Chapter 34: A Revelatory Shoe

****

For a few wretched minutes, Loisette’s tears continued to fall on the tiny gray body she was cradling in her hand. But then she froze as she felt something soft tickle her skin.

Staring at the mouse--barely daring to hope--she gasped as she saw him open his eyes. As he shook his head to dispel the moisture that had landed on it, Loisette brought him up to her face and gave him a quick and ecstatic kiss.

“**Robert Bigmouth, you’re alive!**” she said joyously. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t noticed he was breathing!

He brought his hands up and smoothed his whiskers back, acting as if he hadn’t just been thrown against a wall. His only reply was: “**Yeah.**”

Still holding him--not wanting to let him go, lest this turn out to be a daydream--Loisette hurried over to her desk and took out some cheese from the drawer. She placed it in her palm and watched with a smile as the mouse began to devour it.

“**Thank you for trying to help me,**” she murmured. “**I’m sorry I didn’t take advantage of it.**”

But he was too busy eating to pay her any attention. Evidently, he recovered fast if food was involved.

Her heart feeling so much lighter, she lifted her eyes from the mouse to look at the trunk in front of her bed. She had initially been planning to move to the royal chambers after her coronation, but it looked like that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Not that it mattered--right now, something as simple as sleeping arrangements meant nothing to her. She was in trouble, and she was going to have to save herself. That was all she needed to be focusing on at the moment.

Lowering Robert Bigmouth and his meal to the floor, she wiped her hand on her dress to remove any cheese crumbs and stepped toward her bed. Opening the trunk, she picked up the old blanket and took her Gawain clothes out of it. A few easy spins later, and she was dressed like a boy. She patted her crown and inhaled deeply before placing it and her feminine clothing into the trunk. She had an idea about what she needed to do. She only hoped it would work.

“**Wish me luck,**” she told the mouse, but he didn’t even look at her. She smiled to herself and went up to the door and rapped on it loudly.

The door slowly opened, and a wary guard peeked in. His expression turned to one of surprise as he saw her. “Who are you?” He opened the door wider and stepped inside, looking around. “Where’s the queen?”

Drawing on the self-defense techniques she had learned while sparring with Clarkent, she punched the guard in the solar plexus--knocking the wind out of him--and then kneed him in the groin. He sunk to the ground, groaning loudly, and a second guard called out, “What’s going on?”

Loisette stepped flat against the wall and waited for the other guard to come in. His sword was drawn as he walked through the door, and he paused as he saw his partner on the ground.

Loisette kicked him in the back of his knee, causing his leg to buckle. Then she slammed her fist down on his neck. He fell forward onto the floor, and she ran out of the room. Fortunately, Tempos had believed two guards were enough to keep her imprisoned, so she didn’t have to face any others.

Once she had several yards’ worth of distance between her and her room, she slowed down. If she was going to get out of the castle alive, she would have to look like she had nothing to hide--like she was just a simple servant boy going about his duties. She didn’t think the second guard had seen her, and the first guard would need some recovery time before he would be able to identify her . . . . She knew *that* after having accidentally kicked Clarkent in that particular spot during one of their mock-fights.

Despite knowing that, it was extremely difficult to slow her feet, and it didn’t take her long to get to the castle’s exit.

****

After the princess had left, Clarkent had stood and stared into nothingness, not sure how he should feel. His secret was finally out--and the princess hadn’t exactly taken it well.

That came as no surprise. Deception wasn’t exactly something to be taken lightly, especially since the princess had detested Clarkent’s alter ego. Would she ever speak to him again? Or had he torn them asunder for good?

Despite the princess’s irate feelings, he had known he couldn’t stand idly by and let her life be ruined. Unfortunately, however, he’d had no idea how to navigate his way out of the woods.

Feeling helpless and frustrated, he had decided to get a few winks of sleep before trying his hand at navigating the maze of the forest. But then James had returned and woke him up and finally--after receiving a piece of Clarkent’s mind, the giving of which made the stableboy feel better, even if he wasn’t entirely sure the bird could *understand* it--led Clarkent out of the woods before disappearing once more.

