Without Words

Chapter 22

The thought scared her the more she thought about it. Who would she be if she hadn’t been born a princess? How would she have coped? Born mute, she doubted she would have been good for much in the world she was discovering. She would never have learned to read, much less to write. She would have been doomed to a life without communication. The thought was terrifying.

But it shouldn’t be, she reminded herself. Perhaps that was what proved her to be spoilt, the fact that losing the ability to write, to communicate, was such a terrifying thought for her. She was sure that there had been children born that way in the past, unable to speak, and never taught to read or write. Surely they managed fine. And yet she was terrified by the notion. It was silly of her. She’d always thought herself intelligent, but she seemed to realize her naivety more and more each day she was away from the palace.

She hoped she would be back at the palace soon. While she couldn’t say she’d had friends there, she’d had books. Books had always been her friends more than humans. Books didn’t require her to talk, or even to do anything really. Instead, they told her stories, fantasies and histories alike. They wove words together in ways she’d never heard from anyone else, capturing her mind and transporting her elsewhere. Even the books that others found boring enthralled her, pulling her into their depths.

Another thought struck her, and she sat down on the edge of her bed once more, torn from the fantasy. She had a wedding. She was getting married. She was going to have to be queen. And suddenly that thought terrified her more than any of the previous ones combined.

Hearing a sound from behind her, loud in the silent night, she turned. The room was dim, though, and whatever had caused the sound was nowhere in sight. Still, it made her uneasy. She reached for the lantern beside her, lifting it in an attempt to cast more light around the room. Perhaps she was being paranoid, though, she thought, still seeing nothing. It had probably come from nothing more than her own tired and terrified mind.

She turned around to set the lantern back on the small wooden table and get ready for bed. She had been up far too long if her mind was beginning to play tricks on her. Her exhaustion was making her paranoid, and after all, she needed to be up earlier tomorrow. Hopefully Tomas would wake her, though, or else she doubted she would be up before noon.

A rough hand grabbed her wrist. She started, her mouth opening in a silent shriek as she whipped around, only to have a familiar feeling of coarse fabric slide over her head. She felt herself freeze in a panic. No.

She began to struggle as she felt herself lifted, rough hands holding her tightly. Not again. Please, not again. She swung her legs wildly about, kicking at anything that gave her purchase. A crashing sound echoed around the small room, the sound of shattering glass, and she stopped in surprise.

The person holding her cursed, and suddenly heavy footsteps resounded as the man - for it was clearly a man - made a mad rush for the door. Her body was jostled as the man ran, seemingly in fear of something, for what else could prompt a kidnapper to make such a loud escape? Her hopes soared for a brief moment that the noise would draw attention and that someone would save her, but that hope was quickly squashed. Everyone was in bed; even if they did hear, they likely would not come out to see why a mad man was running through the halls.

The jostling intensified as the man reached the stairs and began to hop down them two at a time. Her tired body had been frozen before, but now she realized that here she had a chance. She kicked out wildly again, hoping to connect with something, anything. A loud thump proved that she had succeeded. She’d only managed to hit the wall, but it was enough to throw her attacker off balance, sending him careening down the stairs. In his confusion, he tripped, and she found herself flying through the air as he fell down the stairs.

It was an odd moment of freedom, soaring airborne for the briefest moment. But then she slammed into the ground, the breath knocked out of her, just as the man’s tumbling stopped. Surely if anyone was awake they would now come running.

But her hopes were in vain as she heard a groan from the man, and him stumbling to his feet. In a moment of madness, she attempted to regain her own feet before he could, and dash out the door where perhaps she could find help, but it was only madness. The man was up before she had finished the thought, and she was thrown across his broad shoulders again.

Within a moment, they were out the door and into the chill air of the late night. She was sure if she had her head uncovered she’d be able to see the stars overhead, twinkling cruelly at her harsh fate. While her first reaction to her attacker had been fear, she’d been surprised to find that her next emotion was mere exasperation. Exasperation at her fortune, and exasperation at the fact that this was happening over again. Kidnapped twice in a week; surely that had to be a record?

Surprise flooded her mind again, however, as she found herself tossed into the back of a cart, landing roughly. And then the terror returned. It was happening again. It was almost as if she was reliving the terror of that first horrible night, snatched from her reveries and tossed over a man’s shoulder. But the cart was the last straw. She found herself shaking, her eyes tearing in fright as she huddled in the corner of the cart again.

The man hopped into the cart, and she had to close her eyes to block the memories of that night from flooding back. Memories of counting the men hopping in beside her. Memories of galloping horses and bruised limbs. Memories she’d suppressed. But not anymore. Not again. Not again. Not again. Her mind began a mantra, trying to push back the memories, the terror she’d felt. Not again. Not again.

“We need to get out of here. Now,” came the voice of the man who had carried her out of the building. “The brat knocked over the lantern in her room. The whole place is going to be on fire soon, and that’s if the tenants don’t come get us first after all the noise.”

Mirabel’s eyes widened under the sack on her head. That was why he had cursed and run. That was what had caused his carelessness. The inn was going up in flames.

She realized that in her fright, she’d put everyone else in danger. She could only hope they would be able to find and put out the fire in time. The crack of the whip, familiar to her ears, echoed through the night. Her own safety far from her mind, the cart started off without another word from either the driver or the passengers. She’d knocked over the lantern. She’d set the inn on fire. It was her fault. All of it.

A horrifying thought struck her. Not only had she set the inn on fire and put everyone inside in danger, but Tomas’s room was right beside hers. If anyone was in danger, it was him.

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A/N Well, here's the next chapter :3 Hope you're enjoying. I wrote half of this in a notebook during church during NaNo >.< Just to get my word count. It was a pain to type into the computer. I. Hate. Copying. In case you wanted to know x) As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, despite my pains of copying, and please vote/comment! I'll give you an ice cream cone xD