by Janeal Falor
Stewart heads to the food bag and grabs a roll. “I’m going back to the castle, to check.”
He shoves himself through the opening, but I can’t hear him moving about after that. A few minutes of silence pass, and I gather the courage to stand and stretch. My muscles tingle. It feels so good to move. The others follow my lead, moving around a bit, but no one speaks. It feels as if there could still be a pirate coming in at any moment.
Once my body feels a bit better, I turn behind me to see what caused such a ruckus. The noise didn’t sound like the scattering of rocks. In the dark, all I can see are shapes. I rub my hands together then reach down. It feels like broken pottery, but what would pottery be doing in a cave? I dig around further, careful not to get cut. My hand brushes against more pottery and then against something else. It feels heavy and rough. I grab it and hold it up toward the last remaining light.
“What have you got there?” Constance whispers.
“It looks like some type of scroll.” The girls gather around me. “It was in some pottery that I knocked over.” My cheeks heat, and I’m grateful for the dark, even if it means we can’t read the scroll.
“Looks old,” Constance says. “We’d better pack it up in something until we can handle it more delicately. Don’t want to ruin it before we know what it is. Emeline, grab the bag with the blankets.”
Emeline does as she’s told.
“Help me wrap it in one of them. It’s not the best option, but better than nothing.”
Working together, Emeline and Constance wrap up the scroll and carefully place it in the bag.
“I wonder what’s in it,” Jocelyn says. “Do you think it’s from a long time ago? No one has visited this island in so long, it has to be older than a century. Wouldn’t it be fun if it was a treasure map? I’ve always wanted to go hunting for treasure.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing so silly,” Constance says. She looks up at Jocelyn. “Though I suppose a treasure map would be interesting. It’s probably a record of what they used to store in here, or some other household matter.”
“You’re right.” Jocelyn sighs. “How long do you think it will be until Stewart gets back?”
Constance looks up at the hole. “Too long. Best get some more sleep or find something quiet to entertain yourselves.”
What feels like several hours later, the sound of someone tromping through the woods brings me out of my daze. We stare at the entrance, though it is too dark to see anything. I hold my breath and wait, afraid it’s a pirate and hoping it’s Stewart. The noise moves back and forth around the entrance of the cave. I clasp my hands together to stop the trembling.
“Dagnabbit. It’s me,” Stewart calls. “I’m alone, but I can’t find the entrance.”
Jocelyn lets out a giggle, and I join in. It feels so good to laugh.
“Swear on your honor you’re alone,” Constance says, silencing our laughter.
“I swear.”
She moves to the entrance to show him where we are.
He jams himself back through the opening and says, “They’re gone. I could see their boat off in the distance when I got close to the castle. Or at least what’s left of the castle. It’s pretty bad.”
He looks at me, but I don’t know what to say. Mostly I’m happy they’re gone.
“We’ll deal with that when we have to,” Constance says. “Would we be safer staying here or going back to the castle?”
“Probably the castle, but only because we can make it safe from animals.”
They turn to me, and Stewart asks, “Is that all right, Princess?”
“Yes. Lead the way.”
Constance hands me a roll to munch on while we walk, and everyone gathers the things together. I don’t have a bag this time, though with the scroll tucked in one bag, I’m not sure how things fit together to make that work.
I scrunch through the opening, following Stewart out of the cave. I glance around, expecting the pirates to still be here all along and realize I’ve been hiding. Nothing happens.
The moon shines, lighting up our way back to the castle. My servants exit the cave, and Stewart leads us back. Everyone stays hushed, even our footsteps. Maybe they’re afraid the pirates haven’t really gone as well.
The events of the last couple days are unlike any I’ve ever lived before. It’s been strange enough parading around in servants’ garb, but then to have to act like a servant and take orders… Going into hiding, so pirates don’t kidnap me… It feels different than slinking off on a ship to an abandoned island. It’s almost exciting. Though not in any way I would want to go through again. But pirates. I not only survived the encounter, but it was also with the worst pirate of all.
And I did it by outsmarting him.
We enter a clearing, and several bats swoop overhead. Behind me, one of the girls lets out a small shriek. I glance around, but I can’t tell if it was Emeline or Jocelyn. They both look nervous and scared. I quicken my pace, anxious to be away from the creatures. In my rush, I stumble over a branch. My crash echoes through the forest.
I sit, waiting to see if my clumsiness is going to draw out any hidden pirates. Only the hooting of an owl sounds through the trees.
“Are you all right?” Stewart puts out a hand for me to grab onto.
I stare at it. The only time I touch servants is when they are helping me dress or bathe. It’s better than scrambling up by myself. I take hold of it, and he hoists me up.
“Fine, I think.” I brush myself off. “Nothing a good bath and some time won’t fix.”
“I’ll look at your scrapes when we get to some better light,” Constance says.
“That would be grand.”
“Let’s move,” Stewart says.
