Once she reached the room with a number that matched the one on her key, Princess stormed inside and slammed the door behind her, making sure to bolt the lock. Pressing her back to the sturdy wood frame, she wiped at the sweat dotting her forehead. What was wrong with her?
"You've not been around people enough to know how to act," she answered her internal question. And the truth was, nearly everyone avoided her out of fear of what her adoptive father might do if they stepped a toe out of line. Darnel kept her isolated when she lived in the castle. That is, unless he needed to put her on display when he wanted to impress his infrequent guests about his wonderful fathering skills.
Her stomach gave a sick heave. Father skills, indeed, what a jest.
She went to the small cot and dumped her backpack's contents onto the narrow straw bed, reviewing her provisions. No sense carrying a bag full of wet, ruined items.
Princess sank onto the stiff bed, her muscles screamed in protest over its recent treatment. She'd never walked so far in her life! Lifting the shreds of creamy velvet dangling around her scraped legs, she wished for a hot bath. Well, not here. Time to toughen up and get accustomed to not having your usual comforts. Even in the dungeon she'd always managed to make her quarters pleasant with a few stolen items from her upstairs room.
She examined the leather pack, decorated with ornate ivy embroidery. Someone had even stitched Dean's name under the flap in fancy lettering. Too bad it was probably ruined now. She untied the slip-cord, then pulled out a water-bag, nearly full of water. To her astonishment, the inside was perfectly dry!
"How?"
Next she removed a tinderbox with fire-starting supplies, and a wooden box containing string and hooks. A cloth bag held several coins. Coins!
"I can purchase a traveling outfit now." Princess hugged the clinking bag to her chest. Tears burned her eyes. Setting the coins aside, she searched more and found a small pan to cook in and a tightly rolled blanket. Amazing! How did all these things fit inside such a small pack?
The cover warmed her shoulders, warding off the room's chill. At the very bottom was a leather-bound book along with some jerky and bread wrapped in cloth. She shoved a small chunk of meat into her mouth. Flavorful and tasty. Oh, Bliss!
"This is the best pack ever. How'd he get all this stuff in there?" She examined the inside and outside thoroughly but couldn't figure it out.
First thing in the morning, she'd ask where the nearest tailor shop was and hope they'd have some ready-made clothing she could purchase. Still marveling at everything Dean's light-weight pack held, reason asked if it were enough to get her all the way to Aloblase? And just how far would she need to travel before she reached the good king's city? From the sound of it, the trip might take months.
Her knees buckled and she sat heavily on the bed. Inside the little pouch were ten gold coins, all with the tree emblem. Racan money had Darnel's face on both sides. Which did they take in here Yarholm? Crystal the dragon said they'd help her.
She sighed. No, Crystal said she'd find help from those with the tree emblem, like she'd seen on the tents in that field. Somehow, she had to find the way back to them. Except the Racans were also camped nearby.
Those despairing thoughts weighed on her mind and her head felt so heavy, she rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. What do I do? What do I do?
She knew nothing about blending into a normal town. Or even how to go about purchasing things she needed. What if there weren't enough coins? What was a coin worth, anyway? Could she actually find work to earn more if needed?
Not here. Not in Yarholm. But how far and in what direction lay the next town?
Princess flopped back onto the lumpy cot. "This is hopeless."
A realization of just how ignorant she'd appear going around asking stupid questions normal people should know hit her and left her wanting to do nothing more than to crawl under the bed and never come out.
Her throat burned so hot, her vision blurred. She swallowed, trying to tamper down her reservations. Sitting up, she searched the pile of gear for that water bag. Caution rose up and she sniffed the contents before taking a small sip. Sweetness filled her mouth. She gulped down more. The water went down her parched throat like soothing honey and washed away the weighty doubts stabbing her resolve.
If only Dean hadn't sacrificed himself. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about Dean, or Tarek who floated in and out of her conscious thoughts like a specter. He'd most likely been captured and killed by Darnel for helping her. Just like Dean was killed trying to help.
If only her pounding heart believed her brevity. She took another drink. Her trembling ceased and her breathing eased. Well, no more. Nobody else was getting hurt because of her. She would figure out how to do whatever it took to get across Alburnium. Somehow.
Across the room in the corner sat a wobbly table, topped with a washbasin and mirror. She stood, shaking off all the trepidation threatening to paralyze her resolve to continue on her journey. A hot bath to wash off her Racah stench might be wonderful, but such niceties had to wait until she found a more hospitable place. Her torn dress would need to suffice as well.
