by W.J. May
Chapter 3
Sarah jumped when something resembling a cockroach—only much bigger and grosser—scurried over her foot. Water dripped onto the dirt floor from the craggy ceiling in an annoying and never-ending rhythm. Dark, rusty, ominous chains hung from the wall; she was glad the knights had spared her from being bound by them. A pile of bloodied, filthy rags were clumped together in the corner. She cringed, wondering if they used to be someone’s clothes. A putrid stench hung thickly in the air, but even that paled in comparison to the layers of muck covering the walls. In the opposite corner, were piles of excrement. She had to get out of this place, preferably before her next trip to the bathroom.
A breeze whipped around her shoulders. As she shivered, her skin rippled into another fit of goose-bumps. Sarah would have killed for her leather coat, but it was locked in the trunk of her Jeep, along with all the other stuff that would have been useful, like her Swiss army knife and jack. She sighed and rubbed her arms with her palms, hoping the friction would infuse some warmth into her flesh. In the dim light, a giant cobweb dangled in one corner. Haven’t these people ever heard of dusting, deodorizer, or bug spray? Who in the world uses a dungeon anymore? She’d never even had a traffic ticket before, but now she was thrown into some ancient hell hole. She leaned against the stone wall and jumped when the cool, wet slime soaked through her shirt. An escape wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Wherever she was, she doubted even Google Maps could find her. She wiped her hands across her pants and shouted, “Listen, you medieval nutcases, you’re all going to fry in the electric chair. I’ll personally invent the thing myself. The least you could do is to leave me a can of Raid.”
The pocked steel of the bars chilled her already cold hands as she wrapped her grimy fingers around the bars. How did a Bigfoot expedition with thirty researchers turn into a kidnapping? I’ve been thrown down here by some kind of King Arthur wannabe! It’s not possible…is it? She had no idea, but she was sure it all had something to do with Sabrino Cave, the same place her older sister had disappeared from ten years earlier while on a camping trip.
Sarah and her sister had decided to go on a hike that morning. Liz had entered the cave first. Since she was a whole year older, she thought she’d take responsibility if things went wrong. As Sarah began to follow, a towering, fur-covered figure jumped out and grabbed for her.
Sarah shook her head, sucking in a deep breath as the scene played out, those yellow eyes seared forever in her mind. She couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at the memory of the skunk-like stench emanating from its matted brown fur. The thing chased her into the woods, but she somehow made it back to her parents. Her sister was not so lucky and had not been seen since. Nobody believed Sarah’s story, but since that fateful day on, Sarah had made it her mission to find her sister and prove to the world that what she saw that day was real.
She rubbed her temples. Is that cave some kind of mysterious portal? Her heart raced, and she couldn’t stop the flood of hope that ran through her veins, even though the whole thing sounded absurd. The thought that her sister might still be alive spurred her on, and she wished she could find a few sticks of dynamite to bust herself out of that joint.
Suddenly, a door squeaked far off to the left, followed by the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Craning her neck to catch a glimpse, she squinted through the shadows flickering from the torches hanging on the wall. A figure approached, its face obscured by the partial darkness. A guard? No…something more sinister. My captor. King Victor’s blue eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat. He wore the same Knights of the Round Table garb as before, with two differences: a red velvet cape trimmed with black and white fur hung close to the ground, and he topped off the ensemble with a gold crown adorned with jewels. The facets of the gems reflected the light of the torches. Showing off, is he? Sarah could have sworn he’d been out costume shopping on eBay.
“Where the heck are we?” she hissed, glaring at him.
He flashed her a charming smile. “Still playing the fool, Highness? We’re in Tastia, as I am sure you already know.”
“Tastia? What map would I find that on?” She snorted as she squeezed her fingers around the rusted bars.
He picked at his perfectly manicured nails. “Acting stupid is not becoming, milady.”
“Stupid? I’m not the one walking around in that ridiculous Halloween costume at this time of the year,” she seethed. Finally, she managed a calming breath, “I’m not in California anymore, am I?”