This time, Clarkent wasn’t wearing his armor as he went to the castle. He had brought his sword--not wanting to be weaponless--but he had known it wouldn’t be a good idea for the Black Knight to be seen traipsing around the countryside. It was one thing to do said traipsing on a fast horse with the ability to outrun the authorities; it was another to do it on foot when no such ability was to be had. In addition, the armor was heavy, and he was tired enough that wearing it would sap most of his strength.

When he finally reached the castle, he went straight to the Riding Stable. He knew the stablehands were supposed to have already been dismissed from their duties due to the coronation, so he entered with only a small amount of trepidation. He breathed a sigh of relief as he realized no one was inside. If he still had his job after all this mess, he would have to apologize to Dwayne about missing so much of his work.

A snorting noise caused Clarkent to turn his head, and his eyes widened as he saw Phantom munching on some hay. A feeling of relief came over him. At least the horse hadn’t just been set free to wander the kingdom. That relief quickly turned to anxiety, however. What if someone had recognized the horse as the Black Knight’s? And what if the princess--no, she must be queen by now, right?--had mentioned his name in conjunction with Phantom? He shook his head. If that had happened, there was nothing he could do to change it.

He found that Phantom had already had his saddle removed and been groomed, so he put the horse’s tack back on, thankful the destrier had been taken care of before the stablehands left for the day. Still, he worried about who had done it. Yet that seemed like it was the least of his problems.

Clarkent had no idea what was going on at the castle, and it made him nervous to be in the dark, but he was trying to think things through this time. If he *did* manage to extract the princess--no, *Queen Loisette*--from Alexander’s grip, then they would need a way to escape. Hopefully, Loisette--why was it he wanted to think of her so familiarly?--would come with him willingly this time. If she came without a struggle, they would need two horses. If she demanded he let her stay . . . well, he didn’t want to think about what he would have to do. It could be that he would need to give up and just bide his time . . . and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

After tacking High Flyer, he brought the horse out of his stall. Then, he went forward and started to lead Phantom out. That was when a noise caused him to turn. His body became rigid as he saw who was there.

Gawain was standing in the entryway and looking at him with a strange expression.

Clarkent took in a deep breath and gave a tight nod of greeting. Privately, he was panicking. What was he going to do? Gawain was familiar enough with the stable to know that Phantom didn’t belong there. Gawain was smart, and considering his dislike of the Black Knight, it seemed more than likely that he would realize--if he hadn’t already--that this was the Black Knight’s horse.

Gawain stepped forward. “What are you doing?”

“Gawain,” he rasped, his mouth dry. He couldn’t explain what he was doing. He had to ask his friend to go. “If you value our friendship, please go away and don’t ask me any questions.”

Gawain gave him a confused look. “You want me to go away?”

Clarkent felt a pressure building in his chest. He didn’t have time for this. He had to go and rescue Loisette before it was too late. He couldn’t let her marry the Duke of Lutheria. He loved her too much for that.

The feeling in his chest had become an almost physical pain. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He loved Loisette. He loved her with his whole heart, his whole being, his whole *soul*. He didn’t know when it had happened, but he knew he couldn’t stand to see her unhappily wed to *Alexander*. He held her happiness over his own--he would live in misery if it meant she would live a joyful life.

His voice shaky, he told his friend, “Go away, Gawain. Don’t ask me questions. Just go.”

“I’m not going to let you order me around,” Gawain responded, obviously perturbed. He crossed his arms stubbornly.

Trembling, Clarkent lifted his hand and closed it around a horseshoe hanging on a nearby stall. He held the metal object behind his back and stepped forward. “Please, go away,” he pleaded. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to hurt his friend. But he was willing to risk everything--his friendship with Gawain, his position at the castle, his stint as the Black Knight, his life and self-respect, *everything*--for Loisette’s sake. He would do anything for her. He would die for her.