She poured the cold water into the basin and splashed some on her face. The chilliness revived her some until she peered into the cracked mirror. A startled gasp escaped her cracked lips at the sight staring back with tangled red hair, dark circles beneath honey-brown eyes, and scrapes across reddened cheeks. Too bad the amazing pack didn't contain a brush. Dragging her fingers through her locks, she hoped for the best, but finally gave up. Who cared anyway?
Returning to the bed, she picked up the small leather book. Inside the cover was written: Sir Dean, the King's Messenger. May the King's letters always bring comfort on the rough roads you'll travel. Your friend, Ethan.
A lump formed in her throat. He had a friend named Ethan. Probably a family, too. Dean had told her King Shaydon would make sure his medallion would be taken care of. She had to make sure they both reached Aloblase. And she would. She gave a determined no. Yes, she would. Somehow.
She held up the Messenger's medallion and pulled hers out from inside her bodice. Slipping the chain through her disk, she let them both rest together around her neck. Every time she sought comfort from hers, she'd be reminded of what he'd done for her. She couldn't stop until she reached her destination. No more thinking about giving up, or even settling down. Somehow, she'd get to Aloblase.
After packing Dean's belongings back into the pack, except the book, Princess wrapped herself in his soft cover, wishing she could change out of the rough, tattered dress. Best to remain prepared to leave at a moment's notice. She didn't even bother to removed her boots, despite how much they ached her feet. She leaned against the headboard and flipped through a few silver edged pages before her eyes grew too heavy to make out the words. Her head rested against the wall and she started to doze off when a knock sounded at the door.
Princess' eyes flew open. Please don't be DezPierre. She wanted no more to do with that horrid creature. Maybe if she remained quiet, whoever it was would go away.
"Miss?" called the barmaid from the bar. "Please open up. We need to speak with you."
We?
Intrigued, Princess stood and went to the door, opening it just a crack to find Lydia, Rog, and that loud-mouthed Jerin standing in the hall. Lydia carried a tray with a pot of tea and three cups on it. The smell of warm cookies hit her nose and she opened the door wider to let them in.
Lydia set the tray on a small bedside table. "Pardon the intrusion, dear. But we wished to speak to you privately."
Rog took a chair and placed it next to the window where he occasionally peered out through the dark curtains. Jerin sat on the edge of the bed, clasping his big hands in front of his knees.
Princess quickly moved her pack closer to her as she sat on the foot of the matress. "Look, I don't know what all this is about, but I don't want any trouble. So, I'll be out of here in the morning."
"Trouble is what you got, dearie," Lydia poured the tea into the three cups and began passing them around. "Whether you want it or not. There were unfriendly ears out there that heard your remarks about the dragon."
She stopped in front of Princess with the remaining cup. "Sugar or plain?"
"Um, plain?" she shrugged, taking the warm cup and sniffing at the contents. What if they had potions like Master to put people into a deep sleep? But nothing more than the scent of cinnamon and chamomile filled her nose. She took a sip, after watching Jerin and Rog sip from theirs. She sipped a bit more, thinking this had to be the best tea she'd ever had.
Lydia took the plate of cookies and handed them out next. "Listen, girl, if you've been tangled up with the Racan King's beast, and from your scorched hair and clothes, I'd say you were. Then there may be a price on your head."
Princess's mouth dropped. The cup began to slip from her hands when Rog reached over and grabbed it. They probably had drugged her so they could turn her in for the ransom. She lunged to her feet, heart pounding. They were going to turn her in. Glancing at the door, she considered running. The woman must have read her expression because she sidestepped to block the exit.
Jerin quickly stood and moved closer to Rog, offing an awkward bow. "Please excuse Lydia. She's all business. We aim to help, if we can. Sounds like maybe you have an interesting story. We just need to be certain whose side-" He lowered his voice to a whisper, "-you're on." He stared at her pointedly.
Rog leaned forward, the cup in one hand, and cookie in the other. "Since you came in with one tending to serve Racah first, we're a bit concerned. I'm sure you understand?"
"Serve Racah?" Princess asked, her voice squeaking like a wounded mouse. She had the Racan mark on her arm. What would they do if they found out? She set the cup and dessert back on the tray. She needed to leave. Now. Right now.
Lydia remained poised in front of the door, blocking her only way to freedom. Even if Princess managed to fight her way past the woman, which was unlikely, the men would have her before she could throw the first punch.
"She don't look so good," Rog wagged his head.
"Where you from, kid?" Jerin leaned against the wall. He'd gulped down the cookie in one bite and was reaching for another. "And what is your name?"
Princess glared at him, wondering if she should trust anyone that insisted on calling her a kid. Obviously she wasn't a child. Was he blind? Besides, he couldn't be too much older.
