Prisoner Princess

by Caylen McQueen

  “Don't get any ideas, Captain Featherstone,” Jared admonished him. “Kitt is Captain Doon's girl.”

  “Eeeeew.” Julian's nose wrinkled. “You're with that lout? But he seems so coarse and...”

  Before Julian could think of another word to describe Doon, Kitt leapt to her boyfriend's defense. “Doon isn't as bad as you think. He's actually very kind to me... sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?” Julian snorted at the word. “If he's lucky enough to have a woman like you, he should always be kind.”

  Kitt sighed. While she loved Doon, she knew it wasn't in his nature to always be kind. And if he was sometimes kind, it was probably a miracle. “Doon can be difficult... he can be a pain... he can be rude... but I do adore him.”

  “Does he adore you too?”

  Kitt's knuckles curled around her mop's handle, clenching it tightly. “I... don't know.”

  “That shouldn't be a difficult answer, Miss Lake. If you were mine, I would treat you like a goddess, because you would deserve nothing less.” For a moment, Julian was so distracted by her firm bottom, he forgot to work.

  That is, until Jared cleared his throat and waved his pistol. With a disgruntled sniff, Julian resumed his swabbing.

  “I'm sure Doon likes me,” Kitt said. “At least... I'm pretty sure.”

  “Well, I don't like him!” Julian angrily slapped his mop into the bucket, soaking it in suds. “He killed Jolly.”

  “From what I understand, he was only defending himself.”

  “You can defend yourself without shooting to kill!” Julian exclaimed, which was a fact Kitt could not refute. Doon took lives too easily, and it was probably his least admirable trait. “Jolly was my friend. He was my first mate. Sure, he could be a bit rough around the edges, but he was a good man. And now he'll never see another day.”

  “I'm sorry...” Kitt sighed. Making apologies for Doon was becoming commonplace. Now that they were a couple, she felt obligated to clean Doon's messes. “I mean it. I'm truly sorry about your friend.”

  For the next few minutes, they mopped in silence. Swabbing the deck was meant to be a punishment, but for some odd reason, Kitt enjoyed it. Nevertheless, she worked quickly. She was determined to finish before nightfall.

  “What the bloody hell is this?”

  When she heard Doon's voice, Kitt nearly dropped her mop. She knew he wouldn't approve of her helping a prisoner, but he sounded even angrier than she expected.

  “Why are you scrubbing the deck, Kitt? It's supposed to be this man's job!” Doon exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Julian's direction. “And how did he acquire a mop? He was supposed to use this!” Doon picked up the discarded sponge and tossed it at Julian, who failed to catch it. As the filthy wet sponge tumbled down the front of his shirt, Captain Featherstone shuddered loudly.

  “I just wanted to help him,” Kitt said. “It's already getting dark, and he still has a lot to clean.”

  “Well, that's just too damn bad for him.” Doon ripped the mop from Julian's hands and threw it across the deck.

  “I'm just trying to be nice.”

  “You are nice, Kitten. And I like that about you. I really do...” Doon scratched his head. Soft words didn't come easily to him. “But you don't have to be nice to the man who attacked us!” Doon abruptly shoved Julian to his knees, and he wasn't gentle.

  As Julian dipped his sponge and returned to work, Kitt watched him with a frown. It was difficult to defend Doon when he was completely devoid of sympathy for anyone. “What are you holding?” she asked, pointing at the black box in Doon's hands. There were knobs on the front of the box, and a long copper wire protruding from the top of it.

  Doon tugged on the wire, extending it as far as possible. “Miles fixed the portable,” he told her.

  “The portable?”

  “Portable radio,” Doon explained. “We should be able to pick up all sorts of transmissions now. Columbigo's radio technology far surpasses ours.” Doon tweaked one of the knobs and tilted the wire. “Anyway, I thought you should hear this.”

  He held up the radio for Kitt to hear. Apart from the occasional hiss of static, the message was loud and clear.

