Chapter 25: The Butcher’s Blade - How the Stars Fall

Hours passed.

Free of his chains, Ryker stretched his aching limbs though every muscle complained. He’d done his best to rest, hoping to gain strength for whatever he might face next.

The only sounds that pierced the silence were the distant cries of prisoners further down the hall. Some were begging for food, others water, and a few were moaning in agony. The echoes of their misery blended together, forming a haunting chorus that filled the damp air, growing alike from one another after hours of endless wailing. It felt like the walls themselves were mourning.

Somewhere in the distance, the heavy thud of the door echoed through the cold stone walls of the prison. Ryker felt the vibration through the floor. Soon, metal keys scraping against wood and iron screeched through the air.

Muffled voices drifted through the wood. “This is specifically to be given to the Hound. King’s orders.”

A narrow slot in the cell door slid open with a creak, and a guard carelessly shoved a tin plate through, sending it skidding across the floor. On it sat a hunk of what looked like fresh bread, a small wedge of cheese, and a bruised apple. Cautiously, he stood to gather the measly meal. If someone specified it for him, there was a chance they had poisoned it. Everything seemed normal. Yet, he couldn’t be too sure.

With the plate in hand, Ryker sighed and sat back onto the cot. He picked up the bread, held it to his nose. It didn’t smell like it had traces of anything deadly. Though that meant nothing. What if someone had placed blades or something worse inside? Waiting for him to bite into it.

Ryker smirked. He wasn’t that dense.

He tore the bread in half and there, in the centre of the fluffy, wholemeal loaf, was a rolled piece of paper.

Ryker grinned as he tore it from its hiding place and unfurled it to see four words sprawled across the scrap of paper.

Be ready for tonight.

He scrunched the paper into a ball and shoved it into his trouser pocket before taking a large bite of what was possibly the most delicious bread he’d eaten in a long time. All he had to do now was wait for Pete to come.

As he savoured the morsels of food, his mind wandered to Nova. The moment their eyes met in the throne room; his heart pulled against the restraints in his chest. She’d looked at him the same way Yolanda had when Ryker held her against his chest for the last time.

A different kind of pain spread through his body, and Ryker allowed it to wash over him. He’d held it back for too long. Being alone, stuck, forced him to face the demons inside that clawed at him day and night.

He was used to being alone, though. It was what he deserved, wasn’t it?

“. . . she wouldn’t want you to be alone . . . she’d want you to be happy.”

Acute pain broke inside his chest. Ryker clutched at his heart. Fighting the emotions that hammered against the barricade of his mind.

Did he really deserve to be happy when Yolanda didn’t get her happiness? Nova wasn’t happy right now. Why did he deserve anything when both of the women who meant the world to him had experienced so much pain?

Ryker longed for silence in his mind. He ached for the day when the voices of accusation would forever hold their tongue. Could one soul live the rest of their days in torment? What kind of life was that? Was it a life at all?

He had to deal with them—with the pain. He had to deal with the ghost of her . . .

Tears welled and spilled, trailing down his sun kissed skin as Ryker quietly sobbed for the love he lost. She would forever be his firecracker. The one who tested his every limit but loved him fiercely. The life of the party wherever they went. Her dark brown hair billowing in the wind as they raced each other on horseback. How could he ever forget her laughter that could brighten even the darkest of days? The red rouged lips she wore just to tease him.

Yolanda had been his everything.

After her death, Ryker truly never thought he would love again.

His world went from watercolour sunsets and oil painted days racing through the fields on horseback, to charcoal sketch graveyards and black smeared memories.

Yolanda had been his colour . . . until Nova.

Sea-green eyes, hair like tiny diamond strands. Skin like ivory. Laughter like bottled sunshine. She was the stars, the moon, and the galaxies. The very thing his heart needed to heal, and she brought with her a sense of adventure and curiosity into his life again. Her zeal for life showed him that there was colour on the other side of his dark and desolate world.

Nova had stolen his lonely heart from the moment he saw her. It was never his to keep. Always hers to have. He just didn’t realise until this very moment.

Another sob escaped his lips as the realisation washed over him.

“Thank you, Yolanda. Thank you for loving me and teaching me how to love deeply. I will always love you, but it’s time for me to give my heart to another. Until we meet again,” Ryker whispered to the cold, frigid cell.

Yolanda was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. He would always hold space for the love they shared and for the life they could have built together.

Nova was here, and she was real. It was like the Creator smiled upon the broken, weeping heart inside its cage of Ryker’s chest and gave it new life.

King Branoc would not have her.

Because she was his and he was hers. It was at this very moment Ryker felt Yolanda smiling down upon him from her place in the world of lost loved ones, giving him the courage to move on. He’d been holding back, thinking his heart only had room for one, but now he could see how untrue that was.

Once free, he would tell her how he felt, and that she had a place with him forever—should she choose that. Choosing a life with him in this part of the world would mean they’d never truly be free from danger. They would always look over their shoulder.

So, if she wanted to go home, he would take her back to the pool of reflections. After all, it was still her choice whether she should stay or go. He wouldn’t stand in her way. But if she stayed, he would spend his life protecting her, no matter the cost.

He wanted her—no; he needed her.

Memories of how she tasted upon his lips and the touch of her hands threaded through his hair brought a soothing balm to the agony in his heart. The way she fit so perfectly in his arms, the little noises she made when he made her reach for the celestial realms by the fire that night. All of these moments together transcended into one and created a swell inside his heart that he knew was the birthing of new love.

A smile broke across his dampened cheeks.

Love . . .

He loved her.

