Prince of Cahraman: A Retelling of Aladdin (Fairytales of Folkshore Book 2)

by Lucy Tempest

  Any one ghoul that got closest to the ladder was dragged back and brutally ripped apart, not to be feasted on but to eliminate competition. But if even one of them escaped…

  “We’re going to die,” Fairuza said solemnly, no sobs left despite the unending tears as she looked down at the swarm that broke into further competitive bloodshed. “We will be ripped apart and devoured and left like those people, nothing but bone and hair.” She hiccupped harshly. “I always knew I’d die—but I thought it’d be in my own bed, in my home, where I’d be mourned and buried.”

  “I always thought I’d die on a dark road,” I mumbled, her fatalism infecting me. “That I’d be attacked or freeze while lost, only to be eaten by vultures and dogs before the worms joined them.”

  Fairuza raised a hand to her mouth, eyes puffy, red and wet and still fixed at the fight below. “Where did they come from?”

  Broken sounds escaped me, huffs of exhausted, manic laughter. “Prior to our visit? Hell, most likely.”

  “And during it?” she choked. “Why did they suddenly appear?”

  “They must have been sleeping underground, and we’ve woken them up. Maybe our scent…” I stopped, realization hitting me, the accompanying horror of the situation finally sinking in. “The witch said not to touch anything. You touched the statue’s golden hand before they appeared.”

  The hand over her mouth shook as the tempo of her breathing climbed. “I-I’m sorry.”

  “I—”

  She threw herself at me, hugging me clumsily, sobbing, gasping in my ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I swear this was the last thing I thought would happen. I didn’t mean to touch it, I didn’t know this would happen, I’m so sorry—” She broke into harsher crying.

  I didn’t know what to think or feel. Shock was intensifying, dampening my feelings, making it easier to run from them rather than remain in their path.

  I wasn’t mad at her. I couldn’t afford to expend any thoughts or energy on judging or blaming her for our situation, which was entirely of her making. I couldn’t burn any of what fueled both my mind and spirit on anything but thoughts of survival.

  We could sort this out later. Now we needed to ensure there would be a later.

  “An apology isn’t what I need from you right now.” I pushed her off me, digging my fingers in her shoulders. “I need you to stop crying, can you do that?”

  “No!” She shook her head wildly, sending tears flying off her face to splatter mine. “I c-can’t stop. I can’t think, c-can’t breathe, can’t—can’t—”

  My palm landed across her face in a loud smack.

  Her hand flew to her cheek, eyes wide and brimming with tears but chest calming and mouth closing, breathing through her nose.

  “You hit me,” she said slowly, the shock I’d aimed for sinking in, steadying her. “You hit me much harder last time.”

  “Last time I wanted to knock you out, this time I need you to shut up and run.” I pointed to the next set of stairs “They won’t be preoccupied like that much longer.”

  Nodding, she staggered there, tried to climb and slipped again as a handful of ghouls began crawling up the ladder beneath us.

  I stormed after her. “Take off the dress. Take it off now!”

  “And what? Carry it around everywhere?”

  “Leave it here!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  “Th-this dress cost more than your house. I can’t leave it.”

  I shook her, hard. “Do you want to be buried in one piece in your castle’s catacombs or do you want to be eaten in this dress?”

  “M-my mother will k-kill me if I return without it.”

  “You have to return first, and you won’t if you remain in it! And when you do, Loujaïne can reimburse Zomoroda. It’s her fault we came here in the first place.”

  Her fear of the ghouls finally overcame that of her mother and she staggered around. I unbuttoned her dress with shaking fingers and tried to yank it down.

  She pushed against me. “No, you’re supposed to take it off over my head.”

  My head almost exploded with frustration. “It doesn’t matter if it rips!”

  She shook her own head frantically. “It matters because I’m wearing a hoopskirt! I can’t step out of it, the waist is too small a-and to rip something this thick would need those beasts’ claws!”

  Shaking all over, I bounced in place to get the dress high enough over her head, trying to ignore the noise of the ascending yet still warring ghouls. “What in the world is a hoopskirt?”