  “...in the middle of a national tragedy. I repeat... a national tragedy. Bzzzt... state of emergency. The royal family has been slain. Emperor Giorgio is confirmed dead. Prince Nico is... shhhzzz... dead. Princess Isabella has been confirmed dead. Bzzzzrrrrss...and if you're in the capital, stay in your homes until we have more details.”

  When the message finished, Doon turned off the radio and said, “I guess we picked a bad time to travel to Columbigo.”

  “I guess we did,” Kitt agreed, wincing. Though she looked distressed, the expression on her face didn't come close to the panic in Julian's eyes.

  He didn't want to believe it.

  Nico was dead.

  Princess Isabella was dead.

  Three

  But she wasn't dead.

  “Keep your head down as we leave the palace, Your Highness,” Thomas Harriot whispered as he pulled the cloak over Isabella, concealing her face. “Whatever you do, don't make eye contact with anyone, because if you do, I won't be able to protect you.”

  Isabella said nothing. She simply glared at him.

  “For all they know, I've killed you.” Harriot raised his pistol and crept to the door. After checking both ends of the hallway, he motioned for her to follow him out.

  “What if they demand to see a body?” Isabella's voice was emotionless as she asked the question.

  “I've already thought of that. I set a fire in your brother's room. I'll let them think you were incinerated.” As soon as they were in the hall, his voice dropped to a whisper. “No one will doubt the son of Eversio's leader, and no one will come looking for you. I promise.”

  As they made their way down the narrow corridor, Isabella never stopped glaring at Thomas Harriot's head. For all she knew, she was looking at the man who killed her brother. She was looking at the man who was at least partly responsible for the siege of her home, and the downfall of her family. His crimes were nothing she could forgive.

  At the end of the hall, a few members of Eversio were whooping in celebration. Tom opened the nearest door, which happened to lead to a broom closet, and pulled Isabella inside with him. The closet was dark, cramped and brimming with clutter, so they had to be as still as possible. If they knocked anything over, the noise would attract attention.

  “We'll wait until they pass,” Harriot whispered. “When they're gone, we'll go to the servants' entrance. We can't leave through the palace's main gate because Eversio will have it swarmed. The servants' entrance should have less guards.”

  Isabella didn't give him the satisfaction of a response, not even a nod.

  When the Eversio soldiers were gone, Harriot slipped into the hall and waited for Isabella to follow. They were on the third floor, which meant they had two long flights of stairs to descend. The staircase was a well-traveled part of the palace, so Tom was expecting an encounter, but by some miracle, the stairs were empty. They made it to the lowest floor without incident.

  As they made their way to the servants' entrance, Harriot whispered a reminder over his shoulder. “Stay close, keep your head down.” He was surprised by her obedience. After all, she now knew he was a murderer—not only that, she believed he was Nico's murderer. Despite the blood on his hands, Thomas Harriot was her only hope of getting out of the palace in one piece. Perhaps she realized that.

  There was a single Eversio guard at the exit, and there was no avoiding him, because he hovered in the doorway. Tom braced himself for a confrontation as they made their way toward him.

  “Sir Harriot!” the guard exclaimed when he saw the familiar silver mask of his master's son. “I didn't expect to see you here. Is there something you require?”

  “I need to leave,” Harriot tried to explain. “I didn't want to exit through the front gate... there are too many idiots out there, chanting and screaming about their v
ictory. I'd rather avoid that chaos.”

  “Understood.” Though the guard stepped aside, his eyes were glued to the cloaked figure cowering behind Harriot. “May I ask who's with you?”

  “She's a companion of mine,” Tom quickly replied. “And it's none of your business. Just let us pass.”

  “I will...” As they started to walk by, the guard added, “in a moment.” When the girl was beside him, he seized her wrist and threw back her hood.

  Harriot's head dropped between his shoulders, and his fingers hovered over his weapons. Was it too much to hope she wouldn't be recognized?

  The guard's brow was pinched as he leaned closer to Isabella's face. “Wait... I think I know who this is.” Harriot tightened his grip on his pistol as he waited for the guard to finish. “This is the princess, isn't it?” The man suddenly raised his voice. “Men, Harriot is trying to escape with the prin--”

  Before he could finish, Harriot raised his gun and shot him in the head. Isabella shrilled sharply when she saw the guard go down.

