Just Ella

by Annette K. Larsen

  “Nothing to say?” he demanded, pulling me closer to his sneering face.

  “I’m sorr—”

  “You know.” His blurry eyes cleared a little as they raked over me. “Walking alone can be a dangerous undertaking, miss.”

  He clamped his hand over my mouth, spinning my back to him and wrapping his other arm around me, pinning my arms to my sides.

  How had this happened? How could I have been so foolish?

  The man was easily three times my size and had his hand so firmly over my mouth that my attempt at screams could not possibly have been heard by anyone. He heaved me off my feet and carried me easily toward the dark wood. I kicked and I flailed, hoping I was close enough to the palace walls to be seen, but it was useless. No one knew where I was. No one would notice me missing until morning.

  All at once, my attacker stopped walking and his grip slackened as my mind registered the sound of heavy breathing. Crumpling to the ground as he released his grip on me, I turned to see him trying to loosen the arms circling his neck. I pulled in a deep breath and screamed when I realized a second man was slowly but surely cutting off my attacker’s air supply. The brute swung his arms over his head, trying to hit the man whose arms were cutting off his air. Unable to land a blow, he sank to his knees, then fell on his face, unconscious. I looked up at the man who had defended me, praying his intentions were not sinister. My kerchief had come off in the struggle, and the wind blew my hair over my face, obscuring my view. I pushed it out of my face, wanting to know if I needed to flee.

  I swallowed—not out of fear, but out of a different sort of panic. It was Gavin. What little air remained in my lungs was forced out by the weight that settled solidly onto my chest. He stood larger than he had been—much more solid. Any boyishness was entirely gone, and it was intimidating. He took a step forward, reaching out his hand, then stopped himself, closed his fist and stepped back again. I opened my mouth to try and say something, but a guard from the wall above cried out and my attention was diverted. I heard the incoherence of shouted orders. My scream had alerted the guard and they were coming to investigate.

  I heard the rumble of orders being given and men running about, but then Gavin turned to me. And as I looked up at Gavin, whose chest heaved and whose eyes bore into mine, a strange deafening silence filled my ears. I slowly stood, never letting my eyes leave his, the wind blowing my mass of curls into a tangled mess behind me. My shawl had fallen and blown away, as had my kerchief. I didn’t care. I stood straight, my breath rolling through my body as I allowed myself to savor his presence. Somehow, his gaze sustained me, giving me strength. It had been so long since I had felt this way, I didn’t want to miss even the smallest moment. My lower lip trembled as a solitary tear slipped down my cheek, but still I just stood there, allowing that feeling to wash over me, to fill me up until—

  Voices. They came into my consciousness slowly, as though my mind were hesitant to let them in. Only a few guards rounded the corner tower to investigate. I turned toward them and the man in the lead stopped dead. “It’s the princess!” he shouted and ran headlong at me.

  I turned back to Gavin, but my eyes were drawn beyond him. The man who had attacked me had regained consciousness and was starting to rise. When Gavin heard my startled yelp, he spun to see the man rising and protectively pushed me aside just as the soldiers reached us. The commotion tripled as a dozen unseen guards descended upon us. They surrounded me in a flurry of motion, dragging me away. I tried to keep my eyes on Gavin, but only managed a glimpse or two.

  As the guards escorted me—rather roughly—toward the palace, they shouted panicked questions at me, trying to ascertain my well-being. I answered as well as my scattered thoughts would allow. I arrived in the great hall still disoriented, surrounded by guards, but came to an abrupt halt when Jeshua captured me, wrapping me in his arms. I stiffened and heard him ask, “My darling, are you all right?”

  His voice made me cringe, most especially because he called me ‘darling.’ I didn’t respond, just stood there with my arms hanging at my sides, staring ahead as he babbled on, asking me about my clothing. I shook from the panic or from the cold—I didn’t know which. I wanted to be held, to be wrapped in someone’s arms—but not his.

  My father’s entrance was a welcome distraction.

  He pulled me into a fleeting, stiff hug. “Ariella.” His voice was cold, barely restrained.

  “Father.” My voice was a monotone and shook only slightly as he pushed me away to look me over.

  “Are you hurt?” His question seemed unnecessary. I knew the captain had already given him a full report. At the same time, he looked slightly vulnerable, and I wondered if perhaps I had frightened him.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Follow me.” He turned and strode swiftly and stiffly toward the passage leading to his office. I followed in silence, trying to keep pace with his long stride but feeling as though I were moving through molasses. When we reached his office, I barely made it through the door before he slammed it shut.

  “Sit,” he barked without looking at me. I obeyed as he circled his desk. I expected him to sit in the chair there, but instead he stared at the books lining the back wall with his hands on his hips, shifting his weight in an agitated manner.

  In truth he was more than agitated. He was trying not to lash out physically. Not that he would strike me, but I feared for the books, and even more for the statuettes sitting on the shelves. I didn’t know how to act. My father had never disciplined me in person. He left that to my mother, or my tutors, or a note sent by a page.

  After a silent minute, he finally turned. “Is this about the gardener?” he demanded.

