by Emma Hamm
She glanced around to make sure no one was watching them. When the coast was clear, she reached up and pulled her hood back just enough to reveal her face.
“I have no need of your food,” Danielle said again.
“Princess,” the woman gasped. “You’re alive.”
“Alive and well.”
Surprisingly, the woman reached forward and grasped Danielle’s hands. She squeezed them hard, clearly trying to not make a scene as she glanced around them. “Princess, we were all so worried. They claimed you were dead. That monsters killed you.”
“I wasn’t. The monsters are kind. They gave me a place to stay, food, and safety from my family.” Danielle tugged the woman closer. “If there is anyone left in Hollow Hill who needs to hear it, let them know I’ve returned and that I will do my best to free them from my father’s grasp.”
The woman flinched at the words, but nodded. “Aye, Princess. Many will be glad to hear it, but I fear what it will do to our kingdom.”
Danielle gave the woman one last lingering squeeze before releasing her hands. “I don’t know how to fix this yet, but I am here. The people of Hollow Hill are not alone, and they never will be again.”
Tears shone in the woman’s eyes. “And glad I am to hear it. You sound like your mother.”
At that, Danielle moved through the crowd. She shouldered some people aside with renewed purpose. The people were behind her. Some of them, at the very least. But enough would soon know she was home.
The bravado burning inside her leaked out through her toes the moment she stood in front of the white steel gates. The guards glared at the crowd. They shoved a few people back with harsh grumbles about how the king would allow people into the city when he was ready.
The king.
Danielle didn’t want to see her father. She couldn’t suffer his eyes upon her again, not now that she knew the truth. She still remembered his calculating look when the Dread had arrived at her betrothal banquet. How easily he was willing to sell his daughter to keep the secrets about himself safe from prying ears.
Still, she couldn’t let the lies and the rumors continue. She was here for a reason. She would take down her father if it was the last thing she did.
The first step was ensuring her own safety from the alchemists. Raphael knew was he was doing. He went to Little Marsh with clear reasoning and he would come back for her.
Then they would take the kingdom back with the Dread at their sides. She had no reason to fear for her life or safety.
Taking in a deep breath, Danielle walked up to the nearest guard in his silver and blue armor.
He looked her up and down, then said, “Get back with the rest of them, whelp. The King hasn’t opened the gates yet.”
“He’ll open them for me.”
The guard smirked. “Well, aren’t you high and mighty this morning?”
She reached up and pushed her hood back. The golden locks of her hair spilled out around her shoulders. The crowd gasped and leaned away from her, whispers and exclamations swelling like a tide.
“Princess Danielle,” someone murmured.
“She’s alive?”
“The monsters killed her! It can’t be the princess.”
The guard knew better, however. Perhaps he was one of the men at her banquet. Or perhaps he’d heard the rumors.
Regardless, his face leeched of all color. Panic turned his eyes wide and his arm snapped out with lightning speed. He locked his hand around her arm and jerked her forward, away from the crowd of people now reaching for her.
“Princess,” he hissed. “You would have been wise to stay dead.”
“And you would have been wise abandon your corrupt king,” she snarled back. “Take me to my father.”
“He won’t be happy to see you.”
“Are you going to waggle your tongue more?” She leaned back, arched a brow, then stared at the manacle of his hand around her wrist. “Or are you going to do your job, soldier?”
His answering growl was enough of a response. She knew the guards wouldn’t go against her father. They were given a perfect life.
Food. A house. Their families were safe from whatever dastardly thing her father wanted to do next. Every part of their life was perfectly cultivated. Why would they want to risk losing such benefits?
Someday, when she was Queen of Hollow Hill, she would do whatever it took to ensure no one else ever had their reassurances. No one was better than the rest. No matter how useful they were to royalty.
The guard jerked her forward and opened the gate just enough to let the two of them slip through. He yanked her through the streets all the way to the palace.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” the guard said one last time.
Danielle stared up at the monolith which used to be her home. Two other guards opened the front door. And soon her father would control her once more.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I didn’t have any other choice.”
The guard shoved her through the front doors into the waiting arms of another guard. This one was covered in the dark blue of her father’s private guards. How had he known she was back already? Had they sent a messenger she hadn’t seen?
“Where did he decide I deserved to go?” she asked as she was jerked into movement again. “The dungeons, perhaps?”
“The throne room,” the guard barked. “No more questions.”
“Of course not. It’s much easier to have your prey not know what you’re planning.”
If the guard felt any remorse, he didn’t show it. Instead, he remained silent as he forced her through the halls of her childhood.
How strange it was to return here with a different outlook on life. She stared at the white marble floors and walls, the pristine beauty, and all she could think was that there were no fingerprints on any of it. As if no one even lived here.
Her father had created a tomb to live in, not a palace full of royals and visiting advisors. All he’d done was create a cold shell.
Even the marble statues stared at her with apathy. No expressions warmed their faces.
