Misfit Princess

by Nadia Jacques

  Checking pulses, she tied up the guards who were still alive. It was most of them. Three dead guards, and they’d only lost the man whose name she hadn’t managed to learn. Once she found out what it was, she would remember it forever.

  “What are we going to do with them?” asked Marie, walking in the door followed by several dozen children. She cast unimpressed eyes over the lot. “We can’t just leave them there.”

  “We can put them in the children’s bunk room,” replied Grace. “You said it barred from the outside.”

  It took a combined effort of adults to drag the bodies into the room and bar the door. They sent a trio of older children to fetch the adults Alex had left at the camp with George. At some point, another wave of adults joined them, led by a triumphant Marie.

  They were all exhausted by the time they’d finished the work and gone back to the children, who had taken over the card games in the lounge area.

  A little boy of around three years of age tugged on Grace’s sleeve. “I’m hungry,” he said. “Can we have something to eat?”

  “I know where the food is,” said George. He shuffled out of an inconspicuous corner. “Come on.”

  Grace went with him. The storeroom had the feel of a root cellar, kept a constant temperature by the heat of the earth. Shelves lined the room from floor to ceiling. Some of them had sacks and baskets on them. Looking inside one, Grace found potatoes. It wasn’t fancy, but it seemed nutritious. She found an empty basket and began to load it up.

  It made another small piece of reality very clear, though. “This isn’t going to last,” said Marie. She surveyed the half-full shelves before beginning to fill a basket of her own. “Do you have another source of food?”

  Grace’s stomach clenched. “The mountains here are pretty bare, and it was hard enough to forage for just a few of us.”

  Marie reached out and wordlessly lifted a sack of potatoes. They were all running the same calculations in their head.

  “The supply truck would have come tomorrow,” said George. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”

  It could be food, or it could be a truck full of armed guards wanting to know why they hadn’t received a transmission. “We can’t risk it,” Grace said, hating to admit it. “We need to get out of here.”

  Marie nodded. “I’ll get the rest of the camp,” she said. “We can leave in the morning, after a proper meal.”

  Sitting uneasily at one of the tables, Grace poked at her bowl of stew with a spoon. Some of the people who had stayed behind at the camp had taken over dinner preparations with more enthusiasm than skill. Others were filling packs with food, trying to choose the best traveling food from a stock chosen because it was cheap and could be hauled in by cart without spoiling. Still more hands organized activities for the children, filling the room with shrieks of laughter.

  The surfeit of capable and eager helping hands had collectively shunted Grace to the side. At least none of the people with medical experience had fussed at her. The worst she’d gotten was a nasty facial bruise.

  Sliding in next to her, Alex put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “You have your proof,” she said, very quietly. “They’ll come with you back to Coura.”

  “Negotiating on my behalf?” said Grace. She gave a chunk of potato a vicious jab.

  “It came up,” said Alex noncommittally. “Are you okay?”

  Grace put her spoon down. “I will be,” she said, watching the little boy shove back from the table and run off to his mother. “I just feel useless.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Alex, before they were interrupted. Marie had slid into a chair opposite them.

  She reached out and caught Grace’s wrist between two hands. “The guards,” she said.

  Grace grinned, easy with at least that part of it. “Not so scary now, huh?”

  Marie shook her head. “We can’t leave them there to starve.”

  The rush of victory drained from Grace, and she was suddenly very tired. “We can’t. But we need to get the children out of here, and we can’t let them stop us.”

  “So we leave them with a way to get free that will give us enough of a head start,” Alex said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

  “What about George?” asked Marie. “The others won’t be kind to him when they realize how much he betrayed them.”

  “We’ll take him with us,” said Grace, with finality.

  She watched as Alex stood and walked away, like she had everything under control.

  Chapter 15

  They had leftover stew again the next morning. It did not improve with age, but it would fuel them on the trip. The consensus was that if they shoveled it in fast enough, they could move beyond the lackluster flavor and get moving. They left the mines shortly after dawn.

  The trip was immediately more relaxed, because they did not care so much about going unseen. The bright chatter of the children meant that keeping the group quiet would prove difficult.

  “Why didn’t you try to escape?” Grace asked Marie, idly, as they walked along the mountainside. “I didn’t do much.”

  “You gave us hope,” said Marie, quietly. “It was not so bad, except when it was terrible. We didn’t know where we were, and we didn’t know how to start. We tried to think of a way out -- of course we tried -- but in the end we thought it would be safer to stay.”

  Marie’s eyelashes glittered. She blinked fiercely.

  Carefully, Grace gazed into the sun, averting her eyes. It was very bright.

  “My mother’s farm in Geneana isn’t far from the mountains,” said Marie after a pause. “There are some children who are without parents.”

  “Rob?” asked Grace. She had learned the name of the man who had died.

  “And others, who died before. There was one man, who had a heart condition. The batons, they do not help with that.” She grimaced. “I don’t know all of what happened before we were there. What matters now is getting to safety. My mother will take in the little ones who have no one now.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Grace. There was no way they could have spoken.