I follow him. We all are making more noise now. If my servant’s scream and my crash didn’t alert the pirates to our presence, they must truly be gone. Stewart is moving faster. I stretch my legs to keep up with him. Even in the dark of morning, things are looking more familiar. A little bit longer, and we’ll be at the castle.
Constance hands me a water skin. I stop and let the cool water trickle into my mouth. Stewart rushes on ahead. I take another pull on the water skin. Just as I move it away from my mouth, a rustling comes from somewhere nearby. Startled, I drop the water skin. Water splashes out, dampening the ground and the ends of my skirt.
I twirl around and meet the frightened gazes of my younger servants and Constance’s determined one. My stomach drops. I spin back around, my wet skirt chilling my legs. My body tenses like when I’m training. I loosen my knees a bit, ready to run or fight, unsure which it will be. Should I call for Stewart, who has almost disappeared, or will that make things worse?
Before I know what to do, the rustling comes closer. I frantically look for something to use as a weapon, while holding still as can be. Before I can find anything to help, a wild boar stomps through the trees. A putrid smell assaults me. The thick brute pays no mind to me or the servants behind me. It smashes across the path, through the trees on the other side, and fades from view. I can’t move for a moment, then I relax into a fit of giggles. Emeline and Jocelyn join in, and soon Constance does as well.
Stewart comes back up the path, one eyebrow raised. “Is everything all right?”
“We’re fine,” I manage between giggles.
He shakes his head and continues on toward the castle. He glances behind him to make sure we are coming, and I trail after him. I look over my shoulder to see Constance picking up my forgotten water skin, and then she and the girls follow.
“I’ve never seen such a big boar up close before that wasn’t waiting to be roasted or already on a spit,” Jocelyn says. “It wasn’t as scary as the pirates, but it smelled about as bad. Who knew they stunk so awful?”
“I did,” Emeline replies. “When I was little, my brother and I were playing in the
yard when one came prancing down the street. Smelled foul. My mother came running out, afraid it was going to hurt us. Horrid creatures.”
“You saw one when you were that little.” Jocelyn sounds amazed. “I would have been so scared. Even more scared than I was a few minutes ago. Do you remember much else from your childhood? You’ve never talked much about it before. I know so little from before Constance found me. I thought maybe you were the same with your family or something.”
“No. My family is still alive and healthy. Mother sent me to serving school, in hopes I’d be able to make a better life for myself.”
“Amazing.”
“That’s what mom thou—” Emeline’s voice comes to a standstill, the rest of us coming to stand beside her.
My garden is burned to ash. There is still heat rolling off it. Parts of it smolder. I blink to stave off the tears.
Stewart grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no,” Jocelyn cries.
“The whole castle is in shambles.” Stewart rubs his chin. “It will take a little while, but we should be able to make a safe place to sleep inside, at least.”
Constance nods. “Let’s get moving then.”
She herds the others inside, but I stay and stare at the ruined garden.
Chapter
Seven
The next morning after a meager breakfast of biscuits, I insist we look at the scroll before going to do any work. As we open it up, I let out a soft gasp. It’s more than just a list of household items. Not all of it is readable, but the part we can decipher feels like it was written for me.
There shall be an elven princess of pure heart. She will wed a human prince with a heart full of love and care.
The two will unite their people once more, and peace will again abound.
Not that I think I have a pure heart, and I can only hope the human prince I’m to marry has a heart full of love and care. But there’s never been another human prince and elven princess wed before me.
What’s more, if it is, could we really bring our two countries together? Could we find a peace long sought after?
I hope so. We desperately need it. What we also need is some way to make the rest of the scroll legible, if it can be done. This feels so important, as if the fate of my people rests with what it says. Maybe it’s nothing, but my heart tells me it’s more.
Everyone is staring at me.
I hurry to roll it back up while being as careful as possible. Once done, I carefully put it back in the sack and the others go about their chores.
It turns into a long week of putting things back together while waiting. My servants take turns watching for any ship that might dock for either help or trouble. I roam aimlessly, wondering what to do. On the seventh day in the afternoon, I give up. Since I can’t work in my gardens with all the rain we’ve been getting, I might as well do something useful. I offer to watch the docks.
“Are you certain you can handle such a chore?” Constance asks. “It’s not like working in your garden. You might as well find some handwork to do.”
“No, I can do this. I don’t mind.”
“All right, but let’s have you be lookout from inside. I don’t want you catching chill.”
She sets me up with a chair in the entry way with the door open and no torches on so I can’t be seen if a ship does come in. Once I’m settled, she hurries away to some project or another.
I stare out at the docks. Rain drizzles on the open sea. This is just as boring, if not worse than I thought it would be. It feels good to assist them, though.
The others have been working hard, fixing things back up and acquiring food. The pirates took not only the food my servants prepared for them, but also everything else they could find. I’ve never been so hungry before. At least I’m not out in the rain.
Cool air brushes my cheek. I pull my cloak tighter. I tuck my legs beneath me, grab the blanket on my lap, and wrap it around me. I lean back, eyes heavy, as I stare outside. The sea is getting hard to see through the pouring.