“California? I know not of such a place, and your stories will get you nowhere, Princess Gloria. No one has ever heard of this place you speak of.”
Sarah was suddenly painfully aware of how real her situation was. There was no way even dedicated actors would risk kidnapping charges to stay in character. By the look on the king’s face earlier, he really didn’t know what a radio or image thermal camera was. It was no wonder he thought she was crazy when she’d mentioned a cell phone and 911. Everything was adding up, and she didn’t like what it was adding up to. She took a step back, clutching her chest as the realization hit: Yeah, we definitely had to have entered through some portal, probably in that stupid cave! The same one the Bigfoot creatures—the Guardians—use to come through into our world, our time! It was a small wonder to her that no shred of evidence had ever been found. As she realized what was happening, she thought she might barf on the king’s fancy leather boots.
“Why is your brother alive? We thought he died years ago.” When Sarah didn’t answer, he let out a long sigh. “I will keep your secret…for now.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Your family staged his death. I’m wondering why.”
“I don’t know. This is something you should ask the real princess.”
King Victor cocked his head. “Surely you thought twice before crossing the Tastian border.”
She glared at him, saying nothing.
He continued, “We’ve been at war for ages, Highness. Why would you risk your life to come here?”
“I followed Bigfoot…er, one of the Guardians into the cave. How could I’ve known it’d take me here?” She jumped at the sound of squeaking as two humongous rats fought over a crust of moldy bread.
King Victor shook his head as though he didn’t have a clue what she meant. “Just admit the truth. You came to warn your brother about the trap I set. Was it worth it? Charles is back home in the comfort of his warm castle, and here you are in a cold, musty dungeon facing a rather questionable fate.” He stepped back and extended his hands in an all-encompassing gesture. “I take it everything is up to your standards.” He touched her hand that was wrapped around the bar in a death-grip.
“Oh yeah, sure. All the comforts of a five-star hotel.” She pulled her hand back as she fought against the instant attraction she felt. He might have been the hottest thing she’d ever lain eyes on, but he was the enemy—and he was a sarcastic jerk too. “You think it’s funny to kidnap me and then throw me in a dungeon?”
He curled his lips into a smile. “Why, milady, you should be thanking me. I could’ve put you in with the general population, but I feared you may not fare so well among those miscreants. The screams are just horrendous.”
“Well, in that case, I appreciate the VIP accommodations.” She rolled her eyes. “The rats and cockroaches are a nice touch,” she seethed. Regardless of what he thought, that stone coffin was not her idea of a comfy stay.
“I’ve received word from your father.” King Victor locked his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. He cocked a brow, waiting for her reaction as though that news should mean something to her.
“Really? Well, how is dear old Dad? I’m trying to picture his face in my head. Funny, I can’t. Maybe that’s because I’ve never even met the dude!”
“I would think you might be curious to know what he said, as your fate relies on his cooperation.”
“Le
t me think about that. Hmm. Not really.” A shiver slid down Sarah’s spine. She looked away quickly lest he notice her sudden realization. Whoever this Princess Gloria was, she hoped her father loved her deeply. Sarah’s life depended on it.
He turned to the guard who had just approached. “Guard, open this door!”
The guard snapped to attention. “Yes, milord.”
“That’s not necessary, Vic,” Sarah said, taking a few steps back as the metallic clank of the lock echoed. “I can hear through the bars just fine.” She blinked, hoping the message had reached him loud and clear. The truth was, he’d clamped his arm around her waist a little too close for comfort on the ride to that horrible place, and he’d threatened her life more than once.
The heavy door opened, and King Victor reached her in two strides. His gaze connected with hers as his blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your father refused to meet my demands. I’m afraid there’s only one thing left to do to show him how dire this situation truly is.”
Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. Sarah sucked in a quick breath, her heart hammering. Why didn’t I just stay hidden in the trees? She thought perhaps she could do some fast-talking and flip the coin in her favor. They always say the truth will set you free, she reasoned. “Look, like I told you, I’m not Gloria. My name’s Sarah.” She could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe a single word passing from her lips.
