HBHM (hiatus)

twelve

| journey

When Casimir stepped inside the quarters, Leroy was practicing his swordplay. The room was chaos: items were knocked over or were in a pile of smashed pieces on the floor; the bed sheets were torn; and the walls bore long slashes like claws of a beast that overlapped each other.

Reflexes took over him just as Leroy swung, and the sword just missed him by a few inches. He stared down the long blade and absently thought, if I hadn’t ducked, that would be through my throat right now.

“You are going to kill me one day,” Casimir muttered, shutting the door. “I just know it.”

Leroy smirked. “It isn’t my fault you keep standing in the way.”

“What are you doing out of bed? I thought I told you that you aren’t allowed to exert yourself. Miranda will have a fit.”

“Do you really expect me to be lying about in a bed?”

Casimir chuckled, shaking his head, not bothering to answer. “You look better,” he said, taking note of the flush color of Leroy’s skin and the way he stood straight instead of careening forward or to the side.

“I suppose,” Leroy replied, tucking the sword back into its sheath. “We should be able to leave tomorrow. We’ve wasted enough time waiting for me to heal as it is. How do you think Evarose does it? I’m certain her wound was much deeper than mine, yet look at her now!”

But Casimir was skeptical. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“No, but we’re running out of time. I’ll survive.” Then he gestured to the window, where the kingdom was laid out in front of them. “So what’s the newest one?”

“According the rumor, Evarose is an illegitimate princess hidden away by the king to the hide the truth of his affair.”

Leroy laughed. “Our people have such imaginative, entertaining minds.”

The next day at dawn, Evarose finished the spell, the illusion of magic wrapping around her like a blanket, and tucked her amulet underneath the thick material of her cloak. She glanced back at her room for a brief moment before shutting the door quietly, then heading down the hallway.

She was the only one on that floor—the king forbade servants to visit her—so she only heard her faint, gentle heartbeats. She pulled the straps of her backpack closer to her, and as she walked, the hem of her cloak brushed against the floor and between her ankles. She swallowed hard at the thought of what she would encounter in the king’s study.

Well, one in particular: Casimir. She didn’t really want to talk to him.

Evarose was not allowed to go home to her forest, so for the past few days, she had locked herself in her room and only came out in the middle of the night to avoid him. And during those moments where he caught her and approached, she didn’t bother looking at him and walked away rather rudely.

How could she talk to him? He kept her in his castle against his own will and brought her along the road leading back to Vladimir. He was like a treacherous climb up a mountain of rocks: risky, unstable, something she knew was best to stay away from.

It sounded fairly simple. But avoiding the prince who lived in the castle—in the room exactly below hers, actually—was not easy, especially since he had privileges she didn’t. He knew which way to take. He knew how many ways there are to take. And he was desperate for her attention.