Gawain stared at him, not moving to leave. Clarkent clenched the horseshoe and stood right in front of his friend. Tears springing to his eyes--his heart aching--Clarkent whispered, “I’m so sorry,” and he brought the horseshoe up in the air above Gawain’s head. Gawain’s eyes widened in fear.

A high-pitched noise sounded. There was a flash of tan. Then a painful blow to his chest sent Clarkent to the ground. The horseshoe clanged on the ground beside him.

He stared up in shock at High Flyer, who was standing nearby and almost seemed to be glaring down at him. And then, Clarkent, stunned at what had just happened, looked at Gawain.

It was as if a blindfold had been removed from Clarkent’s eyes. A connection he had never before suspected was suddenly made. High Flyer, he realized, had been protecting his master . . . or, to put it more properly, his mistress.

“Loisette?” Clarkent whispered.

****

Loisette hadn’t been thinking when she entered the stable as Gawain. If she had, she would have realized the magic of her clothing prevented her from revealing her identity. But when she had gone in and Clarkent had started ordering her around, she’d found herself becoming annoyed. Who was *he* to tell her what to do?

And then he had lifted that horseshoe in the air, and she had suddenly felt frightened of him. Was he going to hurt her? To kill her? She wanted to shout out her identity, but she couldn’t. She was helpless.

But High Flyer had saved her. He had brought his hooves down on Clarkent and sent him to the ground. Then Clarkent had said the last thing she had expected--her name.

She stared down at him, not certain she had heard him properly.

“Is it really you, Loisette?” Clarkent asked softly, sitting up and bringing a hand up to touch the part of his chest where he’d been hit.

She smiled at him with a surge of joy, her eyes filling with tears, and she pulled off her hat, letting her long hair flow down her shoulders. She felt suddenly free, and she dropped to her knees beside him, so glad he finally knew the truth about her. Her mind flashed back to what Imp had said: “When--and only when--your true love proves himself willing to give up everything for you, then he will see you as you truly are, and the magic surrounding the clothes will disappear completely.” Did that mean--?

She suddenly embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder. “Clarkent . . . ” She didn’t know what to say--how to express herself. All she knew was that it meant the world to her that he now knew the truth.

“I never realized . . . ” he whispered, putting shaky arms around her as he placed his face in her hair. “All that time we spent together--”

“I know,” Loisette said, pulling back so she could look into his eyes. “Who would have thought that you were getting in mock-battles with a future queen?”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before putting his hand on her cheek. He studied her for a few seconds, causing her to blush under his scrutiny, and then he said in wonderment, “How could I not have known?”

“They’re magic clothes,” Loisette told him with a gentle smile. “They hid my identity from you. I couldn’t--I couldn’t tell you. The magic wouldn’t let me. I wanted to, you know. I’m so sorry for everything. I haven’t--I haven’t been good to you.”

He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, looking sad and guilty himself. “Lois,” he said softly, causing a chill to travel down her spine. This was the second time he had used the shortened version of her name. It seemed so . . . intimate. But the look in his eyes was one of pain, and he told her, “I almost hurt you in order to help you. If I had hit you--”

“But you didn’t,” she said. But his pain was still there, and she added in a low voice, “Clark.”

His eyes darkened, and she stared into them, unsure whether she was drowning or flying. All she knew was that something big was happening to her. She felt her pulse speed up, and she was suddenly very conscious of her closeness to the stableboy. Her eyes flicked down to his lips, which were parted slightly, and then she leaned toward them, longing to feel them pressed against her own.

For perhaps a second, she was certain he was moving closer to her, but then he slowly retreated and shook his head. “No, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. “We can’t.”

The distance between them--not physical, but emotional and mental--seemed to have turned into a great chasm. And that gaping hole was only made bigger when he lowered his arms from around her back.

