“General Jorgeson?”
“Hail, Captain. Counselor Dyre sent me to wait for you.”
“Where is he?” Sainte called, his tone guarded.
“At the coronation. He told me you might need help getting there.” The man tipped his head, then mounted.
Sainte’s relief at his words was evident, still he wrapped around my waist, pulling me close against his chest. “Aye, aid would be welcome,” he said.
“Is it truly her?” Jorgeson asked as he turned his horse toward the castle, urging it into a quick trot.
Sainte didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled my hood back just enough to show my eyes.
The general’s expression slackened with shock, then a slow grin crept over his face. “I daresay we’re late then.”
With that, he spurred his horse into a gallop, prompting our gray to match his pace. We tore past guards engaged in conversation, yet none dared to impede us. It seemed General Jorgeson’s presence was the key to our safe passage.
The horses raced through the courtyard and gardens, scattering the light snow that settled on the trees and hedges. The gray stumbled and let out a sharp neigh as it regained its balance, struggling to match the relentless pace. Our rush disrupted the people going about their day, each absorbed in their tasks. At the stairs, the horses snorted and balked, but the general and Sainte dug their heels into the beasts’ flanks, urging them on.
Guards spilled out of every passageway, like termites from rotten wood. They brandished their weapons, but at the sight of their superior, they kept their arms lowered.
We neared two immense oak doors, guarded by four footmen who exchanged confused, horrified glances.
“Clear the way!” Jorgeson bellowed.
I ducked my head, hoping we wouldn’t collide with the doors in a heap of sweaty horseflesh.
After a series of shouts and a resounding crash, we burst into a brightly lit corridor.
Lanterns flickered from decorative sconces. Sheer fabric covered the windows, allowing in light while tempering the chill of the outside world. Tapestries adorned the walls, displaying elaborate coats of arms that hinted at the noble lineage of this place, though I struggled to recognize them.
I had no time to process as we pivoted left and cantered down the wide corridor. Shouts and screams filled the air as staff dodged our path, prompting me to pull my hood further down, shielding my face from their shocked glares.
With the black horse ahead of us, we ascended through the castle, navigating more stairs and crowded halls. The walls narrowed, and the ceiling descended, raising concerns that further progress might force us to dismount.
For some reason, that unnerved me.
Perhaps because I would not feel Sainte’s strength against my back.
As we skidded to a stop, I straightened my shoulders, trying to rally myself. Panic hummed through my veins, and Sainte tensed as the gray staggered a step.
Jorgeson shouted at the eight men who barred the door ahead. “Make way, you fools! I’ll have you flogged for this!”
“We’re not to let–”
“I am your general! By the gods, you will permit me!”
“The orders were given–”
The soldier did his best to appear confident, but his voice pitched higher as Jorgeson dismounted and stormed over. He towered above him, backing the man against the wall. The others stayed true to their purpose, blocking the door, but watched with wary expressions.
“Orders fromwho, whelp?!”
“The king, sir!”
“You have no king!”
With a sharpcrack, Jorgeson slapped him across the face. The soldier jerked aside, taken aback by the betrayal. The general wasted no time. In one swift motion, he pulled the oak latch loose from its stay before his soldiers turned on him.
