by Emma Hamm
He spread his wings wide and flapped hard to drive himself up into the air. Great gusts of wind brushed against a nearby house and the air sang through the reeds. Lights flashed as he shot up to the highest part of the Hollows where the princess was waiting for him.
He was halfway there when he saw her. Clinging to the edge of the rock as though she had fallen and somehow caught herself. Except, she hadn’t. As he watched, the princess looked down at her feet, shifted one, and then lowered herself further down.
Was she climbing down the wall? Where did she think she could go?
The Emperor hovered in the air behind her, flapping his wings at a distance so the wind didn’t hinder her. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side, trying to imagine where her next handhold would be.
When she seemed stuck for the moment, he asked, “What are you doing?”
She flinched. But instead of losing her grip, as he half expected her to do, she pulled herself closer to the wall.
He hesitated, wondering if he’d somehow frightened her into silence. But that wasn’t like the woman he knew. “Princess?”
“Oh, it’s you,” she replied breathlessly. She changed her grip on the wall and peered over her shoulder. “You’re late.”
“Late?” He tried his best to not laugh at her. “I didn’t realize there was a scheduled time for us to meet.”
“There was. I’m not crawling through tunnels which could cave in without a scheduled time. I’m a princess, Dread! Time is of the essence.”
She sure looked important clinging onto the side of the cave wall for dear life. He tilted his head to the other side. “And what are you doing?”
“I was tired of waiting for you, so I took matters into my own hands.”
“Ah.” He could imagine her hands were regretting such a decision. He had noticed there were no callouses on her fingers or palms from hard labor. The stones of the Hollows were likely cutting into her soft skin. “Would you like to get down?”
“Well, I’m rather stuck here at the moment, don’t you think?”
The nearest ledge was at least ten men below her, and she’d already climbed down the same amount. He could let her continue on her strange quest. However, he had things to do and plans for her. He wasn’t about to wait until she finally made it down the ledge.
The Emperor uncrossed his arms and let out a soft chuckle. “Allow me, Princess.”
He swooped in with one sharp beat of his wings. The buffeting air caused her to lose her grip, but again, she didn’t scream when she fell from the wall. It seemed fear didn’t make this princess scream at all. Instead, she tucked herself into a tiny ball, arms wrapped around herself, and squeezed her eyes shut.
She dropped into his waiting arms with ease. He didn’t feel her weight; she was so small.
And this woman thought she would become a warrior.
The Emperor snorted at the thought. She had a long way to go if she wanted to be feared across the kingdoms.
The Princess opened her eyes and stared up at him. “Oh,” she murmured. “You caught me.”
“Did you think I’d let you fall?”
She blinked a few times and he could see that exact thought dancing through her mind. “Well, it’s always a possibility. I’m not sure why you’re helping me.”
He wasn’t either. Thankfully, she didn’t ask for clarification.
Logic wasn’t at the forefront of his mind when it came to her. The Emperor was aware of his sudden obsession with this lovely creature. She was so small and lithe compared to his own people, and perhaps the size difference had captivated him.
The only humans he’d ever spoken to or had contact with were their soldiers. He’d seen men hardened by battle and covered in metal armor so many times he thought he knew humans.
But this one? She was so tiny. He could snap one of her arms with two fingers if he wanted to, and yet she relaxed in his arms as though he were her trusted steed.
And she likely thought of him as an animal, so perhaps steed was what she thought of him.
Sighing, he let his gaze wander over her form. “What are you wearing?” he grumbled.
The Princess looked at her clothing and then back at him. “Armor.”
The leather chest plate looked more like a corset than armor. It squeezed around her narrow waist and would stop her from inhaling if she was in a fight. Clearly, she’d never experienced hard labor.
He shook his head. “Princess, that is not armor.”
“Danielle,” she corrected.
The name bloomed in his chest like a rose. It unfurled long vines that wrapped around his heart and squeezed so tight he was the one incapable of breath. “Danielle,” he repeated. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Well, I believe we’ve already met,” she replied with a chuckle. “It’s just a name.”
He was ashamed he didn’t have a name to give her. His people had chosen whatever names they wanted for themselves, and here he was, incapable of giving her even that. At least for now. He didn’t want her to know he was the Emperor just yet.
Clearing his throat, he let his wings relax so they could glide down into the Hollows. She wasn’t tense this time. Instead, Danielle relaxed in his arms and gazed around his home in wonder.
“Are we going to train?” she asked. Her voice was light and airy, catching against the rough stones of his home and popping like a bubble.
“No, we cannot train until you are more protected.”
“Protected?” She wiggled in his arms, trying to catch his attention. “I’m in armor, Dread.”
“That’s not any armor I would trust you to battle in.”
“And why not?”
He landed on the ledge to the weaver’s, then let her slip down his arms. He caught the shoulder of her leather chest plate with a claw. It only took the slightest of twists for him to slice through the thick material and leave one of her arms bare.
Danielle gasped. She slapped at the falling material and glared at him with so much censure he almost blushed. “Excuse you!”