How had she been able to grow up here? Every child who walked this hall must have been terrified by everything that looked down up them. No wonder Milo said the palace made him feel sick.
The doors to the throne room loomed ahead. Her stomach twisted in fear and her palms grew slick with sweat. She tried to still the thundering race of her heart. All she had to do was survive a few days. Just enough for Raphael to return. Even if her father locked her away in the dungeon, the Dread could find her.
They were strong enough to tunnel up through the ground if need be. They’d find her, and they would take her home.
Home. She realized just as the throne room doors opened that the palace wasn’t her home anymore. Home was wherever the Dread were, the people who had taken up a special place in her heart.
With that knowledge fueling her bravery, Danielle shook off the hand grasping her arm. She straightened her shoulders and marched into the throne room under her own accord.
Her father sat upon the throne. The dark circles under his eyes softened his disapproving gaze. He looked tired, no, exhausted.
The King rarely looked anything but strong. He knew how to convince everyone that he felt nothing but virtue and power. And yet, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
The anger in his eyes sparked the moment he set his gaze upon her, however.
Danielle could feel the simmering rage like a blast of scorching air. She didn’t pause her measured steps. Instead of allowing him to intimidate her, she continued forward with confidence and the quiet strength the Dread had gifted her.
She had survived a cave in. Monsters had lived beside her and she had not felt fear at the sight of their claws and fangs. Danielle was no longer the princess who wanted to learn how to fight. She was the princess who knew how to use her words as a weapon.
“You dare return?” her father snapped. “I banished you,
Danielle.”
“This is my kingdom as well as yours.” She stopped in front of the throne, but she did not bow. “I am the Crowned Princess of Hollow Hill. This is my home.”
“We have renounced you. You have no place here.” Her father leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. The aggressive stance wasn’t lost on her, but she knew his tactics now.
Danielle shook her head. “You cannot take away my birthright because you don’t want me to rule, father. This is my kingdom, and I will not give it up so easily.”
Her father shifted forward and a spear of light from behind him illuminated his face. Long shadows hollowed his cheeks, changing his features. The skeletal face wasn’t her father’s, but one of the alchemists who had tried to kill her. She had seen those sunken eyes before. She’d seen the way their skin stretched over their teeth until she could count each individual one.
Danielle flinched. She stepped back, away from the sight of her father.
“Daughter,” he grumbled, his voice carrying throughout the throne room. “What makes you think the kingdom wants you back?”
She looked at him again, but this time she didn’t see the alchemist’s face. It was her father’s again, although his cheeks were gaunt. He’d lost weight. So much weight it made her question what he’d been doing in her absence.
The little girl in her heart wanted to ask him what was wrong. If she could help. She wanted to save her daddy because he was hers and she deserved a father who loved her.
But she didn’t have that father. Instead, she had a monster who saw his children as nothing more than pawns in this game of kingdoms.
She opened her mouth to argue with him, only to be interrupted by the throne room door slamming open again. Armor clanked and leather creaked, giving away the person long before they stood beside her and dropped into a deep bow.
“Father,” Diana said. “I had no idea she returned, or I would have come to your side immediately. It should have been me who informed you.”
Danielle stared down at the top of Diana’s head, her hair so fine it looked like spun gold. What had happened to her sister? What had made her give such blind loyalty to their father who had been so cruel? To her more than any of the other siblings?
“Diana?” Danielle asked. “What are you doing?”
“I should ask the same of you, Danielle.” Diana spat the words as though they were arrows loosed from her tongue. “This is no longer your home.”
“Perhaps the palace is no longer my home,” she replied. “But Hollow Hill will always be.”
Diana turned away from her and directed her attention back toward their father. “Shall I have her removed, father? I will send her to the outer reaches with a personal guard.”
“No,” her father waved a hand. “Her mother has been asking for her. Let her see the queen and then perhaps place her in the silver room.”
The silver room? There was no such place. Their father preferred colors, not shades of gray.
“Where?” she asked, then glanced over at Diana.
Her sister had gone pale. Still, she pressed her hand to her chest and nodded at their father. “As you order, it shall be.”
“You’re a dutiful soldier, Diana,” their father said. He leaned back in his throne and his breathing grew labored. “Now get her out of my sight.”
Diana stood, wooden and board straight. She snatched Danielle’s arm and dragged her out of the throne room without another word.
Together, they wound up the staircase to the private quarters where their mother slept. Still, Diana said nothing. She didn’t even look at Danielle. Not a single glance or even a flicker of her eyes toward her sister.
“What happened to you?” Danielle asked. “We used to be inseparable.”
At that, Diana spoke, although her voice was hollow and too calm. “You became the Crowned Princess, and I took up the mantle of General. Such are the way of things.”
“That doesn’t mean you become his puppet.” Danielle pulled on her arm. “Let go of me, I know the way to our mother’s rooms.”
“Father wouldn’t want me to leave you alone. Who knows what you might do.”
Danielle gave another tug, incapable of forcing her sister to release her grip. “Oh, you mean insight some kind of rebellion? I would, you know. If you give me the chance, I will stop at nothing to unseat our father.”
