Escaping the Prince (Bedlam in Brandydook Book 1) by Lorraine O'Byrne

Author:Lorraine O'Byrne [O'Byrne, Lorraine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Updrift
Published: 2015-12-08T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

BRANDYDOOK

Goodwin reluctantly returned to the kingdom with renewed hope that there might be a spark between him and Aluna after all. Snow continued to fall. He’d never seen the place so crisp and white., everything stripped of its growth and most importantly life. It frightened him, more so because he was responsible. He had helped Buttercup.

The pixies were no longer gathered around the hawthorn tree but had huddled in their homes, out of sight, growing weaker with each passing minute.

‘Mama needs me Goodwin,’ said Aluna when they reached her home. She clutched his jacket. ‘Go. Do what you have to do to find my sister. Hurry. Please.’

The door shut behind her and for the first time he was all alone with just the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and the mournful sigh of the wind through the dead branches for company. Goodwin knew what he had to do.

He flew to the palace. His body felt heavy. His wings were beginning to lose their power but he pushed onwards. This would be his first time ever inside the palace walls. Goodwin glanced fearfully over at the garden where only one rose bush remained. He still had some time to save the kingdom, but not much. He banged on the door. Once, then three times before one of the royal guards opened it. He, like all the others, appeared drained of energy. Small but stout, his helmet almost covering his eyes the guard demanded, ‘What do you want?’

‘I must see the king and queen immediately.’

He expected a lengthy interrogation but instead the guard replied, ‘Come through. The Royal Highnesses are in the drawing room.’

Goodwin swallowed nervously and followed the guard into the palace. He barely caught a glimpse of his surroundings. His stomach felt sick at the thought of what the king would say and the punishment he would most likely receive, but it had to be done. This was his fault after all.

The guard led Goodwin into a square room. His eyes took in a black pianoforte in one corner, a cabinet woven together in wicker that stretched to a glass ceiling with a crystal chandelier, and a portrait of the prince with a large hunting bow on the far wall. Flowers normally present in abundance in the palace had wilted and died, and only twisted stems remained. The queen was pacing up and down the marble floor in a hooded blue cloak and silver slippers. King Rufus sat on a velvet armchair huddled in fur robes, his beard snow white, staring into an empty tumbler of wine and Morgan was perched by a long oak table drawing out plans of the kingdom to help the guards in their search for the missing pixie. Much to Goodwin’s irritation the prince didn’t even glance up when he entered the room. It was just typical of him. Utter snob.

‘This pixie has something he wishes to speak to you about, Your Highnesses,’ the guard announced in a deep voice.

Tulip’s head snapped up, she stopped her pacing, crossed the room, and placed her hand over his.

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