He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing her cheek as he said, “Princess, I’m sorry, but I’m left with no other choice.”
Her heart sank. It wasn’t rocket science. He planned on killing her to get revenge on his rival. He’d said so himself. She tried to control the quiver in her voice. “Of course you have other choices. If you’re the king, you get to make the rules—or aren’t you that powerful?”
“Your father must pay for his sins and transgressions, and he will one way or another—soon and very soon.” He stroked a stray hair from her eyes, but she averted her gaze. His hot breath hit her cheek as he continued, “I think I’ll extend an invitation to him. There will be some tears shed. That we can count on.”
“You’re all crazy and in dire need of meds.”
King Victor whispered in her ear. “Don’t act so sad. You just might enjoy it.”
What kind of sick freak is this guy? Enjoy having my head cut off by some guy with a giant hatchet and a black hood? Some king this guy is. The only royal thing about him is that he’s a royal pain in the—
“I can’t wait to see your father’s face.” He smirked.
She pushed him back, her stomach fluttering from the thought of her own execution. Will it be quick or long and painful? “You’re nuts! How can you order the execution of an innocent woman? No wonder this Gloria’s father is after you.”
“Execution? Princess, I’m not going to kill you.”
“Said the spider to the fly.”
“Spider? Fly? Pardon me, but I do not understand what insects have to do with any of this.” Victor shook his head. “I have much more…pleasurable things planned.” He squeezed her tight against him.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the meaning of his words. He couldn’t possibly want… She pushed him hard. “Let me go!”
“Do you know what would make your father’s blood boil even more than seeing your pretty little head roll?”
She didn’t need to hear the words, as the grin on his face said it all. She squirmed in his grip, struggling to keep her wits and silence the screaming voice in her head. “Haven’t the slightest clue.”
“Me, his most hated enemy, taking his only daughter as my mate.”
Sarah gasped, even though it was exactly what she’d expected. “What?”
“Marriage or execution. Either one will break your father, and I’m leaning toward the former.”
“I think you’ve fallen off your horse and hit your head one time too many. This has to be the worst proposal of all time. But out of curiosity, when’s the big day? I need some time to gather up something borrowed and something blue.”
“When the sun sets.”
“Tonight? What happened to courtship? Chivalry? I don’t even know your bad habits, like if you leave the toilet seat up or…” She scanned the room, at a loss for words. “What if you snore like a chainsaw or have some psychological disorder that prevents you from refilling the ice cube tray?”
His eyebrows raised. “Toilet seat? Ice? Forgive me, but I believe you have fallen off your horse. Maybe we should take you to the healer after all.”
Throwing my own insults back at me. Wow. How creative. She regarded him intently, but his expression remained confused. “Maybe we should have you evaluated and put on some psych meds.”
“I was thinking of discussing wine selections later today.” King Victor tucked a piece of stray hair behind her ear again, and it felt just as ridiculous as before. “Or maybe floral arrangements. What do you think, my love?”
“I’m thinking if I ever get my hands on that Gloria chick, she’s dead meat.”
“Meat? If that is your desire, I shall send my cooks to the fowl cages. Yes! We shall enjoy a feast of roasted quail, turtle dove, partridge, and braised peacock. And, of course, the butcher can supply ample calves’ heads and fish if you so wish.”
“I’m going to throw up.” She swallowed the bile in her throat. “I want no part of your delusional world.”
“Surely your knights taught you how to maintain this unpalatable guise,” King Victor said. “I’m impressed—I really am—but you’ll eventually break. For the time being, enough of these games. Let us address the question that has longed to escape my lips. Will you, Princess Gloria, be my bride?”
She shoved him. “Ain’t happening. Back off, man.”
He grinned, revealing two strings of white teeth. “I can see you need some time to consider your decision. Perhaps spending a little time down here will make you see things in a different light.”
