Sophia, Princess Among Beasts

by James Patterson

  Odo came in from the hall and hurried to my side. “Your knights will protect you,” he assured me. “And I will not leave you.”

  Faithful Odo. I knew he would guard me from Ares’s soldiers. If only he could save me from the Seep.

  Abra wordlessly turned to go. He had never much cared for me, I knew that. But this might be the last time I’d ever see him. “Abra,” I said. “Thank you. May my father’s strength be yours.”

  His brooding gaze wavered—I was sure I saw a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes—and then he took his leave. The room fell silent except for the sound of Odo’s restless pacing, and that of my own labored breath.

  The battle for our kingdom was soon to be fought. And there was hope for us, I was sure of it. But not so much for myself.

  It was happening just as the villager had said—the burning, the pain—but my mind still struggled to comprehend the horror of it. The kingdom needed me, and I was abandoning it. I didn’t want to go.

  Jeanette brought a cool cloth and wiped my forehead and cheeks.

  “Did you do this for my mother, too?” I whispered. “When she was dying?”

  She looked away, not answering; of course she had. My fingers clenched the sheets and my heart twisted in fear. I don’t want to die, I silently screamed. I’ve hardly lived!

  Then I took a deep breath, trying to find a place of stillness. Hadn’t I been trained to behave with grace and composure, no matter the circumstances?

  Yes—but I’d never been very good at it.

  Sacheverell, whose face was like a death’s mask, kept trying to bring in his apprentice healers, but I sent them all away. A fire had begun to burn inside me, and my skin was slick with sweat. Sometimes I could lie still, but more often I shuddered and thrashed, again seized by shivering though I felt as hot as the sun.

  Was this what my mother had felt on the day of my birth? Knowing she would die before her daughter learned to walk? Now I would die before I saw my kingdom destroyed—was I fortunate not to witness our downfall?

  Jeanette sat by my side and held my hand. It was she who noticed the first blister, like a tiny pearl on the tip of my finger. I wept to see it.

  “Death has stalked our family, one by one,” I told her. “First my mother. Then my father. And soon—me.”

  “Hush, child, everything will be fine,” Jeanette said.

  I was queen for but a day, and my life would be even shorter than my mother’s. If I could have one last wish, it would be to see her.

  Please, Mother. I’m frightened. Please, come hold my hand as I die.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER 16

  I awoke to a terrible, spasmodic shaking. But it wasn’t coming from within me now. And somehow—though I couldn’t understand this at all—I wasn’t in my bedroom anymore. All around me was darkness, cold, a sense of hurtling movement. And what was that noise?

  Disoriented, I pushed myself up to sitting, and I realized that what I heard was the pounding of hooves, the chuffing exhale of straining horses. I was in a carriage!

  But the last thing I remember—

  Wasn’t it… dying?

  A particularly rough jolt flung me off the cushioned bench and slammed me against the carriage door.

  “Pieter!” I called to the driver. “Where are you taking me? Slow down!”

  But either he ignored me, or he couldn’t hear my words over the rattling din. The carriage careened on its way, each rut in the road jarring me out of my seat and punctuating my unspoken questions. Why was he whipping the horses like this? How long had we been traveling? Where were we going in such a hurry—to another doctor who might cure me of the Seep?

  I pushed back the curtain and a blast of wind rushed in. Another terrible jolt launched me into the air. When I landed back on the bench, I bit my tongue, and warm, metallic blood filled my mouth.

  I spat it onto the carriage floor, and still the horses galloped on. The carriage shook so wildly I feared the whole thing might fly apart. We took a sharp curve to the right and then a whippingly fast turn to the left.

  There was nothing I could do but hold on and try not to scream.

  Then, over the din of pounding hooves, came the low, ominous notes I’d heard just once before. They rolled through the night like thunder, clanging on and on until I felt them echoing in my very bones.

  The Bells of Death.

  My breath caught—I clutched my heart. I knew exactly what was happening. Those hateful bells were tolling for me.