  “You’ll find out—now!” She huffed as I lifted off her gorgeous monstrosity of a dress.

  It wasn’t just a corset and a slip underneath, but a petticoat over what looked like a steel birdcage that began from her waist and stopped a bit below her knees.

  “No wonder you can’t run,” I grumbled, tearing the petticoat off before lifting the hoopskirt up and off her. It hit the floor with a heavy rattle. “What is all this stuff?”

  “Y-you think the skirt looks like this by itself?”

  “With all the effort, material and money that went into it, it should walk by itself!”

  I’d started unlacing her corset when a ghoul broke through the struggle. It crawled over the fighting mass, using them as leverage, and reached the top of the stairs.

  Up close, its thin, colorless skin, featureless face and blackened teeth blew apart any steadying numbness and stabbed the fear of the Horned God back into my heart.

  Here it was, the beast that fueled nightmares, that prowled in the night, that carried the wanderers and loners away and devoured them, flesh and soul.

  Its eyeless face aimed at me, it kicked those that tried to pull it away, unhinged its jaw wide and lunged at my leg.

  I jumped back with a throat-ripping shriek and kicked its head with all my strength, knocking it aside. When it rose back on all fours I pulled back my throbbing foot and kicked again. And again. Over and over in a frenzy, channeling all my hatred and fury into each kick as I screamed every conceivable insult.

  With a final collision, the ghoul’s head caved in, tar-like blood oozing out of its horrid face and onto the floor.

  Fire coursing through my veins, I whirled around, found Fairuza with one foot on the bottom of the staircase, staring at me in a mix of terror and awe.

  “What?” I panted, bending over to feel my toes. A simple squeeze sparked a rush of scalding pain.

  The awe fled her face on a horrified shout. “Watch out!”

  I was tackled to the floor before I could straighten.

  I hit the rough ground with a bruising, scraping slam, screaming and struggling, as another ghoul pinned me with claws dug into my wrists.

  Like a fish ripped from water, I heaved madly on the ground, feeling air flee my lungs as I screamed and kicked, trying to push out from beneath it.

  My struggles ceased when twin cuts slit through my skin like an asps’ fangs.

  It had released my arms in favor of my neck, razor thumbnails pressed against the tender spots under my jaw. Panic pounded in my throat as I felt the burn of the cuts and the blood trickling down my skin.

  I couldn’t struggle without slicing my own throat.

  Now that it had me trapped, it took its time opening its dripping mouth, the stench of its hot, fetid breath choking me and forcing scalding tears from my eyes.

  The pale face of death with its snapping jaws grew closer with every breath, counting down to my last one.

  I closed my eyes, bracing for the ripping of my skin, the heart-stopping pain—

  A deafening clang and rattle ripped my eyes open.

  Fairuza’s hoopskirt had smashed into the ghoul’s head, then again and again until its grip on my throat loosened.

  Heaving for breath, I squirmed out from under it as Fairuza backed away, still swinging at its head, face frozen in fury and horror. But the force of surprise was gone. The ghoul left me to follow her in a slow, menacing crawl.

  I dragged Fairuz
a’s dress, ran after them and jumped on the ghoul’s back. It reared to throw me off, shrieking, and I shoved the end of the skirt into its gaping mouth, filling the span of its spread jaws. It lurched wildly beneath me and I wound my legs around it tighter, almost cramming my whole hand down its maw, choking it with more cloth.

  Fairuza screamed and hit it even harder than before in a frenzy, until she irreparably dented her hoopskirt and cracked its skull.

  As the ghoul slumped beneath me, I could barely retrieve my hand from its closing fangs before rising on wobbling legs, heart stampeding, breath shearing in my chest and stared at Fairuza.

  Two dead ghouls lay sprawled on the stone floor, at our feet.

  But our victories barely had time to register before I noticed something off.

  The struggle below us had gone unnervingly quiet.

  Could they have all killed each other?

  Hesitantly, I peeked over the edge.

  The pile of dismembered bodies wasn’t big enough to be all of them.

