by E. A. James
Soon, Aerdan was sailing along. The Zhekan castle grew smaller and smaller, and the scent of the salt air felt invigorating and fresh as Aerdan zoomed through the bright blue water.
“This isn’t so hard,” Aerdan said, tugging at the ropes. The sail swung around and he gasped, ducking as it narrowly missed him. Aerdan chuckled. “Maybe not,” he added under his breath. Still, he took it as a good sign – he’d never sailed, or learned how to handle a boat before. I’m a natural, Aerdan figured proudly as he stretched the sail tightly and pointed the boat in the approximate direction of Glasule.
The old map, beaten and torn as it was, proved to be a great help. Aerdan kept it firmly gripped it in one hand, steering the boat with the other, as he churned through the waves. The motion of the sea beneath the boat had begun to feel safe, almost calming, and soon Aerdan was feeling more relaxed and positive than he had since before Angelica’s kidnapping.
But as soon as the Zhekan shoreline disappeared, the skies grew cloudy and the wind began to whip and whirl.
It’s nothing, Aerdan thought, biting his lip in determination as he struggled to keep control of the boat. It’s just a little storm, nothing to be afraid of.
But despite his determination to keep going, Aerdan was filled with fear. The clouds above the sea began to thicken and swirl, turning grey and then a deep, angry shade of black that chilled Aerdan to the bone. The air became cold and damp, and Aerdan clung to the wheel of the boat, steering on towards what he hoped was the direction of Glasule.
It can’t be much longer, Aerdan thought. It had begun to rain and the floorboards were slippery and slimy with salt and muck. The ship pitched and turned, rolling through the waves. A large wave crashed over the prow and Aerdan shuddered in fear when he heard the telltale sound of splintering wood. By now, the air was so thick with rain and fog that Aerdan couldn’t see land. The pitching waves were beginning to make him feel sick and he hunched over the wheel, vomiting until hot tears leaked from his eyes. His hands were chilled to the bone and aching, but he clung fiercely to the ship, determined to steer himself to freedom.
Crack!
A bright zigzag of lightning filled the sky, illuminating the clouds in a ghastly purple and green that made Aerdan think of a healing bruise. Loud thunder boomed mere seconds later, and Aerdan froze as he saw a huge wave cresting and looming over the ship. He pitched the wheel to the right in a desperate attempt to turn and avoid, but he was too late. The wave crested over the ship. Aerdan’s body was pushed under a fierce torrent of salty water. He sputtered and coughed, gasping for air as he groped for the wheel of the ship. But the ship’s steering mechanism had come apart in his hands and Aerdan yelled with alarm when he saw pieces of wood floating away.
By the time he realized the ship had broken apart from underneath him, Aerdan was kicking and churning the water with his legs, trying desperately to stay above the surface. Rain spattered his forehead and each time the sea rose, his mouth and nose filled with acrid salt water. Aerdan was coughing and gasping, kicking as hard as he could. When he closed his eyes, Angelica’s beautiful face filled his mind.
Aerdan felt the strength begin leaving his body. He sighed and shuddered as his limbs ached with the torment of fighting the angry sea. It felt good to close his eyes, even though an alarm bell at the back of his mind kept screaming for Aerdan to stay awake. I’m sorry, Angelica, Aerdan thought blearily as yet another huge wave crashed over his floating body. I tried. But I guess I wasn’t strong enough.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Angelica
Angelica leaned against the wall of her cell and sighed. She hugged her knees to her chest, wrapping her long arms around her legs and biting her lip. She had no way of determining just how long she’d been locked inside the dungeon under the castle of Glasule, but it felt like she had been there for hours.
Angelica’s mind was foggy. Immediately upon surrendering herself to the sorceress Namaya, she’d been given a potent and toxic drink that glowed bright green and made her feel sicker than she ever had before. She had passed out almost immediately.
When she’d woken up, she’d found herself alone in a cold, damp cell. The walls were blocks of stone, covered in lime and mold. The floor was cold stone covered with a sparse sprinkling of hay. Worst of all, there was nothing even resembling a modern amenity inside the cell. She’d found a lumpy pillow on the floor, but a rat had emerged and Angelica had shrieked, throwing the pillow at the wall. There was a bucket covered with a plank of wood in the corner…but Angelica somehow guessed what that was for, and she stayed as far away as possible.
The dungeon was eerily quiet. Angelica couldn’t see much from her cell – the iron bars were planted firmly in the stone wall, feet away from the entrance, effectively blocking her off from the rest of the prison. Still, she could tell that the dungeon itself was quite large: the only sounds she heard, besides the dripping of water onto the floor, were echoes from floors far above her head. Angelica had never felt claustrophobic before, but something about being locked in a tiny stone room was driving her crazy.
The rough homespun gown scratched her neck and shoulders. Somewhere, her silk gown and golden hair ornaments had been taken. That wasn’t a surprise, but it did make Angelica feel uncomfortable that someone had stripped her and then re-dressed her while she had been unconscious. All of her positive opinions about the land of Zheka had vanished – she was obviously in some kind of medieval hell, doomed to rot in a subterranean cell.
