by Emma Hamm
Danielle rushed from her bed, blankets tangling in her legs and tripping her. She stumbled to the window and opened it. She made certain the window didn’t hit the inside walls, or the guards would hear her.
The Dread held out the bundle in its arms. “For you.”
“Thank you,” she said, breathless with glee and pain. “You shouldn’t have come all this way. Someone might see you.”
“Afraid to tarnish your reputation, princess?” the Dread asked.
Danielle shook her head. “No, I’m worried they’ll try to shoot you from the sky.”
The Dread frowned at her. “Humans don’t worry about the safety of the Dread.”
“This one does.” She held the gaze of the creature until it finally shook its head again and flapped its wings.
Danielle watched the dark shape disappear into the distance. She wished she had wings to fly away. She’d soar through the air and disappear forever if she could.
In her hands, the sword weighed heavy. She now had the means to protect herself, even if she didn’t know how to use it all that well. Surprise was on her side. If her father came into the room, she could hide behind the door and stick it through his ribs.
The mere idea was nothing more than a dream. The entire palace would drag her into the dungeons, if they didn’t kill her on sight for having murdered their beloved leader.
Beloved.
Her father was only loved because he’d created a prosperous kingdom. His people didn’t know what he did to his children and wife, they didn’t care. As long as he continued to make the people happy in their own lives, who cared what the royals suffered?
She let the fabric fall away from the blade with a soft hush. It was a simple sword. Leather straps wrapped around the hilt. Plain metal, no filigree nor beauty. Just the short, thin blade with its wicked edge.
Danielle lifted it and stared into her own reflection. Someday, she would bathe this sword in blood.
Chapter 15
One week. It took a full week for her head to stop aching. A full week of silence and boredom so thick she choked on it.
She couldn’t leave this room. The guards were always at her door. The only ones who entered were the servants who brought her something to eat, or to bathe her. They had been instructed not to speak a word.
Danielle talked to them, even though they refused to respond. She told them all the stories her mother used to tell her. About the living forest, the creatures within, the way magic ran through her bloodline like water ran through a river.
The last time the servants came, she heard them whispering before the key turned.
“Her mother’s madness has passed to the princess,” one whispered. “She’s been speaking in all kinds of tongues! Gerta said she’s even talking about the monsters. Sad really. Poor thing.”
Let them believe she was mad. It didn’t matter anymore, and it was the only way she could get back at her father without making her punishment worse. Let the kingdom think madness had befallen their beloved princess.
As it had befallen their queen.
The key turned in her door again, but she couldn’t imagine who was walking into her room. It wasn’t time for food, nor was it time for a bath.
Danielle steeled herself for whatever might come next. Her father would stop at nothing to break her. Silence hadn’t worked. Perhaps he intended to make her life even worse now.
But it wasn’t her father or another guard who stepped through the door. Instead, it was Milo.
He didn’t have a corset on today, and she found his body looked strange without it. As if he wasn’t himself.
“I understand she’s not to go anywhere, you fools. I’m her brother not an escape artist.” Milo slammed the door and made a face.
She couldn’t believe he was here. She rushed from the window and threw herself into his arms.
“Oof!” he grunted. Milo closed his arms around her and squeezed. “Danielle. You look horrid.”
She felt horrid. The healer had taken the bandage off her forehead, but the red scab and purple bruising was still visible. She missed her leather leggings. The servants only dressed her in gowns, and this one made her feel more like a doll than a woman.
The ice blue corset was a vice around her ribs. Long satin skirts were hand painted with silver snowflakes, but the thick fabric was heavy and dragged along the floor. Even the thin chiffon sleeves let a cool breeze chill her skin. The entire outfit was designed to make her feel uncomfortable.
“I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so much,” she whispered against his chest, voice thick with tears. “I didn’t know it would make father so angry.”
“You don’t have to explain to me.”
“I do though.” She knew what it meant when her father was in a rage. Her siblings took most of the punishment.
Milo shook his head and set her aside. He strode over to her bed and sat upon the edge, looking for all the world defeated. “Danielle, can you at least tell me where you’ve been?”
A wave of sadness broke over her head like a glass bottle shattering against her skull. “He sent you, didn’t he?”
“No!” Her brother flinched as if she’d hit him. “I wouldn’t do his dirty work even if he threatened me with death. You know I’m better than that.”
She did. He wasn’t Diana who followed their father like a wooden soldier. She should never have cast such blame on him.
Sighing, she sat down next to him on the bed and reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not asking for him. I’m asking for me.” Milo laced his fingers through hers. A ring on his thumb dug into her fingers, painful and a reminder he was still himself. “I just want to know where you’re going. That’s all. I want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I am.” Danielle smiled, and the expression felt light on her face. “I can’t tell you where I’ve been. Only that I’m safe and trying to get our family away from our treacherous father.”
He stared into her eyes, perhaps trying to decipher whether she was lying. Long moments passed before Milo nodded. “Okay. As long as you’re safe, and happy, I’ll help you go one last time.”
