by Janeal Falor
“We should have brought a cat.” She tries to smile, but it wavers to a grimace. “I hope Stewart doesn’t mind catching rodent. Why don’t you take a stroll outside until we can get this place clean?”
“Right. I’ll be”—I have no idea where I’ll be; I’ve never been here before—“around. I guess I can’t get too lost on an island this size.”
Constance nods, then sets off the way she does whenever she has a project to tackle. Remembering the mouse, I shudder and walk around the outside of the castle. Its stones are aged and crumbling in spots. It had better be sturdy enough for us to live in. Otherwise we’ll be sleeping outside. Though with the condition it’s in, perhaps that’d be a good thing.
The back of the castle is a different story. A comforting sight greets me—an enormous garden. Sure, it’s overrun, but big enough I won’t have to worry about what I’m supposed to do while I am here. I’ll get my frustrations out on weeds. Unfortunately, my problems aren’t as easy to pull out as they are.
A week later, I’m out in the garden, enjoying the feel of the sun on my skin. The castle is cleaner, but I still prefer the garden. I run my fingers through the dirt. The hidden beauty has come alive under my care. The flowers are blooming, weeds are lessening, and an overall wild beauty shines out.
The human servant walks up to me. “Would you like some help, my lady?”
We haven’t talked much in the last week. It’s the least amount of conversation I’ve ever had, but my mother always discouraged too much formality with servants. “What’s your name?” I ask.
“Jocelyn, ma’am.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
“Well then, yes, Jocelyn, help would be welcome. Start weeding over there.” I point to the area I was going to work on next.
Jocelyn kneels down beside me and reaches for a not-yet blooming flower.
“Not that one. It will be a flower in another week or two.”
Her cheeks redden. “Sorry, my lady. I thought everything here needed to be pulled.”
Maybe she won’t be as much assistance as I hoped for. “Here, let me show you,” I say.
I spend the next half hour helping her distinguish which plants are to be kept and which are weeds. Most of that time I spend hovering worriedly, but she does fine after I show her.
I go back to my own area and find a sad-looking flower. I brush the wilting petals with the tips of my fingers and close my eyes. I pull at my magic, feeling it rise within me. Focusing only on the flower, I let the magic flow from deep inside me, through my fingertips, and into it.
The flower has been stifled too long by weeds and is weak. I push the magic further through the stem and into the soil, drawing nourishment into the plant. After pulling the magical fingers back inside me, I wipe my brow.
I sit back and open my eyes. The flower is perking up, the added nourishment doing its job. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jocelyn is staring.
I meet her wide, green-eyed gaze. “What?”
She looks down. “I’m sorry. I just never saw anyone use their magic like that before.” She glances back up. “It was amazing.”
My chest warms. “Thank you. I’m not surprised you haven’t seen anything like it before. Elves having been using magic less and less lately. I think the new gadgets we’ve gained from the humans make it less needed. They don’t have as many side effects.”
“What do you mean by side effects?”
I pull at some weeds. “Everything in magic comes at a cost. For instance, I just pulled nutrients out of the soil, to help the flower. In doing so, I made the ground lose more nutrients than if the plant did it naturally, over time. I could just leave it, but then the flower would die. So later, I will go through the area I’ve worked magic on and add extra nutrients back into the soil. Compost or something. Sometimes Stewart does that part for me.”
“I had no idea it could be so much work.”
“I don’t mind. Doesn’t really seem like work to me. Plus it keeps my mind off things.”
“Do you mean the death threats or your wedding? Death threats sound so horrid, but I can’t even imagine marrying someone you don’t love, let alone have never met. Why it seems positively ar—” Jocelyn stops, her hand hovering midair, with a weed still clutched to it, as I gape at her in shock.
“I’m sorry, my lady. Please, please forgive me.” She drops to the ground on all fours and puts her head to the dirt. “I was out of place, Your Highness. I am so sorry.”
I stare at her prostrate form, wondering what punishment would be fitting. I don’t mind her words. Not really. It’s nice to hear what someone really thinks for a change. But she is a servant. Sigh. “Get up.”
She sits back up on her knees and brushes at the dirt on her forehead. Her gaze remains lowered to the ground.
“As punishment for your impertinences, I order you to work in this garden at least two hours every day, until we leave. And you get to do the compost when I finish tonight.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yes, ma’am.”
I dismiss her with a wave of my hand, and she scrabbles back to her area. I slide over to a patch of shade. Lunch should be served soon, but hunger doesn’t bother me; Jocelyn’s words do. I was trying to keep my mind off all the people who want me dead.
Why would she think love matters? It’s true I would like the opportunity to meet him, maybe get to know him a bit, before I have to spend my life with him. But love? Love is for those who don’t have a duty to an entire nation. A duty to keep them safe. That’s what this wedding is supposed to be—a joining of two nations, for trade and peace—but the threats on my life make it feel like the opposite is happening.
The hatred between humans and elves is building. I can only hope my marriage will help fix that. I lean against the tree and close my eyes. One nice thing about being in hiding—I don’t have eyes watching me constantly, so it doesn’t matter if I ease my posture for a bit.
