Hidden Princess

by M. A. Roth

  Air

  Earth

  Water

  Fire

  Spirit

  Water is ticked off. Then it continues on to say, “She is not aware of her path yet, but in time, her destiny will be revealed to her.” I look over my shoulder and listen carefully to make sure no one is coming. When satisfied, I continue to read. The handwriting changes. It’s easier to read now, but more disturbing. Experiment 1 Calm was influenced upon day three, five drops in tea. Successful. I clutch the page, pushing the stones aside. My mind moves to-day three, what day was it now? Day ten? I wasn’t sure. I think it was the day my mother and I went for the walk. My mind goes to our conversation, I squint harder trying to force the memory closer, my head hurts but I force my way through the fog that’s clouding that day.

  My hands tremble as I think of the conversation. John wasn’t my father. My heart squeezes now at the thoughts that John isn’t my father. My reaction to that wasn’t calm, it was suppressed. My mother was right; something was wrong that day, and now I knew someone was drugging me. Morrick springs to mind first. For how long? And why?

  “What are you doing?” I jump and let out a screech. Liber looks at me, full of suspicion.

  “I was looking at the books.” I hide the paper behind my back and lower it back onto the desk.

  “You’re not allowed in here.”

  I swallow. “Oh, sorry. I’ll just go to my room now.” Liber stands in the doorway, but after a few nerve-wracking moments, he lets me pass. Sweat runs down the back of my neck. Experiment. The word sends a chill through me. I want to confront Morrick, but I know I’m better off just keeping an eye on my food and drinks. Morrick is our way home, and what if he denies it? Does my mother know? I bet Alana is involved. She’s always organising my baths. Oh God, she’s made the tea for us every night I’ve been here. Another thing that rattles around my already full head is who my father is. That’s something I can’t deal with right now. A pang of homesickness has me racing to my room and closing the door. I squeeze my eyes tight as I think of Jessica, what was she doing? Were they looking for me. The pain that erupts in my stomach has me clutching it. I needed to get out of this place. I needed to go home. But Morrick seemed our only way out of this place. My mother had said two weeks. It had to be nearly two weeks at this stage. It felt like I was here forever.

  ***

  I refuse dinner that night and go to my room, complaining of a headache. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes without wanting to confront them. My mother says good night and offers me a hot cup of tea. I reject it. “I’ll be fine in the morning, Mum.”

  She looks at me, with a tightness around her eyes. “Okay. I love you.”

  Guilt wells up in my heart. “I love you too,” I say before hurrying from the room. I’ve been watching everyone all evening with suspicion. I’m hungry but I want my thoughts and reactions to be mine. I pause outside the study door again, only this time it’s locked. Would Liber have told Morrick he found me in there? If he knew, what would he do? I was going to end up with a headache for real if I didn’t slow down my thoughts. The door clicks closed and I’m alone. Alone with my thoughts.

  My mother has withheld so much from me, from Jessica from dad. Dad, my stomach squeezes and I meet my grey eyes in the mirror. Grey eyes that don’t match anyone’s until recently. Standing up I shake my hands out.

  “Nope Sarajane.” I tell myself. I’m not going to start guessing who my father is. I rethink about the note and how it said I had shown an affinity for water. When Neve had caused the fire, I remember thinking of water, and there it was. A small laugh tugs from lips. That wasn’t possible.

  ‘But it is, Sarajane,’ I tell myself. Throwing myself on my bed I let out a groan. I need to clear my mind and relax. Way too much was going around in my mind. Counting sheep doesn’t work, but I do doze off in short spells. When I wake for the fifth time, the room is pitch black. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten. The want to check the time on my phone has me snorting. I miss technology. As I stumble from the bed, I curse this place for not having a light switch. We take way too much for granted. Once I open the door, I see light. Torches are still lit in the hall. I listen for voices and when I hear none I enter the main room. Sticking my head around the door, I relax. No one is in sight. I don’t have a clue where anything is. With no fridge I opt for the large wooden presses. Wrapped in cloth I find some bread, and cheese in the same press. I sniff the cheese and it smells normal. Cutting a slice of bread I place a cut of cheese in the middle. My stomach groans at the smell and I sit down in one of the armchairs beside the smoldering fire and begin nibbling on it. I wonder where my mother is? She never showed me her room. I’ve barely seen her. Now I wonder what she’s been doing all this time.

