Fabled (23 page)

“They’re coming!” we heard Cale’s voice scream. It was unsettling hearing him so far away. He wouldn’t yell and expose us without knowing we were in serious trouble. Fear stopped us in our tracks. We knew he meant the royals. Chester once again took my hand, and we ran faster. So fast that my legs were moving quicker than I could think. I tripped, and the fall broke Chester and I’s grip. I plummeted into the dirt, dropping Humbert’s block. Chester stopped to help. But before he could reach me, what looked like lightning, streaked from the sky and broke through the hedges. The massive shrubs collapsed in-between us.

Chapter 24

I hesitated a minute. My knees and hands bleed and ached from the impact of the fall. When I finally pulled myself up, I saw him. He was just a kid — maybe thirteen-years-old or so. I had no idea where he’d come from.
 

“So you must be Rowena?” He grinned. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I ran just like Cale had said for us to do. There was no doubt this kid was a royal. His immaculate three-piece suit and piercing eyes gave it away. I ran as fast as I could, but with every step I realized more how much trouble I was in.
 

Another hedge flew onto the path, blocking me. I quickly returned to the last square and ran in a different direction. No matter where I went, I felt the boy’s presence. I heard the breaking of more limbs and saw another bright flash, and I knew he’d blocked my escape again.
 

After fully exhausting myself, I propped on a bench in the middle of another square. Everything looked the same. I was running in circles. I knew there was no chance of escape.

“You know it was inevitable,” he said, seemingly standing on the hedge tops. He began walking down and towards me, as if he was trotting down invisible stairs. I struggled to catch my breath. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time now. Father is going to be so pleased with me delivering
the
portal jumper that he’s likely to give me a new wife.” His smile stretched across his face revealing his pearly, perfect teeth. “Perhaps even you’d do.” He removed my hood and unclenched my caramel curls. He took my chin in his hand and studied my face. I snatched it away. His touch made my skin quiver. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?” He grabbed my wrists and led me towards a garden wall. The tip of his finger lit up and he pointed it towards the wall. Lightning shot from his index to the wall, and he traced a door into the hedge. The bush quickly shriveled and browned, as it was being cut off from its life supply. He puckered his lips and blew the dead wall away revealing a doorway through the maze. When we walked through, we were standing at the base of the castle’s steps.
 

I tried to wiggle my wrists out of his grip, but I couldn’t. He clasped down on them more every time I resisted. Panic surged through my body. I knew that walking through those doors was going to be the end of me. From everything I’d heard about the royals, there was no chance I’d make it out.
 

I began to shake violently in rebellion. The boy dragged me up the steps. I struggled against him and suddenly felt my eyes blur until all I saw was black.
 

Then I saw myself being taken up the stairs. It was strange.
How can I be watching myself? Am I dead?
I stood at the base of the steps and watched him tug my body towards the door. I didn’t appear to be dead. Frozen and helpless maybe, but still standing. I looked into my vacant face and realized I’d never
really
saw myself before until now. Within seconds, everything was normal again. I was back in my body — the one that was about to be forced into the castle.

The boy opened the door with a small flick of his wrist; it flew back and slammed against the wall. The smell of old flooded us. Rooms lined the long, dark corridor. We walked past several of them, and I could see through the doorways that they were adorned with silk draperies and artisan rugs. All the rooms were dimly lit with candle sconces or candelabras. I would have been creeped out even if it weren’t the royals’ castle.
 

I continued to tug my arms to no avail, and I couldn’t help but constantly look behind me to see if another part of me was somewhere back there again.
 

Maybe everything is just different here. I mean, I am in the midst of magic.
 

We finally came to a closed door, which he again opened effortlessly with the waving of his hand.
 

“You’ll wait here. It shouldn’t be long,” he said as he sat me in an armed chair. I could barely see anything in the dimly lit room. I heard him blow and a low flame appeared near his face. He stood there for a moment and smoked a cigar and admired me — his morning hunt. “Sit tight, ya’ hear?” He smirked, walked out the door, and locked it.

