Alexandria: The Lost Princess

Chapter 3 - Part 1

A cold tear, trails from the crook of my nose, and tumbling over, it slides to the tip. Slowly, it drops down, until it is no more. I felt it leave me and disappear like it never mattered. Splattering against the wooden plank, my cheek pressed against. My face had not moved from the board all night.

A puddle of countless tears, ripples from the rumbling of the wagon. I've grown numb to the feeling of my head bouncing against the plank beneath me. With each divot, I'm shaken like a rag doll. The flapping of the thick cloth covering the wagon's rear, mimics my movements. Together we are one, trapped inside this wagon waiting for our fate. Occasionally, it flutters away from the opening, but only enough to let the sunlight peek through. Hints of nature tease me with each exposure.

Shifting my head to the other side, I scan the wooden box, nothing has changed. Sir Wilfrid sits, leaning against the wall, folded arms and head down, napping.

It wasn't the brightest idea to have refused to speak to the one person who is able to help me out of this uncomfortable position. I was so mad, now I'm just exhausted, and sore stuck laying on my back. My stubbornness wearing thin the longer into the morning it became. My pride stopping me from begging for help from this monster.

Finally, swallowing my pride, I call out to the man that bloodied Tristan's face. The most obnoxiously annoying tone I could muster, drags out of my lips, filling the silent wagon, "Hello!"

"Can I help you, princess?" His eyes snap open, his gaze darting to me, a knowing smirk forming dimples.

Uncertain with his sudden reaction, I blink a few times. I thought he was asleep? No yawn, no stretch, he seems wide awake. We have been up most of the night. These men aren't human.

Collecting myself again, a sarcastic snarl rips through me. "Does this look comfortable to you?" I may need to ask him for help, but it doesn't automatically earn him pleasantries.

His eyes rack up and down my body, an indifferent, casual observation, not at all similar to Jeremy's creepy glances. "Pretty comfy to me, you haven't even moved in a few hours," cheerily he dismisses me.

Losing all sense of composure, I screech. "You, idiot, I can't move! I'm tied up!" All he does is chuckle, and it infuriates me more. "What is wrong with you?" Rocking from shoulder to shoulder, I thrash around.

Watching me slam my body against the floor, he remains calm, unfazed by my tantrum. His cheerful voice filling the room with his mocking joy. "Be nice. I'm all you've got right now." Questioning me with a tilt of his head. My new silence bringing a smile to his face, "If you want my help, you're going to have to be a lot nicer than that."

Like hell, I'll ever beg any of them for help.

Twisting my wrists, numb tingles spread through them from lost feeling. I need to get off them. Straining to lift my head off the planks, I realize how heavy it feels. My shoulders finally lift up, and tingles shoot up my arms. Gasping in surprise, I lose strength, collapsing to the planks. My head pounds against the floorboards, a searing pain shoots through my skull. With a huff, I try again. Using momentum, I kick my legs up and rock slightly upright, before crashing back down and bashing my aching head.

"You're a feisty one, Kale must have had fun getting you restrained." I screech in frustration at his comment. Silently, he waits for me to become compliant; instead, I thrash around, in rebellion. Seeing no hope in my reaction, he drops his head and returns to his nap.

A screech rips through me in frustration. Everything I've done to rid myself of these ropes is useless. Wiggling on the floor in frustration, I fight to return feeling back to my arms. With a final attempt, I lift my legs, slamming them against the boards once more. Sighing, I go slack with apparent defeat. Rolling my head to the side, avoiding the tender spot in my head that aches like a bruise.