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Marcus jerked his compass from his pocket and flipped it open. It would show him where home was. Cecelia was home. “West,” he said. And he began to run in that direction. Mayden probably hadn’t taken her from the house, that much Marcus was sure of. He had a reason for being there. Now Marcus just had to figure out what it was. He ran through the corridors of the castle, with his entire family and Cecelia’s father running behind him. When he reached the lowest level of the turret, the compass began to spin. “W
here now?” he asked himself.
But then a shot split the quiet of the open space. “Cecelia!” he cried. He couldn’t lose her. He simply couldn’t. He would die without her. He ran as fast as he could up the winding staircase.
He stopped in the doorway of the open room, and his heart jumped from his chest when he saw her standing there. Cecelia was safe. She was well. She looked out the window, rather than at the scene behind her. She held her palm flat, urging him to stop. How could he?
Mayden sat in the open stone window, a look of revulsion on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Mayden was too engrossed in the changing scenes before him to even look at Marcus.
“He dropped the gun and it fired. But I’m fine.”
“I’ve never been so scared,” Marcus said. He turned to hold his family back. “Stay,” he said to them.
“I will trade my life for hers,” Cecelia’s father said. “Let me up there. I don’t care what happens.” Marcus refused to let him pass.
Cecelia finally turned and looked at Mayden. “I can help you.” The dust settled at their feet, all the life gone from it.
“I hurt too many people,” Mayden said. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Marcus agreed. But Cecelia said, “I can help you, if you’ll let me. I’ll take your memories and lock them away in a box. You can start anew.”
“It’s too late.”
Mayden rocked in the open window. And Marcus could almost feel his pain. “He’s broken, Marcus,” Cecelia said. “But we can fix him.”
“I’m not certain there’s any fixing him. He’s not redeemable.”
“There’s hope,” Cecelia said.
“The hope died inside me a long time ago.” Mayden pointed toward where the dust had fallen. “The things I’ve done. I wasn’t even aware of all of them.”
“Did you show him everything?” Marcus asked.
Cecelia shook her head. “Only some of it.”
“There’s more?” Mayden asked.
Cecelia nodded.
Mayden smiled. But he looked directly into Cecelia’s eyes and said, “Thank you.” Then he leaned backward and fell from the window.
Cecelia ran to him, but Marcus thrust her out of the way. He reached for Mayden, but the man slipped through his fingers. He leaned over the side and caught the sleeve of the man’s coat. He grunted, holding tightly to Mayden’s arm.
“You can’t save me. No one can,” Mayden grunted, trying to shake loose of Marcus’s grip.
“I can if you’ll let me,” Marcus ground out. He reached to catch Mayden’s jacket with his other hand. But the material tore, and Mayden wiggled. “Hold still. I’ll pull you up.”
“Let me go,” Mayden said clearly.
“I can’t. My wife won’t like it.” His grip was slipping.
“She’ll have to be angry at you, because I won’t let you save me.” He jerked his shoulder, until he began to slide from the sleeve of the coat. “Thank you for trying,” Mayden said. And then he slipped free of the coat entirely. Marcus reached, trying to catch him as he slid free. But he moved too fast. And then he was gone.
Marcus ducked back inside the turret, refusing to watch when Mayden hit the ground. A soft thud met his ears, and Cecelia rushed into his arms. Marcus pressed his eyes closed tightly, trying to forget the memory of the way the man looked into his eyes, right before he shook loose of his grip.
“I always thought he was a coward and so weak,” Marcus breathed.