“Clark,” she said desperately, feeling cold now that they weren’t touching, “I love you.” She had been subconsciously fighting against it--but the realization of that statement’s truth had suddenly sprung up within her even as the words were spoken. She stared at him, fearful of how he was going to respond.

He looked as if she had just hit him. His eyes widened, and the shock on his face was easy to read. There was a look of hope and maybe even gladness there--and then a shutter came down over him. He closed his eyes, his pained expression tearing at her heart. “You’re the queen,” he said quietly. “I’m not allowed to love you.”

“Clark--” she protested. It felt as if a life which had abruptly become whole was now falling to pieces again.

Clarkent pulled further away and got to his feet, not looking at her. “We need to go.” He walked over to Phantom and mounted him, still avoiding her eyes. “I have to protect you from Alexander.”

She winced at that. “Alexander’s dead, Clarkent.”

“What?” he exclaimed, turning his head toward her.

“Now Tempos is the one who wants to force me to marry him,” she admitted, staring down at her hands. “He had me locked up in my room, but I escaped. You were right that I was in danger.”

Clarkent made a hissing noise. “Well, no matter who is coming after you, we need to get out of here. Get on High Flyer, and let’s go.”

Her eyes fell on his sword, and she realized she didn’t want to feel like a hopeless damsel again. “I have a bow and quiver stashed near the archery targets,” she said quietly. “Could we get them first? I would . . . feel better having a weapon.”

“You shouldn’t need a weapon,” he growled, but his face softened as she flinched. “I’m sorry. I’m just--stressed. We’ll get your bow and arrows and go from there. But I’ll protect you with my life, Your Majesty. You have my word.”

<Call me ‘Lois’ again,> she thought to herself sadly. But she just nodded and walked toward High Flyer.

****

Unfortunately, someone recognized the queen as she was retrieving her weapons, and he sounded the alarm. Clarkent and Loisette then spurred their horses into a gallop, getting away from the castle as fast as they were able.

“We should return to Peri’s cottage,” Clarkent suggested, throwing a glance at her. High Flyer was running beside Phantom, so it was easy for him to talk to the queen. The fatigue that had been weighing down on him seemed to have dissipated for the time being. He was anxious, and the blood seemed to be pounding through his veins, purging any lethargy from his system.

“We don’t have James to guide us,” Loisette pointed out.

He hesitated. “We could go to my--the Black Knight’s hideout.”

He didn’t miss the narrowing of her eyes. She told him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. They’ll be searching the whole kingdom for us.”

“There’s a concealment spell--”

She interrupted, “Tempos told me he has a new magician working for him. I don’t know how powerful he is, but it’s possible he can break through spells like that. There’s only one place to go--Kryptonia.”

“What?” Clarkent asked in confusion. “Kryptonia?”

“The Barbarian Kingdom,” she specified. “Its true name is Kryptonia.”

He frowned. “Then why do people call it the Barbarian Kingdom?”

“Prejudice, I guess. They’re Metropolita’s enemies, so it’s easier to think of them as barbarians. But as queen, I think I should start calling the kingdom by its proper name. It only seems right.”

“Your Majesty,” Clarkent said uneasily, “there are all those bad stories--”

“Those ‘bad stories’ were made up to keep people in Metropolita,” she told him. “I bet Kryptonians probably have similar stories about Metropolitans.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Clarkent insisted. “The last time--”

“The last time we were there, we were kids and didn’t have any weapons,” she pointed out firmly. It had been about four years before. “We’ll be more careful this time--we need to sneak across and hide for a while. We could even put the horses somewhere and go into a village and see what it’s like.” She spurred on her mount, pulling ahead of her companion.

“The border guard is going to catch us,” Clarkent called out after her. “This is a bad idea, Your Majesty!”

But she ignored him, concentrating only on guiding High Flyer toward Kryptonia.

Clarkent sighed and tried to let go of his fears. She was his queen, and he would follow her anywhere.

He just wished it felt more like he was following her into safety and less like he was following her headfirst into danger.