  “You must be Sarajane.”

  I swing around towards the voice but the high back of the chair blocks my view. Standing up slowly I’m faced with a young man. He has blond hair slicked back and a hard pale face. He wears black clothes, but his robe is snow white, trimmed in gold with a high collar. The material looks like fur.

  “Who are you?” My question makes his grey eyes squint. Grey eyes, that look so familiar. I swallow.

  “Prince Clive. Has my father, I mean our father, not mentioned me?”

  My pulse spikes and refuses to come back down. “Excuse me?” He just said he was my brother. I have a brother? His grey eyes narrow.

  “So he hasn’t told you about me?” Crossing my arms over my chest I shake my head. Then I let my hands fall to my side. “You’re my brother?” I question but it’s there in front of me. Why did Mum not tell me? She’s told you nothing Sarajane, I remind myself. He holds up one long finger and grins. “Half-brother.” He corrects me and my stomach plummets even further.

  “We share the same father,” he tells me as he walks towards me. I want to step back but if I move, I’m not sure my legs will be able to support me. “You’re my brother?” I say again, more to myself.

  “Half Brother.” He repeats. “You see, my mother is the queen and your mother is a servant.” His face twists with disgust. “You are the result of a foolish king.” My heart breaks a little more. My mother was from here but she fled. I need to sit down but I can’t seem to move.

  “Morrick,” I whisper.

  Clive laughs, but it holds no humor. “They never told you? Well, they are very good at hiding things.”

  I feel lightheaded and stupid. How could I not have seen this? Anger boils in me at my mother, she should have told me. The back of my throat burns now. “I am so sorry,” I say without looking at Clive.

  “Never apologize to someone unless you look them in the eye, otherwise it is meaningless.” His words hold a hard edge and we are now only a foot apart. I’m struggling to hold his eye. I don’t know if I should bow or beg him to forgive my mother. He was a prince. I was the result of an affair. I swallow the growing saliva that gathers in my mouth. “I didn’t know. I… I’m sorry.”

  He gives with a curt nod. “So they have been keeping you hidden here. Alone?” He asks.

  My eyes burn now. “No there are others here.” I tell my brother. Half brother. He seemed very adamant on that detail. I don’t blame him.

  “You know you half a half sister too.” Heat scorches my cheeks at the idea that my mother did this. I don’t know what to say. He isn’t here to be friendly, the hardness of his jaw tells me that. Oh mum, what have you done?

  “So Morrick is a king?” I find myself asking.

  Clive’s jaw clenches. “A king? He is a disgrace to his people. He leaves the caves and returns to the castle.” The tips of my ears go red. So he comes here to be with my mother and then back to his wife. My mother couldn’t know this, she was a good person. Wasn’t she?

  “I don’t know what happened.” I want to say I’m not from around here, but it sounds so stupid.

  “Let me educate you.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. I know he must be pissed, but he was speak
ing to me as if this was somehow my fault. “No.” I say and he flinches. “I think I’ve heard enough.” I honestly don’t think I could hear anymore.

  Clive stares at me, it’s a moment just a moment but something changes. His hand reaches out and grabs me by the hair. I hit the slab floor hard, hard enough to take the skin off my knees and palms. The impact vibrates through my body, rattling my teeth together. I turn quickly, but I’m not quick enough. He’s over me, holding a knife. My heart leaps into my throat. “You will listen to me.”

  I’m nodding, I’d agree with anything right now, but it doesn’t stop him from striking out. I raise my arm to protect my face, a searing pain rips through me and I scream. Blood starts to run down to my fingertips, trickling onto the ground. I roll to the left quickly. I don’t have a clue if I’m moving in the right direction, but I manage to get to my feet. I don’t look around me as I make a dash for the door. I hit the ground harder this time as he drags me down. A ringing noise erupts in my head; I blink as I turn quickly trying to see where he is. When I look up at him this time, the hate on his face brings tears to my eyes. “Why?” I ask, as he raises a sword, the dagger forgotten. He swings it behind his back before he lunges it towards me, and I watch the world slow down as his sword arches towards my neck. I don’t get a flicker of memories. All I see is the light that glints off the sharp blade.