  “Let's move,” Harriot demanded. As soon as they were out of the palace, he grabbed the princess' hand and dashed away as fast as he could—or, at least, as fast as the princess could. When he realized he was practically dragging her along, he slowed his pace. He could have easily tossed her over his shoulder and carried her the rest of the way, but she already despised him. He didn't want to do anything to intensify her hatred.

  Isabella had no idea where he was taking her, and she didn't feel like asking. Wherever they were going, it had to be better than the chaos at the palace. Besides, she found it difficult to care about her fate when the rest of her family was slain. Even if her journey with Harriot ended in death, Isabella didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore.

  At the end of a five minute sprint, Isabella's heart felt like it was bursting from her chest, so she tugged his arm and tried to slow him down.

  “You need a break?” Harriot released her hand and started to walk. “I think we're safe enough now. Would you like to walk the rest of the way, Your Highness?”

  Isabella simply shrugged.

  “We can walk,” Harriot decided. “We don't have too much further to go. In fact, as soon as we climb this hill, we'll be able to see the lake.”

  Isabella's arms crossed as she followed him up the hill. As soon as she saw Harriot's lake, her nose puckered. It was more like a bog. The surface of the water was covered in duckweed, algae and dead bugs, and it smelled like death. Gnarled black trees dappled the surrounding area, and they buzzed with the song of cicadas.

  Harriot approached a small dinghy, which was tied to a stump. As he uncoiled the rope, he offered a hand to Isabella. “Here,” he said, “let me help you into the boat.”

  Isabella didn't look at him, nor did she accept his hand. She walked right past him and climbed into the boat on her own.

  “So... you don't want to talk to me. I understand.” Harriot climbed in after her and reached for the oar. Pushing the boat away from the shore, he added, “But you would be dead if not for me.”

  Isabella whispered, too quietly for him to hear, “I'd rather be dead.” Losing her mother four years ago was terrible enough. During those horrible days, it was her brother who taught her to live again. How was she supposed to survive with no one to care for her? How was she supposed to find the courage to continue her life?

  “It's only a short distance to my cottage,” Harriot told her as he rowed. “I live on a tiny island, all by myself. I like the seclusion.” Unshed tears sparkled in Isabella's dark eyes. When he noticed them, his heart was wrenched with guilt. The princess was a sweet girl, and she didn't deserve the pain he had caused her. At least he managed to save her life. If he had actually killed her, Harriot wouldn't have been able to live with himself.

  When the first tear slipped down her cheek, Isabella swatted it away. Tom Harriot was the last person who deserved to see her tears.

  “So, uh... I built my cottage myself.” Harriot's small talk was an attempt to distract her from her sorrow. “I wanted to live on my own, free from people who might judge me. They tend to react negatively at the sight of my face. Believe it or not, I don't wear this mask all the time. When I'm alone, I have no need for it.”

  Isabella shrugged again. Her disinterest in the conversation was obvious.

  “I had a friend. His name was... Gemellus.” Harriot winced as he uttered the boy's name. “He used to say my mask looked like half of a barn owl's face. While that doesn't make me sound very threatening, it was probably an accurate description.”

  A small green frog suddenly leapt into the dinghy, and a wisp of a smile flickered across Harriot's lips when he saw it. The frog made him think of Gemellus and his unusual gift for the princess. When Harriot realized she was wearing Gem's frog necklace at that very moment, the tremendous weight of guilt returned to his heart.

  “Look!” Harriot propped his oar against his knee as he reached for the frog. As he captured it, he said, “We have a visitor.”

  Isabella looked away and sighed. She couldn't pretend to care about a frog, not when tears were burning her eyes.

  “What do you think we should do with him, Your Highness?” Behind his mask, Harriot's eyebrow was raised. “Should we keep him? Eat him? Or should we return him to the lake?”

  He wasn't surprised when Isabella had no opinion on the matter. He assumed it would be a long time before she started talking to him again.

