“But . . .,” Tess said, gesturing behind her.
“Don’t turn around,” I said because at the moment, the furry’s wolfish jaws snatched out the man’s throat. He didn’t move when Knox’s lifeblood spurted over his face, didn’t let the thrashing body beneath him get free, despite its imminent death. He rode the man’s death throes like a lover, then when Knox was still, Mellor’s eyes jerked up to his prince. The queen’s strike had been queered by what looked like twenty different arrows buried into her body, but Mellors ignored her, trampling her mighty wings underfoot to get to the prince. He hauled the man upright, the prince coughing blood but still fucking alive. Servants rushed over with medical kits, Mellors shoving them away when they tried to tend to the prince, he ripping the man’s garments and pausing for a moment to take in the total of his wounds. Knox’s arrow would have flown true, the hit enough to skew it, so it buried itself into his shoulder. Mellors snapped the shaft off easily.
“We’ve got to go,” Flea said. “This is our only chance. We make a run for the castle. Grab–” I held up my hand as several of the prince’s officers ran over to us. Flea snapped his bow up, shifting the target from one to the other.
“Drawing a weapon against the prince’s men?” one asked, his words clipped short. “You’ll be on the spit along with that other man of yours tonight.”
“Put it down, Flea,” I said, turning to him and glaring when he didn’t respond. He pointed it down to the ground with a growl, which made the furries sneer.
“You’ll need to come with us,” the other furry said. “No more outings and fancy dinners for you, well, none that you are a guest at.”
“Where are we going?” I asked, but the men just closed in on us, one grabbing Tess, the other, me. “What the hell is going on?”
“Your man just shot the prince. What do you think is going to happen, pinky?”
“He was trying to help bring down the harpy queen!” I snapped, attempting to force all the fear and anger I’d felt during the day into a plausibly affronted tone.
“Not the way Captain Mellors sees it, so it’s back to the manor for you. You’ll stay in your room until your fate has been decided.”
38
Which is how we ended up plotting our grand escape.
“So, Mellors knows that Knox tried to kill the prince?” Natty asked.
“Yes,” we answered in unison, sorting through the massive pile of books and comics Flea had brought down yesterday.
“Lord of the Rings?” I suggested, holding up a huge book to show Tess.
She shook her head, “If it were the movies, I’d say some of the battle scenes with Legolas, but the books? Not enough detail. I’m not sure how much is literal word and how much is imagination with the curse.”
“And reality seems to play a role. Merlin came out a lot younger, prettier, and not sporting a chrome skullcap like the character in Excalibur when we conjured him up.” Silence fell over the room while I kicked myself for bringing that up. Flea and Tess went very still for a moment; fingers paused in the midst of flipping pages.
“Perhaps that should be a focus,” Tess said, struggling to keep her tone light and failing. She looked to me, then Flea. “He is an incredibly powerful wizard.”
“Sounds like a good ally,” Natty said. “Which book is he in?” Flea flicked through his piles and passed three books to Natty. “We have Mary Stewart, Le Morte D’Arthur and–”
“Not the Morte, I don’t have time to slog through medieval syntax this afternoon and Stewart’s Merlin was more knowledgeable and cunning than magical. What’s the other one?”
“Just says Merlin 1998,” Natty said, passing it to Tess.
“1998?” She flic
ked the book open. “It’s that miniseries, y’know the one with Sam Neill in it?”
“A TV series? Must be a script. At least it’s on the right track; he was plenty magical in that one,” I said.
“Yep, and the actual broadcast.” I frowned and looked at the page. It looked just like an embedded YouTube video. I tentatively reached out and tapped the triangle play button. Sure enough, the show played along with a tinny audio track.
“Shit, I wish I’d known that,” I said. “We could have borrowed hundreds of action films.”
“Didn’t work out so good with Knox,” Flea said. Silence fell over the room. “Here’s some of the novelisations we were looking at last night.” Several books landed by my feet.
“Dragons,” Tess said brightly, forcing a smile, “not Pern, we don’t know if the fuel would come through, but sentient, loyal and able to breathe fire, spit acid–”
“Something aggressive?” I said. “On it. We thinking rideable?”
“Couldn’t hurt. I have no idea how we’re getting out of here, especially with Gabe . . . .”