  My stomach tightened and I involuntarily sucked in a quick breath. I had been ready to defend myself, to fight back, regardless of the fact that this man was both my father and the king. But the mention of Gavin kept me silent. I stared at the floor, afraid the moisture in my eyes would show.

  He raised his voice. “Ariella, is this about the gardener?”

  Yes, I answered in my mind, this is about Gavin, how could it not be?

  “It is, isn’t it? Did you go and meet him tonight?”

  “Meet him?” I asked incredulously. Meet him? For what purpose? So he could show off his intended bride and break my heart even more thoroughly?

  “Yes, meet him. Did you meet him? Did you two have a plan to meet and—”

  “No.” I stopped him before he could accuse me of the one thing I wanted.

  “Ariella, you will tell me the truth.” His voice was barely controlled.

  “I have.” My voice sounded calm, much calmer than I felt. “I did not meet him. I did not plan to meet him. I…”

  “Well then what could you possibly have been thinking going out on your own, without telling anyone?” I caught a hint of concern before his anger took over. “Where did you go? Why would—”

  “I went into the village.”

  His nostrils flared as he tried to breath steadily. “Why?”

  “Because I’m suffocating.” If I had been thinking about my responses, I would certainly have said something else, but this conversation was causing me to be very honest. Because I was suffocating—very slowly, very painfully suffocating.

  My father rocked back. “What are you talking about?”

  “Father, I don’t—” I broke off, hesitant. “I don’t feel as though I have a purpose—or maybe that isn’t the best way to put it. I don’t know what is expected of me. Am I honestly supposed to do nothing but look the part? I feel as though my days are filled with nothing, just mindless tasks and diversions with no point to them. Is that all that is expected of me?”

  My father said nothing. This worried me; I had never seen my father speechless and I didn’t know what it meant. Was he angry? Did he think me impertinent? Was he surprised, shocked? I couldn’t tell.

  I don’t think he knew either, because he chose to ignore what I had said and changed the subject entirely.
“Your engagement celebration will be held next week.” He started rifling through the papers on his desk as though this news should have no more affect on me than news of the weather.

  Now I was speechless. An engagement celebration? Had I allowed things to get this far out of control? Did my father honestly believe I would marry Jeshua? There were no coherent thoughts that I could voice, so I turned to leave.

  Then I stopped myself. I may have let it get this far, but it would go no further. My mother had assured me that my father would never give me to anyone. I was about to test her theory.

  Turning back, I remembered something Gavin had once told me. You say no.

  “No.”

  The king’s hands froze and he slowly looked up at me. “Excuse me?”

  “I am not engaged, Father.” My voice was quiet, but firm.

  “But you will be by next week.” He went back to sorting things as though this settled the matter. Funny that though I was his daughter, he still treated this as though it were a business transaction.

  “No, I won’t.” I spoke as calmly as ever, willing myself to keep standing straight.

  “Jeshua will be proposing in the next week and—”

  “I have no interest in marrying Jeshua.”

  His hands stilled and his eyes came up slowly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jeshua may propose as many times as he wishes, but you may want to warn him that he will certainly not be accepted.”

  The papers dropped from his hands. “If that gardener has jumbled your head so much that you—”

  “That gardener has a name. And my refusal has nothing to do with Gavin.”

  I could see my father fighting to keep his composure, so I tried to explain. “I really don’t know how I could have given the impression that I was interested in Jeshua in any way. My sisters may find something in him to be admired, but to me he has been nothing but repulsive. He cares for no one but himself, least of all me.” Shock crossed his features at my declaration, but he also appeared much more calm, so I continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before now, but I hoped my actions would be taken into account and that perhaps…it would all go away. I don’t know.” I looked at the floor. I was uncomfortable making such a speech to the king, and my words failed me.

  “You have no affection for Jeshua?” Obviously this was not something he had anticipated.

  “No, Father.” I spoke clearly but kept my eyes down.

  “Did you ever, in years past, have a regard for him?”

  The conversation I had overheard years before by my waterfall came clearly to my mind. “Never, sir.” I raised my head, and seeing that he was not going to immediately speak again, decided to clarify. “When I was young he frightened me, but as the years went by, I realized he was selfish and domineering. I don’t like him, Father. I don’t respect him. I can hardly stand him.” I did not mean to be overly critical; after all, Jeshua was a Prince of Tride. But I also wanted to leave no question about my feelings.

  He looked at me for a moment, as though seeing something in me for the first time, and was on the verge of speaking when a knock sounded at his door.

  A messenger was allowed to enter and handed the king a roll of parchment, which he read as the messenger exited and then summarized for me. “Your attackers have been dealt with.” Attackers? “They have both been arrested.” Both?

  “Father, only one man attacked me.”

  He glanced up briefly, then back down, unconcerned. “There were two men at the scene when the guards found you. You probably only saw one, but there was another.”