“I can cut through that with almost no force at all, princess. That’s not armor. It’s an inconvenience.”
“Well, I apologize, I’m unused to opponents with claws like metal,” she snapped. “And my name is Danielle. You can stop calling me ‘princess’ like it’s an insult.”
He hadn’t realized the nickname was an insult. Such was a curiosity he wanted to explore.
The door to the cave opened, and the weaver stuck out her head. “Ah, I thought it was you out there.”
He interrupted her before she could call him Emperor. “I come seeking your assistance, Weaver.”
For some reason, it felt important that Danielle didn’t know he was the leader of the Dread. He wanted her comfortable here. Being shown around the caves by the Emperor made this entire interaction more formal.
And he enjoyed her easy company.
Weaver slid to the side, and he tried to see her through Danielle’s eyes. The ancient Dread was one of the oldest and the first he’d turned from human to beast. Her back was rounded with age and her wings could no longer fly. She hadn’t left the cave system in a long time. Thus, her skin was white as snow. Even her eyes, which he remembered were once blue, were now stained pink.
“Come in then,” Weaver grumbled. “You’re letting out all the heat, and my old bones can’t take the cold any longer.”
Danielle rushed past him. “My apologies, m’lady. My mistake.”
For a princess, she was awfully polite. He’d expected her to want people to do things for her, to snap at those who didn’t rush to appease her.
As he passed Weaver, he leaned down and whispered, “The princess doesn’t know who I am.”
“What game are you playing at?”
“No games, Weaver.”
The old woman chuckled and shook her head. “No, darling. The only thing you play are games.”
She toddled after Danielle, her wing
s limp and dragging on the floor. Her claws had long since turned dull. Her hands were now perfect for weaving as she never caught her claws on any of the fabrics.
Fabric was precious in the Hollows. All his people needed to be clothed, but they couldn’t raise sheep in the caves. Even now, Weaver’s home was decorated with hides hanging from the walls, drying.
The scent of tallow and ink filled the chamber. Wool was carefully stored in baskets, some already carded and waiting to be spun. Other materials were laid out, though he didn’t recognize any other than the animal skins.
Weaver was highly respected in his home. She ensured they were all warm during the winter. Now, she would make armor for a princess.
Danielle stood in the center of the chamber, wide eyes taking in every detail she could soak in. Finally, she turned to the Weaver and said, “It’s beautiful in here.”
Weaver’s barking laughter sounded like the clap of thunder. “It’s not, princess. You are the only beautiful thing in this room.”
He almost corrected Weaver. The princess was hardly beautiful. And yet...
Now that he looked at her, perhaps there was some beauty. Her long hair was braided and swung free at her waist. The leather corset tucked in her tiny waist, impossibly small and delicate. Leather leggings wrapped around her legs, long and muscled.
But it was the determined set of her shoulders he found the most beautiful. The square jaw which he knew would tick if he annoyed her, as he’d done many times.
So perhaps she was beautiful.
In the way of humans.
Danielle didn’t notice his long stare. Instead, she chuckled and lifted her arms wide. “No, this place is beautiful. All the colors, the smells, the art? How could you not find it beautiful?”
“I suppose it is beautiful in its own way,” Weaver replied. Her gaze stared at him. “Don’t you think?”
He cleared his throat and changed the subject before Danielle realized he’d been caught staring. “We need armor for her.”
“Armor? For a human?”
“Something that will protect her chest, but allow her to move.”
Weaver tsked. “A pretty thing like this doesn’t need armor. No one would put her in battle.”
Though he wanted to answer, Danielle was the one who stepped in to her own defense.
She strode forward to Weaver’s side and took the Dread’s hand. “I want to learn how to fight, and I believe the best fighters in all of Hollow Hill may reside right here.”
“But why you would want to fight?” Weaver asked. Her clawed hard curled around Danielle’s much smaller one.
A shadow passed in front of Danielle’s expression. One the Emperor recognized as old pain, which never left her side. “My reasons are my own. Just know, I don’t intend to fight the Dread. I need to protect myself and my family.”
Protect herself? She was a princess of Hollow Hill! The only creatures she needed to protect herself against were standing before her. She feared the wrong thing if she thought someone or something else might harm her.
Weaver seemed to understand Danielle’s words far more than he did. She nodded, patted Danielle’s hand, then released it. “We’ll make you armor then, dear. Though you may need to speak with Blacksmith for more metal than I have here.”
The Emperor nodded. Blacksmith would do whatever he ordered him to do. He’d argue, but that was what Blacksmith did.
Both women huddled together over cloth and color. Decidedly out of place, the Emperor tucked himself into a corner and stared as they argued about fabric and patterns.
This was where Danielle shined. She was adamant in her decisions, gesturing then laughing when Weaver argued with her.
This strange princess didn’t seem to understand the Dread differed from her. She didn’t see wings or claws, she saw people. He’d never thought a human would feel comfortable arguing with a Dread. Especially with their terrifying faces drawn in anger.
