BONG!
The clock's bellowing chime echoed through the castle, marking midnight. A good hundred people flooded the corridors, quietly maneuvering underground. Older adults, mothers and fathers, had grabbed lamps and torches, swiftly leading the march. James and Mercy stayed in the back of the crowd, making sure the sick and wounded kept pace.
"Thank you," floated a soft whisper up to James's ear.
He was now aiding the pregnant woman that Mercy spoke to first. He supported her with his weight as she hobbled forward as fast as she could.
"Don't mention it."
"So what did you keep on your farm?" Mercy whispered, walking in line with them. She hadn't stopped asking questions since they left the dungeon.
Her silver eyes closed as she inhaled, like she was hoping to catch the scent of her farm, of her old life.
"Let's see, chickens, pigs, cows. A few birds, beautiful, real mean. Just about everything," she chuckled, opening her eyes again. Their corners sank as she was faced with the brick and mortar of the castle.
Mercy didn't notice, caught up in her own visions, "Horses, too?"
Her response was a slow shake of the head, "No, actually. My last horse died a while back. Pure girl was my best friend, too. Her name was Bush, because every morning she'd hide behind the berry bushes near our house and pop out to try and surprise you. It was her favorite game."
Mercy's eyes went wide, nodding carefully.
"She must've really loved you."
"More than anyone else I knew."
James looked down at the green that was enveloping the woman's swollen ankle. Rhea, as she'd introduced herself, sprained her ankle almost a month ago, running from capture during the war between Vevon and Lenoria. It was disfigured beyond recognition from lack of attention.
Now, James swore up and down he was only doing this to get the ring. That's it. His heart wasn't in it, and it didn't need to be.
But, his curiosity was starting to rear its head.
"How'd you sprain your ankle?"
"Running for my life. I made it to the woods, where I fell into a ditch and was forced to hide. But they found me." James watched her gaze go distant. "I refused to go. I did everything I could. I even landed a punch on one of the guards. It was straight to the jaw, like my mother taught me. And I kept going. Of course, I could only go so fast. And for my resistance, I wasn't allowed in the wagon."
"They dragged me here," she spit, "My ankles tied to the back of one of their horses."
After that, James didn't ask anymore questions.
**************************************************
Jack held the wooden cube between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to his face.
He sat on a wooden stool in one of the King's private chambers, that he had designated as a "War Room". Maps covered the walls like tapestry. The strongest brands of armor were sprawled on the table beside chess pieces that signified his army's various regiments. [And more description here]
The King paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, scratching the brown stubble on his chin. Golden eyes trained on her husband, the Queen watched from her favorite bearskin chair.
"I think..." Jack finally broke a long silence, "I think it's a clue."
The King snatched the cube, "Hush."
"Dear, this isn't something to get so worked up over. I have plenty of jewelry."
Eyes still glued, the woman watched as the cube shrunk in her husband's large hands. He tossed the wooden square into the fireplace, but his blue veins still throbbed like he was holding something, something heavy. Behind him, Jack scrambled to put out the fire and salvage his 'clue'.
Heavy footsteps caused the floorboards to whine as the King drifted over.
"But it is. That isn't any piece of jewelry, Flower." His voice was strung with tension, his gaze dark.
Silence filled the room again as he towered over the Queen's chair.
At last, she swung her legs off the arm rest and sat up.
"You're right, it's my wedding ring," she stood to press a kiss to her husband's forehead. In his frustration, the collar to his suit had risen, she flattened it as she went on. "It's not just any piece of jewelry. But it's not worth calling your men to hunt down two rambunctious children. I think our love is clear, with or without a ring. Don't you?"
The tired royal melted into his wife's touch. He couldn't be upset with her, she made it impossible. Still, her reassurance only eased him a little. The situation went deeper.
"Of course, sweetness. But it's more than that. That was my mother's ring."
The Queen paused. Her hands rested on the King's chest, feeling the rise and fall of his broken breath. The corners of her lips ticked downwards.
"You've mentioned."
He sighed, "A lot of people want that ring, Flower."
"It's worth more money than anything any of our craftsmen could make today. Honestly, more than a hundred anythings--" The King winced slightly, and his wife took note, "Of course, a lot of people want it."
"It's more than that," the King said again, slower this time.
Only silence followed.
The wind whistled through a crack in the window, blowing up the curtains and sending maps and letters flying. Jack, who'd been fiddling with his cube, paused to jump at the paper fluttering around the room.
The Queen patted her dress as she headed for the window. "We've got a kingdom of riches--"
"Jack, close the door, would you?"
The guard froze. "It's already closed."
"Window. He meant the window. I've got it, Jack," she shooed the young man back to his stool. This window in particular always needed some extra muscle, which Jack lacked. "Like I was saying, one ring, no matter the price--"
"This is really a matter I'd like to take to my advisors--"
The window slammed with the swiftness of a guillotine.
"Your advisors!" the Queen swiveled on her heels, her red lips laced with sick amusement.
The King cleared his throat, busying himself with his maps and pawns.
"Yes."
She headed for the table, grabbing her husband's chin. This was getting ridiculous.
"What have those men done for you that I have not? Where have they followed you that I have not gone?"
The King lowered his wife's hand, his gaze going back to his desk. The Queen frowned, her eyes glazing as her heart was clutched with a foreign pain. She planted her hands on the table, her mind churning like an angry machine.
"What, ever, have you shared with them that I don't already know?"
The King shook his head, forcing a dark laugh, "You feel too deeply." He shifted through papers, half of them blank.
She straightened. Silently, she removed her crown. It hit the table with the clack of a dozen solid diamonds.
"Mark."
"Flower?"
Crossing the room, her beloved husband went to adjust his mother's picture on the mantel. His back was now fully turned to her.
"What more should I know about the ring?"
"You, my love," he said after a moment, "should get some rest."
He pressed a firm kiss on the top of her head, passing her on the way to the door.
"Come, Jack," he called, "It's awful late."
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