Chapter 33. Court Jester.
The sun disappeared from the horizon, announcing our time had come. I wiped the sleep off my eyes, sitting up on the wooden floors.
Surprisingly, I felt refreshed, despite spending the whole day on the hard surface—my body full of strength, my mind full of determination.
I looked around the space, noting that Roxanne had already departed from the room—her woolen blanket splattered on the cold floor.
“How did you sleep?” Francis got to his feet beside me, offering me a hand.
“I slept well.” I took his hand as he pulled me upwards. “You?”
“I always sleep well with you in my arms.” Francis winked, passing me the cloak I’d left on the stool in the corner. “Come, we must be on our way.” His fingers interlocked with mine, walking out of the room.
The strong smell of warm human food floated in the air of the kitchenette. The open curtains revealed the growing Moon and dozens of stars. I sat on the couch, as I had last night, willing my heart to calm before our upcoming trip.
“Breakfast?” Simon asked, offering us the bottle of wine filled with blood. When Francis and I shook our heads, he merely shrugged, taking a sip for himself.
Simon and Gabriel sat at the stools adjacent to the table, a plate of freshly cooked eggs sat before Gabriel.
“Uh—” Gabriel mumbled, mouthful. “Please have some, I don’t feel like serving as a meal tonight.” He chewed on his eggs, staring at me and Francis.
My palms sweated as my throat ached at the reminder of my growing hunger. Gabriel’s presence certainly did not help.
His pulse fastened under my gaze, the smell of his flesh reaching my bothered beast. I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to silence it, in vain.
I glanced at Francis as panic slowly clawed at my stomach. How could we not think of my hunger beforehand?
“Don’t worry about it,” Francis whispered into my ear, squeezing my hand into his as he sat beside me. A soft smile appeared on his face as though it was the answer to all of my silent questions—
The main door to the house flew open, allowing the cold air to sweep through the space, allowing the warm smell of blood to ease. “Did anyone—” Roxanne appeared at the threshold of the house, snowflakes covering her hair. “Oh, good, you are awake.” She looked me and Francis up and down. “We still need to figure out our plan before we go.” She took off her snowy shoes before stepping onto the rug. “What is the best way to get to the forge?” She faced me.
“There is no path leading to the dungeons, we will have to walk through the other paths closest to it,” I replied; my heart beat faster.
“That is far too dangerous,” Simon noted, taking another sip of his drink.
“That is not true,” Gabriel said, sending another piece of his breakfast—or rather dinner—into his mouth. And annoyance, at his knowledge of the palace exceeding mine, sent another dose of unsettlement into my veins. “There is one path that leads straight to that room, it connects to the King’s rooms.”
“The King’s room doesn’t have a passage,” I stated confidently, unexplained anger blinking through my vision.
“It does not, but the corridor from the back gates is right next to it.” Gabriel shrugged, oblivious to my distress.
“That gate will be guarded,” I argued. “The gate is far too big to leave exposed.”
“That is the only way,” Gabriel insisted. “And it’s no more than half a dozen Wurdulacs—at least that was the amount of Royal guards.” He averted his gaze to Francis. “Surely you can get past them.”