  I knew without question that I was dead, and that my body was being raced to its grave. Whatever this moment of consciousness was—this last spark of life before eternal oblivion—I understood that it was both mysterious and brief. And when it was over, all would be nothingness forever.

  The thought overwhelmed me, and I began to weep. How could I leave the world behind? How could my story end so soon? I was granted a life of wealth and privilege, but I’d done nothing of consequence in my seventeen years. In fact, innocents—and my own father—had died because of my foolishness. And now I’d never have the chance to redeem myself.

  Again I was flung from side to side as the carriage continued its berserk journey. I dug my nails into the cushions, but I couldn’t hold on tight enough as we swerved back and forth. I braved the wind that wailed like a voice and peered out the open window. I could see a narrow, unfamiliar road, twisting forward into darkness. To the left, cliffs rose toward the sky, and to the right, the ground fell away into a deep crevasse.

  Ahead of us, the road veered sharply. I knew we were going too fast—there was no way we could make that turn. I found my voice and I yelled again for Pieter to slow down.

  And by some miracle, we did. The drumbeat of hooves grew quieter and the carriage steadied. I was trembling, head to toe. But before I could even catch my breath, the horses surged forward again. We bore down on the curve at a full gallop. We were going to go over the edge!

  It was too late. Panic seized my heart, and I closed my eyes and prayed. I felt the final lurch as the carriage left the road and took to the air. So this was how it all would end!

  But instead of a plunge to the ground, there was… nothing.

  CHAPTER 17

  I opened my eyes. The carriage hung in the air—weightless. All around me, stars glittered like diamond dust spilled across the bowl of the sky. Comets flashed across constellations. The moon glowed silver and pulsed as rhythmically as a heart. Somehow, we were not falling. Instead, we were floating! Overcome, I began to cry out.

  “It’s beautiful! Why was I afraid of death? There’s nothing to fear! It’s so beautiful to die—”

  But then came the horrific plummet and I swallowed my next words whole. My stomach flew up into my throat and my vision went dark with fear. As we spun dizzyingly downward, I screamed and screamed until—impact. A bone-cracking, earsplitting crash. Dust and rocks exploded into the air as the carriage wheels struck ground and I was flung from my seat. I crashed into the front wall and it slammed my cheek; tiny stars burst in my vision.

  But somehow the carriage had not shattered, and somehow I was not crushed to pieces. And even more stupefying was this: the horses had landed on their feet, and they were still running!

  I clawed my way back up to the bench and leaned out the window again. The sky was black and starless now, and we were on a thin dirt road, with ancient trees growing so close on either side that I could have touched them. My hair whipped around my face, and a branch lashed my cheek. Dust covered my face, my throat, the bodice of my old satin dress. I had never been so disheveled, so shocked, so… free. If this was death, why did I feel so alive?

  As we raced through the darkness, I realized in wonder that all weakness had left me. I no longer shook. No fever burned my limbs with its flames. The finger on which the blister had appeared was dirty but utterly smooth.

  Was this real?

  I leaned farther out the window, and the rushing wind seared my eyes. “Pieter,” I called, but still
there was no answer.

  Wedging my foot into the corner of the seat to balance myself, I pushed myself out farther so that I hung nearly halfway out of the window.

  And finally I saw who was taking me on this incomprehensible journey. It was not Pieter at all, but two unknown coachmen. One held the reins while the other stood, hanging on to the carriage with one hand while holding a great torch aloft with the other.

  Their shoulders were hunched, their backs broad and misshapen. They had tiny, bat-like ears, and their bald heads were a brackish blue-green in the torchlight. Open sores on their flesh oozed a gleaming slime. I could smell them now—the stench of refuse, of death, of bodies rotting from the inside out.

  I gasped in horror, and the thing with the torch turned around. Its pupil-less eye narrowed at me as it curled its purple lips in an animal’s snarl. “What are you doing, fool?” it rasped. “Get back inside, you idiot girl!”

