Free The Marus Manuscripts by Paul McCusker

stretched toward the trigger. Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a round brass button shaped like a marble, an extra to the same buttons along his waistcoat and cloak. With a quick flick of his wrist—barely noticeable to anyone around him—he threw the button across the floor toward Darien.
    Michelle and the guests continued walking into the hall. Darien, who was crossing in front of the grand piano, had turned to say something to one of the guests when his eye caught sight of the button sliding toward his feet. He bent down to pick it up. Suddenly there was a loud click and a hissing sound, followed by the arrow from the crossbow slamming into the upright lid of the piano. The force splintered the wood and sent a discordant note shivering through the instrument. It had missed Darien only by inches and would have hit him if he hadn’t stooped down. Kyle breathed a deep sigh of relief.
    Some of the guests screamed and moved back. Darien turned in the direction from which the arrow had come. All eyes followed. The king looked up sullenly from his place at the table, his hand still on the crossbow. He said in a wine-filled voice, “My dear boy, I’m so sorry! I was reaching for the confounded thing, and it simplywent off. A light touch on the trigger. I do apologize. Good thing I wasn’t aiming, eh?”
    Darien glared at the king without speaking.
    “Father!” Michelle cried out.
    Prince George strode to the table and snatched up the crossbow indignantly. “You could have killed him!” he growled. He turned quickly. “General Liddell!” he barked.
    “Yes, sir.” General Liddell broke from the crowd and stepped forward.
    “My father has had too much to drink. See him to his room, if you please.”
    “Yes, sir.” General Liddell rounded the table and helped the king to his feet.
    “It was an accident!” the king protested drunkenly as General Liddell led him away. “Do you honestly think I’d try to kill my greatest general—the greatest in the entire land? The greatest in history?”
    After the king had gone, Darien turned to Michelle, kissed her hand once again, and said, “I will see you tomorrow, my princess.” He signaled Kyle, and together they walked toward the door.
    “So soon? So early?” Prince Andrew called out. “Now that Father’s gone, this party can really heat up. Do stay, Darien.”
    “I’m sorry, but I must think of tomorrow,” he said from the door. He gave them a half-salute and walked out, closing the door behind him.
    “That was a close call,” Kyle said as they walked down the hall.
    “Too close, as far as I’m concerned,” Darien replied. He handed the button back to Kyle. “This is yours, I assume?”
    Kyle nodded.
    “Someday you’re going to have to explain to me how you always know when my life is in danger.”
    “I don’t know,” Kyle said simply as he pocketed the button again. “So Prince George was right. The king wants to kill you.”
    “It would appear so.”
    “Unless it really was an accident.”
    Darien gave Kyle a look of disbelief. “If it was an accident, it would have been an awfully convenient accident.”

    Anna had just finished washing for bed. She grabbed a towel, dried her face, and looked in the mirror. She gasped. Instead of seeing her reflection, it was as if she were looking through a window into a large bedroom with an enormous bed surrounded by thick curtains. At the foot of the bed, King Lawrence sat with his legs stretched out. General Liddell pulled at the king’s boots. They were in an animated conversation, though Anna couldn’t hear it. The king was angry about something, as usual. Suddenly Prince George stormed into the room. He shouted at his father. His father shouted back. Prince George paced, shook his finger at the king as if rebuking him for something, then left.
    More calmly, King Lawrence and General Liddell spoke to each other. They had the look of two conspirators hatching a dangerous plot. The king was