Her mind raced to form some kind of story to pacify them. Anything to keep them from turning her in. She'd not go back to Racah.
Lydia moved a couple of steps closer. In a surprisingly tender voice, she said, "We want to help you, honey. Did you escape really from...Racah? Every once in a while, we do have someone pass through. A very few have managed to escape. How did you—?"
Rog cleared his throat. "Can't assume she's from the dark lands, love." Princess' head snapped up at the familiarity of that pet name. Tarek often called her that and she didn't like the emotions that little word stirred in her heart. "She could be from another town in this area?"
Princess studied each one, their curious faces and nervous glances. It boiled down to the basic fact that she couldn't trust anyone. They certainly didn't have any markings that Dean told her to look for. Still, she did need help and they sincerely seemed concerned.
No, don't be stupid. Make up a story and get what help you can. Then you get out of here at first light and you don't look back.
Sinking back down onto the edge of her bed, she tweaked her story the best way she could in the heat of the moment. "I...uh...did live in the Racah. I... I'm an orphan. I worked as a slave. In the castle." Maybe she was telling too much truth. She needed to twist it a bit more. "I wasn't happy there and wanted to leave. A friend-" Her throat constricted thinking of Tarek, "-told me how to get down the mountain. We were going to escape together, but the dragon—" She shrugged her arms. "I managed to get down the mountain. Alone. Been running ever since."
Lydia gave a slight shudder, and reached over to pat her shoulder. The touch sent a shockwave through Princess who hadn't known a kind gesture in too long to remember. Not that she could remember much from her past.
Jerin, leaning against a wall, rubbed at his ruffled blonde hair when he asked, "How'd you end up with that scamp, DezPierre?"
Princess offered a simplified explanation, not mentioning the soldiers or witch. "I had no idea Dez was one of the Darnel's servants or I would have run from him, too."
Lydia let out a low whistle. "Well, the Okbolds don't directly serve the king, but when there's a side to take, they all jump over to Racah's."
"Look," Princess said in her most authoritative voice. "I just want to find this white road. And find my way to the city called Aloblase. I might have family there. Maybe."
Rog set his empty cup on the floor. "What did you mean earlier? When you said the dragon told you to come here?" He leaned back in the chair, peering out the crack in the window curtains once more before turning his stony gray eyes back on her. "I'm sure you're being cautious with your story, but we have to know what we're dealing with here, gal. Did you... actually speak to the dragon? Lyddie here says you have scorch marks covering your back. My question is did you climb down them mountains, cause I've always heard that was impossible."
The inner debate going on inside Princess was growing into an epic battle. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her dress. Sending up a silent plea that she wasn't making an enormous mistake, she let out a long breath and said in a whisper which caused everyone to lean in closer, "Flew. I was flown down the mountain. The dragon and I both escaped." She held her breath, refusing to tell them the rest. Already, she'd given away too much information, but she needed their help if they were honestly offering to give it. She sure hoped so.
Rog let out a low whistle. "They'll be looking for her, Lydia. She set his dragon free. The Dark King will be furious. He'll scour every town in these woods."
"Perhaps." Lydia eyed Princess with her steel gaze. "What's your name, dear?"
Princess's mind reeled. The woman spoke kindly. So did the men. Then she remembered so had DezPierre. Was there anyone she could trust?
Jerin crouched in front of her as he met her gaze with the most amazing pale blue eyes she'd ever seen. "We want to help you, kid. Honest. We're not going to turn you in. I swear." He placed a big, calloused hand over his heart. "You said earlier that the Alburnium army was near? The flags show a golden tree emblem. Is that what you saw?"
Princess nodded, swiping her frayed sleeve across her eyes.
"Well, we're willing to trust you and offer help. Can't you trust us with your name?"
She ducked her head with a shrug. "I honestly don't know. Dez called me Miss. I'm fine with that."
Lydia looked her up and down. "We're you injured, dear? I've heard of people suffering from amnesia. They forget everything." She squeezed her hand. "They must have called you something where you lived."
She'd never tell another soul about that awful name. Princess shook her head with another weak shrug.
Jerin pointed to Dean's book. "Is that a copy of The King's Book of Letters? I haven't seen one of them in... ages. May I?" He reached out. She took it and set it in his big hands.
"What exactly is that book, anyway?" she asked.
His brow cocked. "A...collection of letters. From the king. Duh." He rolled his eyes.
Rog nudged the big guy with his boot, glaring at his sarcasm. "From King Shaydon. Letters he's written over time to his people." He leaned forward, looking on with interest as Jerin flipped through the pages.