The room was black now. My mind immediately roamed in search of a way out. After all, I wasn’t locked away in a dungeon — yet. I went to stand up, but the chair’s arms grabbed me. I heard the creaking wood wrap, warp, and squeal. Completely bound, there was nothing I could do but wait.

I thought about the others and hoped they all made it out safely. I wondered what they were going to do now that the royals obviously were onto them. I imagined they’d be already out of town with Madeline in tow.
 

No matter what, I’m glad I came to help her.
 

Now we just need to help ourselves to the royal’s power.

Slivers of light shined through the heavy drapery as the sun came up. I saw that I was in a study. Minutes passed, but my fears didn’t. I heard the sound of footsteps outside the door. There was a pause before the door opened.
 

It was him — Dresdem. I’d recognize his face anywhere. His black eyes were empty and soulless.
 

“See Father, I told you it was her!” the boy said, nearly giddy. Dresdem waved his arm and all the curtains pulled back. Light flooded the room. I squinted in response. Dresdem took a seat in front of me on a loveseat. The boy stood behind him, reminding me of a dog awaiting his treat.

“I’m pleased to officially meet you,” he said in a manipulative tone.
 

Pleased to meet me? Creeper.

And so we meet again…

“I think we have quite a lot to discuss, but I’m sure you’re tired from this mornings… excursions. I’m delighted you finally accepted my invitation.” His mouth curled on one side as he exchanged glances with his son.

“Invitation?” I asked.

“Oh, but of course. I had thought you’d come to see your friend earlier, but there’s no time like the present, right?” He crossed his legs and leaned back into the sofa. His nonchalant demeanor frightened me. Everyone told me how dangerous he was, and I’d already seen what he was capable of. But his relaxed expressions and speech juxtaposed that. I questioned everything he said. “Dekel will take you to your room. I trust you’ll find him more than accommodating. Breakfast will be served within the hour. We’ll talk later, yes?” The question was obviously rhetorical, and he didn’t wait for a response. He walked away.
 

Dekel approached me, placing a finger on each of the chair’s arms, causing the chair to recede back into its normal positioning.
 

“Come,” he said.
 

I had already gathered that not only were the royals against me, but the house and everything in it were under their command too. I decided I had no other option but to follow.
 

After walking up several flights of curling stairs, we arrived at a single large, wooden door. He opened it, and motioned for me to go inside. After my back was to him, the door slammed closed and locked. I jerked in response but was thankful to be alone.

The room’s iron bed was similar to the one I’d slept on at my grandma’s house. The bedding looked to be hand-quilted. A small sofa sat on one side of the room with clawed feet. In the center, directly across the room from the door, was a single ironclad window. I went to it and looked out. I saw the entire court from the height of my room. There was no glass in the window. It reminded me of primitive prisons. I reached my hand through the opening and waved it in the morning breeze. The bars reminded me that I was no guest here; I was a prisoner.

Chapter 25

Breakfast, lunch, supper all came without any word from Dresdem or Dekel. I didn’t eat anything. I couldn’t; I was too nervous. The servants never said a word to me, and a growing sense of loneliness enveloped me.

As darkness fell, I tried to sleep. I closed my eyes but couldn’t help but replay the day’s events. Every dream ended the same — with me locked in here.
 

It was also hot. The room had no breeze because of the small size of the window, and there were no other windows to allow for circulation. I, miserable in every sense of the word, finally lay on the cold stone floor in search of relief. It helped, but not by much.

The next morning, the door opened. It was another servant with breakfast.

“Wakey, wakey!” she squawked.
 

“I’m not going to eat as long as I’m here,” I told her. She stared at me blankly.

“You know you can’t die from starvation here, don’t you? You’ll merely suffer the effects of it.” She rolled her eyes and turned to leave.

