Black Forest: Kingdoms Fall (Black Forest Trilogy)

by LaShea, Riley

  "No," Cinderella replied. The same feeling that had often gotten her into trouble with her stepmother rearing up inside of her, she tried to battle it down to no avail. "From this tree, actually. As this dress once fell from a tree. I do have particularly good luck with flora. Now, would you please let me go?"

  "Are you taunting me, Peasant?" The man loomed closer, and Cinderella turned cold, not at his intimidating approach, but at his accurate impression. Glancing down, she appeared the same, gown extravagant, skin unblemished, but he seemed to see what did not show.

  "This is a royal pouch," he went on with renewed interest. "You have stolen from the king?"

  "I have stolen from no one," Cinderella stated in a whisper, and the man seemed amused with her answer.

  "Shackle her," he ordered.

  "No!" Cinderella pulled her arm from the grasp of an overanxious guard, only to have it recaptured in an instant, a cold metal cuff closing around her wrist. "I have done nothing. You cannot do this. What authority have you?"

  Scoff turning to laughter, the man looked to his guards again, and they laughed along with some discomfort.

  "What authority have I?" the man countered. "I am the prince."

  "The prince?" Cinderella uttered, eyes sweeping his fine, dirty clothes, before returning to his scruffy face. When she looked hard enough, she could see the pampered skin beneath the stubble. "I was told you were dead."

  Smile falling from his lips, the prince looked considerably more dangerous than a moment before. "Where did you hear that?"

  "In the palace," Cinderella replied, gratified when the words seemed to sting His Royal Highness.

  Face pinched, he glanced away, finally letting forth an irritated sigh. "My father does have tendency to exaggerate a situation. He likes his authority, and, apparently, does not forgive mutiny, especially within his own bloodline. He does, however, have his areas of weakness. His money, and..." His hand raising beside her, Cinderella felt it stroke down her hair and fought the urge to raise her free hand in response. "Other things. I suspect the return of this..." He hefted the pouch before her. "And the gift of you, and all will be forgiven. Put her in the cart."

  Whisked backward, Cinderella dug her heels into the ground, desperately trying to find a foothold on the flat surface. When the guards lifted her from the forest floor, her legs flailed wildly for something to kick.

  "Let me go," she demanded. "I am innocent."

  "That may well be," the prince replied, finding something distracting on his fingernail as he spoke. "But you are still to my father's liking."

  Angry cry bursting from her, Cinderella finally delivered a well-placed kick that bowed a guard for a moment, impeding the walk to her captivity. Pressure on her arm increasing to pain as the guard righted himself again, Cinderella went limp at the start of the song, the one Rapunzel sang to let her know it was safe to make her return.

  Far less melancholy than that which Cinderella first heard Rapunzel sing, Prince Salimen turned toward the song with far too much intrigue.

  "What is that?" he uttered, and all concern Cinderella had for her own position transferred at once to Rapunzel.

  "I hear nothing," she declared.

  "Then you have been rendered deaf," the prince returned. "It is the most beautiful sound."

  Shuffling several steps through tall grass, Prince Salimen tilted his head to listen, and Cinderella knew then he would seek the sound. He would follow it, as she had, and he would find Rapunzel alone and vulnerable in the tower.

  "Leave her alone," she uttered, though she did not know if it was what she should wish, for Rapunzel truly was alone, Cinderella was in chains, and what would Rapunzel be left to think when she did not return?

  "Ah," the prince said, stepping back to Cinderella. "So you do hear. Another lovely maiden, I assume. Perhaps, less a common criminal than you. Where might I find her?"

  Staring into his pleased expression, Cinderella tried to see his intent, to see if there was anything noble in it, but she was too clouded by her own pain to see beyond it.

  "I will find her whether you tell me or not," the prince went on. "But if you do tell me, it could earn you favor."

  In the face of his royal arrogance, Cinderella maintained her silence.

  "Perhaps, I will have her for myself." A snarling grin lifting one side of his mouth, Prince Salimen's intent was suddenly most clear. "I have yet to wed, and I imagine that would be a sign of growth in the eyes of my father. When I am back in his graces, I may even make her queen."

