Willow flew down the staircase, her footsteps pounding loudly on the wooden boards. Down, down, down, and she just barely remembered to stop at the right floor. She didn't hear anything just yet, but sprinted to be safe. Down the hall, veer around the surprised housekeeper, jump over the cord to her vacuum, take the corner way too sharply, and bang through the door into the kitchen- the smaller one, with the nice people who'd served her breakfast.
They looked surprised to see her back so soon, and so distraught. She was dimly aware that she must look awful: all out of breath, pale, panicky and stumbling. But she managed to formulate words, even if they came out as a weakly croaked,
"Where's the back door?"
They were confused, concerned, and not acting quickly enough. Willow straightened her shoulders, calmed her face like her mother had always taught her to do, and tried to catch her breath.
"I need to use the back door. Or whatever door gets me furthest into the gardens, please. It's an emergency."
"Are... are you in some sort of trouble, dear?" one of the plump woman cooks asked, her brow wrinkling in concern.
"Well... Prince Roger isn't very happy," Willow said truthfully, and she felt another sob heaving up in her chest. She couldn't conceal it in time, and they mistook it for a sign of sadness, not fury and heartbreak. Probably the poor little puppy was getting kicked by her master again.
"Is... is my lord looking for you?" the cook asked hesitantly and Willow almost screamed, well duh, that's why I need to get out of here!
But then she realized that his will was above hers. His commands and desires trumped hers any time. So she looked the woman straight in the eye and said, with every amount of coolness and control she could muster,
"Well, you don't know that yet."
The woman hesitated but a tall black man in a chef's hat stepped forward quickly and said cheerfully,
"The back door, Miss Willow? Why, that's this way, though I can't imagine why you'd want it."
Willow had never been more grateful in all her young life. The man strode down a small corridor with lengthened strides. He sensed the crisis and was going out on a limb. He could get fired for this. But he seemed determined, and she jogged to keep up with him as he turned into different hallways and led her through the servant's quarters. There was a small wooden door at the end, and when he opened it, she saw she was at the far end of the east wing, looking out over a patch of lawn and, in the distance, the gardens.
Now she hesitated. The man stood quietly beside her and she pondered her indecision. She hadn't planned this far ahead.
"The stables are right up ahead, Miss Willow," the man said softly. "If you'd like to take a ride, maybe out on one of the back paths. Take one of the slower horses, and you'll be gone awhile. Long enough for ol' Roger to cool down, I think."
Willow felt tears prickle the corners of her eyes and she fought desperately to keep them away. Kindness was rare, she'd learned that a long time ago. Her mother had once told her to treasure every moment of kindness you receive, because you never know how long it would have to last you through hard times.
Her mother. Who really didn't love her.
No! She loved me!
Willow turned and nodded to the man. There was a lump in her throat and she didn't dare speak. He nodded back and turned and left. For a moment she stood still, looking out past the lawn and into the gardens. There was a beautiful little grove of mango trees, just coming into bloom. They were lovely things, all soft green and pink. They reminded her of when she and her mother would seek out trees in the midst of the busy cities. When they found one, they would always name it, and her mother would bless it, calling it strong and resilient to endure the city smoke.
But after the few seconds of blissful memory, the truth came back very hard and hit Willow like a punch in the gut. In fact, the full truth of it, including everything she'd heard Prince Roger say, slammed into her head-on and she actually reeled. A new kind of panic seized her. She remembered back when they told her that her mother was dead, how it had suddenly been real to her and the pain came, so intense and gut-wrenching all she could do was scream. Panic, panic, I don't want to feel that again.
So she ran. She ran to escape what she knew was coming, ran to get away from the truth. She ran across the lawn, parallel to the building. She ran fast, faster than she'd ever run before, up the beaten path to the stables. They were almost completely empty, but as soon as she spotted the loft where she'd sat with Prince Henry- oh, years ago, it seemed- she veered away and kept running, past the building with the neighing horses, up another path to another barn.
Ah, here were the real mounts, Henry's pride and joy. Usually they were kept locked up, but here was one sitting outside, still purring contentedly with the key in the ignition.
