by Aaron Kite
“I will do it, Captain. Don’t for a second think I won’t.”
“Hmm? Well, that must explain why I’m so dreadfully nervous,” said Anifail, sounding supremely unconcerned. He gave her a patiently amused smile. “For starters, as I’ve said before, Rhosyn is safe. She’s probably better off than she deserves, considering what my sources tell me she was planning. I mean, kidnapping a princess? I’m no expert, but that certainly seems like the sort of thing one might call ‘treason’. By rights, she should be in the castle dungeon, waiting for some hooded fellow to come along and chop her head off!
“Now, despite how serious an offense this is, I did take into account just how much you care for her, and decided to spare her the indignities of confinement in the dungeon. Wouldn’t want a delicate thing like her stuck all alone in a nasty place like that, would we? Of course not.”
Anifail began inspecting his fingernails, whistling tunelessly.
“Where?” Gwen demanded through clenched teeth, taking a step towards him and raising her arm threateningly. “Tell me where she is! Now!”
“She’s hidden away in a very special place, Princess. It’s a place where nothing can get in or out, save for breathable air. And myself, of course.” Anifail’s smile got bigger. “Nobody else knows where she is… not even your father. Just me. And I’m afraid that’s all I’m going to be telling you, Princess Gwenwyn.” He looked at her in mock disappointment. “I suppose that means you’ll be killing me. Well, I do hope it’s a quick death, and not a long, drawn-out affair like your lady-in-waiting has ahead of her.”
“She… what?” Gwen’s eyes widened. “You said she was safe!”
“Oh, she is, Princess. As safe as can be. Her continued safety, however, does rather unfortunately depend on me visiting her every day. You know, bringing her food, water… trifling things like that. Poor girl.” He feigned sudden comprehension. “Oh, hang on, now I see the dilemma! If you kill me, I’ll no longer be able to provide her with those things, and she’ll die. How dreadful!”
“Maybe I don’t kill you, Captain,” she said, trying as best she could to sound confident. “Maybe I keep you alive, and torture the information out of you, or—”
“I think, perhaps, you don’t appreciate how extraordinarily meaningless your threats are, Princess. Now, despite knowing how difficult it must be for you, I’d suggest you stop and actually think for a moment. You are addressing the one person in the world who knows where your friend is tucked away right now. There is nothing you can threaten me with.”
“Like hell there isn’t! You’ll let her go, or I’ll—”
“Oh dear. I’m starting to suspect you’ll need some sort of demonstration of your impotence,” Anifail said, swinging his legs around and standing up from the bed. He considered Gwen a moment, then cleared his throat. “Alright then little girl, here it is. Threaten me again, and sweet little Rhosyn won’t have a visitor tomorrow. Or the next day… or possibly even the day after. Take a second to think about what that means. No food, no water… just her sitting there, alone, in the dark, wondering what’ll happen next, or if anyone will ever come for her. Now then.” He gestured for her to continue. “You were saying?”
Gwen was so tantalizingly close to freedom she felt like crying. The travel packs at the door, the saddlebags on the table, the pouch of chi’darro, the horses grazing nearby… all of the ingredients necessary for her to leave this place forever. Anifail wouldn’t dare to try to physically stop her; she could simply walk out of here. And yet she couldn’t.
She had everything she needed except for her best friend. There was no way Gwen could leave Rhosyn like this.
And Anifail knew it.
“Alright,” she whispered after several long moments. “I understand. I won’t try to threaten you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but did you think that was the end of the demonstration, Princess?” Anifail reached into a vest pocket with his gloved hand. “No, I’m positive a girl as dense as you requires much, much more convincing than that. Now, here’s a bit of fun. Let’s see if you recognize what this is.”
Anifail drew something from his pocket and held it up so that she might see. Gwen gasped, and instinctively backed away.
It was a geis sphere.
Anifail chuckled.
