Chapter 7

A s soon as Lucy left, Rosamund hopped out of bed and paced, her mind racing. She’d placed the basket beside the door as they entered. Lucy eyed it as she left but said nothing more about it.

All she knew was she couldn’t leave the castle in her nightgown. She hurried to her wardrobe and flung open the doors, peering at the array of gowns inside. Below, her shoes lined up in perfect order. She huffed out a breath. None of these would do. Perhaps, though, she could pick a day dress and then find something more suitable in one of the local villages.

She pushed through the gowns until she found a simple one in white with pale yellow daisies. She quickly dressed, struggling with the laces in the back by contorting her arms in awkward positions. But she succeeded. Then she grabbed her cloak from the peg near the door and flung it around her shoulders, pulling up the hood. Next, she grabbed the basket.

A momentary pause as she stood in the middle of her room, glancing around. Her heart pounded hard as she considered what she was about to do. A surge of determination ignited within her casting aside her doubt and fears. She was not going to back out now.

But she also knew she couldn’t walk through the front door. Steeling her nerves, she headed for the balcony door and flung it open. The crisp spring air greeted her as well as the sound of crickets. She walked onto the balcony and peered down at the ground. It was too far down and there was no way to scale the wall with the basket on her arm.

She backed away, closing the door. She tapped her forefinger against her chin, thinking.

Perhaps there was another way. There was a postern gate at the back of the castle. Though they had never used it, she knew it was there in case they had ever come under siege and they needed a quick escape.

She stepped to her door and cracked it open, peering into the hall. It was empty. She slipped out of her room, hoping her parents were sleeping by now. Closing the door behind her with a soft snick, she hurried down the hall.

She made her way down the staircase, crossed the great hall to the door. With her heart beating in her throat, she pulled it open and stepped into the night. The air was crisp and cool but with spring undertones that promised a warm summer. Closing the door, she hurried across the courtyard. The stables were positioned by the gate and she halted there, considering taking a horse. That would raise more questions. Then again, did she really want to leave on foot?

She’d have to saddle her own horse, but it was something she knew how to do. With her heart in her throat, she entered the stables.

She heard the soft whicker of one of the horses. Hers was in the stall on the end. After she’d saddled it, she realized the basket was too cumbersome, so she removed the contents and wrapped everything in the cloth. One of the apples wouldn’t fit. Her mare nudged her, then snorted. She giggled and held it out to her.

She chomped it in one bite. She patted the horse’s neck, trying to calm her own nerves. It wasn’t too late to turn back.

“I must be crazy,” she whispered.

The mare responded with a soft whicker, as though she understood and were trying to give her encouragement.

“I have to go, don’t I?” she asked.

The mare nudged her, looking for another treat and had no answer.

“Yes, I do,” she said, trying to sound confident.

Then she stuck the wrapped food into the saddle bag.

Rosamund guided her horse out of the stall and into the night. The gate was nearby. It was closed. She led the horse to it. Her nerves were on edge as she approached it, peered at it and hoped there was a way to open it.

She needn’t have worried. There was no lock. Merely a latch to keep it closed. She pulled it open and gazed into the night. There was a stone path that led away from the castle. With a gentle tug of the reins, she pulled along her horse and went through the gate. She paused only a moment to turn and close it.

And then she and her horse continued down the narrow stone path into the night.

Toward freedom.

In Woodhaven, Prince Phillip arrived back home with Charles and Jeffrey in tow. They relinquished their horses to the stable hand and then entered the keep. Phillip was tired and saddle sore from riding so hard to return home. Jeffrey was relentless. He’d made a promise to his mother to get him to Myst Hall in a few days’ time and it was clear he intended to keep that promise.

“Get some rest. We leave at first light,” Jeffrey said.

Charles was happy to join them on their travels, too. Phillip scowled.

He trudged up the stairs to his room and slammed the door, leaning against it.

Despite his fatigue, he pushed away from the door and entered his bedchamber. He discarded his dirty riding clothes and changed into clean breeches, tunic, padded vest. Then he pulled on his boots once more. He strapped his sword to his side as well as his favorite dagger on his other hip.

He took one last look around, as though bidding it farewell, and then left his bedchamber. While Charles and Jeffrey slept the night away, he would have a head start. He wasted no time as he headed for the stable.

The stable hand had yet to remove the saddle from his horse. He approached with a smile and good humor.

“Ho there,” he called.

The stable hand, a young boy not much older than thirteen, gave him a quizzical look. “Your highness?”

“No need to take care of my horse.” He approached the stall and reached for the reins, leading the horse out.

“I thought you were leaving in the morning?” the boy asked.

“Change of plans.” He flashed a bright smile. “Tell the others in the morning I rode on ahead.”

“Of course, your highness.”

Phillip mounted and trotted out of the stable. He had no destination in mind. Only that he knew he had to escape.

When he was through the portcullis, he kicked the horse into a gallop. He suspected his freedom wouldn’t last long, but he was going to enjoy it while he could.