Heir in Exile by Danielle Bourdon Page A

the tree, bringing the gun up level to the ground, she sought a target. Twenty-odd feet away, a deer, as frozen with surprise as she, suddenly leaped high to the left, bounding through the underbrush in a panicked, zig-zag pattern.
    A deer. It was just a deer. Chey searched the immediate area anyway, watching for shadows that were not a natural part of the terrain. She saw nothing else move, heard no shouts or voices.
    Sliding the safety into place, she pocketed the weapon and continued on. She pulled gloves out of the duffel and slid them over her hands, unable to stand the biting cold turning the tips red any longer.
    For the next hour and a half, she traversed the woods, single-minded in her desire to put as much distance between herself and anyone still following. Inevitably, after checking the phone several times to find the GPS was still out, she had to admit she was lost. The weather had deteriorated to a step above blizzard conditions, and she knew by nightfall that her circumstances were going to become dire. She couldn't survive out here in a blizzard. Determined to find some sort of shelter, she pressed on.
    Forty minutes later, Chey stumbled out of the forest. To her surprise, a high wall loomed fifty feet ahead, marking the perimeter of some sort of building. The shape of a large home, or an Inn, could be seen above the wall itself. Several lights burned in high windows and smoke streamed out of a chimney. It appeared to be an older structure, perhaps made of stone like the castle.
    The stream of smoke was familiar, though Chey couldn't figure out why. Just now, she was more concerned with finding shelter out of the storm than anything, and this place seemed her best shot. Crossing the clearing toward the wall, she began searching for a way in. It was too tall to climb over, even with the help of a tree.
    Thirty feet down, she came upon a bramble bush sitting next to an iron gate. Approaching with wary caution, Chey peered through the bars of the gate and felt around for a latch.
    Beyond, the warmth of the structure beckoned. The lowest level was well lit, with almost every window spilling warm light through the panes. It reminded Chey more of an old girl's school or orphanage than it did a house. With its many levels and obvious large square footage, it could have once been a mental ward or other institution.
    To Chey's surprise, she found no lock in the latch. Undoing the mechanism, she eased the gate open, cringing when a hinge screeched. Moving slower, she eased inside and closed it with less noise. Pausing to get her bearings, she tried to decide whether to go around to the front door and plead for a room, or find another, less noticeable way in to hide away for the night. If the people were loyal to the King, and if Aksel had put out her picture on the television or some such thing, then she might find herself right back where she started.
    No, she decided, caution was the best option.
    Creeping along the back acreage, which was considerable, she sought a basement door or some other out building. There were several trees inside the walled barrier, too, which provided a little cover as she went. A back door nestled into the structure under an overhang, closed against the encroaching evening. It was a main entrance or exit, not preferable for her needs.
    It was so cold now that Chey couldn't feel the end of her nose or her chin. Ahead, she spotted a slanting set of stairs leading down into what must be a basement. Hoping against hope, she headed that way, using the cover of trees until she came even with the stairs. Darkness was only a half hour away, if that, and she was running out of options. This had to be a way in.
    Checking the yard and windows, Chey stepped out from behind the trees and ran toward the stairs. Thankful for the railing attached to the low wall, she held on while traversing the slippery steps to the bottom. There she found a small alcove hidden under part of the building with a door that