  “She has been lonely,” said Marie. “I will ask when they get there, but we will move faster with fewer little ones. I think she will say yes.”

  It occurred to Grace that there was something missing. “Where are your children?”

  Marie laughed. “My husband has been watching them,” she said. “I thought I could be more useful helping you.”

  “I appreciate it,” Grace said. “So you’ll all stay with her, then?”

  “I thought I might go with you,” she said.

  “You won’t miss your family?”

  It was several moments before Marie answered, and Grace worried that she’d asked too personal a question.

  “I will miss them,” Marie said at last. “But it won’t be over until we’ve finished it.”

  They continued the walk in silence.

  Because they knew what they were looking for, they found the tunnel through the mountain before sundown and were able to take shelter there overnight.

  The trek under the mountain was even more unpleasant than it had been before. In spite of the torches, the darkness upset several of the children. A handful of adults also showed visible signs of stress, though they bore it quietly.

  The collective sigh of relief was nearly audible as they exited the tunnel two days later and made their way down the mountain.

  Marie began to lead the way, and Grace relaxed a bit. The trip had been highly uneventful, even in the face of crying children. They could win this.

  A cluster of familiar-looking buildings appeared on the horizon. They were approaching the farm from a different angle, but Grace thought she knew where they were going.

  “What’s funny?” asked Alex from Grace’s side, where they were bringing up the rear.

  Grace shook her head. “You’ll see, if I’m right.”

  A squawking of chickens came from the farm as
they neared it. A woman had begun to, her flock at her heels loudly protesting the way their basket of feed had been taken from them in the middle of lunchtime.

  Marie broke off from the party and ran to meet her. “Mama,” Marie said, falling into Sophie’s arms and burying her face in her hair.

  “You’ve lost weight,” said Sophie, face beaming in spite of her acid voice, looking at her daughter as if she could not believe what she was seeing.

  The group had begun to rummage in their packs for lunch.

  “None of that,” said Sophie, when she saw what they were doing. “We’ll cook something hot.”

  Grace didn’t begrudge them the hours lost. It was a bit of a break, she thought. They all deserved it.

  When Sophie pulled her aside to thank her, Grace thought she might not deserve it. “I hardly did anything,” she said.

  “You brought my daughter back,” said Sophie, simply. “You brought me my family.”

  Explaining that it hadn’t been deliberate seemed churlish, so Grace thanked her and escaped to the safety of Alex’s company.

  They made it to the town by sunset.

  As they passed through Geneana, more and more people broke away from the party. They were able to travel more and more efficiently, left with a core group of those who had fought and those whose homes had been in Coura proper.

  Panic tried to rise in Grace’s chest as she thought about what welcome waited for her in Coura. Though the trip took them several days, Grace felt like it went too quickly. She refused to give the fear a foothold and plowed on doggedly as they crossed the border.

  They walked into the capital city in a column, half the number that they had liberated from the mines in the Arrosan-Geneanan mines. The mood had changed palpably from the grim trek out of the mountains. For many of the people in her group, they were coming back to Coura. Even though almost none of them had lived in the capital, and only a few more had ever been to the bazaar, it was their country and their people.

  It felt different from any other time that Grace had come home. She had led groups home, but it wasn’t the extraordinary size of this group that set this time apart.

  Bile churned in her stomach at each step she took along the brown-dirt path between the stone-and-tile walls of the buildings. She didn’t know what welcome to expect. By rights, she had broken the law when she escaped the queen’s summons. Depending on what bargains Arrosa had brokered, she might be charged with treason.

  There was a pause when they reached the front door of the manse. Even those people had probably not had much call to visit the very rulers of Coura itself. Grace herself hesitated, and she had walked through this door dozens of times every month since she’d been old enough to move under her own power.

  Alex touched Grace’s elbow, a quiet gesture of support.

  “Come on,” Grace said, and threw the door open. She walked through the door, feeling the sun disappear off her cheeks as she walked into the cool hallways.

  There wasn’t time for fear now. She let anger warm her now, anger that halls of her home had grown strange to her after nearly two seasons away. Though she still knew the texture of the floors, every turn and passage in the building, she would not go back to her room or the library or the gym-- any of her usual haunts.

  It was lunch time. The dining hall would be full. Just as well for everyone to hear the story she had to tell.

  Marie and Alex, walking to either side of her, opened the heavy double doors to the dining hall.

  She could see easily across the room to where her mother sat, effortlessly drawing respect as usual. Again, her father sat to her right, her brother William to her left. She had not seen them since she left Coura, had not heard from them except in reprimand. There was Petra, and if Dylan sat next to her, she ignored it. This had been taken from her, she thought, and let rage roar fire-hot in her ears.

  A hush had swept over the room at her entrance. The emotions must be swirling through the room, Grace thought, because even she could feel wispy currents of anger, of confusion, of pain. Even in such a small dose, it was not a pleasant cocktail.