I hadn’t thought of that.
They won’t care if I’m suffering.
What am I trying to prove? I should probably keep myself healthy in case there’s ever a chance for escape.

“
Wait,” I said and took the plate from her. She shrugged and scurried out.

It could be poisoned. What if I eat this and something terrible happens?
 

I reluctantly ate. There was nothing else to do anyway. I munched slowly on my apple until every morsel was devoured.

I stared out the window and watched the townspeople go on about their lives in freedom. But I mostly watched the Blacksmith’s shop. I worried they’d find out Mack and Cilla were helping us, but I hadn’t seen anyone approach the home yet. I also hadn’t seen anyone leave, which made me wonder if the pack were already gone or if they’re stuck there. I hoped for the best.
 

Lunch came and went. Finally right before dark, I received a visit from one of the servants. The same one from breakfast. She handed me a letter with a wax seal on the back. I opened it quickly. It read:

Dearest Rowena,

You’re cordially invited to dine with the family this evening. We look forward to your presence.

-D

I looked up at the servant, who was now gone. She quickly returned with a gown and matching accessories and started undressing me.

“Whoa. What are you doing?” I interrupted.

“I have to get you ready. Dinner is a formal event,” she said quietly. “Come.” She opened the door that led to my chamber’s bathing room and pushed me in. The water was cold, but luckily, the day’s heat made the cool water feel like a relief.
 

I could hear the tapping of her foot right outside the door, so I bathed quickly.
 

“I’m done!” I yelled to her after I’d dried off.

She opened the door and said, “Here put this on.” She handed me undergarments.
 

“Ready yet?” she asked with her back turned towards me. I covered up and held the corset to my chest.

“Yeah.”

She twisted me around and pulled the strings tight. I was reminded again of the conversation Lil and I had the night this all began. It made me sad for home.

“Sit yourself in front of that mirror yonder,” she instructed. I sat in front at the vanity, uncomfortably, I might add. My breasts felt like they were in a fight with the boning of the corset. I felt like a kindergartener’s juice box about to spill out because of an overly excited squeeze. With every breath I thought they might break free, but somehow they didn’t.
 

I stared at my blank face in the mirror. I hadn’t seen real daylight in a couple of days, and it was starting to show. I had become ghostly pale. The stress was showing too. Even the glow, which Mezz cast on all its inhabitants, was dull. The dark circles around my eyes made me look part terrier pup.

“What’s your name?” I asked trying to distract myself from nervousness.

“Call me Nurse.”

“What’s it going to be like? Supper, I mean?”

“It’s going to be formal. I told you that already,” she scoffed.

“I know, but what else? Are they going to be… pleasant?”
 

She ignored me and went on trying to fix my hair. She pulled it up halfway, leaving a few curls in the front to frame my face. She stretched and lightly combed the rest until she was happy. She then topped her masterpiece off with a dainty crystal crown.

“A crown, really?” I asked, attempting to touch it, but she smacked my hand away.

“Don’t touch. It’s a family heirloom. It’s borrowed,” she hissed.

She turned me towards her and away from the mirror. She painted something that looked like blush on my face, then eye shadow, and some bright red lipstick. She turned me around slowly, as if anxious to show off her masterpiece.
 

“Well, what do you think?” she asked smiling.

I sat there for a minute staring. I hardly recognized myself. The pink rouge and crimson lipstick made me look even more pale than before. I looked like a doll, almost.

I nodded. She turned away, acting as if she were hurt at my lack of excitement, and grabbed the gown that she’d brought me.

“Put it on.”
 

I took the gown and pulled it carefully over my head, so as to not ruin her handy work. She ran her hands down her faded, worn blue skirt and wiped away the wrinkles. She tucked the rebellious gray strands encircling her face back into her loose bun. I saw her catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shy from it like something was wrong. Then I realized what it was − shame. I felt guilty for having the chance to be dolled up tonight and not appreciating it.
I wonder how long it’s been since she felt beautiful.
I took the blush and turned to her.