The Beggar Princess (Fairy Tale Heat Book 4)

by Lidiya Foxglove

  One of them knocked on the door. I kept perfectly still. My heart was slamming against my corset now. I clutched the sword but my mind seemed void of any thought except sheer terror.

  “Don’t be scared, pretty girl,” the high-voiced one said. “We are but two travelers, in desperate need of a bite to eat. I have a coin to offer.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “I know you’re there,” he said. “Don’t hide. We promise to treat you like a lady…if you’re good.”

  “It’s not polite to make promises you can’t keep,” the other one said. His voice was more refined than the other one, almost gentlemanly—but his words chilled me.

  Of course, I still kept quiet. I prayed that Jack would return. He wouldn’t leave me for long, but I might not have long at all.

  “Do we have to break the door down?” the deep-voiced one said. And then, “Come on.”

  They started pounding on the door. I heard wood splintering. I don’t know if they had tools or if they were just that strong. It hardly mattered. I was not strong at all. This sword was a joke against two strong men. And the door didn’t have a bolt across it, just a latch. I cursed Jack for his shoddy door. A man of means, I thought, should invest as much in his doors as he invested in his bed. But there was nothing much to steal here, except for me.

  I scrambled to think. Lady Celeste had escaped Lord Stormwild with the help of a ghost. That wouldn’t do. But in the book I had written prior to that, Lady Gloria had tricked the menacing Count Walter by convincing him that she was a sorceress who could alleviate his wasting disease. I don’t suppose either of them has a wasting disease…

  A huge clawed fist punched through the door.

  I didn’t have time to think. I lifted the sword and ran toward the door, taking a swing at the hand. Steel hit bone, and the high-voiced wolfkin shrieked with rage. The fist withdrew.

  A golden eye replaced it, peering in the hole between the splinters. “Put down that sword, girl,” the deep-voiced one said. “Draw blood again and we will turn into wolves and eat you alive, and we’ll make it slow. You look very tasty.”

  I started trembling so badly that I could hardly even hold the sword. The eye disappeared, and they resumed tearing the door apart. Soon they had broken some of the heavy boards in half. I took a step back, still holding the sword and knife, but no longer sure what to do.

  They breached the door, the deep-voiced one bursting in while the other one clutched his bleeding hand and growled at me.

  “You King Brennus’ wench?” the one demanded.

  “King Brennus?” I asked, confused. “No. I’m no one’s wench.”

  “Who are you, then? A liar, I believe. Put down your weapons.”

  The other one was wrapping cloth around his wounds, hissing with pain.

  “Wh—what do you want?” I asked, although really, I could only think of two things. One thing a wolf would want, and one thing a man would want. And they didn’t even have to choose. My eyes were tearing up but I forced myself to cling to a shred of royal dignity. “The king will return soon.”

  “You won’t be here when he does. We’re going to have our way with you, and when we get bored and hungry, we may nibble on one of your fingers…” His golden eyes gleamed. “Now, put down your weapons or we’ll have our way with you now.”

  No, indeed, I should not have asked. “I—I see,” I said. I dropped the sword and the knife on the ground.

  “Are y’ not scared?”

  “No,” I said, more as a reflex than anything else.

  “Then you’re a foolish girl.” He lifted his shirt and took a loop of rope from his belt, seized one of my hands and then the other, and tied my hands behind my back. I could feel the strength in him. I thought Jack was strong, but this man’s strength felt inhuman. He had a predatory, fluid way of moving. He tied my feet now, so a short length of rope hung between them. My footsteps were hobbled.

  Now, it seemed, I was being kidnapped for real. I realized how much I had trusted Jack, even from the start. I understood it was a game even before he said so; I knew he only wanted to bring me happiness.

  The rough way the wolf handled me was entirely different. I was just an object, not a girl. Every sense of danger I possessed was on high alert. Wolvenfolk really did eat girls sometimes.

  Apparently they also enjoyed applesauce, however.

