Astred: Chapter Nine

I lie in bed wide awake. Soren sleeps soundly next to me.

I watch him sleep for a while. He looks so calm and gentle when he sleeps, nothing like he does when he's awake. His fingers twitch and I wonder what he's dreaming about.

I turn my head back over and heave a sigh. There's no way I'm going to be able to get to sleep. I probably shouldn't have fallen asleep in the garden earlier. Maybe if I go for a walk I'll be more tired when I get back.

Quietly I slip out of bed and pull my jacket over my arms. I button the first few buttons over my chest and sneak out of Soren's room.

I tiptoe down the hallway and past the staircase.

I slowly open the door to Ibsen's room and peer inside. His room is smaller than Soren's, but that's to be expected.

He's sitting upright in his bed, and I jump when I realize he might be awake, but then I sigh in relief when I see that his eyes are closed. There's a candle next to his bed still burning, and there's an open book in his hand, but he's snoring.

I walk inside and remove the book from his hand slowly and set it on his bedside table. He stirs but he doesn't wake up.

I pull the quilt up to his belly. Seeing him asleep makes me realize just how small he is. He's only a kid, and I wonder what was going through Aksel's right mind when he hired him as a steward. I blow out the candle and l leave his room.

I'm about to head back to Soren's room, but I stop by the corridor window and look down at the garden. The half moon shines on the trees and bushes. Dew drops hang still on the leaves of the willow tree and the petals of the white and red roses.

I step down the staircase and push through the door and out into the garden.

I close my eyes and breathe in the wet, pure scent of the garden. I spin, and I feel the earth between my bare toes. I listen to the wind blow through the trees.

But then I hear something else. Horse hooves on the earth and men shouting. I approach the six foot wall that separates the garden from the other terraces. I climb the bricks and look over the wall.

A cavalry of men tear through the terraces up to the castle. I can just make out their yellow coats in the moonlight.

Soldiers from Vestlige!

I hop down from the wall and sprint back towards the castle. I don't get halfway to the doors when I hear the sound of hooves against bricks and sliding on gravel and I know they've jumped the wall. I trip and fall. The men on horses surround me in seconds.

"What's this we have here?" Says one man with red hair and brown eyes as dark as the soil in the Degrees. He wears a green satin sash over his coat that the other men don't have. This is the ruthless Prince Erik. "A princess strayed away from her prince?"

He looks to the other men and motions behind him. "Take the castle." And the other men get down from their horses, unsheathe their swords and storm through the doors.

Then Erik dismounts and starts walking over to me. I get up to run, but he catches me by my hair and drags me back. I shriek as he lifts me off of the ground by my hair. I grab his wrist and dig my nails into his flesh but he doesn't even flinch.

"So this is the Princess Astred," he says, brushing my cheek with his free hand. "I have to admit, you’re prettier than I thought you'd be. Maybe I'll take you from Soren and make you my wife instead. All the ladies I try to marry mysteriously disappear."

I shriek again and try to kick his shins.

One of his fingers traces along my collarbone. His eyes land on my necklace and I kick him harder.

"What's this? Emerald? No, tsavorite. Beautiful." He rips it from my neck and shoves it into his coat. "It will look perfect on my mother."

I scream. "Soren!"

"You poor little thing. Soren is such a grouch. I bet he hasn't even had his way with you yet."

My chest feels hot and I reach out and rake my fingernails along his face. He cries and drops me. Then he slaps me so hard I'm sent flying.

I land on my belly on the ground and I have to gasp for air. Blood drips from my nose and onto the gravel. My cheek burns and I feel it starting to swell.

Erik walks up to me and kneels beside me. He pats his cheek and looks at the blood on his fingers.

"Well, you were pretty. Maybe it would be better if I just killed you." He stands up, unsheathes his sword and points it at me. He grins.

"Stop, Erik."

Erik turns around and sees Soren standing behind him, his sword unsheathed and in his left hand. He wears his red coat and trousers, he must have his nightshirt tucked underneath. He looks around Erik at me on the ground. He holds out an arm and I run past Erik and against Soren's chest. His arm holds me there. I clench his coat in my hands and bury my face into his neck.

"Soren," I cry. "He took my necklace."

Soren glares at Erik, who still grins. "You sorry bastard," Soren mutters. "Don't worry, Astred. I'll get it back for you. Go and find Ibsen. He'll take you somewhere safe."

I look up at him and gasp. "Are you going to be alright fighting Erik all by yourself?"
He smirks, not taking his eyes off of Erik. "I'll be fine. You see how I fight against Aksel."

"You lose every match, Soren."

"Ha. That's only because Aksel is older than me. He's had longer to practice, that's all." He looks down at me. His blue eyes sparkle, and I can see the golden flecks in them. "Go and find Ibsen, Astred. I'll be alright." He pulls something from inside his coat and hands it to me. "Oh, and take this."

I remove the cloth it's wrapped in and gasp when I see that it's a silver dagger. "No, Soren, I can't. I'm not going to stab anyone."