“Milo, I can’t ask you to-”
“Please stop,” Milo interrupted. “We all know how fragile and fleeting our freedom is. I know a way to get you out. If it’s a man, you can say your goodbyes. If it’s something else...” He shrugged. “Maybe you can figure out a way to continue it without father knowing. Regardless, if I can help, then I will.”
She could go back to the Dread. They could hear what she had to say, maybe they would even help her siblings.
But she couldn’t ask them to come here. Diana had already said they were in a war, and that meant death and bloodshed. The Dread couldn’t get involved with the lives of the royals.
The only thing left was for them to teach her how to fight. She could stick a knife in her father’s throat and end it, if only she knew how.
Danielle lifted her chin high and nodded. “This is the best way for me to save our family, Milo. I know what I’m doing.”
Her brother nodded toward her wardrobe. “There’s a button in the back. The servants use it to spy on all of us. There are hidden corridors throughout the walls of the palace.”
How dare the servants spy on the nobles? But, she also knew the servants were the ones to ask if she ever had any question about her siblings. Their rumors were always correct.
The door was her escape to freedom and yet she would leave her brother and sisters behind. Again.
Guilt warred with her desire for freedom. She stared at the wardrobe and then looked back at her brother. “What if Father comes for me? The room will be empty and he’ll know again.”
“He won’t come for you. Only the servants will enter.” Milo squeezed her fingers. “I’ll take a nap in your bed, the gods know I could use a good rest. No one will be wiser as long as I don’t get up.”
Some tension in her shoulders eased. He had thought abou
t everything, hadn’t he? Her little brother was becoming a man in front of her eyes. And a good one, at that.
Danielle leaned forward and pulled him into her arms. She squeezed him hard, as if it would be the last time she ever saw him. “Thank you,” she whispered against his neck.
“Just do what you have to do, Danielle. There’s only one more escape for you. Then... Well I don’t know what our future will look like.”
She hoped it was a future full of light and happiness. One where their father didn’t loom over them with expectations and memories of pain.
Giving him one last squeeze, she hiked up her skirts and strode to the wardrobe. Danielle opened the door, felt around for the button, and gave it a solid push. A panel in the back of the wardrobe slid open, well oiled and silent.
She cast a glance over her shoulder at Milo. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, he’d stripped off his shirt and was pulling one of her nightgowns over his head.
She liked to think he was getting into character, but she knew better than that. Milo was more comfortable in women’s clothing than men’s. Not because he wanted to be a woman, he’d explained it to her long ago. But because women’s clothing suited him better.
If he hadn’t been a royal, his life might have been more of a struggle. As it was, he’d inspired many noblemen to challenge the fashion of their world.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispered, then slipped into the hidden corridors of the castle.
Danielle knew where she was going, although she had to orient herself in the walls. The back servants quarter would be busy this time of day. A rush of people left to gather lunch, or work their afternoons. They would provide a perfect distraction. The guards would be so busy, all she should need to do was grab a cloak and hide within the crowd.
As long as her skirts didn’t show, Danielle should be able to slip out.
She exited the hidden corridors through one of the servant chambers. No one was in it, most having already left for lunch. She didn’t have much time.
A cloak hung on a rack nearby, long and moth-eaten at the seams. It was perfect to confuse those who might want to stop her.
She pulled the hood up over her head and tried not to breathe in the moldy scent too much. The fabric smelled of mildew and wood chips.
Then, she slipped out into the halls beyond where all the servants were leaving for their mid afternoon freedom. She stepped behind a group of chattering women who were loud and obnoxious. The guards wouldn’t stop this group of hens. They’d have to listen to them talk for hours before the women would finally release them from their clutches.
Danielle didn’t listen to the conversation until she heard her own name.
The sizeable woman in the front, her blonde hair curled so tightly she resembled a poodle, giggled as she said, “Haven’t you heard? The princess Danielle is mad! Just like her mother.”
“No she’s not.” The woman next to her interrupted, tall and lean like a sapling. “Don’t be foolish. We’ve known the lady her entire life, and she’s never had a smidge of madness in her.”
“Talking about monsters in the wood and how magic runs in her veins? Dear. She’s mad as a hatter, just like her mum.”
Danielle grinned. Her plan had worked. She’d embarrassed her father, and word was spreading.
The tall maid clucked. “I think she’s fooled you all! She’s no more mad than you or I. Mark my words, that girl has a few tricks up her sleeve.”
Thankfully, none of the other maids were listening to the one who seemed bound and determined to ruin Danielle’s plan. She wanted to reach forward and clap a hand over the woman’s mouth.
Hush, she would say. You know nothing about what you speak.
They approached the guards and Danielle’s heart raced. The two men at the gate were broad and tall. They narrowed their eyes at everyone who passed, peering into the shadows of cloaks to identify them.
She gulped and squeezed her hands into fists. All she could do was remain hidden behind the lady’s maids and hope her plan worked.
