THE LOST PRINCESS

-8-

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, nervously tapping one foot, her gaze fixed on her bloodied fingertips. For hours, she had unsuccessfully tried to open the stone door. Her eyes darted from the wall to the entrance. Tristan hadn't returned. She couldn't wait for him any longer; she had to take action. "I can't marry Lazarus." The mere thought made her break into a sweat. The act of consummating the marriage horrified her. "Not with him! I have no choice but to escape," she pondered about her plan. "He'll bring me food soon."

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. Rising from the bed, she glared at the slowly opening door, ready to ambush the guard. Her only fear was inadvertently harming the other girls; going from innocent to the target was not her way.

Four girls entered. Two were the familiar ones who brought her food every day, while the other two were strangers. They carried a small tub of water and a basket of food. One, draped over her arm, held a long white dress. A portly guard armed with a sword accompanied them. "A wedding dress!" she widened her eyes. They gently placed the tub on the floor. Izzy recoiled.

The guard was tall and strong. She prepared for an attack. Tension hung in the air.

This time was different. None of the girls looked at the floor or seemed frightened. The bravest, wearing the dress, looked her directly in the eyes, as if wanting to convey something. Izzy stood motionless, staring at the girl.

"We need to bathe the future queen. I'll ask you to leave this area," she said boldly.

"I've been ordered to guard the princess and escort her to the altar," the guard replied with a smirk.

"Of course," said the girl with the dress, "But I believe Lord Lazarus wouldn't appreciate you seeing the princess naked before the wedding, especially since he hasn't seen her yet," she said in a sharper tone.

The guard's expression changed, nodding, he left the room.

"I am Mira," she said softly. "You have to be ready in two hours. We need to bathe you and dress you."

Izzy didn't respond; she just continued to stare at her.

While the other girls prepared the bath, Mira carefully unwrapped the skillfully folded wedding dress. "You'll wear an ivory corset on top and this beautiful skirt below. I altered it last night. It's separated from the corset, so when you leave, you just need to untie one lace, and it will fall off. It won't hinder you during your escape," she smiled. "I used some of the fabric to craft these pants. They need to be in the same shade so they won't be noticeable under the dress when the guard returns."

"Will you help me escape?" Izzy asked, surprised.

"Yes, you are our future queen, but Lazarus will never be our king," replied the girl with the basket.

"You're risking your lives!"

"We risk it every day," added the girl with the basket. "This is not life; it's survival."

"What's the plan?" Izzy inquired.

The girl with the basket began to take out food on a small vanity table. Eventually, she pulled out a knife.

"Tristan sent this," she smiled at her. "It looks like a knife, but it's much more than that. It's elven weaponry. Watch!" The girl pressed a button on the knife's handle, and in an instant, the knife extended into a sword.

"Tristan sent me a weapon?"

The girl nodded.

"Did he force you to help me?" Izzy asked sharply.

"No, he asked us," said Mira calmly. "It's his plan."

Izzy sighed. "At least he's keeping his end of the bargain."