"Just in case, Astred. Hang on to it. Now go."

I nod and let go of him, rushing back to the castle doors. I pull them open and rush inside. I hear the clashing of swords near the dining room, so I turn and go the other way. "Ibsen!" I call.

"Miss Astred!" His voice is faint, but I try to follow it.

"Ibsen! Where are you?"

"Here, Miss Astred!"

I look down at the rug under my feet. His voice is coming from underneath me, but I'm on the first story of the castle.

"Ibsen?"

"Yes, Miss Astred. I'm down here. Pull up the rug."

I pull it up and see that there was a hatch underneath it. It opens, and out peeks a dust covered Ibsen.

He reaches out a hand. "Please, Miss Astred, hurry." I hesitantly take it and he pulls me underground.

He pulls the rug back on top of us and closes the hatch while I look around. We're in a tunnel, about two-and-a-half feet wide and three feet high. It's made of stone bricks like the rest of the castle.

"Ibsen, where are we?" I squint, trying to see the end of the tunnel, but I can't.

He picks up his lantern and starts to crawl. I follow after him. "Remember when I was telling you about the secret tunnels between the castle floors? I present to you, the tunnels. They were designed as an extra security measure for his exact reason. There's a hatch in every room, but most of them are hidden. The one in Soren's bedroom is located underneath his bedside table."

"Where are we going?"

"To the ballroom. There was a bunker built underneath there for the Queen and the Princess. It isn't far."

We continue to crawl. Every once and a while I see a hatch above us but Ibsen doesn't stop.

We hear the screams of maids and we hear a series of footfalls above us. Two pairs of boots stop on the planks above our heads. Dust glitters down from the bottoms of the planks and lands on my eyelashes and cheeks.

I gasp, and Ibsen covers my mouth with his hand. The other grabs on to my elbow, holding me against the wall.

"Did you check the upstairs?" one Vestlige soldier says to another in his gruff voice.

"No, sir, not yet."

"Well what are you waiting for? Prince Erik wants to bring the Princess back with us to Vestlige. So go and find her!"

"Right, yessir!"

And the the boots march away.

A tear slips down my cheek. Ibsen takes his hand away from my mouth and let's go of my elbow.

"Are you alright?" he whispers.

I nod, and we move again.

We take a right turn and get to the end of a hallway where there's another hatch standing vertical on the end wall. Ibsen has to bash his shoulder against it to get it to flap open into darkness. Ibsen steps down a short staircase into the bottom of a small room and reaches a hand out for me. I take it and step down.

Ibsen closes the hatch behind me and slides a few locks into place. Then he lights more candles with his lantern and the room brightens up.

I see that there are a few pallets against one wall and a desk with parchment and ink vials on the other. A shelf next to it holds wine and other alcohol.

Ibsen finds a chair and brings it over to me. I sit down and Ibsen pulls another chair over and sits down in front of me. He holds his chin in one hand and I stare at my lap.
We sit here for a few minutes, in silence, listening to the shouts and screams above us.

"Don't worry, Miss Astred. The King is an excellent swordsman, and the Prince is only a rank below him. They'll put these Westerners in their place soon. They're going to be fine."

"I'm not worried." Except I am. I think about Soren dueling Erik, and I fear for him.

I lean back in my chair and shiver. We sit there for a few more minutes.

I remember back to when Ibsen and I met. "Ibsen, you never told me how old you are."

Ibsen looks up at me. "I didn't?"

I shake my head. His brown eyes flicker over towards the wall. He sighs.

"I was born in Sorlige, right here in the capitol. Except I want a nobleman. My parents were leatherworkers. When I was born, they found that my left leg was shorter than my right, but other than that, I looked like an ordinary baby." He pauses. "But as I grew, my parents realized that I was far from it. When I was five, I still looked like a toddler. When I was ten, I looked six. And now, I only look like a twelve-year-old." Ibsen brings his eyes up to mine. "I was born with a condition that makes me age slower than normal people. Astred, I'm eighteen years old."

A pit falls in my stomach. Ibsen is... Older than me?

"I know it may seem odd," he smiles, "but I'm older than I seem. I won't believe you if you don't believe me."

"I'm sorry, Ibsen."

He picks his head up. "Why? You haven't done anything wrong."

My eyes drip with tears. "This whole time... I thought you were just a kid. But you're older than I am!"

He gets up and kneels in front of me. He places his tiny hands on top of mine. "Oh, Miss Astred. That isn't your fault! It's mine, if anyone's, for not telling you earlier." He tilts his head at me. "Dry your tears."
I wipe my face with my jacket sleeves.

We look up at the ceiling when we hear shouting above us. A woman cries, "the Prince! The Prince is dead!"

Something feels strange in my chest, like someone has my heart in their hands and they're twisting it hard.

"No..." I stammer. "Soren is... He can't be."

Ibsen's face contorts and he looks like he may scream. I rise from my chair and remove the latches from the hatch and leave. Ibsen doesn't stop me, he just glares at the ceiling.