  My mouth fell open. That was no way to speak to a queen! Alive or dead, I would not be insulted by a putrid blue flesh bag like this one. “Don’t you dare—”

  The driver cracked his whip across the horses’ flanks, and they shot forth in a demonic burst of speed. I lost my balance and lurched—halfway out the window! To keep from slipping even farther out, I dug my nails into the ornate wooden scrollwork, hanging on for my life.

  “Stop! I command it!”

  The driver only cackled and cracked his whip again. My forehead slammed against the outside wall of the carriage.

  I let out a high, piercing cry of pain and fear as over and over, branches lashed my cheeks. I was losing my grip—in another moment I’d fall and be crushed under the carriage wheels. The beastly drivers paid me no heed.

  And then, up ahead, I saw something blocking the road.

  CHAPTER 18

  A sudden sideways lurch of the carriage flung me back inside. My head struck wood and for a moment, the world went pitch-black. As soon as I regained my senses, I scrambled to the window again.

  The hideous driver goaded on the horses as his companion swung his torch around like a warrior’s flail. I squinted but couldn’t make out the pale, narrow shape in the road. As we hurtled closer, I saw that it was a human—a woman. Utterly still, she stood in our way as if frozen. She was tall, wearing a long, white cloak, and her hair was dark and loose about her shoulders.

  We bore down on her.

  If she didn’t move, we were going to run her right over.

  I knew that yelling at the beasts wouldn’t make a bit of a difference, but I did it anyway. “Stop! By Queen’s command, you must stop this instant!”

  We were close enough that I could see her face—how beautiful it was, and how serene, like that of a marble angel. She was not at all concerned that a pair of horses and a carriage were about to crush her.

  Then slowly she lifted one hand and held it up, palm facing out.

  The hideous driver yanked back on the reins, and the horses slowed. Tossing their heads, they came to a halt a mere inch from where the woman stood. Their chests heaved and their hides were flecked with foam. The woman in white, who had not even flinched, reached out to cup their velvet muzzles.

  I pushed my tangled hair from my eyes. Nothing in my short life had ever prepared me for such a shock.

  It couldn’t be—and yet it was.

  I threw open the carriage door, flung myself to the road, and ran.

  CHAPTER 19

  In a night of wonders, this was the greatest of them all: I stood in the middle of an unknown forest, wrapped in my mother’s arms.

  How could I even fathom it? I couldn’t—and yet here she was, warm and solid and real. She was an inch taller than me, and as youthful as a sister. She looked exactly like her portrait, except even more beautiful. Her skin seemed to glow in the faint moonlight, and her heavy eyelashes sparkled with tears.

  “Oh, my child,” she cried, “is it really you?”

  She stepped back, contemplated me at arm’s length, and then quickly pulled me against her again. I could feel her tears falling onto my hair.

  “I’m afraid to believe it. You have no idea how I’ve longed for this moment. Every single second, I’ve prayed for this,” she whispered.

  I didn’t understand what was happening, or where we were, or how any of this was possible. But I was afraid to ask questions. What if this moment wasn’t real? What if none of this night was real? I didn’t want to break the spell. She smelled like wood smoke, like roses. Like home.

  “Oh, Sophia,” my mother said, “I would have given anything to stay with you—my riches, my crown, my whole kingdom. And here you are, so beautiful the stars are envious.” Her palm cupped my cheek. “My child, I’ve waited for this moment—not for seventeen years, but for an eternity.” Then a quick, bright smile flashed across her lovely face. “You are filthy, though, my dear. The journey must have been a long one.”

  I turned back toward the carriage and its stamping horses, its otherworldly coachmen. But the road was empty: they had vanished into the night.

  My mother slipped her hand through mine. “Come with me now,” she said.

  I was so happy I thought my heart would shatter. I had no idea that a dream like this could come true.

  CHAPTER 20

  She led me off the road, turning down a narrow track through the trees. Dry leaves whispered under our feet; otherwise, all was silent.

