Chapter 15: Chapter 15

“The marshal must want you alive,” the second guard said. “When they learn what you did, the citizens will want to tear you apart.”

“I didn’t shoot him,” she gasped as they dragged her along. “Something struck my shoulder.”

The office was spare and dark, with only one begrimed window. Burty’s desk sat in the middle of the room. They ordered her to sit in the chair by the wall. Before the guards left, they tested a door behind the desk. It must have led to another room. Assured it was locked, they stepped outside, shutting the door. Their boots rang on the porch as they took their places. She could see one guard through the dingy window where he stood just outside. For the first minute or two, she remained in the hard chair, stunned because they thought she had shot at the prince. Then she leaped to her feet.

As she paced and paused, paced and paused, she replayed her shot over and over. She had raised the bow, felt something strike her shoulder and jerked. No matter how she reviewed it, she was certain her bow had jerked up, not to the side. She would have had to shift her stance to have shot an arrow at the angle necessary to hit the prince.

Although it still hurt, her shoulder was growing numb. There was no way for her to check it. She could reach back and feel the tender tissue beneath her buttoned vest and shift, but that was as much as she could confirm.

The latch on the door behind the desk clicked, and she stared at it. Waiting in silence, she listened for any sound beyond it. None came. A knock at the window by the exterior door captured her attention. The guard pointed at the chair, and she returned to it.

Her heart still raced, and it was hard to just sit, her heels bouncing on the floor. Ready to rise to her feet and pace again after a minute, she was startled by the door behind the desk cracking opening. An eye gazed through the gap and a finger beckoned. She didn’t recognize the bit of face she saw in the narrow opening. Whoever stood there was bent over or very short, his eye on a level with the doorknob.

“Come,” he whispered. “They’ve set you up. The prince knows and wants you out of here. He sent me. Come.”

Kambry looked back at the window. The guard had turned his back. She gazed uncertainly at the door again. The man’s features, shadowed, remained indiscernible.

“Come,” he insisted, keeping his voice down. “The marshal will be here soon and will have to take action. It will be too late then to save you.”

Kambry stood up and hesitated. Running away could not be the best course of action. It would only make her look guilty. But if she stayed and could not prove she hadn’t attempted to assassinate the prince, could anybody save her?

She gazed back at the door where the guard waited. Burty wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. He promised he wouldn’t.

The man’s voice grew strained. “Why are you delaying?” he said, his quiet words laced with demand.

Could she trust this man? Could she trust anyone? “Who are you?” she asked.

“Let’s save the introductions for after we have you safely out of here. I don’t know how much longer we have.” A hand slipped through the door. “Come with me. I can protect you.”

A step clomped on the porch outside, the hand drew back, and the door closed. She heard it latch just as the exterior door opened.

Burty walked in. After glaring at her, the guard behind him closed the door. Burty sat down behind the desk and rubbed his face.

“This isn’t good, Kambry.” “I didn’t shoot the prince.”

“You mean, you didn’t hit him.”

“I didn’t shoot an arrow at him or anywhere near him. My arrow went straight.”

“We’ve counted all your arrows,” he said sadly. “You’re missing one, and that one is sticking in the wall where Prince Russal stood.”

Kambry jumped to her feet. “That’s impossible. I would have had to turn to my left, aim and fire. You know my accuracy.”

“I’ve been assuming you were a beginner.”

“What?” Kambry said. She stood still for a moment. Assuming. “Of course, I’m a beginner. You’ve been teaching me.”

“Maybe you’ve been pretending.”

Shock ran through her, her nerves thrumming with fear. He couldn’t believe she’d been pretending all this time. “How can you think that?”

He rubbed his face again. “I don’t want to, but I can’t be a fool about this.”

“Go look again for my arrow.” “We found your arrow.”

She sat down on the hard seat and closed her eyes. Her hands shook. “You found an arrow that looked like one of mine.” She spoke slowly, making her voice calm. “I’m sure I am not the only one with an arrow of that type.”

“You’re the only one who shoots that size arrow.”

Her voice rose in pitch, fear strangling her throat. “You only have ten of them in this entire kingdom?”

“We have several,” he said, his voice flat.

“Please, Burty, believe me. It wasn’t my arrow, not the one I shot.”

“We’ve searched. I had the boys look several times. I know the angle is odd, but not impossible for someone who knows how to shoot.”

“But I’m just learning!” She scooted her chair forward until she sat in front of his desk. She folded her hands and

stared into his eyes, pleading for him to see she was telling the truth. Her knees pressed against the desk front, and still they shook. “Please, Burty, believe me. I did not shoot at the prince. I was nervous. Having him there made me shake, but I didn’t shoot at him. My arrow flew straight. Someone threw something at me and hit me in the shoulder, and I jerked upward.”

Burty’s eyes squinted. “Where, where were you hit?”

“My shoulder.” She turned her back to him and pointed.

“Stay there.” He stepped outside and had the guard step

in.

Kambry sat stiffly in the seat. She could feel the angry

look of the guard on her and kept her eyes looking down.