“Ah, so you do know what it is. Yes, I suspected that after your experience with the first one, even someone as bafflingly stupid as you would learn to recognize them. This one was much cheaper than the last one. This time, instead of spouting off meaningless nothings, you’ll be utterly silent. Nothing but sweet, blissful silence from our princess until it’s destroyed.” He smiled wistfully. “That, or until you plant a kiss on the lips of a certain Prince Gavin, whichever comes first.”
“Don’t touch me with that!” Gwen said, edging away from him.
Anifail pretended to look confused a moment, and he regarded the dull, glassy orb he held.
“Why, it would hardly be an effective demonstration if I simply tricked you into touching it, or forced it upon you, would it?” Anifail chuckled, as though greatly amused. “No, I wouldn’t dream of settling for something like that. Instead, you’re going to ask me to give it to you.”
“What?”
“You are going to ask me, very nicely, if I might allow you the esteemed privilege of putting this new compulsion upon yourself. And then, once that’s done, you’re going to reach out with your bare hand and touch this bauble.”
The sick feeling in Gwen’s stomach intensified as she realized the full extent of her helplessness.
What could she do? If she did anything Anifail didn’t like, Rhosyn would be the one who would end up paying for it.
“If you let Rhosyn go, I’ll take the sphere,” she offered.
“Oh, no no no… that wasn’t what I asked for at all! How about you take a moment, think about your friend, and try once more.”
Once again, it appeared Anifail and her father were one step ahead of her, and there seemed nothing she could do. They were now holding Rhosyn hostage, and would use her to ensure she followed their plan to the letter.
She was trapped.
Gwen slumped her shoulders, defeated.
“I’ll take it,” she said, meekly.
“Oh come now. A princess has better manners than that,” Anifail chided. “Again!”
“Please give it to me,” she whispered, hating the words as they left her mouth.
“Not nearly good enough,” he said, a little bit louder this time, flashing her a smile of grotesque glee. “These will be the last words of yours I hear for quite some time, and I wish to savour them. Beg, Princess.”
Gwen felt the beginnings of tears forming.
“Please, Captain. I… please, let me take that from you. I’ll do as you’ve said.”
Anifail shook his head. “Well, obviously you’re not that accustomed to begging. And you understand, don’t you, what’ll happen if you find some clever way to warn your future husband of your condition? If you do anything but exactly what I or your father tell you do? Tell me, what will happen then?”
“You’ll let Rhosyn die,” Gwen whispered.
“That, or I visit her and do something so, so much worse. Now, knowing how utterly helpless you are, I want you to convince me you understand everything I’ve just told you.” He strode forward and leaned in close enough to whisper into her ear. “Beg. For. It.”
“Please, I—” said Gwen, her voice catching slightly. “I’ll do whatever you and father say. I promise I will. Just please...please don’t hurt Rhosyn!”
Anifail smiled at her.
“Well, because you asked me so nicely, I suppose it’s not too much to ask. Here,” he said, holding the hated sphere out towards her. “You merely have to touch it.”
Shoulders shaking from suppressed sobbing, Gwen reached out with a trembling hand and
touched the top of the sphere with her fingertips. It felt cool, then warm, and a small, familiar shiver passed through her.
“There, now was that so bad?” Anifail asked, pocketing the orb. “I’ll make sure this ends up somewhere safe. Now, we’re absolutely clear? Your cooperation with every aspect of the king’s plan. Your full cooperation. That’s the only thing that will keep your lady-in-waiting alive. If you alert anyone to what you are — the prince, the castle staff, anyone at all — I will be forgetting all about that poor, sweet young girl you’re so fond of. Am I understood?”
Gwen tried saying ‘yes’. When nothing came out, she merely nodded in agreement. A tear trickled down the side of her face, leaving a trail of wetness along her jaw.