Time passes in a creeping way that has me longing to never have asked for this chore in the first place. It’s not really fitting a princess. But then, I’m not doing much to stay as a princess right now anyway. I’ll just have to pretend that this never happened once I get back to Amara.
My eyelids sag. I shake my head. Someone should come to replace me soon, but not soon enough. A nap sounds lovely. I’ll take one before dinner. Or rather, before my evening snack. A yawn escapes my lips, and I fight to remain alert. This is important; I can’t fail. I think of the bed awaiting me. Its horror of a mattress is usually enough to keep me awake, but now I’d sleep in it despite the hard lumps. Closing my eyes, I imagine slipping into my bed at home. The silk sheets and the soft mattress cradling me. My body feels so heavy.
Figures are a blur on both sides of me. My feet brush against grass and rose petals. I watch my step through a sheer white veil. My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry as I reach the end of the aisle. Nausea twists through my stomach when I see the two shoes waiting for me. My throat constricts as someone lifts the veil off my face. I follow the movement with my gaze and see a man dressed in fashionable, formal attire. The sick feeling increases.
My heart pounds harder while I struggle to keep myself bolted to the spot. The man’s unfamiliar face comes into view.
“Phillip?” I whisper.
The man distorts, his face twisting until it becomes that of Captain Smythe.
I scream.
I jolt awake, and my blanket falls to the floor. The cold shocks me fully conscious. The thought of marrying Captain Smythe makes me ill, but I don’t know that Prince Phillip is any better. He could be worse. Hot tears fill my eyes, and I wipe them away.
A breeze sweeps through the front door, raising goosebumps on my arms. Guilt fills me when I realize I haven’t been paying attention. I scan the sea. The rain has slowed to a drizzle. This will be a nice change.
Then I see a ship heading for our island.
I jerk out of the chair and rush to the kitchen. Constance looks up from her soup when I come in.
“There’s a ship almost to the docks,” I say. “The flags are all down, so I don’t know what color they are. I couldn’t see any identifying marks.”
“Go to your room. I’ll warn the others. Get your disguise ready, in case anyone comes.”
Feeling sick, I nod, but Constance has already hurried off. I stand in the empty kitchen. When no one comes back screaming about pirates, I head to my room. It wasn’t much before, but it’s worse now. I don’t bother to close the door. Stewart tried to fix it, but it still doesn’t like to close tight. He’s out hunting now. I could be taken or dead before he knows there’s anyone on the island.
I pace the room, trying to rid myself of such morbid thoughts. We survived once; we can do it again. A low fire crackles in the fireplace. For several long minutes, it’s all I hear. The warmth of the blaze helps chase the goosebumps away.
It was a large ship, so I doubt it’s someone coming to pick us up early. Unless my parents somehow got news of my trouble and sent a whole troop to guard me on the way home. With no identifying marks, it’s not likely. It could be the very people threatening my life. Footsteps tread down the hall. I halt, shaking. Before the person reaches my room, I remember I still look like me. With a stab of pain, I change my face, eyes, ears, and hair.
The footsteps are almost here. My mouth is dry.
Emeline comes into view, and the tension inside me unravels.
“It’s a group of merchants who had some troubles in the storm, Princess. Constance is down on the dock, talking to them. She requested that you remain disguised, as a precaution.”
“Isn’t this a little far out for merchants to be?”
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am. Human traders don’t interest me.”
&nbs
p; “They’re human?”
She nods. Humans. A bunch together, and up close. More than I’ve ever been around at one time, I would guess. At least, not counting the pirates, which I certainly do not.
A nervous yet excited fluttering dances through me. “I will be down at the docks, Emeline.”
She widens her eyes then lowers her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
I scurry past her. While hurrying down the hall, I pull the hood of my cloak up over my head. It doesn’t keep water out as well as I’m used to, but it’s better than nothing. I open the front door. The drizzle has picked back up to a steady rain. I hesitate, but I don’t know when I’ll get this chance again. The fresh scent is invigorating. I head out, careful not to step in the puddles as I stroll to the dock.
Constance stands on the beach. I stand next to her, my clothes getting damp.
She turns to me and narrows her eyes. “You should stay out of sight,” she whispers, the boat right next to us.
Before I can respond, a conversation on the boat catches my attention. I can’t see who’s speaking, but their words drift to us over the pattering rain.
“Can’t believe we had to stop at a place with elves. See ‘em too much as it is, with the tradin’ and all. If it weren’t for this blasted storm, we could have been almost to Amara by now. Instead, we’re stuck with ‘em longer. I’d find a new job if this one didn’t pay so well.”
“Hear, hear. I’d rather show them how we feel than pretending to play nice through trade. Can’t even jack up our prices on them,” a second voice replies.
“Can’t imagine what the king and queen were thinking, tying us to ‘em through marriage. Hope that princess of theirs knows what’s good for her and stays in the elven castle.”
“Hush up now.”
After a few seconds of silence, a third voice says, “Go help with the mast while the captain talks with them.”