  “It’s too bad you’re kidnapping me,” I said, “since I was just about to make applesauce. And my applesauce is the best in all the realm, especially when it’s made from the grove of enchanted apples…”

  “Enchanted?”

  “You’ve heard of an enchanted apple, haven’t you?” I asked, finding my footing with the tale. If there was one way I might get myself out of this… “The trees are blessed by an elven sorceress at the time of their planting, and whoever eats them will have very good fortune. Haven’t you ever wondered why King Brennus has such a fine kingdom, and you wolvenfolk are consigned to scrabble over territory and have nothing? It’s because even he eats my applesauce from these enchanted trees.”

  They bristled. “Nothing?” the deep-voiced one said. “We have plenty. Starting with your life.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You do have my life in your hands.” I lowered my head. “Good sirs, I implore you to spare me…and in exchange, I will make you my most wondrous applesauce, that will bring you good fortune.”

  They looked at each other. I could see that they were clearly skeptical of my ability to make magical applesauce. On the other hand, they were probably also thinking that it couldn’t hurt, and that either way, they could have some good applesauce before they did anything else to me.

  “Very well, but you’ll make it back at our hut.”

  “I need to get some spices first,” I said, turning to the jars.

  The high-voiced one snapped his fingers at me to stop. “No spices,” he said. “Touch those jars and I’ll chop your bloody hands off. Could be poison. If them apples are enchanted, that’s good enough for me. Auntie never had any fancy spices.”

  “Sir,” I said, trying not to show that I was shaken just by his harsh tone. I had no experience with danger or even being yelled at. “I can’t touch them until you untie my hands, in any case. I can assure you they’re not poison. How would I have known you were coming?”

  “Tell us what you need and I’ll take the jars,” the deep-voiced one said.

  “Sugar,” I said. “Cinnamon. And…” I was struggling to remember what spices were in the cookbook, and I couldn’t think. “Cloves.”

  He picked the jars off the shelf. “Let’s go. Hurry along now.”

  I didn’t want to go. I glanced around, trying to think of some convincing reason that I would have to stay here. “Do you have a pot at your hut?”

  “We do, and if you’re tricking us, we’ll put you into it.”

  “I like my girls raw, not boiled,” the other complained.

  Sometimes it almost seemed like they were joking. But I didn’t want to test that.

  “Hurry,” he prodded again.

  I pointed at the kitchen tools. “If you want the applesauce to be done before nightfall, I should bring a paring knife. As you can see, it’s very small. I am sure I couldn’t hurt you with it. If you untie my hands, I could peel the apples along the way.”

  They glanced at each other and shrugged, clearly willing to take on the threat of a small girl with hobbled feet and a paring knife.

  The high-voiced one picked up the basket of apples. The deep-voiced one released my hands from the rope. He waited at the cabin door for me as I put on my shoes. My fingers could barely tie the laces, with him watching me. He walked just behind me. They prodded me into the forest. I tried not to show my fear. Jack would come for me. I knew he would; he must! If he was clever enough to claim a princess, surely he was clever enough to protect her. I took one of the apples and slowly worked the knife around the peel. I wasn’t very good at peeling and I knew they would suspect me if I be
trayed this fact, so I was very careful. I left a trail of peels as we went along, something for Jack to track.

  My footsteps were clumsy. The rope spanned between my feet so I could not quite take a normal step. With every step, my bonds strained around my ankles, chafing me. When we had to traverse uneven rocky ground, especially walking up and down steep areas, I had to use my hands. We were not following a path, but simply weaving around brush and thick trunks. The wolvenfolk seemed to know where to walk despite the lack of any obvious markers or landmarks. They stayed close to me, rarely speaking, occasionally sniffing the air. The forest was so quiet, I could hear them breathing.

  The forest seemed to be swallowing me, like I was stepping into a cavern rather than a forest. I never looked behind me, and yet I felt as if I knew the moment when the cabin slipped out of sight. I might die, I told myself. But it seemed impossible. These were peaceful times, even in the forest. It had been a long time since anyone beheaded a princess. It was even less likely that I would be eaten by wolves, wasn’t it?

