Page 86 of The Death Wish

‘Edward, it’s all right. Edward.’

‘Please, hurry.’ Spittle flew as the lieutenant sought to speak. Pitch had gone to move around the chair, but Jacquetta’s shout sent him straight back to the handles.

‘This way, quickly. Move.’

There was no hesitation, no snide remarks, from the prince, nothing but a heeding of the instruction. The Child tore down one of the tapestries, a peaceful scene of flowered meadows and spring lambs.

A stark iron door lay beneath. A coarse, unrefined contrast to the elegance of the rest of the palace, so far. Etched into its surface, in ink black, were the emblematic curls and flourishes of runework. There was no evident door handle.

‘He is coming,’ Edward spoke, though clearly under duress, his cheeks ruddy, sweat dampening his brow. ‘I cannot hold him.’

‘Here, come to the door.’ Jacquetta stepped up to the chair, and against Charlie’s shouts of alarm, she lifted Edward clear.

‘What are you doing?’ Charlie sought to intervene, but Pitch stepped forward, wrapping his arms about the lad, and dragging him away.

‘Let them be, so this might be done.’

Silas tried to catch Pitch’s eye, to get a glimpse of any pain that might lurk there. Did the simurgh roil violently within him?

But Pitch kept himself turned, away from Silas’s careful eye.

Jacquetta handled Edward roughly, but there seemed no other way as the cruel twists of his body made his movements so erratic. The pair looked to be in a sort of half-hearted tussle, and with Charlie’s cries growing ever more fearful, Silas considered stepping in. But Jacquetta was soothing, not demanding.

‘Doing well, just a little further.’ She moved him another step.

‘I see the crest. Please, help me…with my hands, lift them…’ Edward pleaded, or rather, instructed. He was not asking for help from any other but the Child. She obliged, clearly knowing what must be done.

‘Of course, Your Grace.’

‘Stop…calling me that,’ he grunted. ‘I am Edward, still. He does not…rule me.’

A valiant protest, from a noble man, but his struggle was horribly apparent.

Silas’s distraction saw his arm loosen around the king’s back, and Lucifer made a stifled grunt of pain.

‘Sorry.’ He quickly adjusted his hold, taking a handful of Lucifer’s trousers to hoist him upright more firmly.

Pitch, with Charlie a wriggling eel in his grasp, frowned at Silas, and the frown deepened when he looked to Lucifer. But Silas shook his head. Now was not the time.

Jacquetta lifted Edward’s hand. His fingers were splayed wide, but bent at the first knuckle, which were white with strain.

‘There, that’s it.’ Edward’s head jerked to one side, unsettling in how like the ravens he moved. ‘Now, Child.’

Jacquetta heaved him forward, his legs bowed, his torso stiff as a board.

Edward’s hand landed upon the iron.

The black markings of the runes lit piercing white.

A laborious groan came from hidden parts. The door did not swing open, rather it rolled into the frame, disappearing. Jacquetta and Edward moved across this new threshold, stepping into light as bright as that which had greeted them at the main door.

Like looking into a fledgling sun.

Pitch grunted, cursed, and lost his grip on Charlie, the lad slipping from him. Both dashed forward, one seeking to escape, the other to capture. Edward made it through the doorway, disappearing inside, but Pitch only made it as far as the threshold.

He stopped in its frame, hunching over, a quiet whimper of pain leaving him. His hands wrapped about his belly.

‘Pitch, does the simurgh pain you?’