The Princess's Guard ✔️

38

Word Count: 2253

~Kiva

Ark presses his hand against my back, guiding me through the darkness.

"I'm freezing." My teeth are chattering as my wet clothing clings to my skin.

I just crossed the river back through the forest. If Ark's training has achieved anything, it's giving me enough stamina to cross with much more ease than my first attempt.

From there, we stalked through the trees and to this dilapidated shack that is apparently a safe house.

Ark shoves a door open that nearly swings off its rusty hinges. He stoops his head down and wanders inside, helping me along.

The ceiling sags down, swallowing half the room. When Ark mentioned a safe house, I had other ideas. Not...this.

"There are blankets in here," he assures me, waving dust out of the way.

"It looks empty," I note.

Nothing of worth seems to be in here except for a few empty shelves that are cracked and falling apart. Even the windows are cloudy and half overgrown by undergrowth from the forest.

"This isn't the safe spot." He kicks a spot on the ground, a floorboard tilting up. "This is."

I watch in awe as he starts pulling away at the floorboards, revealing a smooth metal hatch door. He swiftly unlocks it, throwing it open before motioning down the dark hole.

Swallowing tightly, I step into it, clambering down a ladder until my feet hit a wood floor.

There's a couple moments of fumbling before a match is struck and a few candles are lit. I look around the now illuminated space.

"Did my father tell you about this?" I ask.

It's small, but it's definitely secure. There are cushions littered about with many blankets that I immediately reach for. A few plastic containers are pushed against the wall, presumably filled with supplies.

"No," Ark responds.

"Wait...who did?"

"This isn't connected to your father. This is my own safe spot," he tells me softly, sorting through a few piles of papers, setting them to the side.

I rub my arm. "Oh. Right."

"There are plenty of supplies down here to last for a while," he explains, motioning to the containers.

How long does he think we will be down here? I doubt we have been tracked. As soon as possible I want to make sure my father is okay and that the rebels haven't taken over the estate.

"And you set this all up?"

"Yes. I did."

"For me?" I whisper.

I'm not surprised, although a shudder runs through me. The true threat of the rebels settles onto my shoulders. Ark has planned for a moment where they became a serious threat many months ago.

Something shifts in his expression. "Yes. I suppose."

I should probably question his shadiness but my teeth are chattering so hard I fear I may permanently damage my jaw.

Ark pulls at the containers, popping the lid off one. I watch curiously as he shifts around through thick jackets, pants and shirts, pulling out one of each.

"Here, get dressed into something warmer," he instructs softly.

I take them, quietly examining them. They are nothing like what I would usually be expected to wear in the manor. They are efficient, meant for the worst kind of event.