Jerin's blue eyes shot from the cover where Dean's name was written, to her before he snapped the book closed. "Think you remember how to find the Tree People's camp?"
She nodded taking the book back. Jerin had to know she wasn't being honest. Sweat beaded along the nape of her neck.
"Good. I'm going with you." He waved toward the couple. "Rog and Lydia are willing to offer us supplies. She even has a traveling outfit that will fit you." He studied her torn dress, forehead wrinkled in an unasked question. Blinking, he offered instead, "If you'll take me to the army's camp, I swear to get you to the King's highway. I need their help in fighting off these pests."
Princess' gaze snapped to Jerin, then the couple. They didn't intend to turn her in? Energy surged though her despite her heavy tiredness. She couldn't thank Jerin enough, and was eager to leave right away.
Lydia patted her shoulders soothingly. "You should get a good night's rest. I suggest starting out before dawn."
Jerin nodded. "I'll let Papa know where I'm going. He can handle things until I return." He faced Princess. "Stay here until I come for you. All right?"
She promised, smiling wider than she remembered smiling in a long time.
Once they left her, she returned to her bag and carefully placed the book on top. Lydia brought her a bar of soap and a brush. The extra items fit easily inside. The woman also provided a black traveling cloak, a shirt and pants and even a new pair of boots. The outfit was slightly too big, but much better than her torn dress.
Princess was so grateful, she wanted to hug her, but stopped herself. "I have coins to pay for these items."
"Hush." Lydia waved her off. "Least I can do. One day I should make the trip myself." Wistfulness creased her brows. "I've heard that the White Road is hard to follow at times, but there are people who watch over it and are willing to help travelers. They say once you pass the Semitamon mountains, the road widens and the land is the most beautiful you'll ever see." She stared into an unseen distance. "It's like walking into a dream. Trees are bountiful with fruit and you can help yourself to as much as you like. It's as close to perfect as one could ever hope to get."
"Why haven't you already gone?"
"Well..." she looked at her husband, who'd just entered with a spare canteen and satchel packed with provisions. "We've had this tavern to run. Kids to bring up. We ..."
"We never made the time," Rog finished. "And now here we are, helpless to protect our own town. Wouldn't be that way if we'd listened to the Alburnium warriors who came through a couple of years ago. They'd told us to send some of our people to the King's Academy. They promised we'd be taught how to keep the enemy away and how to make the land abundant. We were supposed to pick a few who would go learn and come back to teach us. But it never happened."
Lydia waved her hands, dismissing the subject despite the glimmering dampness along her lower lashes. "Best you get some rest before Jerin returns."
Princess nodded, but as Lydia and Rog left, she wondered if she'd find sleep tonight. Her mind spun with hope, fear, and excitement. She forced herself to move and not think about either what lay behind or in front of her.
She put on the new clothes, brushed the knots from her hair and tied her auburn tresses into a braid. Once she lay down, sleep took her quickly.
In her dreams, a man stood before a mound of freshly turned brown earth. Princess felt like someone had ripped out her heart, her chest hurt so badly.
"Come, Alyra," the dream man held out his hand. "She's not here anymore."
"Noooo." The child shook her head.
"Alyra...come. Now."
Princess bolted up and searched the darkened room. The tavern. She was still in Yarholm. Her pack and the provisions bag rested next to the door.
That name. Alyra. Where had she heard it before?
Outside the window, harsh voices thundered through the silent township. She peeked through the lace curtains to find a group of Okbolds surrounding a large figure mounted on a black horse. Five other riders, bearing torches, sat upon shadowy mounts as well. Prickles of fear shot up her spine when she spotted Darnel's silver insignia on their backs.
Bezoar! He'd come for her!
Where was Jerin? They'd never escape undetected now. Her mind raced as she shoved her feet into her boots. She threw the cloak on over the backpack. There were soldiers in town looking for her. With or without Jerin, she had to get away. Now!
Then another thought struck her. What if Jerin was also killed trying to help her? Like Dean? And maybe Tarek?
She snatched up the food bag and raced down the hall toward the main room. Using the front door was out of the question. She darted behind the bar and headed into the kitchen, hoping to find a back entrance.
No matter what, she'd not be responsible for another person's death. If she found the Tree People camp on her own, she'd be sure to tell them about Yarholm.
Quietly, Princess slid into the predawn darkness, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. The woods surrounded the edge of the yard and she headed in that direction. Something caught hold her arm. A hand clamped down over her mouth, closing off her startled scream.
Her captor shoved her hard against a tree trunk. His dark face loomed inches from hers as he hissed, "Obedience isn't one of your best qualities, is it?"