  The whizz of something sounds. With a blur, an arrow rips clean through Clive’s wrist, the head piercing through for me to see. The impact causes the blade to drop from his open fingers only an inch from me. I follow the direction that the arrow came from and my breath catches in my throat. Tristan is lowering his bow, but reloads it as keeps his focus on Clive.

  It’s like someone turns up the volume. Clive’s screams pull me to him as he holds his wrist, too much blood flows freely from the wound. I’m fixated on the arrow head. My God, it tore right through. My eyes snap to his as he holds up his other hand, “Lux,” he roars at me and a ball of fire comes rushing towards my face. I raise my hands to fight it off. I can hear the whizz of another arrow. My head swings in the direction of Tristan. He isn’t holding his bow; his hands are raised now, as he holds the fire in a solid bubble. It circles and rages inside it. But it grows smaller until it disappears completely.

  Clive gurgles, an arrow is embedded in his neck. Blood gushes through his fingers as he tries to cover the wound. Another figure catches my eye. Morrick lowers his bow. Clive staggers, turning around. His face is one of disbelief and horror as he looks into his father’s eyes, and then he collapses on the ground, blood pooling around him. My stomach gives way. Placing my hand over my mouth doesn’t stop the sick. I throw up, the food I have just eaten all over my hand. When my stomach has nothing else to give, I whimper. The room is silent and I can’t move. I can’t look away from Clive.

  Footsteps bound down the hall and I glance up in a daze as my mother, Neve, Kiar, Liber and Alana come into the room and halt when they take in the scene before them. My mother races to me, landing in the pool of Clive’s blood. On her knees, she reaches for me. “Sarajane.”

  “Don’t touch me.” I push her outstretched hand away. Pain ignites in my arm and I cradle it now. “Don’t come near me,” I scream at her as my heart pounds. My eyes blur before they release angry tears.

  Morrick steps up beside my mother and helps her off her knees as if the two of them have done nothing wrong. “You are a monster.” Words tumble from my lips as I look up at him.

  “I just saved your life,” he throws back through thin lips. I can’t believe nobody is saying anything about Clive’s dead body.

  “You killed your own son.” His eyes hold no remorse; my focus goes to my mother. I stand on quivering legs. “Why didn’t you tell me?” My lip trembles as I plead with her.

  “Sarajane I don’t know what he told you-“

  I cut her off. My temper flares.” You mean my half brother?” I point at the body on the ground and my stomach twists. There was a dead person at my feet. “Did you know he was married?” I’m shouting now.

  “It’s different here.” She tries to justify this. My mind can’t take much more. I can’t look at her.

  “You’re disgusting.” I say and Morrick’s hand strikes my face. The impact snaps my head back. The taste of iron fills my mouth. No one has ever put their hands on me before. Fresh tears prickle my eyes as I look at Morrick. I’m waiting but my mother stands beside him. My throat burns and no one seems to breathe. Strong hands touch my arm, and I look at Tristan. I hadn’t seen him move. He gives me a curt nod, and with a gentle touch to my arm he leads me from the room. He pauses at Morrick, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “The next time you do that, I will not stand by and do nothing, my lord.”

  I can’t breathe. I don’t know if he means killing someone or hitting me. But I want to cry, someone is calling him out. Morrick’s face is ridged before a red hue burns across his cheeks. I can feel my mother’s eyes on me, but I can’t face her. I don’t look at anyone as Tristan leads me from the room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SARAJANE

  Tristan removes his hand from my arm when we reach my room. “Sit down, let me look at your arm.” He gestures to the bed and I stumble my way to it, sitting on the edge, I want to cry but my eyes are dry. Tristan leaves, I didn’t expect him to stay but being left here, hidden away like a dirty secret.