  The prince seemed to goad her on purpose, and Cinderella wondered how he could know such prods would be effective.

  "She will never be your queen," she declared, but could not find the certainty in it and her eyes filled with not knowing.

  "She will be whatever I make of her," the prince declared, and Cinderella knew there was truth in the declaration, for he was a prince and princes had power, deserved or not. "You are a stubborn one," he laughed. "I shall have to warn my father of you. Believe me when I say this, though." He moved so close, his breath was sour on Cinderella's lips. "He will break you. Take her to the palace. I shall be along in due time."

  Heaved once again into the air, Cinderella's fight was weak as she watched the prince head off to seek Rapunzel.

  "Night is falling, My Prince," a guard advised him. "These woods are a danger at night."

  "You three, then." The prince stopped to point. "You come with me. Jinns and Bosh can more than handle one girl."

  His company assembled at his back, Prince Salimen disappeared amidst the trees, and Cinderella was tossed with no gentleness into the wooden cart, shackle finally closed around her second wrist, and more around her ankles.

  Jerked to sitting, she was bent nearly to the cart floor as a guard wound rope between the shackles at her hands and those at her feet, making it near impossible for her to move.

  "Keep pulling, if you want to lose a hand." The guard grinned as Cinderella fought to prevent her incapacitation, until, realizing it would take more than the loss of a single hand to free herself, she finally ceased to struggle.

  · · ·

  Trees around them echoing the howls of spirits, Prince Salimen's guards sent anxious glances toward each other, but the prince heard nothing but the song, strangely hypnotic, drawing him onward, the call of a siren, far from the fabled sea.

  It was in a slight clearing that the sound enveloped him, where he was pulled to its origin, a tree that grew as high as the others and blended against the darkening sky. At the base was a patch of briar, too thick to scale, too tall to surpass, but, as his gaze trailed the trunk, unable to see what lay at the top in the darkening night, there fell suddenly a way up, a long stretch of corn silk leading toward his destiny.

  "My, my," he uttered. "For an unlucky son, this does seem to be an incredible spot of good fortune."

  "It could be a trick." An outspoken guard tried to dissuade him, and the prince sent him an agitated glare.

  "Then, I shall be a fool," he said, grabbing the silk where it fell past the briars, heavy-soled boots keeping his feet from harm as he pulled himself skyward.

  The prince knew well what he was doing, felt it in his very bones. What waited at the top of the tower was meant to be his, belonged to him, would serve him happiness for the rest of his days. At least, the portion of happiness a wife could be made to serve.

  Midway up the tower wall, the song that had drawn him tapered off, but the prince climbed into its echo, until, at last, near the top of the long climb, he could see her. Eyes closed against the evening breeze, a small smile adorned her face, highlighting perfect beauty. She was just as he had envisioned her, and that which he climbed, he realized, was the maiden's hair, soft and inviting.

  Holding tightly to the strong mane with one clutched fist, Prince Salimen slid a hand over the maiden's where it rested on the window ledge, baffled when her face turned suddenly to a frown and the eyes of blue that opened before him appeared more fright
ened than inviting.

  "Do not worry," he said. "I am here. You are safe now."

  The maiden, though, did not seem to appreciate how delighted she was to see him, staring in bewilderment instead of welcoming him inside. He would have to show her, he realized, what his appearance at her window meant to her future, would have to demonstrate what happiness awaited her at his command.

  Hand grasping her neck, he pulled the maiden forward, and, to his great surprise, the maiden jerked away, tugging her hair along with her. Wrenched suddenly from his grasp, Prince Salimen's handhold was no more. Reaching out for something, he found only air as he plummeted back down, making his landing amongst the briars at the tree's base. Pain sharp in his hands and chest, he felt the thorns most keenly in his eyes, and, upon his resultant cry, the guards came to collect him, easing him from the briar patch, rough hands paining him everywhere they touched.

  "Get her!" he shouted. "Bring her to me!"

