*Maddy*
Reginald hasn’t spoken to me since he brought me back to his townhouse last night. Fresh bruises pepper my skin from the beating he gave me last night on the way home last night. I used my forearms to shield my face from the blows before he finally turned around and left me alone. Today, he seems in good spirits, but I have no idea why.
I failed.
But then nothing else happened to me last night. I wasn’t dragged from my room and given to his wolves. I was simply left to my own devices, which meant I spent the entire night picking through the brief conversation he had with King Isaac. I found a few words I recognized, but I still can’t make sense of why Reginald is so adamant I catch the king’s attention. I can’t possibly be considered as his Luna. A consort, maybe? Someone to warm his bed?
Morning sunlight whispers through the windows in my room. No breakfast has been laid out, and neither Glenda or Clare have come in to ready me for whatever I’m supposed to be doing today.
I can’t remember a time when I was bored. Usually, I’d be up before dawn to cook and clean. Now, I lay in bed with nothing to do and no one to talk to.
There’s no one here.
Wait….
I slide out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, careful to keep my steps light. I pull my hair into a bun and rush back to the dresser, finding a sweater two sizes too big for my body, but it will keep the morning chill from setting in my bones. I pull the sneakers out from their hiding place under the dresser, having to strain and flex my fingers to reach them. I don’t even look at my reflection in the mirror. I know what I look like. I know the thin black leggings and white socks are worn, my hair is a tangled mess, and there are dark circles under my eyes.
But if Reginald’s wolves are also gone this morning…
I can get out.
I have no time to stop in the kitchen for food or find a coat and gloves. There are ways I can survive without those. I can prove myself to someone, anyway, telling them I can cook and clean for cheap. I will work for pennies compared to what they would pay someone else. I’ll work for food or a place to sleep.
My stomach sinks at the thought of having to speak this foreign language, but I have to try. I have to. I have to get out. I have to do anything necessary to change my fate.
I rush toward the front door but find it locked from the outside. I hurry to the kitchen, my steps absolutely silent on the worn wood floor. I try not to think about where everyone is and why. Once I’m outside, I'll be free.
The back door in the kitchen is also locked tight. I tear at the lock with my nails, starting to grow frantic in my haste to escape. A chilled draft runs through my sweater, and I turn to see where the air is coming from, noticing one of the windows is ajar.
A large wool jacket is draped over one of the stools against the wall. It’s obviously for one of the men who lives here. An ashtray full of cigarette butts sits on the window sill as I push it all the way open, wrap myself in the jacket, and jump.
I land on a snow covered trash can and roll to stop against an iron fence, struggling to breath. Blinking into the daylight, I realize the drop was further than I’d anticipated. My body screams in protest as I stand on wobbly legs and button up the jacket with shaking fingers.
Free.
I’m free.
I did it.
Now what?
I walk along the fence until I reach a gate and push it open, sending a quick prayer to the Goddess in thanks for the fact the gate doesn’t have a lock. The street the house is situated on is quiet and run-down, and several of the townhouses surrounding it have their windows shuttered and boarded.
I run.
I don’t look back as I tear down the snowy street, dodging cars and ducking into alleyways to avoid people on the road. I have no plan, no money, and no way to communicate, but I have to do something if I want to survive.
Eventually, my lungs begin to ache, and my legs refuse to continue moving forward. I turn down a long, dark alleyway and skirt between two buildings, stopping to roll up the sleeves of my jacket and adjust my appearance as the sounds of a nearby market drift through the alley. Sticking my hands in the pockets of the jacket, I freeze, my fingers curling around coins. I pull them out and count several dollars worth of coins and bills. I almost faint with relief. An inner pocket reveals a hat that I immediately pull over my hair. My frozen ears tingle with relief.
Then, I step out on the other side of the alley and into a bustling inner-city market.
* * *
“Two-fifty, darlin’,” the shopkeeper says in a kind, warm voice as she hands me a hot sandwich stuffed with eggs and meat. My chilled fingers dig in my pocket and pull out some of the money, laying it in the palm of her hand. I had to point at a picture of the sandwich to order it, but she didn’t question me. I nod in thanks as I hurry out of the shop with the food I have to make last for at least the next day.
I walkethe market, careful to keep my head down but my eyes alert. The morning sun is swallowed by deep gray clouds as I start walking north, out of the city center and toward the quiet, run down edge of town. Shops line the street, the buildings tall enough to block out the light as I take a small bite of my sandwich. The heat of it warms my hands as I start formulating a plan of action now that I have food.
I have a bit of money. I could buy a train ticket. That sounds like my best chances of getting out of town and far, far away from Reginald.
A train would be warm and secure compared to staying on the street tonight, but what then?
