From Crowns To Swords

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE SHIP'S MISSION

There were many things Maeve hated: small spaces, rules, rich people... but fighting with Kate was definitely number one. That's why finally, she decided she had to do something. Something to get back on good terms with Kate. She had to find out what these men were up to.

At exactly six o'clock, a knock on my door announced the arrival of both Mulligan and Maeve's dinner.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She knew what she had to do.

She quickly screwed up her face, and tears began to flow. If there was one thing Maeve was good at, it was fake crying. She let the deep sobs wrack her body, not so loud that it seemed forced, but loud enough for Mulligan to hear.

"Your Highness? Are you alright?" asked Mulligan through the door, sounding genuinely concerned.

Maeve forcefully opened the door, still crying.

"Your Highness! What's the matter?" he exclaimed.

Maeve shook her head. "Nothing. It's-nothing. I'll just take my food."

Just as she had planned, Mulligan refused. "Your Highness, I can't have you upset. I just couldn't bear it if I knew you were crying and didn't do anything about it. Please, tell me what's wrong."

Maeve let loose another round of gut-wrenching sobs and pulled the door wide open to let Mulligan in. He sat on her bed, she following suit, and put his arm around her. She told him "everything"-how she hated the palace, fighting with Kate, and, most of all, being cooped up in this room. Soon enough, Maeve's plan was fulfilled-Mulligan was giving her the key to outside her room.

"Now remember," he said. "Don't leave this floor and don't, do not let anyone else see you. Also... I hope you feel better soon, and... no matter what you sister says, I think you're a wonderful person." Mulligan smiled awkwardly and walked into the hall.

Maeve let out a breath. It worked-it had actually worked! She pressed her ear against the door, listening for footsteps. Nothing. She slipped out the door and began her search.

***

Maeve didn't know what exactly she was looking for, just something to tell her what the expeditioners were doing on their journey. It could have taken her days to find something like that, but luckily it only took a few hours. She struck gold, coming across a meeting discussing none other than the purpose of this expedition. Grabbing a glass from the nearby kitchen, she used the classic eavesdropping trick and began to listen in.

"Alrigh', Alrigh', settle down!" cried what sounded like Doyle. "I know they 'ave an army, but we can take 'em, no?"

"No!" shouted a deep-voiced man angrily. "No, we cannot. Come boy, do you honestly think we're a match for them?"

Doyle sounded completely unfazed by being called "boy." "Aye," he said. "I honestly do." A hush fell over the room. "But we 'ave ter 'ave a plan ter do tha'. So 'ere's what I propose: we make it a game o' intelligence. Those soldiers don' 'ave 'alf a brain, so i' should be easy enough. An' once we outwit 'em an' either capture 'em, kill 'em, or force 'em ter surrender, we can capture Ireland. An'-"

The glass slipped from Maeve's hand and kit the floor with a loud SMASH, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. Capture Ireland? White-hot fury coursed through her veins, and spots danced across her vision. The only reason Ireland survived the Great World War of 2036 was because, for whatever reason, Germany allied with them and helped them keep their freedom. That was only 30 years ago-kids that grew up during warfare were still trying to reclaim their lives, adults that had lost their chance at starting their dream life were not yet back on track. It was too soon for another crisis. And it wasn't just the impact this would have on citizens' lives that angered Maeve. It was the significance of this siege. She could see what her parents were trying to do. She could see their end goal, and she hated them for it.

"What was that?" asked the man with the deep voice.

Shit.

"Sounded like something breaking," said another, skepticism clear in his voice. "But everyone's in here. Who would be out of this room to break something?"

Maeve could just picture Mulligan's face in that room-regret, disappointment in her, and fear at being found out. She couldn't let them catch her-for Mulligan's sake. She took off down the hall and didn't look back.