  My mother walked gracefully down the twisting path, her bearing more regal than mine had ever been. Unlike me, she had played the harp beautifully, and no doubt she’d never been scolded for entering the Great Hall with unladylike speed. Had she been happy at Bandon? Had she worn her crown lightly? Did she love my father as much as he revered her? Was Odo her friend, too? I wanted to know everything about her, but my heart was so full I couldn’t yet speak.

  The path ended in a moonlit clearing, at the center of which sat a small, thatch-roofed cottage. My mother turned around and held out her arms. “Welcome, Sophia,” she said. “Welcome home.”

  It was warm inside the humble room. Rushlights flickered along the walls, and a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. Bouquets of dried wildflowers hung from the ceiling, filling the room with their sweet scent. There was a bed, a table, two chairs, an ornately carved trunk, and very little else. I had never seen a room so… tiny. So plain. Even Bandon’s scullery maids had larger quarters. My mother saw the surprised expression on my face and laughed.

  “Oh, my beloved girl,” she said. “You must have so many questions! Ask and I will try to answer them.”

  But my mouth opened and shut again helplessly. Every single moment since I had awoken in the carriage was simply beyond my understanding.

  “All right, my darling, sit,” my mother urged. “You must be hungry and thirsty. You can eat, and then we can talk.”

  I nodded, watching as she put herbs and spices into a kettle in the fire. As she did so, she began to sing.

  I made a wish, and I asked for you

  A black-haired girl with eyes of blue.

  Her voice, so high and clear, seemed to shimmer in the air. “That’s a pretty song,” I whispered. There, I’d finally spoken.

  “I wrote it about you,” she said. “I used to sing it to you before you were born.”

  A child of wit and strength and grace

  With a warrior’s heart and a flower’s face…

  But then she stopped and gave a small shrug. “That’s all I remember. When I left you—when I died, I mean—it was too painful to sing it anymore.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  The fragrance of some warm, exotic spice filled the air, and my stomach rumbled. “What is that smell?” I asked. Then I shook my head. “Wait! I don’t care about that. There are far too many other things to ask—”

  My mother smiled at me.

  My mother smiled at me: I never, ever believed I would be able to say such a thing! Until now, all I had had of her were paintings, and Jeanette’s stories, and jewels she on
ce might have worn.

  “You can ask all the questions you want,” she said gently. “I’ll set no limit to them. And since you asked, the smell is a warming tea of galangal, clove, and costus root.”

  And then the questions rushed out, my words tumbling over one another. “How did I get here? How did you get here? Am I dead? I must be dead—I had the Seep, and Sacheverell said I would die, and I was so afraid. I heard the Bells of Death, and they must have been for me. Am I a ghost? Are we both ghosts? Can the living see us? Is this a different world? Is this heaven?” I glanced around the little room again. “I’d always imagined heaven somewhat fancier.”

  Then I looked at her sheepishly. Had I just insulted the eternal home of my long-lost mother? What a rude girl I was!

  But my mother didn’t take offense. She set a cup of tea on the table, and beside it a small loaf of bread. I broke off a small piece and put it in my mouth. It was warm and soft and chewy, and once I’d swallowed it, my hunger woke with a vengeance. I lost all my manners—I picked up the whole loaf and bit into it like an animal.

  “Save room for the soup,” she said. Then she laughed a bright bell of a laugh. “Listen to me! I sound like a real mother.”

  Then she sat down across from me and gazed into my eyes. “You are not dead, Sophia. In fact, you might be more alive than you’ve ever been.”

  “But how?” I asked with my mouth full. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re free from everything that held you back, free from all your duties as a princess and daughter. The rules of the living world no longer constrain you. Everything you understood to be true—about life and death, and the nature of time, and the known and the unknown—is but half the story. There is so much more to uncover! There are a thousand worlds, and there are places between these worlds. Sophia, there is a Beyond. There is life after life—”