They stepped up to the guards, and the women somehow grew louder. They were drawing attention to themselves!
But the guards didn’t even look at the loud women. They rolled their eyes and gestured for the ladies to leave. “Off with you,” one guard said, good natured humor heating his voice to butter. “Don’t cause any trouble in the village today, ladies!”
The blonde women chuckled, her breasts bouncing impressively with the movement. “Oh Herold, you know I’m no good at behaving!”
Was that how the maid charmed the guards? Danielle was glad the cloak could hide her expression of disgust.
Whatever charm the lady had, it worked. The guard appeared tongue tied and watched her walk away with rapt attention.
Danielle felt rather self conscious about her own thin frame, flat chest, and muscular build. Did men want a woman with curves like that? A soft woman they could fall into at night?
She had a long way to go if that’s what men found attractive. Danielle was downright ugly compared to the maid.
What did the Dread like? Their women were all hard like her, sharpened to steel by work and labor.
Why did it matter? Danielle nearly stopped in her tracks. She didn’t care what the Dread found attractive. They were a business partner, creatures who were teaching her.
And yet, somehow, in the time between near death and now, she’d found her Dread had become a little more important to her.
Perhaps because she grasped onto him like a lifeline. He could teach her safety, how to be something more than just a princess, and a woman who could take care of herself.
Yes, that was it. She told herself it was nothing more than convenience and a creature who had given her peace of mine. That’s all.
But in her heart, she knew it was more.
Danielle stepped through the gates and raced through the forest as soon as the crowd was out of the guard’s sight. She hiked her skirts up to her hips and ran to the meadow.
She breathed hard by the time she got there, lungs heaving and eyes watering from exertion. Somehow, impossibly, she’d made it to the meadow with no one knowing she’d escaped the palace. All she could hope was that it remained that way.
“Thank you, Milo,” she whispered again, even though he couldn’t hear her.
She left the cloak on the ground just beside the tunnel. Crawling through the ground with heavy skirts impeding her was a challenge. Danielle’s biceps quivered and her thighs ached by the time she dropped out onto the ledge. She landed hard on her hands and knees. Stones scraped her sensitive palms which grew slick with blood and earth.
Her head pounded, even though she’d thought it had healed. It had been a week since her father pushed her into the door. She was stronger than this!
Lurching to her feet, she shuffled to the very end of the ledge and called out, “Dread! I need to speak with you!”
It was easy to forget the cave was filled with sound. The darkness made it appear silence was a default for such a place. But it wasn’t. The cave always echoed with the dripping of water, bats chattering with each other, and the soft hum of Dread moving about their daily lives.
The moment her voice echoed from the top of the cavern, all things fell deathly silent.
A great rush of air thundered deep below her feet. She knew who that was. None of the other Dread were so large, or could make such a sound. He came for her.
Danielle’s knees weakened just with that simple knowledge. Soon he would be by her side.
Such a creature would know what to do. He had wings and claws and fangs. He would hear her story about her father, chuckle, and then tell her to skin the king alive. She was certain of it.
Nothing could have prepared her for the relief she felt when he shot up into view. He hovered beside the ledge and she stumbled backward, away from the edge so she wouldn’t topple over it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice a rasp now that he was before her
. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
His curious expression turned thunderous. Had she made a mistake? Was she not welcome here in the caverns any longer?
Three wingbeats brought him close. He stepped onto the edge with infinite care. One foot, then the other. His wings spread wide behind him, great leathery appendages that made him look like a creature from the depths of the underworld. The violet veins stood out in stark relief with the red light of torches filtering through the thin membranes.
He was dangerous, she remembered. And yet every bone in her body was so glad to see him.
The Dread reached for her. His clawed fingers curled, one stretched further than the others to stroke the back of a claw against the wound on her forehead. “What happened?”
Danielle shook her head, the words choked by emotion in her throat. She couldn’t tell him it was her father. She couldn’t admit the failings of her family.
All that came out was a whispered, “I couldn’t protect myself.”
“Oh, ma tigresse.” He yanked her into his arms, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping her within his warmth. “What did those monsters do to you?”
Danielle had planned to be brave. She wouldn’t cry. She had planned on keeping the emotions locked tight within her until she couldn’t remember they were in the jail of her mind.
He rattled the cages and pulled the doors open with only a few words. Danielle tucked herself into the haven of his arms and let the tears fall. Sobs wracked her shoulders, shaking her entire frame until she felt like a leaf in a storm, clinging to a branch made of stone.
She hadn’t cried since her father hit her. Not a single tear because she’d been taught tears were a weakness. But it felt so good to cry and be held.
Throughout her grief, the Dread held her close. She listened to his steady heartbeat and let the sound wash away her embarrassment.
When all the emotions were wrung out of her like a well-soiled cloth, she pulled away. Danielle wiped her cheeks with her palms and apologized. “I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry.”
“The Hollows will always be a home for the lost and forgotten,” the Dread replied. His words echoed with something unspoken. Like a prophecy for all those with wounded hearts.