He folded his wings around himself like a blanket. They were strange together. Two sides of the same coin and yet neither afraid of the other.
His heart warmed. Filled with something he couldn’t name.
And in the back of his mind, a memory flickered into life. Silks and gossamer fabric snapping in the wind. He could smell salt on the air and birds cawing above his head. He shifted out of the way, his wings too large for the space between fabric stalls.
But his wings weren’t leathery and dark.
They were white and dipped in gold.
Chapter 13
She couldn’t avoid her father forever. Today had been harder than yesterday to escape the palace. Guards were in every corridor. The maids were searching through broom closets. She ended up sleeping in the barn for fear someone would catch her, but where else could she go?
The King of Hollow Hill was not a patient man. He wouldn’t wait forever for her to show up before there was a kingdom wide manhunt for the wayward princess. She had another day, at most, before she was locked away once again.
How could she insist it was important for her to learn how to fight? She was on a time limit. And she still hadn’t learned a single thing.
She hadn’t even gotten a sword! Her armor was still being made. These were all such little things. A true warrior could fight without a weapon. They could protect themselves.
She was nothing more than a lost little creature, begging for someone to help her.
Danielle was tired of begging.
She strode into the meadow, eyes burning from exhaustion and nerves frayed. She’d argue with him if that’s what it took. Scream to the high heavens until he finally gave in.
The meadow was silent today. No birds sang in the distance and even the river seemed quieter than it had before. Leaves unfurled from their buds. Green and growing and spreading pollen through the air like dust. She could see the motes dancing in the breeze. Tiny pricks of fairy lights.
Her mother would have loved to see them. She would have laughed and pointed out that the forest knew how to take care of itself. Even Danielle’s father couldn’t destroy something as ancient as the wood behind Hollow Hill.
Inhaling, Danielle turned in a circle before she called out, “I know you’re here!”
Silence was her answer for a few moments until she heard the crunch of leaves. His great shadow rose in the forest’s undergrowth beyond the boulder. Jagged edges of his broken horn caught her attention, as it mimicked a tree which had lost a limb.
“How did you know?” he asked.
She pointed up at the sky. “The birds don’t sing when you’re hiding from me.”
“The birds?” He looked around and glared up into the forest as if they might be watching him. “They give me away, so it seems.”
“They do,” she replied with a chuckle.
Now was her moment to argue. She could tell him everything, come clean and explain her family was suffering. She needed his help not because she was some vain little thing who wished to be revered, but because her family could die.
The words suck in her throat. Fear constricted them, the chains around her neck only tightening. Her family needed her, yes, but her father’s words still controlled her.
She was a princess of Hollow Hill, a royal and a noble who would not bend nor break. No one could think there was weakness in their bloodline.
Except, of course, the madness of women in her family.
“Are you going to train me today?” she asked. “I know there’s something I can learn without a sword. Hand to hand combat, perhaps?”
He shook his head and strode into the light. Rays of the sun played across his shoulders and caught in the thin lining of his wings. “No, we are not learning how to fight today.”
“You have to train me, eventually. That was the deal.”
“I didn’t realize there was a deal,” he replied. He tilted his head to the side, horns pointed at her throat. “I spared your life.”
“You did.”
“I offered to tr
ain you in my own time.”
She nodded and told herself not to feel fear. This felt as though it were a different Dread than before, but she knew him. She knew the chipped horn, the scarred face, and yet...
Danielle narrowed her gaze. “Is something wrong?”
All the aggression in the set of his shoulders drained. He straightened, although his shoulders slumped forward. The angered expression on his face smoothed into something akin to exhaustion. “Why do you ask?”
“I recognize the look,” she said. “I feel it today as well.”
The Dread swept his arm toward the river and lifted a brow. “Perhaps today we will train in a different part of battle, but something equally important.”
She strode toward the rushing water with only a small amount of apprehension. This was where he’d tried to kill her. She could still feel the rushing waters over her head, see the rounded stones in front of her eyes, feel the strength of his fingers around her neck as they squeezed.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked.
She hadn’t realized her fingers were stroking the marks on her neck. “No,” she replied, dropping her hand. “No, I hardly feel it.”
The Dread leaned close, slowly, so she had a moment to back away if she wished. Danielle stood her ground, holding her breath as he leaned close enough to graze his nose against the column of her throat. He inhaled. “You’ve covered the bruises with something.”
“Makeup,” she whispered. “Just a bit.”
“Clever girl.”
The Dread leaned away as quickly as he touched her. He took a seat cross-legged at the river side and gestured for her to sit next to him. “Come. Sit.”
Her heart raced in her chest. Why had he leaned so close to her? Why were her palms slick with sweat and heat?
He affected her in a way she’d never experienced before, and Danielle didn’t know how to process that. He was just a monster. A beast. An animal if her sister was to be believed.
Yet, no matter how hard she tried to think of the Dread as animals, she couldn’t.
So she sat where he requested. Danielle curled her legs underneath her, the leather leggings dirty and likely smelling rather rancid after days without a bath. “What are we training? Hand to hand combat while seated?”