Something wakes me. I’m not sure what. I blink several times to clear the lingering blur of sleep. Jocelyn has a large pile of weeds next to her, but she’s turned toward the castle, as if she heard something as well.
“Your Highness,” my other servant, the plump elf one, yells. She bursts up the path and comes to a standstill in front of me, gasping for breath. “Ship coming… here soon… pirates.”
I jump up and rush to the kitchen entrance, Jocelyn following. Stewart and Constance are waiting for me.
“What do we do?” I ask.
Constance looks at Stewart. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” He rubs his stubbly chin. “We could hide, but if they find us, they will know something is up, for sure. Her face is too well known. Even if they aren’t looking for her, they will know who she is.”
I hesitate, not wanting to give up my secret, but it’s just for a moment. “I’ll disguise myself.”
“No offense, my lady,” Constance says, “but it won’t be enough. This isn’t like keeping your head down on the boat. They will see past anything we do to cover up who you are.”
“Not everything,” I say.
I take a deep breath. The magic inside me grows, as I call it. I push it to my face and hair. A small cry escapes my lips, but I’m able to hold back my reaction to most of the pain. Increasing pigment to my hair is easy, but turning my blue eyes brown is much harder. Then I add a light dusting of freckles on my nose and cheeks. Once that is done, I focus on my ears. I pull the thinly pointed ears first into more of a leaf shape, and then all the way rounded, like a human’s. I open my eyes and to find Constance’s and Stewart’s faces drawn with shock. Jocelyn and the plum human servant look pale.
“I discovered I could do it one day when I was bored,” I rush to explain. “I can’t seem to make myself look like anything but this yet. Not sure why it would be a human, but the pirates shouldn’t recogn
ize me. Right? You two don’t recognize me, do you?”
Neither of them says a word; they continue to stare.
“Did I not do it right? Do I still look too much like myself?” I ask.
“No, dear. No, you don’t look like yourself at all,” Constance finally manages to say. “No, you don’t look like yourself at all. I’ve never seen any magic like it.”
This pulls Stewart from his stupor. “I haven’t either. A few small changes here and there, but nothing of this magnitude. How much power do you have?”
I shrug. Maybe showing them wasn’t such a good thing. “I’ll change back, and we can think of a better plan.”
Stewart holds up a hand. “No. Don’t. This’ll be the perfect thing to confuse the without us worrying about you getting recognized or making them suspicious.”
“Are you sure? I know a couple places I could hide.”
“Which might work, but we don’t know how well they know this island. It hasn’t been used much lately, so they may have made it some type of cache- or weigh-station. We can’t know for sure. Hiding in plain sight will be much better.”
“Do you know what the consequences are for this spell?” Constance asks.
I lower my gaze. “No. I haven’t tried it that many times yet, and I never was able to determine what happened because of those times.”
“If this wasn’t an emergency, I would insist on you changing back.” She clucks her tongue. “Not much we can do about it now. Where are we going to meet the pirates?”
Chapter
Three
A giant of a man saunters down the gangplank and onto the dock. It groans beneath his massive weight, as if it’s ready to fall apart. He gives it such a look that I know the planks wouldn’t dare do so and risk his wrath. The human turns his attention on our small group, huddled on the beach just off the dock.
I clench my teeth. Stewart said we should meet them down here, like we have nothing to conceal. We should all have hidden, whether I’m recognized as the princess or not. I’ve seen this man’s poster many times and heard of his heinous crimes even more often. His gentlemanly coat and perfect posture hide the ugliness inside him.
Maybe this was the only reason he stared. I don’t let my relief show. The group remains silent.
His towering frame looms closer. “Answer.”
“We’re both orphans,” Jocelyn says. “Constance found us on Bardus when she was on leave.”
I jerk toward her, then try to cover my surprise, hoping he didn’t notice.
“And?” Captain Smythe leans closer to her.
“We were taken in and trained. Once we improved, we moved up in jobs, until we were able to earn leave and come here.”
“I see.” He pauses and then backs away from her and focuses back on the group. “My men and I have been traveling a long ways. I know elven food is heaven. You will prepare us a feast for this evening.”
“We will prepare a simple meal,” Constance says. “Since we are being generous and the princess is not here, you and your men will leave in the morning.”
He makes his arm bulge, his hand forming a fist, and it vibrates as though he is restraining it. “We will have a deal if you also prepare three meals for us to take on our voyage.”
Constance’s eyes glow with anger. “I think we can arrange that. Should we start dinner now?”
“Yes. Get to work.”
She lifts her eyebrows a bit in challenge, but turns and walks toward the castle. I follow, wondering how she still stands after all I’ve seen and heard about Captain Smythe. I’m grateful for whatever the reason is. The others rush after us, with Stewart protecting us at the rear.
Before we are halfway up the path, Captain Smythe calls out, “Wait. The humans stay with me.”