  Forcing his eyes to open, Prince Salimen could still only hear the guards follow his command, for he could see nothing of them. Sticky tracks running down his cheeks, pain unbearable, he closed his eyes again and saw no difference.

  "She pulled the rope up." A guard rushed up to say. "There is no door. There is no way in."

  "There must be a way," Prince Salimen countered.

  "There is nothing," the guard returned, and the prince again tried his eyes. Free of sight, the guard's responding gasp was loud in the prince's ears.

  "You need care, Your Highness," the guard said. "There is much blood."

  "Then, take me back," the prince commanded, teeth clenched more against the humiliation of being ordered than the pain. "We will bring rams and we will knock that tree down. That girl, she is my destiny. I will have her."

  With no response, nor warning, the guards swept him off his feet, and Prince Salimen could feel the trees whip by as the bay of a specter rose from the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Fleeing Naxos

  The sharp edges of the shackles dug into the skin at Cinderella's wrists, as, despite knowing there was no escape, she resumed her struggle. Fraying in the rope that bound her hands to her feet should have hinted at vulnerability, but no matter how she pulled at it, the threads held fast, and, night rapidly falling, the shrieks of phantoms descended. Overhead, Cinderella watched the dark shapes materialize, and realized, with macabre amusement, they were the least of her concerns.

  Cart swerving without warning to avoid one diving specter, she fell suddenly to her side, head knocking the wood block situated at the head of the cart, pain flashing behind her eyes.

  "Careful back there," one snarling guard tossed over his shoulder. "We do not want you to break our stuff."

  Sharing a low laugh as another ghoul dived at them, the guards were forced apart as it passed between them and over Cinderella's bound form. Watching it go, she could not find the strength to continue her fight with the binds.

  Perhaps, the prince had already found Rapunzel. Perhaps, Rapunzel was as accommodating to him as she had been to her. Perhaps, he truly could make her a queen, and, of all queens who had ever been, Rapunzel would be the most benevolent, Cinderella was certain. No one deserved such power more.

  If the prince could free Rapunzel, he could protect her. He surely had the means to do so, or could win back his father's favor as he said. It was far more than Cinderella could ever hope to offer her. Perhaps, the prince finding Rapunzel would be for the best. Perhaps, Rapunzel would want such a life, it occurred to her, and the notion made Cinderella weak.

  With the next sudden shifting of the cart, though, Cinderella's thoughts also shifted, as she remembered she had once been posed the same solution to an undesirable life, and had found the answer just as unsatisfactory. Perhaps Rapunzel would want that life, the life with the price, in a palace, surrounded by guards and extravagance, but, until she knew with certainty it was the life Rapunzel wanted, she had no right to her own surrender.

  Her vigor renewed, Cinderella found the binds just as tight, the situation every bit as hopeless, as she tugged the unforgiving metal against her wrists. A phantom passing close by, its cold swept over her and she closed her eyes as her teeth knocked painfully together. If only they were friendlier creatures, they might actually be of use to her, just as the birds of her kingdom had always been her saving grace.

  Disjointed thoughts floating through her desperate mind, Cinderella looked to the trees that passed above. The birds, she realized, they were still there. As everything else within the forest, they were only in hiding from its nighttime visitors. If only they spoke the same language.

  Lips curving on a whistle, her voice came out thin with dread, and Cinderella forced it with all the volume she could muster.

  "What is that?" the same snarling guard called from the front. "You whistle as you travel to your slavery? Now, that is a welcome attitude. I once beat a man to death with a stick. I should have liked to have heard him give a whistle."

  The guards laughing again, Cinderella pressed into her voice, determined to be heard over the howls of the dead and never-living and the mocking laughter of two guards who were quite proud of themselves for capturing an innocent, unarmed woman at the whim of a royal.

  "All right," the talkative guard suddenly snapped. "Enough. You draw them to us. Shut your mouth, or we will tie that up too."

  Drawing his anger, Cinderella had also drawn allies. She watched them materialize from behind leaves and hiding spots deep within the trees, braving the spirits to come down and meet her, and continued to call out to them until the cart came to a violent stop and she slid head-first into its front wall.

