He inserted it.
The gate clicked.
Stone shifted.
A hidden door opened.
Behind it descended stairs.
The Captain lit torches.
They went down.
Deep beneath the ruined fortress, they found a chamber.
Maps covered the walls.
Old royal supply crates sat stacked in corners.
And on a stone table lay a sword.
The Queen had described it many times.
The King’s.
The Prince approached slowly.
His fingers touched the hilt.
The leather was cracked.
Blood darkened one edge.
His eyes burned.
“He was here.”
The Old Archer said nothing.
On the wall behind the sword was another message.
THE LION LIVES WHERE THE SEA HAS NO TIDE.
The Captain frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The Prince stared.
“An inland sea?”
The Old Archer looked at the map.
Several islands surrounded a circular lagoon completely enclosed by cliffs.
One was marked with an ancient symbol.
A lion.
The Captain whispered, “Prison island.”
Before anyone could answer, horns sounded outside.
The Regent’s soldiers had arrived.
The first explosion shook dust from the ceiling.
“Move!”
They ran.
Enemy soldiers flooded the ruins.
The royal party fought toward the shore.
The Prince kept the sword.
Arrows struck stone around them.
The Captain shoved him behind a column.
“Again?” the Prince shouted.
“Get used to it.”
The Captain charged.
A mercenary swung a mace.
The Captain ducked and slammed his shield into the man’s chest.
The Old Archer fired from behind broken masonry.
The Prince saw three enemies moving toward the boat.
He raised his bow.
First arrow.
One stumbled.
Second.
Another dropped his spear.
Third.
The last reached the boat and began cutting the mooring rope.
The Prince sprinted.
The man turned.
Too close for a bow.
The Prince swung the wooden limb sideways.
It struck the mercenary’s wrist.
The knife fell.
The man grabbed the Prince’s tunic.
Then the Old Archer kicked him into the shallow water.
“Bows are ranged weapons.”
The Prince breathed hard.
“I noticed.”
They escaped with half the enemy force pursuing by ship.
For two days, the royal galley raced west.
Then the sea became strangely calm.
No waves.
No wind.
The sails hung dead.
The Captain looked around.
“Sea with no tide.”
Ahead stood a ring of cliffs.
Inside lay perfectly still water.
Prison Island.
They entered at night using oars wrapped in cloth.
A fortress occupied the center.
No banners.
No lights beyond torches along the walls.
The Prince whispered, “How do we know he’s there?”
The Captain pointed.
Above the fortress gate hung the golden lion standard.
Upside down.
Old military signal.
Royal prisoner.
The Prince’s chest tightened.