  “I don't blame you for hating me. I really don't.” As he spoke, Harriot's forefinger stroked the frog's head. “What I did to you and your family is truly unforgivable... so I won't ask for forgiveness. Still, it pains me to see you so upset. I never imagined your sadness would effect me in such a way, or I might have thought twice before I... ruined your life.” By the time Harriot finished his speech, the frog's eyes were glazed over with pleasure. Apparently, he was immensely enjoying his head massage. With a slight smile on his lips, Harriot released the delighted amphibian into the water and picked up his oar.

  When they reached the other side of the lake, Isabella climbed out of the boat and waited for Harriot to join her on the bank. A part of her wanted to escape, but she had nowhere to go, and there were people trying to kill her. Staying with Thomas Harriot seemed like the only way to survive the night.

  Tom dragged his dinghy onto the sand and tied it to the remains of a rotten wooden dock. In tearful silence, Isabella followed him through the woods, where she found herself dodging attacks from ravenous mosquitoes. By the time they reached his cottage, she had at least three bites on her arms.

  “Here we are,” Harriot announced as he opened the door to the thatched log cabin. The structure looked small on the outside, but the interior was surprisingly spacious. Conveniently, there was even an extra bedroom for a guest. “This will be your home for awhile. I don't know how long, but while you're here, you should try to make yourself comfortable.”

  Isabella rolled her eyes and glowered at him.

  “I hate to say it, but when I leave, I'll have to lock you in your room,” Harriot regretfully told her. “Don't look so cross. You're not kidnapped, it's for your own safety, Your Highness. If I let you escape and someone else saw you, it would be disastrous for you. Until things settle down, you mustn't wander too far.”

  Isabella shrugged. Whether he locked her in her room or not, it didn't matter. It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to be. “You can stop calling me Your Highness,” she finally spoke.

  “Pardon?”

  “You can stop calling me that. I'm not a princess anymore, am I? You and your henchmen made sure of that. The royal family is dead.” With a shudder, Isabella added, “I'm dead.” She certainly felt dead on the inside.

  “Very well. How should I address you?”

  Isabella shrugged again. She almost asked him to call her worthless, because that was how she felt.

  “Well... here's your room.” Harriot opened the door for her. “If there's anything I can
do to make you more comfortable, don't hesitate to ask.”

  Isabella intentionally bumped him as she stepped into the room. If she could have gotten away with it, she would have boxed his ears as well.

  “If you don't need anything right away, I should probably return to the palace... otherwise, my father will start to wonder where I am.” Harriot wore a frown as he lingered in the doorway. “Hopefully I'll be allowed to return before nightfall.”

  Before he left, he was halted by the sound of Isabella's soft voice. He was glad to hear her voice again. “Mr. Harriot?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why did you kill Nico and spare me? I don't understand. Why am I worth saving, and why wasn't he?”

  In a low voice, Harriot confessed the truth. “But Isabella... I did spare your brother.”

  Isabella's brow was immediately creased. “W-What do you mean? I saw you kill him! You stabbed him before my very eyes!”

  “There's a very good explanation for that, and I thoroughly expect you to disbelieve what I'm about to tell you.” Harriot reached for the doorknob. “The man I killed was not your brother.”

  And with that, he closed the door before he was forced to answer any more questions.

  Four

  For the second day in a row and for the third time that day, Nico returned to the pub where he was supposed to meet Mary Melissa Mae. The thought that he would eventually find her was the only thing that kept him sane.

  He had lost everything. The palace was seized, his father was dead, and his sweet little sister had been cruelly murdered. The first time he read the newspaper's headline, he nearly retched. According to the article, Isabella was burned alive.

  He had failed her.

  When he reached the pub, he paused to listen to the song of a bearded street performer. The man bellowed a mournful threnody for the departed royal family. Occasionally, but not often, a passerby chucked a few coins into the singer's overturned top hat. Nico eyed the coins. For a few awful seconds, he imagined himself pilfering the hat and escaping with the coins. He couldn't blame himself for having such thoughts. After all, Nico didn't have a penny to his name. The previous night, he slept in an abandoned alleyway. He certainly couldn't return to the palace, because the men who seized it would surely kill him on the spot.