  Pitching her voice so that all could hear her across the quietened room, she called out. “Queen Maura, I have brought home your people who were taken from their homes and forced to work in the Arrosan mines. There are more still imprisoned we were unable to rescue.” Grace continued walking through the room towards the queen while people flooded into the hall behind her.

  The queen put down her fork very slowly. “That is a very serious accusation.”

  Holding her gaze steady on the Queen’s, Grace gestured to the people behind her. “I believe I have brought enough witnesses. Your Arbiters will be able to verify.”

  The noise of a fork falling onto ceramic dishes clattered from down the table. “It’s too much to bear.” The legs of Petra’s chair scraped back noisily, all grace abandoned.

  Finally, Grace allowed herself to look over at Petra. She had missed her sister so much. She watched as Dylan helped Petra to her feet, took her arm as he escorted her from the room. Her belly was perceptibly round, and Grace felt half a pang of guilt for what she must be feeling.

  “Something has to be done,” her mother said, pushing out of her throne with more composure than Petra had managed. “But it need not be done here.”

  “We have traveled far, and my people are hungry,” Grace replied. “We have chosen our delegates.”

  “Then the rest of your party shall stay here, and enjoy a lunch with our staff, while we discuss what will happen next.” Queen Maura swept from the room, and Grace followed with Alex and Marie at her side.

  When they walked in, Dylan had Petra’s hands clasped in his. The intimacy of the moment made Grace want to step back out, but there was work to be done. Grace looked at the low, plain ceiling. Though the table was heavy wood surrounded by ornate chairs and a rotation of art from every corner of the continent hung on the walls, it had been built as a room for dealing with practical matters. It still showed in the architecture.

  Grace studied a pastoral landscape from Myriara to avoid making eye contact.

  “I swear I had no idea,” Dylan was saying.

  Petra nodded, still looking a little queasy. “I believe you.”

  “But of course there is no way to prove that,” Queen Maura. She glided into her seat at the end of the table, assuming authority over the room like she was putting on a comfortable, well-worn coat.

  “Mom,” Petra protested.

  The queen held up a hand for silence. “The first thing we need to do is ensure the safety and freedom of our people.”

  “It’s obvious what we need to do,” Grace cut in, prepared to make a show of strength. “We take the army and go back for the rest of our people.”

  Automatically, she braced herself for the argument, for the lecture on how force is never an option.

  “I think that’s the only choice we have,” said Petra, very quietly.

  Grace blinked. The entire room fell silent.

  The silence lasted a handful of thick moments before the queen said: “I agree. Unless anyone else has a better idea, we need to prepare for war. Grace?”

  She hadn’t actually thought it through. She’d thought there would be days left of arguing, days left to formulate strategy based on what concessions she managed to wangle. She had not expected to be given room to operate, and she froze.

  Alex reached over and squeezed her hand. Marie gripped her shoulder.

  “I need Derrick.” The words tumbled out of Grace’s mouth at the same time they passed through her brain. “We’ll need food, volunteers, transportation. Probably back through Geneana. They’ll have figured out we know what’s going on. I don’t know what all their new war machines can do.”

  “What?” There was shock written over Dylan’s face.

  It seemed real enough to Grace, but she couldn’t completely stop her mouth from twisting into a sneer. “No mention of machines that can rip chunks off of mount
ains during cocktail parties in Arrosa?”

  He had gone very, very pale. “No.”

  Frustrated, Grace called up the memory in her mind, the strange scents, the way the ground had shaken under her feet. She jarred back to reality when Alex jabbed her in the ribs. Looked up and across the table.

  Petra looked like she was going to be sick.

  “I never saw anything like that,” said Marie, very slowly. “But it explains why they wanted all that metal. The scum.”

  “Right. We’re not getting anywhere sitting here. Time is now our enemy.” Grace shoved back from the table, stood. “Petra, can you figure out what’s available that we can bring with us? William, if you could reach out to Geneana and see what aid they can lend, negotiate passage for us. Their citizens are impacted as well. Perhaps Marie can help speak to it. Father, please see what options we have to speed our travel. I’ll put out the call to the militia, and…” Her mind went blank as she tried to figure out if she was forgetting something.

  At that point she realized that she’d just given a room of people assignments, and all of them technically outranked her in one way or another. She swallowed heavily and dropped back into her chair.

  The queen stood. “And I will see how much of the city guard we can feasibly lend you. Thank you, Grace.” She glided from the room, and the rest of its occupants slowly began to follow suit.

  When the room was nearly empty, William paused by the chair where Grace still sat, slightly dazed.

  “You have done an immeasurable service for our country,” he said.

  How could he think that when there were so many more people left to rescue? “I’ve barely done anything else; there was nothing else I could do,” Grace protested.

  “Nevertheless, you have more than earned the right to wear the crown.”

  Grace snorted. “You have to be kidding me.”

  William had taken on the carefully relaxed pose he only adopted when he was trying to convince particularly stubborn diplomats of the virtue of his position. “It is a great honor--”