Gabriel took the canteen out of the inside pocket of his cloak, pouring the contents onto the tip of his torch. “Let me go first,” he whispered to Roxanne, taking the golden flint out of his pocket. “The fire will take whoever is inside off guard.” He stroked the flint against his sword, before lighting the torch in one smooth motion.
Roxanne nodded before averting her gaze to me and Florence. “Stay safe,” she whispered, disappearing behind the door after Gabriel.
I held my breath, counting every beat of my heart, as utter silence followed from the dungeons.
“Let’s go,” I told Florence as my eyes captured the last moments of peace before I took a step into the dungeons.
The strong smell of mold reached my nostrils as my eyes watered. The familiar smell of Sandra’s blood made my stomach turn upside down.
The dungeons were dark, save for Gabriel’s torch, its stoned walls keeping the sun away as we walked through the—
My eyes planted on the splattered blood across the floor. The memories I was so desperate to get rid of overwhelmed my mind anew.
Sandra’s empty blood body lay in the middle of the room, her empty eyes staring back at me, thanking me for taking her life.My hands shook as I watched the dry blood stain the stones—
“Francis!” Florence’s voice echoed through the dungeons. My head flew in her direction as I ran towards the open cell.
“Francis!” I dropped to the floor in the corner of the cell. “Francis!” My voice echoed through the dungeon when my hands reached his peaceful—too peaceful face.
“Go get the horses!” Roxanne ordered Florence. “We can’t carry him all the way there.”
Florence offered a quick nod before disappearing behind the door that led outside—
“Put pressure here!” Roxanne pushed my hands against Francis’ open wound on his stomach. “It’s silver,” she mumbled under her breath.
The shining blade had pierced deep into his insides as his closed eyes planted on the ceiling. I held my breath, listening for the only sound that mattered in that very moment—Francis’ weak breathing. “Francis,” I whispered as a groan escaped his lips, yet he did not move.
“We needchapizhnikleaves to burn out the poison.” Roxanne rushed to cut the bottom of her cloak.
“Burn!?” My crimson hands shook when I met Roxanne’s gaze.
“Where is the apothecary in the palace?” She wrapped the fabric around Francis’ wound.
“I—” Panic choked me as I glanced back at—unmoving—Francis. Blood splattered around him, soaking my fingers red. “It’s—”
“I will take you there,” Gabriel’s voice banged through the dungeons as he shoved the torch into my bloody hand. “For protection,” he threw over his shoulder to me, charging towards the only door that led up to the palace.
“Stay with him, and continue applying pressure!” Roxanne yelled, rushing after Gabriel—Royal steel dagger in her hand.
The undergrounds of the palace quieted, the weak echoes of Francis’ slow breathing whispered against the walls. The torch’s fire danced on his face, illuminating the dark purple bruises covering his cheekbones, illuminating the blood–painted cuts on his lips.
“Francis,” I whispered as tears clouded my vision. My hands fell to his chest, feeling his heart—
A hard surface met my fingers. My brows furrowed, undoing his cloak. Francis’ metal canteen shielded his heart from my touch.
My crimson hand wrapped around the full flask, bringing a sad smile to my face.
My eyes never left Francis, as though a mere glance lost would strip him away from me forever.
How long has he been like this for?
“Francis,” I whispered when his eyes fluttered open before closing anew. “Please stay with me.” Tears rushed down my cheeks—
The sound of boots outside reached my ears when a shadow appeared on the stone walls.
“Florence?” My voice shook as my hold hardened around the shaft of the torch. My other hand pocketed the flask inside of my cloak.
The slow steps neared; the shadow grew bigger.
