of her birthmark. It was so small that people didn’t tend to notice it, but it did have a r
ather attractive shape. 

“I’ve only seen one other like it,” the doctor continued quietly. “It was located on the right shoulder of Princess Avona.”

“That’s interesting,” said Mally pleasantly, but crisply. She rose, wanting desperately to get back to Galen and Lita and far from this man.

“I was the one who oversaw the princess’s birth. I cleaned her. I remember the birthmark quite distinctly.”

“Well that was many years ago—”

“Seventeen in fact. Tell me, my dear, how old are you?”

Mally froze on her way to the trap door. Slowly, she turned on the spot. Ice seemed to be running down her back.