  “No, I’m very sure there was only one—”

  Dread filled me so quickly that my knees nearly collapsed. There were two men found. Of course there were. One was the man who had indeed attacked me, but the other man saved me. The other was Gavin. “Oh, no…”

  I didn’t ask permission to leave. My feet carried me from my father’s office and I was running before I had the conscious thought to do so. Running through the great hall, I was vaguely aware of Jeshua. He reached out to me but I refused to be hindered. I must have looked ridiculous. Not only was I running flat out through the corridors and halls of a palace, but I still wore the dress of a commoner. I didn’t care. I would not let Gavin suffer, not for me.

  As I raced outside and down the palace steps, I came upon Marilee. I begged her cloak away from her, and she handed it over, clearly appalled by my appearance, but perfectly willing to help. I continued to run, flinging the cloak around myself and pulling up the hood.

  For the first time in many years, the authority I had been born into would be put to use. I would find whoever was holding Gavin and they would do as I asked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Giving Orders

  I HAD NEVER been anywhere near the prison before. Thus my forcing my way past guard upon guard to get through the entrance caused many blank stares, many questions of what to do with me, and much confusion when I ordered them to tell me where they were keeping their most recent prisoners.

  “The men who attacked you, Highness?” asked a confused young guard. “They are being interrogated, of course.”

  “Only one man attacked me. The other is entirely innocent. In fact, he saved me from the man who did attack me.”

  “Your Highness, both men have implicated the other. We must do a full—”

  “I know what happened and I demand you release him.”

  “But Highness—”

  “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “The prisoner. Not the massive, drunk man who did attack me, but the other man, where is he?”

  He bumbled for a moment.

  “Who is interrogating him?” I demanded.

  “The captain, Your Highness.”

  “Go get him this instant and tell him he must talk to me before this interrogation goes any further.”

  He stuttered, then gave a hasty bow and hurried down the corridor to my right, disappearing through a door halfway down. The captain of the guard emerged moments later. “Princess Ariella.” He bowed low, then looked up, puzzled. “I understand there is some problem?”

  “I was attacked by one man. One. The other man, who you are now interrogating, delivered me from the other.”

  The captain blanched, a look a horror crossing his face. “You are certain, Your Highness?” He sounded as though he hoped I was not. Uneasiness stole over me.

  I brushed past him, intent on the door I had seen him come out of. “Of course I am sure.”

  The captain overtook me and blocked me from opening the door. “Princess, I beg you to allow me to take care of this.”

  My unease increased. “Stand aside, or open the door for me.” He remained where he was for the space of a heartbeat then closed his eyes and opened the door.

  I had imagined Gavin sitting in a chair, answering questions. That was not the case. His bound hands had been looped with a rope that connected to the ceiling. He had been hoisted by his wrists so much that his toes barely touched the floor. His breathing sounded shallow and labored, his eyes pinched in pain.

  I gave an unintelligible yell of horror and rushed to him. “Get him down!” I screamed. My command was unnecessary. The captain was already there, lowering him to the ground. Gavin tried to steady himself but his legs wouldn’t hold him. I tried to catch him, but my strength was insufficient, so I only succeeded in breaking his fall as his weight brought me to my knees.

  Gavin grunted as we hit the floor, then started pulling in great deep breaths. His eyes stayed closed as he slowly tried to make his muscles work again after being locked in the same position. I tried to calculate how long he might have been here. A quarter of an hour? More? Had he been strung up the entire time? I turned to the soldier I had spoken to and ordered him to get water. The captain untied Gavin’s hands and I just stared at him, his head cradled in my hands, trying to think what I should do.

  The water arrived just as his hands were fr
eed. I snatched it from the guard. “Now, both of you, get out!” They hesitated, so I turned to glare at them. “Go!” They left.

  I watched the door slam and couldn’t make myself look back at Gavin. What had he suffered because of me? I shut my eyes as tears of shame and aching sympathy forced their way down my face. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed out, letting my forehead drop to his shoulder as I continued to mumble, “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…”

  I heard him breathe in and hold it for a moment as if afraid to let it out for fear of pain. “I’m fine,” he breathed out.

  This falsehood made my heart hurt ten times over. “You’re not fine.” I remembered the water and instantly pulled my head up. “You must drink this.” My hand shook as I lifted his head and tried to put the cup to his lips with the other. Much of it spilled down his chin and I felt useless and ridiculous as I fussed over him, wanting to help and not knowing how. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I said again.

  He covered my hand where it held the cup and helped me to guide it more steadily to his mouth. After several swallows he laid his head back on the floor. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  I stifled a sob. “No, you’re not. What did they do to you?” My voice sounded hysterical.

  “Nothing of consequence. It hadn’t progressed very far yet. And in a moment I will stand on my own and prove to you that I really am fine.”

  “They weren’t interrogating you, they were torturing you.”

  He lifted a shoulder in what could only be described as a shrug. “That’s the way it goes.”

  I stared at him. “How can you say that? It’s not right, you didn’t do anything wrong!”

  “I was suspected in connection with an attack on a royal—a princess, no less. Of course they would use drastic measures to interrogate me.”

  “But—”

  “They know I’ve taken you away from the palace before. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near you, Princess. But when I saw you alone in the village—” his lips tightened and his nostrils flared. “You cannot be out alone.” It sounded like a reprimand—it probably was. “I could not let you return alone.”