A few hours passed.
The sun was at its peak. Dry autumn winds had drifted a maple leaf into Thomas’s room. The leaf settled over his eyes.
Thomas picked the maple leaf by its stalk and stared at it. Its reddish-orange color reminded him of Emma’s maple-colored hair. “Sigh! Too much has happened in such a short period.” A smile broke over his usually emotionless face. “She won’t believe it when I tell her about all this.”
Creak!
Suddenly, the lamp above shifted slightly and fell. Thomas rolled aside and dodged it, but the lamp’s intricate tal decoration grazed his hand. Blood dripped from the wound.
Oil leaked from the lamp and ignited the bed. But surprisingly, the flas did not limit themselves to the bed. They quickly swallowed the walls and paintings.
Thomas rushed to the door. He pulled and pushed it, but the door didn’t budge even a little. It was locked.
He banged and shouted, “SOONE! GUARDS! SERVANTS!”
“OPEN THE DOOR!”
Bloody handprints stained the door, but no one ca to help, as if no one was present in the castle. When no answer ca, he slamd and even kicked the door, but it was no use—the door was made of hardwood.
After a few attempts, Thomas stepped backward and stared as the fire began swallowing the door. He saw shadows of the past. Sounds of screams echoed in his mind. His heart raced, his body frozen and still.
“Make a wish.”
Dire’s voice echoed in his ears like a devil’s whisper. The voice pushed him to an extre state of alert. He bit his lip and used the pain to break free from the trauma.
“No, there will be a way.”
Thomas closed his eyes and cald himself. He stood still in the center of the burning furnace and thought deeply. This is a pre-planned assassination. The door is indestructible by normal ans. This is the third floor—jumping is the sa as suicide. A wish?—No.
“The fire has already swallowed half the room. Help is not coming. You have only one way. A wish.” Dire whispered in his ear.
Thomas ignored him and opened his eyes. He scanned his surroundings, searching for a way.
The fire had engulfed the area around the door. Black, carbon-rich smoke rose to the ceiling and blackened it. The only places left unburned were the other half of the room, the windows, and the balcony.
Thomas rushed to the balcony and looked out at the royal garden situated just behind the palace. But not a single person was present there. Strange, how can no one be there? And what are those guards doing? They should have been alerted by the rising smoke.
Thomas looked downward; the ground appeared far below him. Then his eye fell on the high windows situated diagonally just below him. These are the windows of the second floor, but they are the nearest. This might work.
He rushed back into the room. Flas had completely swallowed the interior. Then his eye fell on the half-burned curtains. He pulled a curtain down and extinguished the flas by stomping on it.
The curtain was half-burned, but due to its high-quality fabric, it still held so tenacity. Thomas joined a few curtains together. Then he tied one end of the curtain rope to the balcony and threw the remaining length downward.
Even after extending it, the rope was only able to cover half the distance.
Thomas gulped. He glanced back at the raging flas, then downward at the ground, which appeared so far below.
“Impossible. Not a chance. You will fail. Failure has only one result: death.”
"Selling a soul is far worse than a horrible death," Thomas answered and stood on the other side of the balcony. His hands clutched the rope and the wall tightly.
“You are calculating odds with seconds left. That is not bravery. That is stupidity.”
Dire’s whisper broke his courage further. He hesitated to take the step, but in the end, he took it despite Dire’s persistence.
He reached the end of the curtain rope. A few ters of distance remained between him and the windows. He would have to leap, but there was little chance of survival. If he succeeded, he would save himself without wasting a wish. If he failed, only death awaited him.
Thomas looked up at the rope. Strain by strain, it was separating. Then he looked to the left at the window.
He ran along the wall while holding the rope, moving toward the window.
Suddenly, the rope broke midway. Thomas stumbled, but by luck, he caught the edge of the window.
The window’s edge was curved and smooth due to its decorative molding, and his hand was wet with a mixture of sweat and blood. His grip was slipping away.
After a desperate effort, his fingers finally slipped.
Suddenly, a soft hand grabbed his wrist.
Thomas looked up and saw a maid with blonde hair and a delicate fra. She held him with all the strength she had. Thomas’s eyes fixed on her face, and then cold reality awakened him. Crap! What am I doing!?
He grabbed the edge again and lifted himself upward, with her help.
Finally, he entered the guest room on the second floor. He and she both collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily.
"Well done. You survived without paying," Dire whispered in his ear. "Not today, then tomorrow. You will have to wish."
His eye spotted a blood stain on the wall. He turned toward the maid. She had collapsed on the floor; there was a thin cut on her waist, and blood slowly flowed from the wound. Her skin grew pale and paler.
He dragged his staggered body to her and checked her pulse. It was running, but too faint. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically with low, shallow breaths. She was alive but traumatized by the wound.
"FIRE! THE KING'S ROOM IS BURNING!"
"QUICKLY, EXTINGUISH THE FIRE!"
Loud shouting and the sound of stomping feet ca from the other side of the door.
Thomas gathered his last bit of strength and opened the door. He stood supporting himself against the doorfra.
As Thomas ca out, guards with water buckets in their hands stopped. They stood still in astonishnt. "Your Majesty…"
"Your Majesty, you are bleeding. DOCTOR! QUICKLY, CALL THE DOCTOR!"
By God's grace, the doctor and several nurses appeared. They quickly approached.
"First, treat her," Thomas said with a hoarse throat, pointing at the collapsed maid.
"But—" Doctor hesitate.
"DO AS I SAY." Thomas's raging voice shuddered through them. The doctor and nurses bowed and quickly attended to the maid.
Thomas sat on a chair as one of the nurses bandaged him. His eyes were on the doctor stitching the maid's wounds. The cut must have been made when she was pulling through the tal part of the window.
Thomas leaned back and released a weary breath. His eyes looked upward and fell on the lamp on the ceiling. The lamp was quite similar to the one in his room, but this one was slightly different.
Thomas closed his eyes and recalled. The lamp in my room had a pointed center and sharp edges as part of its design.
Reviews
All reviews (0)