Darkness was already starting to fall as Willow swung her leg over onto the seat. The pain subsided a little when she felt the roar of the engine underneath her. There was a shout off to one side. Someone was coming. Too late.
With hardly a thought to what she was doing Willow twisted the throttle, opening it up wide. She had no helmet, no road, and only a little experience. But all she wanted was to run.
She tore up the path to the garden. There wasn't much to see, but she knew that the rolling grounds must end somewhere. Above the roar of the bike she could hear other sounds, faint yells, once maybe even a siren or two, but as she went deeper and deeper into the garden, they faded.
She ate up the ground, tearing through flowerbeds and striking bushes left and right. But the pain was still there, building and growing and climbing. She wasn't going fast enough.
No one could really say whether it was fortune or bad luck that brought her to that end of the garden. But all Willow knew was that a gardener had the back gate open to let out his tractor, and beyond that was a gravel road leading back to Londtin. So she took her chance and jumped out.
Ah, here we go! Speed! The uneven ground jolted her violently for only a little while before it evened out to pavement. Here was a back road, here it connected to a larger street. And here... here was a stretch.
Faster, faster, faster. Leave the pain behind and go...!
____________________
Prince Henry had just come inside to grab a snack. He was in the middle of testing out his new motorcycle, and was in a great mood. That is, until he heard angry shouting.
"Dad!" he pleaded, "Calm down! Tell me what's wrong!"
"It's Willow, of course!" Prince Roger said angrily, motioning frantically to his assistant, Eugene, who was making a phone call. "She overheard a conversation between Eugene and I about her mother-"
Henry was flooded with dread.
"Dad..."
"Emma! Get the east wing guards! She might have gone out that way!"
"Dad-"
"They haven't seen her? Good God, she didn't just disappear!"
"Dad!"
"Well, find out, Eugene, I can't have her running off and doing something disastrous. No, don't call the queen, we'll handle this right away!"
"MY LORD FATHER!" Henry bellowed and Prince Roger turned to look at him in surprise.
"What, son?"
"What exactly did Willow hear concerning her mother?"
"That the woman committed suicide."
Henry felt his heart start to beat faster. "Did she know that?"
"Evidently not. It's fine, Henry, we'll find her, she's emotionally distraught, that's all."
Prince Henry lunged forward and grabbed his father's collar. The young man's tawny muscles wrenched Prince Roger's face up to his. There were a few startled cries, but neither man's bodyguards seemed to know what to do.
"Where is she?" Henry ground out.
"I don't know! Son, let me go!"
"This is serious. You should never have led her on."
Prince Roger stared in shock at his son's stone-cold expression. "Henry, calm down! She's overreacting... she's not the only one who'd lost her mother..."
With that, Henry's expression twisted into one of rage and he let go of his father with a shove.
"Well," he yelled. "She's the only one here who's ever lived out of her comfort zone, who's gone hungry, who's only know the love of a single person! And even if she had a father she never knew him or his affection! She's the only one here who, when she did find out who her father was, got stuck with no mother and a complete and utter idiot who hated that she existed and showed her nothing but disgust and contempt!"
Henry came up for air. The hall was dead silent. For a moment he stared at his father's shocked eyes. Then he said quietly,
"And she's the one who never once complained to your face. The one who tried her best but always failed. And the one who's out there alone. Emotionally distraught? She's emotionally damaged. And you didn't help one bit. I'm going to find her."
As he spun on his heel Prince Roger called desperately,
"Son!"
"Don't you dare call me that," Prince Henry shouted over his shoulder. "Until your daughter in back and safe!"
Angrily he stormed out of the palace, his lackey hurrying at his side. But when he reached the building he'd left his new bike leaning beside, he found only skid marks leading haphazardly into the garden. For a moment he stared. Then suddenly he came alive.
"David, tell them I've gone after her," he said, pulling on his helmet and searching for another motorcycle. "Don't follow me, the last thing she needs is to be swarmed."
As the young lackey hastily confirmed his orders, Henry climbed onto his second-favorite bike and started the engine. As he rolled it out of the barn and onto the tread marks that started Willow's panicked take-off, he settled onto the seat and looked grimly into the garden. He knew without a doubt she'd found a way out of the palace grounds. Because Willow just didn't settle for boundaries.