  Before my heart could fire one more beat, I heard the muted sounds of an approaching stampede, the scrape of a thousand claws, and the cacophony of hungry shrieks growing closer. I felt the floor shake before the ghouls burst through the opening to our left, crawling on all fours and climbing over each other.

  Wrists bleeding, foot shrieking, blood roaring in my ears, I bolted for Fairuza’s outstretched hand, urged her up the ladder leading to the opening in the wall where I heard water. Hope rode me until the sight of the cavern had my fervor dropping to match the temperature.

  There was no river. Just a pool where the water constantly rippled and lapped the edges.

  The ghouls followed, far fewer and with less infighting, spreading out along the floor.

  I backed away, pushing Fairuza behind me, trembling arms outstretched, fingers clenching and unclenching, desperate to find anything to fight them off with.

  But there was nothing to use as a weapon and no way out of here.

  This was the end of the line.

  The ghouls crawled closer, slowly.

  “What are they doing?” Fairuza pulled me back by the shoulders, her whisper a rough, shaky rasp. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

  The same question looped around my mind like a whirlpool.

  Whirlpool. Water. It had to be diluting our scent.

  “They can’t see us.” My throat loosened with the realization. “And with all the water, they can’t pinpoint our location.”

  But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t keep advancing until they found us.

  As I dreaded, they did, sniffing, open jaws dripping expectant saliva. They knew they were a lunge away from having an arm or a kidney each.

  There was nowhere to run. That left only one thing to do.

  When the first ghoul pounced in our direction, I turned and tackled Fairuza off her feet—and into the deep, dark water.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hitting the cold water felt like breaking through concrete, the bruising shock turning my world black.

  Awareness came with a flash of blue. My eyes were open and there was water and bubbles all around me. Bright spots littered the walls of the pool, just like the tunnels under the palace, shimmering white light through the murkiness.

  For quiet moments I sank, weightless, my hair floating above me, in liquid, encompassing tranquility. I couldn’t even remember if I’d ever known such peace.

  Then the air inside me slowly slipped past my lips in a stream of bubbles and a voice inside my head began to scream. Swim. Swim up or you’ll drown.

  My body didn’t respond until my lungs began to burn and desperation shoved peace aside, then I was thrashing and kicking up. The whole world and our grisly situation crashed back into me the moment I broke the water surface.

  I swam to the nearest wall, the water wobbling loudly around me. I spotted Fairuza struggling, barely making a wave in her efforts to remain afloat.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that she couldn’t swim. It didn’t look like she was going to get the gist of it any time soon.

  I kicked towards her, the water feeling thick and restricting, every movement met with thickening resistance, like I was trudging through honey. I belatedly realized it was my dress. It hadn’t been near as hampering as Fairuza’s on land, but soaked with water, it could drown me, at least keep me from saving Fairuza.

  Struggling out of it had my muscles aching and the burn in my lungs spreading. But I finally kicked it off and struck out towards the floundering and bobbing Fairuza.

  When I reached her, and before I could grab her in the way I’d once seen a lifeguard save a drowning man at Galba, she latched onto me so rabidly we both went under.

  Pressure rose as we sank, squeezing my eyeballs and sinuses and almost bursting my head. Any further down and my heart might burst in its cage.

  Desperate, I kicked, trying to propel us back up towards the greenest glowing opal embedded in the wall. But it was too much. Everything hurt. I was almost out of reserve air, and soon I would faint and we’d both drown.

  The only way we’d float back up was when our corpses became bloated and buoyed themselves back up to the surface.

  We finally hit the wall and she traded me for it as anchor. As the last wisps of precious air deserted me, I pointed up at the rippling surface and grabbed at the wall, using its steadiness and the water’s weightless effect to propel myself upwards. Fairuza followed my lead.

  My lungs were about to pop when I broke through the water with a shrieking gasp. Fairuza emerged the same way then broke into lung-hacking coughs.

  Heaving and trembling, she finally choked, “Why did you do that?”