  I was afraid, and yet too disbelieving to be truly afraid, and maybe that was my best advantage. It allowed me to slip into a persona that might help me survive; a girl who could make magical applesauce and was not afraid of wolves.

  “What are your names?” I asked.

  “Call me Black,” the low-voiced one said. “And he’s Gray.”

  “Ah,” I said. “The colors of your pelts when you change?”

  “Yes,” Black said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Black is a very fortunate color for a wolf,” I said. “The most fortunate, actually. I heard a story about a black wolf once.” I paused. “But, I don’t suppose you’re much for stories.”

  I could tell that Black was interested. He said gruffly, “You might as well tell it, as we’re walking anyway.”

  “The black wolf and the white wolf were twin brothers, sons of a great wolf king. Everyone loved the white wolf better because he gleamed like the moon. As the wolf king was dying, he summoned his advisors, and asked which son should inherit the throne. The wolf clan thought that the white wolf should inherit the throne. The black wolf left in despair. He roamed the forest all alone until he came to a lake and saw the moon reflected there. ‘Moon,’ he said, ‘why did you not bless me with white fur like my brother? Surely I am the bravest of all wolves, not my brother.’ The moon asked, ‘Do you promise to trust me with all your heart?’”

  “Since when does the moon talk?” asked Gray.

  “Hush,” Black said. “Go on, girl.”

  I continued, “‘I trust you,’ the wolf said. ‘You are brave, but you are also arrogant. You must return to your brother’s side and serve him.’ The black wolf was dismayed to hear that he was meant to serve under his brother, but he had made a promise, so he returned and for one year, he served his brother without question. The wolf clan grew very strong because the two brothers worked so well together. Then, the elves came to hunt the wolves, and because the white wolf was so visible, he was killed first. Immediately, all the wolves bowed down to the black wolf and said that, because he had served his brother so faithfully, they would follow him to the ends of the earth. And the moon said, ‘I am new as often as I am full. All phases come in time. A patient man waits for his phase, and is rewarded.’ And the black wolf became the king of the forest until he died of old age.”

  Black said, “I like that story, girl.”

  “I don’t think you’d be very patient with our white-furred brother,” Gray said.

  “No.” Black spat. “Hang him, the traitor. I would rather get right to the good part, when the white wolf is dead, and I am king of the forest and every last elf lives in terror that I might gobble them up in their beds.” He made a fist.

  I bristled. The mood had turned ugly again, and quickly. The forest was huge, wasn’t it? They were awfully selfish, if that was how they really thought about it. But again, I kept my mouth shut.

  We crossed a shallow river. They made me tromp through it and get my shoes wet. I dropped a peel on the bank. By now, we had been walking for some time. The apples were almost done. Once we crossed the river, we followed along its weaving path.

  When I came to the last apple, my hand slipped. I sliced my finger. I had never cut myself. I didn’t even like sewing, for goodness sakes, so I was not used to even the prick of the needle. I immediately dropped the knife and the apple and wrapped my skirt around the wound.

  The wolves stopped.

  “Cut yourself?” asked Gray. “How clumsy of you.”

  At home, I would have been immediately tended to by a bevy of concerned servants. Here, I had no help at all. “It’s bleeding a lot. I need to bandage it.”

  No one offered me a bandage. Black said, “A little blood might make those apples taste even better.”

  “Funny that you should cut yourself performing such a simple task,” Gray said.

  “Silly me,” I said. My finger throbbed with pulsing pain. And the wolves kept marching along. Of course, they would not be concerned for a girl they wanted to defile and eat. They didn’t care if I bled, if I was in pain. Drops of my blood fell on the ground.

  I’m not a princess. I’m not a queen. I’m a girl alone in the forest with two predators, and no one is going to help me. This isn’t a story or a game…

  Maybe it was an obvious thought, one I should have had in mind from the start. But I wish I had stayed oblivious.

  I was terrified.

  And determined. Maybe it was true and I did think too highly of myself. Maybe I was too spoiled and pampered. But I also thought that I’d be damned if I died this way.

