The Runaway Princess

Chapter 18

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss

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Chapter Eighteen

Three weeks later, Elena and Joaquín arrived back at the palace in Madrid. They were greeted by applause and cheering by the crowds who had gathered to see their future king return.

Elena was happy for a moment. She had missed the people.

The palace was a great and daunting building. From the outside, it was the home of the King and Queen. From the inside, it was a prison.

Joaquín held on to Elena comfortingly while Marisol walked behind them. Guards lined the walls as they walked through the palace, double the amount that Elena remembered. Clearly Juan had increased the security since Elena’s escape.

They walked down the wide, very tastefully decorated hallway towards the throne room, the room where her parents sat before their Court. The walls were littered with portraits of Elena’s ancestors. Somewhere in the palace was her portrait. However, it was very likely that her father had burned it after her escape.

As they walked past the guards, who all wore red tunics with the Spanish Royal Seal upon them, their backs stiffened. When they came to the throne room, the door was opened by the two guards who were stationed by the door.

The room was large and oval shaped. It was not filled with wealthy dons and ladies as it usually was, instead it was only occupied by five people. Elena’s parents, Juan and Lupe, her brothers, Javier and Jorge, and a man she had never seen before. He looked to be about forty years old. His hair and eyes were dark and his facial features were strong and stern. But his thin lips were upturned in a smile. Elena knew that he had to be Prince Carlos. Joaquín had been right. Carlos had stayed in Spain, waiting for her, despite everything that she had done to him.

Carlos was not the only person smiling. Her father left his throne, opening his arms for her while smiling widely. “Ah, Elena,” he said calmly, “thank God you are home. We have been so worried. Come to your father now,” he beckoned. His voice sent chills down her spine. He still terrified her right to her very soul.

Elena had never seen Juan so calm and peaceful. He had never hugged her. Juan had never hugged any of his children. Elena could not trust him. This was a charade. He was putting on an act for Carlos. Elena knew it was in her best interest to play along. Elena walked up to her father and hugged him. He held her tightly for a few moments before releasing her. “Thank you, Padre, I am glad to be home,” she lied.

Juan placed a hand on the small of Elena’s back and brought her before Carlos. His hand was hard and forceful. She could not help but tremble. “Prince Carlos, may I present to you my youngest daughter, Elena.”

Carlos smiled down at Elena. His smiled was not false like her father’s, it seemed genuine. “Hello, Princess,” he greeted. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Juan’s hand rested on Elena’s shoulder. His grip was like a vice, a vice that was nearly crunching her bones. Elena did her best not to react, though she was sure that she wore an uncomfortable expression on her face. “The pleasure is mine,” Elena replied quietly, her voice sounding strained.

Elena was suddenly pulled from Juan’s grip. Joaquín had obviously noticed her pain and he had saved her, as always. She was now safely standing with his arm around her.

“Padre, we have had a long journey. Elena and I need to rest. Perhaps we could all have dinner together tonight?” he suggested, the icy tone to his voice was very apparent.