“Yes, okay. Bors it is.” He nods.
“Thank fuck for that,” I say as I turn back to the task at hand. I step forward onto a board that looks strong enough, test it with my weight until I’m satisfied, then move my whole weight onto it. There’s a groan of protest, but the board holds.
For a moment.
I hardly get a chance to react when I hear the crick of snapping wood, and it gives way all at once, crumbling beneath me like it’s made of sand. I feel my body go weightless for a moment as there’s nothing holding me up, then I’m plunging down through the floor. Seamus’ shout of “Bors!” makes me satisfied in a surreal, incongruous way as I reach out, trying to grasp hold of the nearest board, but it’s no good. The wood is too rotten and it just crumbles beneath my fingertips as I fall.
Bracing for a broken leg—or worse—I’m surprised when I only fall a handful of feet before I land on a hard surface. My legs crumple on instinct, and I roll to the floor to save any serious wounds, but I scramble to my feet quickly enough, uninjured except for a little muscle strain.
A moment later, Seamus’s face appears at the hole I just fell through.
“Your gra—” He clears his throat. “Bors, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, clapping my hands together to clear them of dirt, groaning a little with the strain of it, like the return of an old friend after all these years of opulence instead of fighting.
It’s then that the torchlight catches a glimpse of something yellow against the wall of whatever crawlspace I’ve found myself in. I peer into the gloom, but it’s impossible to see properly. My heart is in my throat, hoping beyond hope…
“Hand me down that torch,” I tell Seamus, reaching up to grab it from him. “I think we might be in luck.”
Sara
When little Gwen opens her eyes, it feels like I’m taking a breath for the first time in my life. Such relief I haven’t felt since Bors rescued me from the clutches of Queen Beatrice’s guards twenty years ago.
I look at him now, knowing that he’s saved our granddaughter just as he saved me then, just as he’ll always protect his family from any danger that might beset us. I know that while he’s here, none of us need fear the worst.
Gwen coughs, blinking against the light and fresh air streaming in through the window. Then I see a look of panic come over her face. “Mommy!”
“I’m right here, sweetheart.” Angie has her hands on her daughter in an instant, clutching her still-cold fingers and feeling her forehead. “You gave us all a scare.”
“My belly hurts.”
Angelica tuts. “That, young lady, is to teach you not to eat things when you don’t know what they are.”
She sounds stern, but when she looks my way I see the love in her eyes too. Our children and grandchildren have become her own as much as any child could be, and when we named our own daughter after her, she couldn’t have been prouder.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
“Porridge, eggs or chicken, sweetheart?” Angie replies.
“Ewww. I don’t like porridge, eggs or chicken. Isn’t there any leftover pie from last night?”
I can’t stifle my laugh in time, it just feels so good to have everything back to normal again. Gwen doesn’t know it, but she’s been out for two days. The leftover pie she’s referring to would have been finished off by the servants yesterday.
After Bors and Seamus got back with the Dark Berry plant, Angelica was able to get Gwen’s heart rate under control, then she regained enough consciousness to be forced to drink the water and vinegar solution we gave her.
That wasn’t a pleasant sight.
But once it was over, and Gwen was sleeping soundly, all we could do was sit back and watch and wait. Angelica was as reassuring as possible, but we all knew the danger wasn’t over until the poor girl regained consciousness.
“It’s porridge, eggs or chicken,” I tell Gwen. “Those are the choices. You need to have plain food until you regain your strength.”
“I’m strong already!” she complains, and I smile at Angie.
“Your turn,” I tell her, then turn to Angelica and wave for her to follow me out of the room.
Once we’re outside, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and squeeze. “Thank you.”
“No need. I’m just glad I was able to help. It was lucky Bors found some Dark Berry, or it might have been a different story.”
“About that,” I start, meeting her eyes. “There’s a courtyard in the queen’s wing of the castle. I never use that end of the castle because the thought of being away from Bors, even for a night, isn’t one I’d like to entertain. But my mother—my real mother—apparently kept a herb garden there. I’d like to do that again, but plant it with healing herbs. That way if you or any other healer needs a particular ingredient, we’ll have it here.”