* * *

The soft sound of keys turning in the lock jolted Ryker upright from the cot he’d been sleeping on. It was dark outside. Not even the moon could be seen from the narrow barred window high above his cell. His senses sharpened as the door creaked open slowly. A mop of sandy hair and a friendly face greeted him, and his heart leaped with relief. Pete stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Friend,” Ryker pulled the man into a friendly embrace as the pair met in the centre of the room.

“Appears, you’ve gotten yourself into a spot of trouble.”

Ryker checked over Pete’s shoulder towards the door. “How did you get in?”

A smirk travelled across Pete’s face. “Knocked the guards out cold.”

“With what?”

Pete chuckled, “Sleeping elixir in their grape juice. They’ll be snoring for a good few hours.”

Ryker clapped him on the back. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a part of an escape expedition.” The keys Pete held in his hand glinted as he rattled them. “We must hurry before the change of guards. I’d say we have about half an hour before someone raises the alarm. There is a back passageway we can sneak through undetected if we’re careful,” Pete murmured.

“I’m not leaving without Nova,” Ryker replied.

“Let’s get you free and then come back for her? You’re in no shape to fight,” Pete whispered.

The thought of leaving the castle without Nova twisted uncomfortably in Ryker’s gut. It wasn’t an option—he couldn’t abandon her, no matter the wounds he’d already suffered. She needed to be freed from the cruel grip of her captor, and he was determined to be the one to do it. He would find her, even if it meant facing every danger this wretched place held.

“I can’t Pete, I have to go to her.”

“Alright, well, let’s think about this for a minute.” Pete scratched his head. “Perhaps in the kitchens, where we will be undisturbed.”

Ryker followed Pete out of the cell and up the stairs to the first floor of the palace. “Does the kitchen have weapons?”

Pete glanced each way down the dimly lit hall before looking back at Ryker. “It doesn’t, but we’ve got some knives.”

Ryker and Pete moved silently through the labyrinthine corridors; their footsteps muffled by the thick stone floors. Pete led the way, his familiarity with the castle’s hidden passages and servant’s entrances guiding them through the maze.

At one point, Pete pulled him into a small doorway where they both froze, until a woman carrying a basket of laundry passed them, disappearing around the corner. With a silent sigh of relief, the men returned to their escape.

Finally, they reached a small wooden door at the end of the corridor. Pete eased it open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into the darkness below. “This leads to the kitchens.”

Ryker followed Pete down the stairs, the air growing cooler and more humid as they descended. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. They emerged in a low-ceilinged room, the faint smells of dinner still lingering in the musty air. A small brown mouse darted across the floor, and Ryker could hear muted voices from somewhere in the distance.

Pete closed the large wooden door behind them.

“We will be undisturbed here for a while. I dismissed the servants before I came to you.”

“How late is it? I fear I haven’t seen the sun in days.” Ryker rubbed his face with his hands.

“It’s late. Most of the palace will be sleeping.”

Ryker placed his palms flat against the wooden kitchen table and closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts.

The air was thick with the mouth-watering aromas of roasting meats, simmering stews, and fresh herbs hanging from the rafters. Ryker’s stomach growled. It had been days since he’d had a decent meal, and the gnawing hunger was clouding his focus. Would he have time to eat?

Pete hurried over to the fireplace, which held a solid black iron pot. He held a bowl in his hand. He dished up a large helping of stew and brought it to Ryker. “Sit and eat this. It’s leftovers from dinner.”

“Do we have time?”

Pete threw a cautious glance towards the internal kitchen door. “There won’t be a guard swap for a bit. I think we have time.”

“Thank you, friend.” Ryker gratefully sat at the table and tore into the stew.

It was so flavoursome that it almost made his jaw ache the moment the broth hit his tongue. Within moments, it was all gone. Instantaneously, Ryker felt better. “You sure know how to cook.”

Pete flashed him a grin. “So, what’s the plan?”

Ryker shook his head. “Do you know where Branoc keeps Nova?”

“On the second level in the north wing, but I don’t know what room.”

This made his search difficult, but not impossible. He’d knock down every door in the damn castle if he had to.

Ryker stood from the table. “Whatever I decide, I’m going to need weapons. How about those knives?”

The guards had taken his sword and any blades he’d carried. Who knew where they were now—and he certainly didn’t have time to find out.

Pete rose from the table. “Let me see what I can find.” He disappeared into a small storeroom adjacent to the kitchen.

Ryker heard him fumbling around before he returned and released the handful of knives he carried. The metal blades clattered onto the wooden surface.

“Will any of these do?”

Ryker stood and surveyed his options. There wasn’t much to choose from. He picked up the large butcher’s knife, its hefty weight solid in his grip. The blade gleamed under the light, sharp and reflective, with a well-worn handle that fit perfectly into his palm. It had the marks of use—scratches along its surface—but the edge was keen, ready for work or slicing—whichever came first.

“That’s a brutal way to leave this world,” Pete said, eyeing the blade Ryker held.

“Let’s hope I don’t need to use it.” For safe measure, Ryker gathered two small paring knives and shoved them into his boots for safe keeping. He’d gladly use them on anyone who got between him and Nova.

“So, second level, north wing?” Ryker asked as he pushed the butcher’s blade into the leather belt around his waist.

“Or the throne room, but I doubt they’d be there at this time in the evening.”

Ryker nodded, combing his hands through his inky waves. He would find Nova. He wasn’t leaving without her—not until she was safe in his arms, away from the king’s reach, and they were both free.

“I’ll stay here in these kitchens and man the passageways. When you find her, bring her here and I can get you out. Just try not to bring a whole host of trouble with you, eh?” Pete murmured.

Ryker placed a solid hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you more than a single whiskey . . . I owe you an entire bottle.”