“Well, good. Now, kindly return to the castle, with your travel pack, and go to bed. Be sure to return anything that doesn’t belong to you as well. That includes whatever you lifted from your father’s study. The next time you go snooping around there, perhaps you’ll remember to wear shoes, so as not to leave footprints of dead grass throughout the garden lawn. Oh, and Princess?” He gave her a particularly nasty grin. “When I see you again, I’ll expect you to be looking very, very contrite. Head bowed, eyes lowered, treating me with respectful deference, that sort of thing. I believe it’s safe to say your friend Rhosyn sincerely hopes you do a particularly terrific job of it.”
He sat back down on the bed, sighed contentedly to himself, and then gave her a wave of dismissal, as though he was shooing away a pet.
Picking up her pack, Gwen hurried out of the room and fled into the night, sobbing noiselessly.
Chapter 15
Gwen somehow managed to spend even more time sitting in her room, staring out her window in despair as the days slowly turned into weeks. She hardly slept, and when she did she’d end up having nightmares featuring her struggling helplessly, trapped in some inescapable, terrifying scenario or another.
She spent a good deal of time taking care of the horses, since Rhosyn couldn’t perform the daily chores that needed doing. It wasn’t the horses’ fault that their keeper wasn’t around to attend them, and it hardly seemed fair to Gwen that they suffer as a consequence. Servants and staff around the castle likely thought it was strange, a princess doing stable work herself, but she really didn’t care. Tending horses was actually one of the only sources of real pleasure she had these days.
Her only real contact with anybody occurred when she was summoned to the dining hall for her daily meals, which were still being supervised.
Occasionally she’d find Bryn and Anifail there as well, eating a quick meal while taking care of whatever scrap of castle business had occupied their attention. Half the time they didn’t pay her any mind at all, practically ignoring her as she sat there and ate. There were moments, however, where she’d catch one of them regarding her with a smirk, or chuckling over some whispered comment the other had made.
Gwen would do her level best to ignore them both, eating her food in silence, and then quickly retreating to the isolation and comparative solace of her bedroom.
Once there, she would just stare out the window, considering her situation, wondering about her best friend, and generally just thinking in circles.
She’d come up with some idea or clever plan, and her thoughts would immediately return to Rhosyn’s predicament, how she was being held hostage for her cooperation. Often, Gwen thought about trying to follow Anifail to find out where he’d imprisoned Rhosyn, but every time she considered doing it she began to think of what would happen if she was caught. If she showed even the slightest amount of resistance at this stage, or if it was discovered she was planning anything at all, it would probably go very badly for Rhosyn.
It didn’t stop her from staring out the window, thinking of things she might do and then immediately dismissing them, wishing things were somehow different. She’d thought she’d felt trapped before, when Prince Tremaine had been her unlucky suitor, but that was nothing compared to this. It was like a spiritual noose sitting around her neck, with her helpless to do anything about it.
When the day finally came that she caught glimpse of a royal procession approaching the castle gates, Rhegar’s colours flying merrily in the wind, it was as though she could feel that noose tightening, making it difficult for her to breathe.
Gwen knew it was just a matter of time before she was told to come downstairs and meet her newest suitor, and she dreaded the summons. She was once again wearing that long, flowing dress she’d worn upon Prince Tremaine’s arrival, the one she simultaneously loved and hated. Just as before, she had no idea what she could do to avoid what seemed inevitable at this point.
Really, what could she do? Her only hope was that she might find a way to prevent this marriage without it appearing to have anything to do with her, and how exactly was she supposed to do that? If something went wrong and the wedding was called off, her father and Anifail would naturally assume she had something to do with it.
The sound of slippers on her bedroom stairs came much sooner than she’d anticipated, a mere half-hour after she’d first spied the Rhegarian convoy in the distance. When it sounded like her visitor had arrived at the top of the stairs there was a few seconds of anxious silence, followed by a tentative knock at her door.
“Princess?” an older woman’s voice called from beyond the door. “Your father sends for you. Your presence is required in the rose garden.”
Gwen walked over to the door so that she might open it and give the speaker, whoever it was, a quick smile of thanks. However, in the few seconds it took for her to get there, she could already hear the woman hastily retreating back down the tower stairs.
