Avelina followed him, “What if Geitbart set the fire to lure you out in the open?”
“I have to take that chance.” He stayed just far enough ahead of her so that she could not attempt to stop him.
At the top of the stairs, he turned to go down the corridor toward the west wing.
The smell of smoke was very strong as it came wafting down the corridor and into their faces. Avelina coughed.
“Come back,” Avelina called. Geitbart would surely have him captured.
“Stay there!”
Men were shouting and emerging, coughing from the thick smoke. Lord Thornbeck ignored them and, holding his arm over his mouth and nose, disappeared down the corridor into the thick gray smoke. Avelina followed.
Suddenly the smoke all whooshed in the opposite direction. That was when Avelina saw that the door at the end of the damaged west wing was open, showing the pale light of dawn. As the smoke cleared a bit, she could see that someone was standing in the doorway. Gerhaws.
Gerhaws looked back at Lord Thornbeck, then turned toward the door that led straight down.
Lord Thornbeck called out to her, but she did not look back. She simply stepped forward, disappearing as she fell.
Avelina cried out in horror, but the sound was lost in the roar of the fire farther down.
Just then, another figure emerged as bright-orange flames became visible from a doorway along the corridor.
“Annlin!” called the high-pitched voice. “Annlin!”
Lord Thornbeck went toward Endlein and caught her by the hand, but she pulled away from him, going toward the burning room and disappearing inside it. Lord Thornbeck went after her.
More people were running toward them with buckets of water and blankets, passing by Avelina. She tried to go back toward the burning room and to Lord Thornbeck, but two guards caught her by the arms and pulled her back away from the fire. Soon she could no longer see Lord Thornbeck.
Would he die in a fire just as his brother had, in the very same room where his brother had perished? Would he breathe in so much smoke that he would lose consciousness? If only she could get to him, she could convince him to leave.
She screamed, “Lord Thornbeck!” But no one would let her go to him.
“What is happening?” she called, but as a guard pushed through, he took hold of Avelina’s arm.
“You should not be here.”
“Where is Lord Thornbeck?”
“He is convincing Endlein to come with him, and the men are putting out the fire. Come.” He pulled her away from the smoke-filled, crowded corridor. “This is no place for you.”
“No! I will not leave.” Lord Thornbeck would die and no one would let her see him.
Finally, the men—Lord Thornbeck’s guards and servants—started moving out of the corridor, their faces covered in soot.
“The fire is out,” one man said.
They continued to come away from the corridor. Finally, Endlein, the addled old woman, emerged through the smoke, followed by Lord Thornbeck. Both their faces were covered in soot.
Two servants took charge of Endlein, who was muttering questions and obviously confused. They urged her to go with them and spoke soothingly to her.
Avelina rushed forward and grabbed Lord Thornbeck’s arm.
“Let us go,” she said, eager to get him somewhere Geitbart would not find him.
She hurried him down the corridor, ignoring the people standing around who seemed to want to talk about what had just happened. Two of Geitbart’s guards stood straighter as they noticed Lord Thornbeck approaching. They exchanged a look, then took a step toward the margrave.
Three of Lord Thornbeck’s guards stood nearby. Avelina got their attention.
“Those men are trying to molest me!” She pointed at the two red-and-black clad guards.
Lord Thornbeck’s guards immediately blocked Geitbart’s men’s way and began a shouting match with them. Avelina and Lord Thornbeck hurried away, rushing down the stairs.
Not sure where else to go, she led him to her own bedchamber.
26
LORD THORNBECK SEEMED to suddenly notice where they were. He yanked the door open, waved her in, then followed and closed the door.
Avelina went to the water pitcher next to her bed. It was still full. She poured the two goblets full of water and held out a goblet to him while taking a sip. “It’s a little stale tasting, but it’s water.”
He drank the whole goblet without pausing, letting a trickle of water run down his sooty neck. For some reason it reminded her of his fingers caressing her cheek in the tiny room. But that thought, along with his exposed throat and intense eyes, was too distracting and was making her cheeks grow hot.