  We kept walking for a while. Or maybe it wasn’t long at all. The sun didn’t seem to move that much, but every step seemed endless. My feet hurt. Finally, I saw a shack in the distance, built near a bend in the river, which at this point was rather wide and very shallow—inches deep—with lots of rocks. The carcass of a deer, half-eaten, hung from a nearby branch.

  As we drew close, I looked at the mangled flesh of the deer. Its ribs were exposed; the organs had been removed from a chest cavity that was torn open. A pool of blood stained the forest floor of leaves below. Antlers dragged on the ground from a neck that hung at a strange angle.

  I should not have looked. But I had to look. I had never been able to resist looking at things that would frighten me.

  The shack was actually similar to Brennus’ cabin, just smaller and more crude. The floor slanted sideways; some of the shingles had broken off. Maybe the elves had built it as a guard post and abandoned it later. It had a door and two windows without glass, just shutters. They were closed now, so I couldn’t see much inside. It was already dim because the forest was so thick around us.

  “Can I open the shutters?” I asked.

  “Go right ahead, girl.” Gray put the basket of peeled apples on the floor.

  I unfastened the latches, shoving open the creaky wooden shutters. But I didn’t like what I saw. Inside, it was covered in an appalling layer of dust. A pot hung over the hearth with the crusty remains of something inside. Some dirty dishes were piled in one corner. Animal bones were scattered in another corner, like they were gnawed on and then tossed carelessly aside.

  There was no bedding at all. No privy, either. Maybe they turned into wolves at night. This was no place to keep a girl.

  But then, they didn’t intend to keep me, by the sound of it.

  They crowded in behind me as I surveyed the cooking area. I felt the warmth of their bodies, heard them breathing. They seemed to breathe louder than anyone I had ever met, almost like panting dogs, only their mouths weren’t open.

  “How about them applesauce?” Gray asked.

  “‘That’ applesauce,” Black said.

  Gray scoffed at him. “Oh, I forget you’re so educated. A regular town wolf, you are. Don’t worry, miss, he’ll put down a tablecloth before he eats you.”

  The two men didn’t like each other much. And Bl
ack was the stronger one, I thought. His favor was what I had to keep, if I wanted to live.

  “Well,” I said, hesitating. “I had better wash the dishes first.”

  “There’s a cloth for scrubbing, and rocks by the river. Get on with it.”

  I lifted the heavy pot off the hook and took it and all the dishes down to the river. They were so thick with dried, crusted food. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever done. I didn’t even know where to begin with cleaning them.

  I filled the pot and the bowls with water to soak, and scattered the utensils along the river bed. The water was cold, numbing my hands, and agitating my cut finger.

  I supposed this was what I was meant to learn all along. Jack wanted me to work and I was working. I would wash a thousand dirty dishes if I could only see him again.

  While I was setting this up, the men went into the cabin. I heard them talking in low voices.

  One by one, I picked up the spoons and forks and rinsed them under the water, then wiped them off with the cloth. The pot would be the hardest part. I rinsed it out and took a handful of tiny rocks, almost as fine as sand, from the riverbed, using the cloth to help scrub the rocks along the pot. The friction helped clean off the crust. It took multiple rounds of soaking and scrubbing. My arms ached. My stomach was growling with hunger again. I felt weak and useless but even so, I kept going. I couldn’t give up.

  I heard a low growl behind me, and my head whipped around in fright.

  Black was standing there with a massive wolf who had a pelt of thick gray fur. It was one thing knowing they could turn to wolves, but it was another thing to see the truth of it before me, with fangs bared. He reminded me of my father’s hunting dogs, only worse. And I didn’t really like my father’s hunting dogs.

  He padded up to me and looked back at Black. Then he nipped my hand, drawing blood. I gasped and hopped back. I had not expected this. I almost tripped on the ropes binding my feet.

  Black laughed. “Just keeping you on your toes. He’s going to patrol, to make sure your king can’t find you,” Black said. “It’s just you and me here, girl. Don’t worry, Gray, I’ll save the good stuff until you get back.”