  My head snaps up as Tristan walks through the door holding a basin and cloth. When he kneels in front of me, he doesn’t speak. He brushes my hair off my cheek with a gentleness I would have never known he possessed. My body goes rigid at his touch. He takes my stiffness for fear. “I will not hurt you.” He dips the cloth into the water and squeezes it, releasing it of its contents before pressing the ice-cold rag to my face. I flinch with pain. But he keeps it pressed against my cheek. Taking my hand, he places it over the cloth. His eyes never meet mine and I focus on his face. His strong jawline, broad nose, and full lips.

  “Keep that held to your face.” When he speaks his eyes snap up to mine and my stomach squeezes. He doesn’t wait for an answer but leaves again. I wasn’t sure if he was gone for good. But he returns with another basin and more clothes. He repeats the same process, kneeling in front of me, his leather arm squeaking as he forces it to bend. This time he takes my arm.

  “Is it bad?” I ask, finding my voice.

  “No, only a flesh wound. You will be fine.” He takes care cleaning it and I focus on the wall this time. Once he finishes with my arm, he gives me a fresh cold cloth for my face and starts gathering up the bloodied rags.

  “He drugged me,” I whisper.

  “Who?” When I meet Tristan’s gaze, it’s stone.

  “Morrick.” I spit his name out hating how it makes me feel. My mind mocks me with the word, father.

  “King Morrick is the finest king we have ever had. Drugging you would be pettiness that is beneath him. Do you understand?”

  His words are ice, and they cut deeper than they should. His moment of kindness I hate him for. I was better off left to care for myself. “Get out now.” I rise and point at my door. I don’t know why I expected him to believe me.

  He surprises me when he doesn’t move, or look away from me. “Sit down, Sarajane,” My name on his tongue has me frowning as I sit.

  I hold his fierce gaze for a moment. My stomach gives a little flip at his closeness, causing me to glance away.

  “Morrick is your father.” I can’t listen to this. He may have had a part in creating me, but he wasn’t a father.

  “Stop. He drugged me.” I say clearly and Tristan throws me a warning glare.

  One I don’t care for. “I have proof. In his study, I found a paper. He wrote it all down.”

  Tristan’s fingers sink into my shoulders. “You broke into the king’s study?”

  I push him away, sick of being manhandled. “No, the door was open.”

  Tristan shakes his head before he runs a hand over his face, like he�
�s exhausted. Then I remember it’s the middle of the night. “Get some rest.” He says before gathering up all the clothes and basin.

  I sit there dumbfounded for a while after he leaves. My mother not doing anything hurts the most out of everything that has happened tonight. Morrick’s slap, even Clive’s violence towards me was nothing like my mothers silence when Morrick hit me. My eyes blur again as I remove the cloth from my face. I wanted my dad so much right now. He would kick Morrick’s ass. God, I missed them so much. My arm burns and I focus on the pain while lying back on my bed. I don’t sleep or cry. Each time my mind shows me images of Clive’s dead body, I press on the wound on my arm. Blood continues to trickle out of the wound. But the pain is what’s holding me together.

  Noises travel down the hall and into my room. I can’t hear what’s being said but I get up. The sconce still burns on my wall and I’ve been lying here for a while. My arm is burning now from all the prodding I did. Pulling on a clean tunic hurts like hell, but I manage before removing my trousers, my poor knees are bloodied and bruised. I try cleaning them as best I can before sliding on clean trousers. My palms are cut also but I can’t believe my face when I look in the mirror.

  “Bastard” I hiss. My cheek is swollen and a purple bruise has blossomed on it. I leave my hair down. I am hoping it will conceal my face. I take a deep breath before leaving the room. I need to be strong. I need to get home and away from this place.

  When I enter the main room, it’s a bustle of activity. Neve is gathering supplies from the kitchen area. I look around the room, my eyes falling on the spot where Clive lay in a pool of his own blood. There wasn’t a trace of last night’s events. Everything is cleaned up, but I can still smell blood and vomit.

  “What’s happening?” I ask Neve. The sound of my voice makes the bustle in the room stop.