“Hey!”
I nearly drop the sandwich as a woman runs out of a shop, her blue-green eyes alight with surprise.
Ella, King Isaac’s sister, is running toward me.
“What are you doing out here?” she asks, and I understand every single word as she speaks my language clearly
“How–how do you suddenly know–”
“What you’re saying? Well,” she shrugs, a smug grin on her face. “I was always great at languages in school. It took about a night for Celestorian to come back to me after a bit of studying.”
“You’re completely fluent now,” I gasp.
She grins at me, her eyes creasing with pleasure as she nods. “Probably would have been useful yesterday. Anyway, how are you? Why are you out here alone? This area of town is pretty dangerous.” She looks around before taking my hand. “Oh, you’re freezing! Come on, I’m just doing some shopping before Isaac gets worried and comes after me.” She leads me by the hand toward the shop she just came out of.
The grim, gray world I’d been walking in all morning suddenly erupts in color. The scent of ink and paint is heavy in the air as I follow Ella through the store.
“Why doesn't Isaac–I mean, His Highness–want you to be here?” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. Ella giggles, her fingers flying over several tubes of acrylic paint.
“Because this part of town is a great place to get mugged by a rogue, or kidnapped, or sold to an illegal auction, according to my brother.”
I suck in a breath as she tosses several tubes of paint into a plastic basket on the floor before moving on to the next shelf.
“It’s really not that bad,” she assures me. “But this shop has the best pigments, and I prefer to come here myself rather than having them deliver what I need to the castle. Get’s me out of the house, you know?” Ella drops another tube into her basket and picks up the container, moving on to a display of brushes and rollers. “Enough about me. What are you up to?”
Running away. I’m running away and I need help.
Why can’t I tell her that? Something in my chest goes rigid at the thought of telling her the truth. She’s a princess. I’m nothing. I don’t have a right to burden her with my problems, no matter how nice she is.
“I needed to get some air.”
“A lot going on, huh?” Ella glances at me before picking out a few brushes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.” I watch her fingers dance over the brushes while my heartbeat goes haywire.
“What do you think of my brother?”
“The king?”
“Who else?” she laughs, shaking her head.
“Oh, well. He’s… He’s very… nice.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “I beg to differ, but go on.”
My mouth twitches with a smile despite my attempts to keep my expression neutral. “He seems like he is a very capable king.”
Ella eyes me for a moment before she moves on to the canvases. “He’s a hard headed jerk, in my opinion. But you’re right, he’s a very capable king.”
I wonder where this conversation is going as I follow her around the store. “Did you want to be considered for the position?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I take a deep breath, wondering how I should answer that. It’s not as if I’ve had a choice.
The shop door opens and another customer comes in. My heart stops as a large man closes the door behind him, but starts beating again when he turns around and is unfamiliar to me. He doesn’t appear to be one of Reginald’s wolves.
“Are you all right?” Ella lays her hand on my arm. “You look like you are about to faint.”
“I–I’m fine,” I stammer, swallowing hard. “I–actually, I’m trying to get to the train station. Do you know where it is?”
Ella’s expression shifts, her lips pursing together for a moment before she frowns, her eyes falling. “Why are you going to the train station?” Her tone is soft with disappointment, which confuses me greatly.
Before I can answer, a shop girl comes up, bowing her head to Ella and giving me a skeptical look before dropping into conversation with the princess.
There isn’t a chance for me to answer her question. I’m thankful for it. Something about telling her the truth about my situation makes me sick to my stomach. What if she knew the truth and helped me escape, but then Reginald sent his wolves after her? Reginald doesn’t seem to care about the Alpha King and isn’t scared of him, either.
I couldn’t risk someone else’s life to save my own.
“Want to grab something to eat?” she asks, breaking me from my musings. I blink at her, finding it hard to form the words.
I need to run. I don’t have time. I need to get a train ticket.
I don’t have a moment to answer her as we step out of the shop. A shout rips through the air, and suddenly, I’m grabbed and shoved hard into the chest of a man I recognize from Reginald's house.
“Hey! Get off her!” Ella screeches just as the man swings me around, and his hand comes down hard on the side of my face.
My eyes blur with tears, and my cheek stings with a fiery pain as I try to reach out to shield myself from his assault. Ella is still shouting, but her voice is far away. My ears are ringing as I’m dragged across the street and thrown into a car.
“Stop, please!” I cry as the man climbs in beside me. He silences me with his hand around my throat, shoving my face against the window. Before my vision goes black, I see Ella standing in the street. She drops her bags of paints and brushes and stares in shock, her eyes wide and her mouth agape as she slowly fades away in the distance.
This is it. I’m dead now. I wasted too much time. I blink through tears as the car speeds through town.