The group halts. Cold permeates through me. He wants to see both of us, so he probably doesn’t know about me. What could he want, then? Those closed-door meetings flash through my mind, but I force them away. They are the last thing I want to think of right now. I want to flee, but it will only make things worse.
I force a feeble smile at the others, hoping they’ll head back to the castle. We do not need to anger this man further than Constance already has.
They part, reluctantly. I stride toward him and grab Jocelyn’s hand on the way. I’m not sure why I grabbed onto her, but it makes facing him again a little easier. The rest of my servants head back to the castle but slower than before and with many backward glances.
We stop a few feet from Captain Smythe, Jocelyn’s hand trembling in mine. My heart is pounding erratically. I attempt to hide as much of my fear as I can.
He steps closer, and his hot breath falls across my face. He clasps my chin, confining me, but not as forcefully as he did with Jocelyn. My throat constricts as he moves my face from side to side, inspecting it. I squeeze Jocelyn’s hand. She squeezes back. My spell is still in place. I triple check it, to be sure, but it doesn’t ease my tension.
Finally, he lets go.
I rub my chin, feeling as if his fingers are still there. I have been trained to get a handle of any situation. He cannot best me. “What did you wish to speak of, Captain Smythe?” I ask.
His lips twitch into a brief smile, but he says nothing. His proximity is too much. I take deep breaths, but they don’t work like they did before. Slowly, I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
He moves his gaze to Jocelyn. Though he now stares her down instead of me, I can’t stop squirming. When she squeezes my hand, I squeeze back like she did for me.
Those thoughts, the times when court was held but I wasn’t allowed to attend, keep coming, followed by the tortured elf I saw. These thoughts shouldn’t be entering my mind, but I can’t seem to stop them. I have to do something. I open my mouth to repeat the question since he ignored it, but approaching footsteps stop me.
I hold back a relieved sigh and turn to see who is coming. One of the crew members gallops down the path. His clothes are filthy and look even more so when he comes to a halt next to Captain Smythe. The smell that follows him makes me gag. I cough a few times, earning a dirty look from him, before he speaks.
“No sign of the princess in the castle or on the grounds. The royal chambers are in such a mess that one of our men was injured. A statue crashed on him while we were searching for hidden rooms or passages.”
I smirk at the thought of one less pirate to deal with. Good thing I didn’t hide, though. They don’t sound familiar with this place, but they do sound thorough.
“Who?” Captain Smythe asks.
“James.”
The captain grunts.
“He’s being seen to,” the other man says. “Nothing says she’s here now or has been here recently. The servants’ quarters are the only ones in use, and there is nothing in them to mean royalty would step foot inside them.”
I try not to bristle. He’s right, though. If Mother saw the accommodations, she might not have let me go into hiding. Or maybe she did know how bad they’d be and thought it worth the sacrifice. It would have been if I wasn’t standing right next to a pirate intent on finding me.
“Not good enough. You were gone too short a time to do the job right. Tell half the men to search the castle and grounds again, doing a meticulous job, and tell the other half to search the rest of the island. She is here.”
The crew member lowers his head, gives a nod, and retreats to the castle.
Captain Smythe looks back at me, and a tremor goes through me. “There’s something different about you,” he says.
Chapter
Four
My vision sways.
“You girls are so different. It disgusts me.”
The word girls eases me a bit—but only a bit.
His gaze travels between the two of us.
“It is revolting to see humans not just w
orking with elves, but also serving them like common muck. Humans are better than that. Because you were taken away as children, I’ll give you a second chance. Otherwise I’d slit both your throats right here.”
Jocelyn wavers next to me. I can’t bring myself to feel as scared as she looks. It sounds bad, but he doesn’t know who I am, and slitting our throats would be an easy way out compared to what he could do. But what mostly represses my fear is the second chance. It had better be something I can work with and not another cruel step in his game.
“Ah. That gets your attention, doesn’t it?” He grins, but his eyes grow dark. “When we leave tomorrow, you will both be on our boat, with all of your things. If we have to come get you, you won’t be getting the second chance or an easy death.”
He pivots and swaggers back to his boat. Once he’s out of sight, I collapse on Jocelyn. Or maybe she collapses on me. One second, we are standing on our own, and the next we are only held up by each other in a shaking mass.
Though my feelings are a mess, I pull together before she does. “Come on. We’ll be safer back with the others.”
“There is no safety for us now,” she murmurs.
I agree but say nothing. We let go of each other. I feel more vulnerable, but I don’t grab onto her again. It was weak of me to do it in the first place—an act that doesn’t bear repeating.
We scramble back to the castle. Danger tingles through me at the thought of the captain’s demand.
We can’t leave with him. I could send just Jocelyn, but I know he’d still come after me. I brush the thought away. I couldn’t send Jocelyn even if it meant my own safety—which it won’t. But if it did, I couldn’t put her or anyone else in Captain Smythe’s clutches. Our plans will have to be altered, but to what, I have no idea.
The door creaks as we enter through the main hall. It is no longer filthy, but not what I’m used to, either. Besides a few worn chairs, nothing is in the room. The smell of bread baking reaches me, coaxing me toward the oven.