  Voice failing at the sudden rush of pain down her neck, Cinderella groaned. Then, with a tremulous breath, she whistled louder.

  Whirling on the cart's box seat, the mean guard, the one who did all the talking and threatening, raised his hand to silence her.

  "Hey!" The quieter one pulled him back around. "Something is coming."

  "Is that a specter?" the mean one asked.

  "Back up," the other instructed.

  "I can't." The mean guard's voice clenched. "The horses will not move."

  Although she could not see them, Cinderella could hear them, the cluster of wings flapping in rapid succession, bearing down upon them, until suddenly the great flock surrounded the cart, the pecks of their beaks meeting with howls from the guards as they jumped from the seat to evade their attackers.

  Birds coming at her too, Cinderella rolled to her back, feeling the small nicks upon her skin as sharp beaks made quick work of the rope that bound her hands and feet together. Freed of the crippling tie, she could roll to the cart's edge and haul herself over it, landing upon her knees and elbows on the overgrown cart path.

  Pushing to her locked hands, she looked up at the keys that dangled from the belt of the mean guard, and sprung to her feet, moving as fast as her arrested gait would carry her.

  Both guards swinging their swords erratically, attempts useless against their small, agile foes, Cinderella slid beneath the sweep of the mean one's blade. Feeling the keys against her palm, she yanked them from his belt, rolling to the side to thrust the key into the lock at one wrist and pulling the shackle free.

  As she bent to her feet, a sharp whistle of warning sounded in her ear, and Cinderella rolled aside with a cry as a shiny blade sliced the earth beside her. Murder shone joyfully in the guard's eyes as he grinned down at her, before the birds were in them, pecking and scratching, and the guard was forced to release Cinderella from his sights to save himself.

  Hands surprisingly steady at the task, Cinderella removed the shackles from her ankles and the final cuff from her wrist, tossing the metal trappings aside, and looked to the short sheath at the mean guard's hip she had been eyeing since he first closed the shackle around her wrist. Lunging for the dagger, she pulled the blade free, and jumped back with enough deftness to avoid the edge of the mean guard's blade, but not quickly enough
to avoid its tip, which cut through her dress to split the skin beneath.

  Pained exhalation joining the haunted sounds around them, Cinderella gave her location away to the second guard, who charged blindly toward her. Diving from his path, her eyes went wide as momentum carried the guard and his sword forward until the blade buried so deeply in his companion's stomach, it thrust out the man's back. Having seen and known violence, but never another cut down before her, Cinderella watched the mean guard crumple, unable to flee, until the hiss of a spirit at her ear reminded her there was no time to mourn the loss of one's enemy.

  Dashing for the cart as both guards were dragged down beneath the dying one's weight, Cinderella groaned as she hoisted herself to the seat and felt the cart shift beneath her. Well-tended and sharp, the guard's dagger cut through the reins tethering the horses in one slice, and Cinderella leapt onto one horse's back, slapping the other on the rump to send it rearing into the forest. Grateful for all the cause she'd had to outrun those who meant her harm or humiliation, she spun the steed around and pressed her knees into its sides, holding tightly as it raced to a gallop.

  The spirits whipping by were of little note as she made it almost back to where her unexpected journey began, before she saw light coming toward her. Bending the horse into the cover of the trees, her hand moved through its rough mane as it protested the thorny path.

  "Shhh," Cinderella pleaded, hand shaking in her attempt to calm the animal, as the light came closer, illuminating the prince's guards upon the path, an object strung amongst them.

  Their lamplight swinging back and forth in an effort to keep the forest demons away, Cinderella had to move deeper into the shadows, in more danger from the living than the dead, as the guard troop came close enough to be overheard.

  "She will be mine!" Prince Salimen sounded furious and stark mad from amongst them, and it took Cinderella a moment to recognize that he was the thing strung between the guards, supported by their subservient hands and shoulders. "She is mine, meant for me!" The prince sat suddenly up amongst them, wearing a bloody mask around his eyes that made Cinderella cover her mouth to prevent a gasp. "I will be king, and I will have my queen."