2024 Story Collection

The Good Prince

There was almost no light that night. The new moon often made it feel more lonely-this journey she was on. As she ran from the shadow of one tree to another, she found herself wishing that she could be anywhere else, doing anything else, but she was here and she was a slave.

Her master was a woman who had molded her into the perfect killer. She knew nothing else, but she desperately wanted to. She wanted to walk in the light, freely not hide in the shadows.

She wanted to dance, but as she made her way to her target, she was faced again with the reality of her life. Her daydreams were just that, dreams.

She snuck into the castle and ran through the dark passages the maids would take. She stopped in front of a small door. She opened the panel in the wall and stepped inside.

She noticed then that he wasn't sleeping as she'd been told he would be; he was standing, facing the window across from her.

"I found the sedative in my drink earlier," he says without looking at her. "Tell me who wants me dead and I'll spare you."

"I do not know," she says. It's true, she never knew. She was simply given instructions and executed said instructions.

He turns suddenly, all semblance of calm suddenly gone.

"You don't care to know, is that it?" he snaps. His face is shadows, but she can still see the anger through the silhouette. "You take so much pleasure in it that you don't care who wants me dead just so long as you get to do it?"

"To be honest, I don't even know your name. It is not my choice to kill and let me assure you I take no pleasure in it."

"Then why are you here?" He asks, "why take the job?"

"It isn't my job. My master gave me orders. I follow them. I have no choice."

His whole body seems to suddenly relax in understanding.

"Your a slave," he says in realization.

"I am," she says without shame.

"My father," he clenches his fist, "he should've abolished slavery years ago."

It fits together now, his clothes, the room he's the crown prince.

"It's a nice idea, but it's not likely to happen. It makes him far too much money."

"What do you mean?" the prince asks with a hard edge. She doesn't flinch.

"Surely you can't be unaware of the bribes he gets from the slave owners, auction houses, and procurers. That's common knowledge."

"Don't you think I'd know about that if it was true?"

"I think if you spent less time in a castle and more time around your people, you'd know the truth."

His jaw clenches, but he doesn't argue.

"Who is your master?" it's more of a demand than a question.

She was going to die, anyway. She had no reason to lie. "Duke Edward."

"My uncle?" He asks in disbelief, "but that can't be."

She pulls up her sleeve, exposing the brand they'd burned deep into her skin as a child. The skin was stretched and pulled in various directions, seeing as it didn't grow as she had. It was ugly, and it still caused her pain, even after all these years.

"Look at my brand," she tells him. He flinches away at first, but forces himself to look.

"The royal seal?" His jaw clenches as he lets her hand go. "That isn't my uncle's symbol, that's my father's. It is the one that will one day become mine."