The rumours had been getting worse and worse. Most of the staff avoided her entirely now, throwing her fearful, worried looks from time to time. On the rare occasion when she did walk into a room and encounter servants or other castle staff talking to one another, they would often stop their conversation mid-sentence and regard her warily, as though they’d just been talking about her, or were suddenly afraid she’d order them hanged. In fact, a few days ago, she’d overheard a conversation where a chambermaid professed to hate ‘that spoiled brat of a princess’ who no longer even deigned it necessary to speak to lowly servants such as them.
Though it seemed incredibly unfair, she resolved not to think about all the rumours or other things that were being said about her, because it wasn’t helpful. Gwen already knew she was entirely alone in this, and dwelling on that fact or getting upset wouldn’t do her any good at this stage. She needed to keep her head clear, and her eyes open for opportunity. After all, things had looked impossible before, when Prince Tremaine had come, and she’d still managed to find a way out then, hadn’t she?
She could find a way out of this mess yet. She just had to pay attention, wait for her opportunity, and be ready for it when it came.
Gwen didn’t bother to adjust her dress or inspect herself in the mirror. She merely walked out her door and headed down to the garden, just as she’d been asked to do. She’d been instructed to wear this dress today, but nobody had specifically told her to do her hair, put on jewelry, or spend any time at all on how she otherwise looked. Though it was little more than token rebellion, she resolved to ignore the spirit of what she was asked to do whenever possible and do the absolute bare minimum whenever she was ordered to do something.
The long journey down the various halls and stairwells seemed to take forever. When she finally got to the garden, she almost didn’t recognize it.
There were gaily decorated poles and bunting everywhere, as well as some lawn furniture and parasols Gwen had never seen before. The area was also abuzz with activity — dozens of servants scurried about, making small adjustments to this or that, smoothing out whatever imperfections they were able to find. Elegant flower pots and tree planters lined the edges of the garden, arranged in an artful and considered fashion. She was also
surprised to see three large peacocks wandering about, idly inspecting their unfamiliar surroundings.
A white gazebo now sat in the very middle of the widest part of the main garden path, looking as though it had always belonged there. Standing within it, appearing to be in the middle of a discussion, were Bryn and Anifail.
This whole setup seemed rather odd to Gwen. Most times foreign ministers and royal dignitaries were greeted by the king in the throne room, not in the rose garden. What reason could they have to meet outside?
Gwen headed for the gazebo. She arrived just in time to catch the tail end of what her father was saying.
“—control his hounds. If he had, maybe we’d still have four peacocks, and not three!”
“He is being whipped as we speak, Highness,” Anifail said, in about as apologetic a tone as he ever used.
“Hmph. Well, good,” Bryn sniffed, turning his attention to Gwen and furrowing his brow at her. “Gwenwyn, we’ll be meeting Prince Gavin and the rest of his escort from Rhegar. You are to stand behind me, at this spot.” He pointed to a section of the gazebo floor. “Do nothing except curtsey when mentioned or addressed. Oh, and do something about your hair, would you?”
Gwen gave a small curtsey of acquiescence, her eyes lowered and her head bowed. She made her way over to the spot where her father had pointed, doing her best to ignore the amused expression on Anifail’s face as she did so. Once there, she stood as straight-backed as she could, staring off into the distance.
A few seconds later, Anifail sauntered over and stood beside her.
“Hair,” he breathed quietly. “Now. Or someone goes hungry tonight.”
Gwen gritted her teeth, and ran her fingers through her hair a few times, brushing it back over her shoulders and away from her face. Anifail grunted quietly, and then went to stand on the other side of the king.
They stood there in the shade of the gazebo for nearly fifteen minutes, leaving Gwen with little to do aside from watching the peacocks wander bemusedly around the garden. She quickly became so bored from just standing there that she began to fidget, and when the first signs of a flag-bearing procession could be seen she was actually the tiniest bit relieved, despite her anxiety.