“How do you know that?”
“Because I know a princess-in-waiting when I see one,” he says. “I scam them for a living, remember?”
He turns on his heel without another word, without offering another bargain, and I wait until he disappears.
“Pull out our map, Lafayette,” I say, not believing any of the parting words I just heard. “Let’s find the quickest way to the Eighth Kingdom.”
“Right now?”
“Right fucking now…”
A Wicked Detour
Belle
I can’t sleep.
Between the bonfire’s crackling and the loud snores from the troops, it’s impossible. Even with balsam blooms packed tightly inside my ears, the noise is far too overwhelming.
Pushing off a heavy blanket, I gently move Sola’s arm from around my waist. She’d said, “My job is to remain attached to you at all times,” when she pulled me away from Gabriel, but I thought she was joking.
I cough a couple of times to ensure she won’t wake, and then I slowly stand to my feet. Stretching my legs, I walk around the fire and spot something gleaming atop a soldier’s boot.
Moving closer, I squint until I can make out its full shape.
A dagger.
Nervously, I move in front of the man and stoop low while he continues to snore.
I slowly slide my hand over his shoestrings and rest my hand against the blade. Ignoring the frantic beating in my chest, I look over my shoulder before grabbing it and tucking it under the band of my pants.
Looking around the fire, I calculate that I could slit two or three throats without detection, but that would be pointless. Gabriel has the only compass among us, and I have no doubt that his men are entirely loyal to him. They’d find me with ease if I attempted to escape today, and they’d probably burn me on a pyre, if he asked them to.
Wait another day. Just one more day.
“Belle?” Sola moves behind me. “Belle, how long have you been awake?
Shit… “Not long.” I turn around to face her.
“Is something wrong?”
“You mean, besides the fact that I’m being held against my will?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “Besides that.”
“I’m fine. I just uh…I need to relieve myself and I wasn’t sure where to go.”
“Oh, I see.” She points ahead. “Down by the bank.”
“Alone?”
“Unless you give me a reason to watch you…” She eyes me suspiciously, but her expression slowly softens. “Why do you hate Sir Gabriel so much?”
“I don’t hate him. I despise him.”
“But why?”
I give her a blank stare. I don’t have time to list the numerous ways he’s stumbled onto my shit list long before our first encounter.
“Give me one reason, then,” she pleads.
“He’s a pompous, arrogant bastard who thinks that everything in life has to go his way just because he’s been blessed with the face of a god.”
“So, you’re attracted to him?”
I give up…
“Okay, I’ll stop.” She smiles sheepishly. “He’s not that bad if you get to know him. He can be quite sweet and charming at times.”
“He threatened to shoot me in the back if I ran away, Sola.”
“You threatened to slit his throat while he was sleeping.”
“He would deserve it.” I shrug, and she laughs.
“I’ll boil some tea leaves for when you return,” she says, pulling a worn copy of Macbeth from under her arm. “You like to read, right?”
I take the book from her hands without answering, running my fingers along the frayed pages.
“I always bring a few books with me on journeys like this.” She pats my shoulder. “It helps the time move faster, makes me feel like I’m revisiting with old friends.”
I hold back a sigh, brushing away the thought of my old book friend.
“Read a few chapters after you finish relieving yourself,” she says. “Take your time.”
I more than plan to…
I’m not sure how long my fingers have flipped through the pages or how many words I’ve devoured, but I force myself to pause my reading at the end of the first act.
Pretending like I’m standing in the village bookstore, I pull the feathered pen from the book’s spine and write a note to my friend, as if he’ll actually see it someday. As if no time has passed, and he’ll meet me in the woods and tell me that he wants to be together forever now.
I was wrong about this story…
You were right.
Want to pick the next one?
—Your only friend, too
The moment I shut the book, Gabriel’s deep voice sifts across the bank. I strain to listen to him, as he’s not speaking English. It sounds like a variant of Latin.
Crouching low, I move toward his words.
“Invenire puellam pulcherrimam et sapientissimam in tota terra… noctes liberabo.”
I can only interpret “beautiful girl,” “land,” and “dark nights,” and he seems to be repeating the strange phrase over and over again.
When his voice is so close that I can detect his presence, I gently push aside the grass to see if he’s sleep-talking, or, worse, attempting to read.