A Story of Blood and Thorns

Chapter 11

Sabien and I ride the rest of the procession in silence. My heart leaps around in my chest as I beam, elated at what I've done. Sabien chews his nails, a worried line on his forehead. I don't know what he's worried about. He should be thankful I calmed the crowd. The people will respect us now and we can begin to repair the kingdom. Keep it from collapsing.

We pull through the gates. Guards swarm around us, asking us questions and taking us through the door and into the palace. I run to keep up with the guard who has a painful clutch on my arm.

He throws open the doors to my room. They hit the wall with a loud bang, and snap back towards him. A few blue wood chips fall to the ground. They crunch underneath his feet as he pushes me inside the room and slams the doors again, locking them behind me.

I pound on the doors, demanding they let me out. Whispers float to my ears. They're too quiet, though, and I don't manage to hear them before someone walks away and the conversation stops.

"I'm the princess!" I yell through the wood. "You can't keep me in here! Let me out!" I rattle the doorknob, but it's no use. I'm trapped.

At least I have a family now. At least I managed to call the people and make them listen to me.

I whip the curtain away from the bed. The blankets cushion my back as I fall back onto the silk pillows. Stars hang from threads that dangle above my head. I exhale, and they move in a small circle. Isadora should see this place.

Isadora.

I shoot up, my head brushing the stars. Where is she?

The sun casts the room in a golden glow as I throw myself against the doors, ordering whoever's out there to let me see Isadora. Whether they bring her to me or me to her, I need to see her.

I receive silence in return. Laying on my stomach with my cheek against the cool marble floor, I look for the telltale black boots of the guard. Nothing's there. Not even a shadow of a person or a squeak of a shoe.

Crossing to my vanity, I take two hairpins and study them. They should be good.

The lock clicks as I insert them into the keyhole. I jiggle the knob and the door swings open, revealing an empty corridor. Before anyone can stumble across me, I hurry back into my room and shed my dress, opting for my old clothes placed in the closet. I leave the thin slippers on to silence any sound I might make.

My feet slap against the ground as I navigate through the palace. Nobody provided me with a map or directions, so I head down any hall I can find. I'm hopelessly lost by the time night descends. Candles begin to glow as I check each hall, going upstairs and back down.

Every once in a while, a guard or maid appears and I have to hide. Sometimes I have enough time to find an empty room. Other times I have to hide behind a wall and hope they don't see my shadow stretching across the floor. It seems to work.

Mostly.

I'm in the last hallway about to go through a door when a maid appears. The door is locked, so I duck in the alcove beside it. I don't notice the statue until it smashes on the ground.

Shards of clay glide across the floor to the maid's feet, who stares at me with her mouth open. The hamper on her waist slides down as she stammers.

I rush to her and catch the hamper before it topples to the ground. "Here," I say, trying to give it back to her. She doesn't move to take it. She doesn't move at all. A choking sound comes from her throat.

"You're-you're not supposed to be here," she says. A stray hair escapes from her tight auburn bun. "I have to call the guards."

I catch her shoulder as she turns. "No, no, let's not do that. What's your name?"