Free The Sunken by S. C. Green Page B

nothing, merely bending his head towards the King, and continued the conversation in hushed tones.
    Nicholas, who had not even seen a railway before, let alone had any experience of building one, sat back in his chair, trying to calm his thundering heart. You’re safe, Nicholas old chum. For now, at least. But you must be more careful. If you’re going to work for Isambard, you’re going to have to be invisible —
    Something interrupted his thoughts. A noise, like a muffled screaming, came from some far-off wing of the castle. He raised his head to the door, straining to hear. There it was again — a short, sharp scream, cut off abruptly by another sound, almost like the snarl of an animal. Banks met his eyes and shook his head, but Nicholas stood up and walked toward the open door, listening intently.
    Another sound; closer this time. It came from one of the rooms on the corner of the hall. A snarl, low and menacing, definitely some kind of animal. A dragon, perhaps? But how did one get in here? And why can I not hear its thoughts? He turned to tell the King something was in the hall, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow move across the tapestries. He jumped.
    “Nicholas, what’s wrong?” Isambard looked up from the table, his eyes concerned.
    “I heard a noise.” Nicholas turned back to the hall. “A scream … a snarl … like an animal … and when I looked into the hall, I saw—”
    Banks frowned. “You’re seeing things, Mr. Rose. There’s nothing in the hall.”
    “No, there’s definitely something moving—”
    A figure dashed across the hall.
    His heart pounding, Nicholas stared down the dim hall. “It’s a man!”
    With lightning speed Banks crossed the room, shoved Nicholas aside, and slammed the doors to the audience chamber shut. “Of course it was a man,” he said, his eyes flashing. “You probably saw one of the servants trying to snoop on the King’s private audience. They do like their games.”
    “He was naked,” Nicholas insisted. “And that doesn’t explain the snarling —”
    He was interrupted by the King, who let out a gasping breath and collapsed across the table. Blood splattered across the plans, causing Brunel to leap back in alarm. Banks dived for His Majesty’s body, pulling it back onto the couch and bringing his face into the light. As Banks pulled at the King’s high collar, Nicholas could see George’s eyes — bleak and bloodshot and tinged with green. In fact, his very skin seemed to give off a pallid green tinge. Banks ripped the collar open, and more blood pooled from a large scab that burst in his neck.
    “Get out!” Banks screamed, shoving the King across the couch and reaching for his medicine bag. “Both of you!”
    Their eyes locked on each other, Brunel and Nicholas did what they were told: they bolted for the door and ran.
    ***
    “What was that?” Nicholas asked, his shaking fingers clutched around a chipped teacup.
    Brunel had taken the carriage back to London to begin preparations for the King’s railway, but Nicholas, still shaken by the events at the castle, now sat with James Holman in the dining room of Travers College, a modest building outside the walls of Windsor Castle that housed Holman and the other Naval Knights of Windsor.
    “He has been ill these past months, but I was told he’d made a full recovery. There have been some very peculiar happenings around the castle recently,” said Holman, carefully setting down his own teacup and pouring the boiling water. He used a finger hooked over the rim of the cup to check the liquid level.
    “You never said anything before.”
    When Holman had been forced from the Navy after his illness had ravaged his joints and left him blind, he’d returned to England and, not wanting to live the life of a beggar, had applied for a post in the Naval Knights. The order consisted of seven superannuated or disabled Lieutenants, single men without children, “inclined to live a virtuous,