“You’re crazy!” she yelled, taking a step back and balling her fists as if she had any chance of fighting him.
In one swift move, he pinned her against the cold concrete wall, her arms outstretched, his hands wrapped tightly around her wrists. “I would advise you to hold your tongue,” he hissed in her ear. “I have put up with more than my fair share from you. Nobody talks to me that way—nobody—and if you cannot control that lashing snake of yours, I shall have it removed.”
Her heart pounded hard, and she took a deep breath. “Right back at ya, buddy! Nobody talks to me the way you do.”
He lowered his head, and his eyes narrowed. “You are disrespectful, obviously the spawn of your father.”
She had no idea who he was talking about, but she couldn’t resist the jab. “Guess I’m a chip off the old block.”
“Maybe this is the reason why he doesn’t want you back.”
Her temper flared even higher, for he’d hit a soft spot. How dare he poke around in my business like that? “My real father would never abandon me, you nutcase.”
“You might want to consider being cordial toward me. Do you have any understanding of the power I hold over you?” The dangerous undertone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “I control whether you’ll get one ounce of food or a drop of water, whether you’ll see the light of day or if you’ll live to see tomorrow.”
No man, royalty or not, had ever treated Sarah in such a way. She clenched her hands into fists, yet again, and pressed her back against the wall to put another inch of space between her and King Victor. “Yeah, I got it. Life and death rest in your hands.” Her gaze wandered to the open cell door the same moment when the king loosened his grip. She held her breath, sensing her chance to escape. Without another thought, she spun around and darted for freedom, but before she could take another breath, she felt his stern grip on her upper arm. “Let go of me!” she snarled.
King Victor swung her around to face him.
Her hands balled into fists, and she pounded his ch
est. “Get your hands off me, you brute!” she yelled, her voice echoing.
“Where do you think you’re going? I suggest you save your energy for our wedding night.” He pulled her close. “I can see I need to make an appointment with my blacksmith.”
Well, well, isn’t he funny, remembering my chastity belt comment? The jerk! “In your dreams.”
“I know you’re looking forward to it, but calm down, Princess. We have our entire lives to spend together.”
Sarah struggled in his arms as he chuckled. She could tell he was loving every minute of it. “This Gloria’s father wouldn’t meet your demands. He doesn’t even care if his daughter dies. Therefore, if you kill me, what’s it going to prove?”
“You’re right. It’s best we stick with option one. Your father might not care if you’re dead, but he will fume with rage knowing I have fathered his grandchildren, tainting his precious bloodline. Shall we have six, eight, or ten children, Princess? There shall be no revenge better than the pitter-patter of my sons’ feet flowing with your father’s blood.”
“If you use me like that—and remember I’m not who you think I am—your gene pool is going to need a ton of chlorine. I’m not any kind of royalty.”
“Chlorine?”
“Never mind.” She shook her head. “How many kids did you just say you want? What do I look like, some kind of breeding machine?”
“Let’s just hope they don’t inherit your smart mouth. I’ve let it slide until now, but once we have exchanged vows, you shall control your tongue—or I will control it for you.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “And what if I don’t? What if I say whatever I want, whether you want to hear it or not?”
“Trust me, you do not want to find out,” he said.
She glared at him, throwing daggers with her eyes. “What’re you going to do, lock me in a dungeon and throw away the key?”
“Let me know when I can call for the priest,” King Victor said. “We will need to inform him whether he will be performing a wedding ceremony or last rites. That, my love, is your choice.”
Sarah’s head shot back in defiance. “I’ll never marry you. It’ll never happen—not even if a million stars fell from the sky.”
“No?” He ran a finger down her cheekbone.
Her breath caught in her throat as she pushed him away. “No.” She put as much conviction into her voice as she could muster, but somehow, it barely made its way out of her throat.
“We’ll see about that,” King Victor said with a smirk. “Enjoy your stay. If you get too cold, just remember my bed’s nice and warm and waiting for you.” With one last glance over his shoulder, he slammed the cell door with his boot, trapping her in the confined space.