Angelica perked up at the sound of stone gliding against stone. She was equally terrified and hopeful – someone could be coming to torture her…or rescue her. Either way, she knew she was powerless. Still, she didn’t regret her decision to turn herself in. She knew that the royal family of Zheka was more important than the life of a mere girl. And yet, Angelica didn’t think it was exactly fair. I didn’t ask to be brought here, she thought, squirming uncomfortably on the stone floor. Why are they doing this to me? Why can’t they just send me home if I’m such a threat?
Tears welled up in her eyes as Angelica realized she may never again see New York, or Stacy, or even her bitchy boss at the gallery, Nadine.
Lumbering footsteps made Angelica jump. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she shifted and rolled to her knees, standing up quickly and defensively pressing her back against the cell. Soon, a guard came into sight. He was a bulky, huge man – obviously some kind of retired warrior. His skin was lined and creased and his hair was a shock of silver. But his muscles still bulged, and Angelica guessed he had been hired specifically to guard her.
“Please, sir,” Angelica begged in a quiet voice. “May I have some water?”
The guard looked at her, his lips parted. A long string of drool emerged from his mouth and dripped down his chin. Angelica shuddered.
“Please,” Angelica repeated. “Please give me some water.” She rubbed her throat and mimed taking a drink from an invisible cup. “I’m so thirsty.”
Just thinking about water made Angelica’s throat ache. Suddenly, she remembered waking up in the lush, verdant clearing of the woods. And to think I felt bad then, she thought sadly.
The guard didn’t reply. He shuffled closer, grabbing the iron bars of Angelica’s cell and pressing his face to them. He stared at her face, licking his lips all the while.
“Can you understand me?” Angelica asked gently, trying not to show the repulsion she felt. “Do you speak this language?”
The guard grunted. He lifted his arms in a vague shrug, then slipped his fingers through the bars and reached for Angelica.
“Pretty…”
Angelica shuddered at the guard’s stilted, awkward speech. “Please, some water,” she said.
The guard didn’t reply. He stood there, fingering the iron bars and keeping his eyes focused on Angelica.
“Can you let me go?” Angelica whispered. “Please – I need to go home.” Her chest ached with longing. When she closed her eyes, she expected to see the bustl
ing city of New York painted on her lids. But much to her surprise, Aerdan’s handsome, leonine face flashed into her mind. His bright blue eyes, his sensual lips. The way he’d kissed her. The way he’d called her beautiful, and held her in his arms.
The sound of the dungeon door scraping open once again made Angelica jump, and thoughts of Aerdan vanished from her mind. The guard didn’t move – he stood perfectly still, staring at Angelica.
“Pretty…”
“Oh, shut up, you fool!”
Angelica looked to the right and saw a girl, close her own age, approaching the cell. She was of average height and squat, with a squished face that reminded Angelica of a hairless Persian cat. Her blonde hair was brushed into a smooth orb at the top of her head, and her lumpy figure was stuffed into a dress that looked remarkably like the dress Angelica had been wearing earlier.
The girl walked closer and smacked the guard on the side of his head. He barely flinched. Despite the assault, he didn’t even look at the other girl. She glared at him angrily and started beating and punching him around the shoulders and the neck.
“Leave, you idiot! Go back to your corner,” the girl shrieked as she rained blows on the guard’s powerful muscular bulk.
If she hadn’t been so frightened, Angelica might have laughed. The sight of this fat girl assaulting one of the biggest men she’d ever seen was ridiculous. Even though the guard was elderly, Angelica could tell that he was powerful – he could have grabbed the girl and whipped her over his head with one hand if he wanted. Instead, he nodded meekly and slunk away.
The girl pulled a three-legged wooden stool close to the bars of the cell and sat down. The silk bodice of her dress ripped and dimpled flesh spilled out. Even in the dim light, Angelica was sure that it was the dress that had been taken from her.
“Please, miss,” Angelica begged. “Please, may I have some water?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Like I would be so kind as to do you any kind of favor,” she said sarcastically. “You almost ruined everything!”
“I’m so thirsty,” Angelica said softly. Tears came to her eyes and she blinked them away, refusing to cry in front of this haughty stranger. “Please, just a few sips.”
The girl glared at her with hatred that chilled Angelica to the bone. “You should ask the guard,” she said. “He obviously thinks you’re pretty. Much like Aerdan, I expect.”
“I’m sorry,” Angelica said. “I don’t understand. I…I’m not from here,” she added quickly. “I was spirited away from another land, a far-away land. I just want to get back home.”
The girl stared, ignoring Angelica’s pleas. “You haven’t greeted me with proper respect for a royal princess,” the girl said. “Bow. Kneel.”
Angelica sank into a low bow, then to her knees. The stone floor made her joints ache almost instantly but she gritted her teeth, determined to bear the pain as long as it helped her escape.
“That’s better,” the girl said. She smiled cruelly, showing pointed white teeth that looked much too small for her wide mouth.