  “Why do you think?” I gasped, treading water, jerking my head in the direction of the ghouls, who hadn’t given up, but remained by the edge, waiting. “They can’t smell us in here.”

  “But they can hear us.”

  “Yes, but they also can’t swim. It was either this or get eaten.”

  “So we go from dying on land to drowning in water?”

  “It’s not my fault you can’t swim!” My shout interrupted my distressed breathing, launching my own fit of coughs. Head turned up as I struggled for air, I noticed the stalactites melting from the ceiling above us.

  “Where would I learn to swim?”

  “Anywhere! Don’t you have room-sized baths in your castles? Giant pools fit for a king or his whole court?” I swam away until I reached the pool’s edge. Away from the hovering ghouls there was a ledge in the water we could rest on. Fairuza followed me, clinging to the wall until she reached my side. “And you also have no sense of self-preservation. It’s a wonder you’ve lived this long.” I slapped the water, splashing it her way. “We’re here because you couldn’t hold your tongue long enough for us to leave the witch’s home. You had to keep deliberately offending her, all because you couldn’t just let me win one round.”

  She returned my splash, a weak slosh that barely reached me. “This wasn’t about the test!”

  “What else? I was about to win back the necklace and you had to stop it at all costs.”

  “That’s not why I tried to stop you.” She folded trembling forearms on a ledge, not daring to look above. “Witches, fairies, mermaids, any of these things that resemble us only on the surface want nothing but the worst for us. They use their promise of magic to manipulate us until they get what they want. Once we’re no longer useful they curse and torture us!”

  “Is this one of your ridiculous beliefs or do you have proof that Marzeya was going to harm me?” I said snidely. “I find it hard to believe you’d care for my wellbeing.”

  “Do I have to like you to not want you to become her thrall?”

  “No, but you have to have common decency, goodwill towards fellow man and whatnot, which was evidently not on your tutors’ teaching plan.”

  “Would you stop acting like I’m an unfeeling evil fairy?”

  “Then stop acting like one,” I snap
ped. “I’m not buying your answer. Why did you antagonize Marzeya?”

  “Believe it or not, I didn’t want to risk her cursing any of us.” She wiped her face, smoothed back her plastered hair, its soaked state rendering it as black as mine. “And I told you, just because I want you out of the competition, doesn’t mean I want you to die.”

  “Why not? You already tried it before with Cherine.”

  “How many times do I have to say she fell? Do you think I would have remained here if I did truly try to murder her?”

  “Yes. You could do literally anything and remain because the judges want you here. Loujaïne wants you here. You’re a princess and immune to the laws and punishments we’re all dealt with.” All my resentments spilled back, filling me like hot acid, doubling my nausea. “It’s not like you can be fired from your title.”

  “What do you think being a princess is exactly?”

  “Exactly what you are, a pampered, guarded girl who has nothing to need or fear and not much expected from you. All you have to do is be wrapped up in what your life affords you.”

  She scowled at me, droplets rolling down her face like sweat, or tears. “I’m pampered so I wouldn’t complain about being valued only because I’m to be bargained away to whatever kingdom we need to strengthen ties with. And I’m guarded so no one kills me to start a war or prevent an alliance. Does that sound lovely to you?”

  “It does.”

  She goggled at me. “Why?”

  “I’ve been on enough strange and suspect roads to wish I had the extravagantly paved path you’re on, to follow it to a true and tried destination. One I don’t have to worry about or doubt, where I am safe regardless of the reason, all because I am important to many people. That sounds incredibly lovely to me.”

  “How could it?

  “You really have no sense of perspective, do you? Try thinking about it from my position.” I removed one hand from the stone ledge to count. “Someone who is poor, has no family, no connections or ancestral goodwill to fall back on when I’m in need. No good man has any reason to marry me, take me into his family and land because I have nothing and know no one to offer. I barely even know who I am.” Water dripped from my hairline and down my cheeks, in place of the frustrated tears I couldn’t muster. “So, yes, a life like yours would be lovely—where everything is done for me, planned for me, every skill is afforded me, where all I need to know are things that are useless. Where I’m free to be useless.”