Page 106 of Once Upon a Castle
“Yes.” Sniff, sniff. His furry body quivered with excitement. “Let’s sneak down there and get some of that cheese, before they eat it all up.”
“Cheese?Cheese?” Niniane sat up and nipped him on the nose.
Lector signaled for the musicians to begin playing. Beneath the song of harp and flute there was much mumbling and whispering during the feast. Although the princess seemed cool and remote, a strange light shone in her dark-fringed amethyst eyes. She looked vaguely out at the assembled company and gestured oddly in the vicinity of her wine cup.
“See how strangely the princess moves,” a thin woman in a spangled headpiece said to her spouse. “Has she drunk too deeply of the wine?”
“Nay, ‘tis foul witchcraft,” an elderly knight said with more passion than wisdom. “It is plain to see that Lector and his evil sorcerer have put a spell upon her. The day he took power was a black day for Amelonia!”
A pool of silence surrounded the man, and his neighbors pulled away. Others stared fixedly at their plates. A man with drink-reddened cheeks jumped to his feet. “This man speaks treason!”
“Seize him!” Lector pushed back his chair and rose, scattering goblets and spilling wine down the table like ribbons of blood. Instantly several of Lector’s men-at-arms stepped in with drawn swords. The unfortunate who had spoken out was dragged to the dais and thrown on the floor before Lector.
Elani stepped back quickly and collided with a servant carrying a silver charger filled with hot food. The tray tipped, scattering sliced beef and venison everywhere. Lector cursed as hot gravy splashed across him in an arc. Simultaneously, Tressalara jumped up with more alertness than might have been expected, given her earlier dazed appearance. Her long cape caught on the carved whorls of the other chair, and she grasped at the chiseled dragon’s head to keep from falling.
Lady Grette rushed to help her mistress, while a steward helped Lector wipe away the gravy. At the same moment the serving woman and Elani tangled and went down in a heap. Somehow the brocade table runner came with them, pulling trenchers, goblets, and bowls off as well. Thuds and the tinkle of breaking glass filled the air.
In the confusion that followed, Tressalara’s smaller chair was overturned. Servants scurried to repair the damage, but Lady Grette waved them back. The other guests watched the farce, too afraid of their host even to crack a smile. Chaos reigned for several minutes before order was restored.
Lector examined the man imprisoned by his soldiers. His face became grimmer as he recognized the knight. “Your years will not spare you, Sir Tron. Throw him in the dungeon!” he roared. “He will be executed with the others at dawn—an example of the fate that awaits those who dare to speak treason!”
A silence fell over the assembly. Because of it, the sounds of commotion in the outer ward came clearly to their ears. Lector drew his sword. “What is the disturbance?”
Next, a thunderous rap shook the outer doors of the great hall. Everyone froze in place. “Who dares to disturb my feast?” Lector cried out.
Tressalara, her cloak now off, stepped back and away from the dais. Cador’s stone, which had protected her against Rill’s spell, nestled warm between her breasts. No one noticed, nor did they see that the turbaned wizard, the courtier in blue velvet, and two men in Lector’s livery silently followed. As the princess and the disguised rebels made for the musician’s gallery, two others moved into position behind Lector.
Again that thunderous rap filled the chamber. The sergeant-at-arms stood before the doors and spoke through the grill as two others hurried to slide the bar in place.
“Who seeks admittance?”
“The army of Princess Tressalara, led by Cador of Kildore!”
In the next fraction of a second the doors burst inward, scattering the soldiers like leaves before a violent wind. A troop of horsemen rode into the great hall with a clatter of hooves and a flash of drawn steel blades. “Long Live Tressalara! Death to the tyrant Lector!”
Lector blanched. There was no time for more. He turned to grab Tressalara and was furious to find her gone. Meanwhile tables and benches were overturned, as those inside took up sides according to their loyalties. As more troops poured in behind Cador, another group came on foot from the corridor leading to the kitchens. Every tunic bore the white dragon insignia of the House of Varro.
The fighting was intense, and the cries of men and shrieks of horses filled the air. Cador had given orders that Lector was to be detained, but not struck down. That was a pleasure he had reserved for himself.
But as he fought his way forward he realized that something had gone awry. Brand’s troops should have joined the fray by now, but there was no sign of them. Without them, Lector’s men held the advantage. The rebels were outnumbered three to one. Vaulting an overturned table, he fought his way through a phalanx of enemy soldiers toward his adversary. The best way to kill a snake was to cut off its head. If he could bring Lector down, the rest would crumble.
His sword rang out like a bell and struck like lightning as he beat the enemy back like a man possessed. He stood before Lector and raised his sword to parry a vicious thrust.
“We finally meet face-to-face, you devil’s spawn! Where is the princess?” he demanded.
A serving woman screamed. Rill waved his crystal and spoke from his hiding place behind Lector’s chair. “Did you not hear her cry out just now? By the time you reach her, Tressalara’s soft white throat will be cut.”
Cador was not aware of the spell of illusion that had been placed upon him. Realizing that the scream had come from the minstrel’s gallery overhead, he let his glance dart there. A terrible scene met his eyes. Where there was nothing but a cowering servant and a brocade curtain, he imagined that he saw Tressalara caught in a brawny soldier’s grip, wide-eyed with fear as the man’s sword bit deep into her throat.
Too late! He had come too late to save his love!
The deluge of despair froze him in place for less than an instant, then was replaced by a cold and determined fury. But that split-second was all Lector needed. His blade flashed as he lunged for Cador’s heart.
12
Niniane was trembling.“Do something, Illusius!”
Illusius had no thought for his sore nose. All his attention was focused on Lector’s sword as its slashing tip touched Cador’s chest protector, slicing through the thick leather as easily as an arrow flying through air. “Stop!” he squeaked.