“Please help me,” Angelica begged. “Please, I’ll do anything.”
The girl threw her head back and laughed. “I bet you would,” she said. “But here’s the funny thing – we already have you, locked up, and there’s no way you’re going to escape.”
Angelica dipped her head and swallowed. “Why are you doing this?” She whispered.
The girl reached through the iron bars of the cell and grabbed the front of Angelica’s rough dress. She yanked the material in her fingers and pulled Angelica forward, causing her head to knock painfully against the bars. Brightly colored flashes exploded in front of Angelica’s vision and she cried out in pain as tears came to her eyes. The girl grunted, then pushed her back roughly against the floor. Angelica landed painfully, twisting one ankle beneath her and whimpering.
“You really don’t know who I am, do you,” the girl said sourly. “I can’t believe they wouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m sorry,” Angelica said. She hauled herself into a sitting position and tried to ignore the blinding pain in her head. “I haven’t been in Zheka for very long, as I told you, I came from a far-away land.”
“You still should have known,” the girl said. She licked her lips and raised an eyebrow. “I am Princess Muertha.”
Angelica didn’t reply. She racked her brain, wondering if she’d ever heard the name before.
“I am betrothed to High Commander Aerdan,” Muertha added. Her dull eyes flashed with anger. “And you have not been told of me?!”
“I am sorry, I was not told that Commander Aerdan was engaged,” Angelica said. She bit her lip. Why wouldn’t he have told me, she thought, the tears coming back to her eyes. Everyone acted like he was single! Why would he have lied to me?
An unpleasant thought came into Angelica’s mind: what if Aerdan had only lied to bed her? She didn’t understand why his family would have been complicit in such a lie…unless they truly didn’t care about her, and all of Zornaya’s affection had been a ruse. Angelica shuddered.
“Yes,” Muertha said primly. “I thought you might have that reaction.”
“I am sorry, I didn’t know,” Angelica said softly. “He never told me.”
Muertha looked sour. “We have been engaged, practically since birth,” she sniffed. “And he’s chosen not to acknowledge it. Commander Aerdan has spent his entire life bedding wenches all around the kingdom,” she said. “He’s nothing but a rake. You should have known better than to become involved with him.”
Angelica buried her face in her hands and wept.
Muertha laughed. “Yes, I know how it feels,” she sneered, leaning close to the bars. Even from a few feet away, Angelica could smell her rotting breath and overwhelming floral perfume.
“Why did you bring me here,” Angelica whimpered. “Please, why can’t you release me?”
Muertha’s jaw dropped and she glared at Angelica. “You must be jesting,” she said. She tossed her head, showing off her pudgy neck. “You cannot believe that I would release you, just because you weren’t aware of Aerdan’s…prior commitments,” she said. She burst out laughing. “You’ll be lucky if we drag you to the desert and abandon you,” she said. “I hear death comes quickly under a scorching sun and hot sand.”
Angelica shuddered. “I haven’t done anything to you,” she cried. “Please, why are you doing this?”
Muertha stood up quickly, sending another sharp wave of disgusting perfume into the cell. “If you cannot figure that out, I have nothing to say to you,” she said. She glared at Angelica. “The important thing is that you’re away from Aerdan. Soon, we will wed.”
“And then will you release me,” Angelica begged. “Please, please, Muertha. Please let me go.”
Muertha’s lips curled into a sneer. “If you think I’d lift a finger to help you, you’re even more stupid than I thought,” she said. She strode out of the cell, swishing foul perfume behind her.
Angelica buried her face in her hands and cried. She cried until until her eyes were stinging and sore. The guard stood in his corner the whole time, not taking his eyes away from her. Part of Angelica hoped that the guard would approach her again. But when hours passed and he didn’t even budge, she sighed and leaned against the wall. Angelica closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
Maybe I can magic my way out of here, Angelica thought, hours later. She was tired and weary and starving, but powerful adrenaline coursed through her veins at the thought of escaping. She tried to concentrate, but each time her will fizzled out. It was almost like the dungeon itself repelled the little magic she knew.
When the stone door opened, Angelica didn’t even look up. It’s probably that bitch, Muertha, she thought angrily. Come back to taunt me about Aerdan, and how I was just another woman to sleep with.
“Angelica.”
The voice was deep and wizened. When Angelica looked up, she was shocked to see Namaya. Namaya walked closer, a ghastly gre
en glow surrounding her frame. Namaya took her cloak off and draped it over a chair. Without it, she almost looked like an ordinary old woman. If it wasn’t for the deep, eerie glow in her eyes, she could have passed for a Zhekan peasant.
“Please let me go,” Angelica whimpered. “I just want to go home.”
Namaya pursed her wrinkled lips.
“I’m not a native of Zheka,” Angelica said. “I told Muertha the truth – that I was somehow spirited to this world from my own. I’m from New York City,” she added, her voice quavering.
“Silence, child,” Namaya said. She walked closer, twisting her bony fingers through the air. “’Tis not your place to speak to me in such insolent tones.”