With a soft snarl, Diana jerked her to a halt. She shoved hard at Danielle’s shoulders and knocked her against the wall. All breath squeezed from her lungs. Wheezing, she tried to move only to find her sister’s arm against her throat, pushing her until she couldn’t breathe.
Something had changed in Diana. Something dark and twisted which ate away at the sister Danielle once loved.
She could see it writhing in Diana’s eyes. Like a worm which existed in her soul only to eat, gnaw, and devour.
Diana hissed, “You will do nothing to this kingdom. You were removed from power, and no one wants you back.”
“That’s not true,” Danielle wheezed. “I know that’s not true. You wanted me to come home, just like Milo, Melissa, and mother.”
“They didn’t even notice you were gone.”
“I know that’s a lie.” She reached up and wrapped her hand around her sister’s wrist. Not to pull or to push, but just to hold on to Diana as she used to. “I missed you all, sister. Just as you missed me.”
Diana released the pressure on Danielle. She stepped away from the soft touch as though afraid of it. Her eyes widened with wild emotion. “You only want to twist my mind.”
“I don’t want that,” Danielle replied. “I want you to see what our father has done. To us. To his people. To the Dread.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. All the emotion drained out of Diana and her shoulders squared. “He said you would claim they weren’t creatures. They’ve poisoned your mind. I see now he is correct. They are corrupted beasts, Danielle. Siding with them only makes you a monster as well.”
“If they are monsters, then I accept the name.” She curled her arms around herself. “I thought you were smarter than this, Diana. I thought you could see through the fog our father has cast over Hollow Hill.”
“And I thought you were a better princess.” Diana pointed down the hall to their mother’s quarters and the two guards who stood outside it. “Go to your mad queen, Danielle. Join her and know no one else believes a word you or she says.”
With that said, Diana turned and left her sister alone. Forgotten.
The forsaken princess once more.
Chapter 31
Chapter 31 -
“Here we are,” Bernard said. He stomped his feet on the ground, shaking off the mud clinging to his boots. “You’ll find the Master in the castle.”
Raphael stared at the castle in awe. The glorious building was mostly windows. Long lines of them covering four stories, each row straight like the trunks of trees in a forest. Sunlight glimmered off the rest of the building, the stone polished to a mirror-like quality. Immaculate gardens surrounded the chateau. Emerald green hedges created a labyrinth in one corner while the other side was filled with roses. He took a deep breath and could taste rose petals on his tongue.
An azure lake surrounded the chateau. Fish jumped from the waters and lily pads floated on the top. White flowers bloomed on each pad, their petals so delicate he could see the silhouettes of dragonflies through them.
He’d never seen a place so beautiful. Or so peaceful.
Bernard made a soft sound in his throat, clearing it perhaps, or a quiet snort to get his attention.
Raphael turned toward the man. “What is it?”
“I’ll take my leave of you.”
“And how do I get to the chateau?” He gestured toward the lake. “There’s no bridge.”
Bernard arched a brow, then stared at Raphael’s wings. “I think you’ll manage.”
Raphael hadn’t thought to fly over the waters, but it seemed rude when the chate
au was clearly meant to keep someone, or something, apart from everyone else.
He tried to tell Bernard, however, the man had already left. His footprints were still in the mud, but he’d somehow disappeared without Raphael’s notice. Had he stared at the chateau that long? Certainly not. He’d been...
He didn’t know. The chateau had a beckoning quality to it, a beauty which made him long to stare at it for hours on end.
Perhaps it was because within those walls lay a brother he hadn’t seen, nor remembered, in a very long time. Alexandre. He had a name now. No memory attached to the word, but at least a name was a start.
“Hello Alexandre,” he practiced. “My name is Raphael, and I believe we are blood.”
That sounded terrible.
He’d never been a poet. He supposed if that was the truth about himself, then it was likely neither had Alexandre turned out to be a man of many words.
Opening his wings wide, he gave one swift downward thrust and launched into the air toward the chateau. He was careful to be noticeable. No need to frighten the inhabitants of the chateau.
He glided across the waters, the tips of his wings touching the fish as they leapt into the air. He left a ripple in his wake that spread out over the lake. If anyone had looked out the windows, they would have seen his lazy approach.
Raphael didn’t need to enter this place like an avenging warlord. He was a good man with quiet intent. All he wanted was to meet his family.
The lake around the chateau was not as large as it looked. Or perhaps he was so invested in his sudden anxious fear that the journey only seemed very short. Raphael shifted, moving up in the air so he could land on both his feet in the gardens just outside the chateau’s impressive golden doors.
His clawed feet scraped the gravel. Not harsh stones as he might have expected, no rough edges bit at his heels. He crouched down and picked up a rounded, smooth stone. As if it had been tumbled in the ocean for ages.
The doors to the chateau opened so quietly he almost didn’t hear them. The wind from their movement brushed his hair, however, and he froze in place.