Only a minute had passed when Lessa entered with Burty.

“Show Lessa your shoulder.” He nodded at the guard, and they both stepped out. Burty stood with his broad back to the window, blocking the view.

“Okay,” said Lessa. Her voice was blunt, but she softened it. “Let’s see your shoulder.”

Kambry unbuttoned her vest and took it off. After she untucked her shift from her skirt, she turned around, and Lessa raised her shift to reveal her shoulder blades.

“Ouch!”

“Yup, that will bruise,” Lessa said. “It’s already red and swollen.”

Kambry twisted round, her vest gripped in her hands. Her shoulder throbbed, but she was more concerned with what Lessa thought. “You believe me?”

“I believe someone threw an object pretty hard at you, enough to leave a heck of mark.”

“You believe I didn’t shoot the prince?”

“I know you’re struggling to get along with him, but I don’t think you’d go to the trouble of shooting him with everyone here to see you do it.” She smirked.

“I wouldn’t no matter what I felt.”

Lessa shook her head. “That’s what we have to prove.”

They heard a shout and voices on the porch. Burty moved away from the window.

“Something’s going on out there.” Lessa strode to the cloudy glass. “It doesn’t look good. There’s a squad coming. Burty’s almost to the door. Straighten your clothes.”

Kambry ran to the desk and tucked in her shift before pulling on her vest and buttoning it.

Someone knocked on the door, and Lessa looked at Kambry.

She nodded as she wrestled the last button. “Tell Burty about my shoulder.”

She looked worried. “I don’t think that will be enough.” “What will happen to me, Lessa?”

The door swung open, and Burty looked to Lessa. She nodded at him. His face grew grimmer. “I’m sorry, Kambry. You’re to be taken to a cell and held until we complete our investigation. I’ll send the guardhouse surgeon to check your shoulder.” He turned to Lessa. “I want a detailed report from you of what you saw of her injury.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He twitched his head toward the door, and Lessa turned to Kambry. “I’ll try to visit you soon.” After she stepped out of the office, two guards entered.

Burty caught the arm of one. “Don’t bind her hands nor drag her with you. Let her walk.”

The guard nodded his head. They each took an arm and tugged her lightly between them and out the door.

Kambry’s breath stuttered in her throat. This couldn’t be happening. She lost track of their procession through the compound and only realized where she was when they brought

her into a compact room with a man sitting at a desk. The guard Burty had spoken to handed over a note.

The man at the desk unfolded it like he was unpacking a present and wanted the anticipation to last. He flattened it on his desk, sliding his hand over it several times before leaning close to read. It took him so long Kambry wondered how much they wrote on the sheet. Even the guards shifted their feet. The hand on her left arm loosened.

“Hmm.” The man pulled out a ring-bound book from his desk drawer and turned page after page, leaning down to look at the heading on each.

One of her guards cleared his throat. He turned another page.

A fear-induced giggle rose in Kambry’s throat, and she swallowed hard. She didn’t know if she wanted him to hurry or keep turning the pages.

“Ah.” He picked up his quill, dipped it in his inkwell and wrote each letter painstakingly.

Kambry caught herself drifting forward, watching in fascination.

He slid the book aside and stood. Then he was a whirl of motion. He grabbed the keys off the hook on the wall, marched around the desk and headed toward a steel-bound door. It was unlocked and swung open easily, and the guards swept Kambry through the doorway in their hurry to keep up with the man as he raced down the low-ceilinged passage with an oil lamp he lit as if he’d practiced for competition. By the time it was glowing, they were halfway down the long hall and turning to face a door.

It creaked when he swung it open. At the halfway point in its swing, it let out a shriek which made both the guards and her jump.

“Here.” He pointed.

They pressed her inside, and the door slammed, taking the light.

She stood in the musty dark. Enough of the room had been visible for a few seconds. A crooked cot sat to her right, a bucket to her left. The dirt floor was littered with straw, and she knew not what else. The smell that rose, stirred by her feet, assaulted her nostrils.

She hugged herself, her fingers digging into her skin. It took ten minutes to talk herself into sitting on the cot. In that time, her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and she could see a crease of dim light beneath the door. The uncovered mattress was a pale rectangle.

She had only taken two steps when the key in the door turned. She spun round to watch it swing open.

Burty stood there, the oil lamp in his hand. “Come out, Kambry.”

She blinked, her eyebrows creasing. Had she lost track of time, her mind gone elsewhere for hours?

“Come out, Kambry. Neal has something to show you.” “Neal?”

She took a step forward and stretched out her hand, expecting to feel the cold door. This had to be a hallucination.

Burty grasped her fingers, tugged her forward and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”

His arm was warm, and she stumbled beside him back up the unlit corridor to the little room with the desk. The man seated behind it was slowly writing in his book. He didn’t even look up when Burty guided her out the door.

Burty kept whispering to her and patting her arm. “It’s okay, Kambry.”

She couldn’t stop her fingers on his arm from shaking, though she gripped him tightly.

She looked at the people they passed. Their eyes were curious.

Once they reached his office, she gathered her wits and took a deep breath.