The Knight's Prisoner (Medieval Discipline 1)

“I will die if I go to Camelot?” Phillip asked sharply.

She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight. “He will hunt you down and kill you, no matter where you go. He will not stop until you are dead.”

“How will I take the throne, Dani?” Phillip asked quietly.

She met his eye squarely and shook her head. “You will die,” she said with a look of horror. “All of you.” She turned her eyes on him, and the grief he saw there sent a chill through his body.

“But you said differently before.”

“Futures change,” she said hoarsely.

The room was deathly quiet as they all stared at each other in dismay.

* * *

Dani couldn't sleep at all that night. She kept seeing the vision she'd seen when the prince had questioned her. All his men dead. Ferrum, dead. She spent the next several days in a daze, and the men went about making reparations to the castle walls and gates, burning their dead and restoring the castle from the wreckage.

On the fourth morning, she heard Ferrum get up in the early morning, whispering he had to attend to things. She still felt exhausted. She closed her eyes and tried to find the sleep that had been eluding her. Instead, she had a new vision of a future changed.

She got up, dressed, and found the Prince in the Great Hall. “May I have a word with you? In private?” She stood at the prince's side, her heart pounding at what she was planning.

He looked at her curiously. “Aye.” He led her into a small room with a round table and chairs—the strategy room, if she guessed right.

“I had a dream this morning—but it was not a dream.” The prince merely nodded, and she was grateful he didn't require an explanation she could not provide. “I saw myself admitted to Camelot, to, ah… pleasure the king.”

The prince raised his eyebrows.

“I had a needle hidden in my braid, and I pricked him with it.”

“And then what happened?”

“I don't know,” she admitted. “That's all I saw. My sense was there was some kind of poison on the needle, though I know not what.”

The prince nodded slowly and was quiet for a long moment. “I know of a poison that could kill with even such a tiny dose,” he said at last. He looked at her, conflict flickering on his face. Finally he sighed, as if defeated. “Ferrum will not allow it.”

She felt a stab of anxiety. She had to do this—it was the only way to save Ferrum. “But you are the prince.”

He hesitated again, then shook his head sadly. “I won't go around him.”

“Won't go around him for what?” Ferrum asked in a dangerous voice.

She jumped and turned around in dismay, cursing his ability to move so stealthily he'd entered undetected. His expression was stormy.

She found she couldn't speak. She looked to the prince, who hesitated, looking back at her. He clearly didn't want to speak it either.

“Ferrum won't allow what?”

Her mouth was dry, and she still couldn't speak. He was going to see this as another betrayal. And what's more, he would stop her from doing what she'd seen she must do.

“Danewyn has been shown a way to defeat Benton and win the throne,” the prince said carefully.

Ferrum looked from one to the other suspiciously. “What is it?”

The prince hesitated and looked at her. She drew in a deep breath. “I saw myself killing him.”

Ferrum's eyes narrowed. “How?”

“With poison on a needle that I hid in my hair.”

Ferrum stared at her, comprehension turning his face even stonier, if that were possible. “How did you get near him?” he asked, though he looked as though he'd already guessed it.

She swallowed. “I was allowed into Camelot as a…”

Ferrum nodded grimly. “I see.” He looked from one to the other of them and then turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber. She stood up to follow, but the prince grabbed her elbow.

“Nay. If he leaves, it means he's too angry to speak. Let him go.”

“I have to do this,” she said, desperation creeping into her voice.

The prince nodded. “Aye.”

She looked at him, surprised he'd agreed. “So you will help me?”

He nodded slowly. “I will try to help with Ferrum.”

She blew her breath out in exasperation. “And if Ferrum will not agree?” she demanded, knowing full well he would not. “You both will die! I have seen it.”

The prince nodded slowly. “Aye. But I would rather face death than betray my brother.”

“I would rather have him alive and betrayed then dead!” she snapped.

The prince held up a placating hand and nodded. “We'll work on Ferrum—when he has cooled down. Let him burn it off for a while, then we'll try again.”

She watched Ferrum from the castle window. He spent the entire day working on repairing the stone wall. By late afternoon, the prince sent for her. “Go and talk to him now.”