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“They’re getting stronger,” a voice whispered in the cold.
“You’re starting to sound like the rest of them,” commented an older, raspier voice.
“Because they’re causing more damage than we thought,” the first voice replied, suspicion evident in his tone.
“He doesn’t stand a chance against our walls.” There was a snort and then nothing more.
He? Skylar opened her eye just as the two prison keepers unlocked the gate and swung it open. It had been hours since the ground had last shook, and it had been a couple after that when she had dozed off to sleep. She felt it in her neck when she lifted her head from where it had fallen to rest on her good shoulder, her back still up against the wall. The pain was throbbing under her skin, the straw underneath barely shielding her against the cold.
One of the keepers entered, demanding she show her hands. Skylar did what she was told, and in response he cuffed her wrists before pulling her to her feet. She limped as she walked, everything aching as the cold floor sent sharp pains up her legs. The keeper who last spoke took hold of her arm as he traveled through the cell with her. Behind them she heard the other keeper lock the gate, remaining where he was stationed. Skylar was led around the sharp bend and to the gate ahead of them, where two more keepers awaited her.
They shackled her ankles and patted her down before leading her out, and she watched with her limited vision as the keeper who escorted her finally let her go, walking briskly down the corridor in a more determined pace without them. Skylar realized, as she walked with the chains helping her stay in rhythm with the new keepers, that she was in the midst of a guard change.
She was taken down the same hallway as before, but instead of stopping at the door she had previously gone through, she was directed past it and into an open cavern which towered over her. Her head trailed down the wall to the ground level that was a few floors below before throwing her head back to see how high the walls reached. She realized to her horror that the walls were actually prison cells. Each floor contained a row of iron bars, outlined by a platform which allowed the keepers access to the cells, and within those cells were the screams she heard. However, there were only a few who spoke out in their anguish. The others had lost hope.
Skylar couldn’t even see the ceiling from where she was. Although the torchlights were scattered all around the cavern—golden orbs illuminating the dark—all she could see was blackness high above her. The keepers yanked her from her sightseeing, and she was forced to watch her step as they made their way up the stairwell. The stairs were simple stones built right against the wall with no railing. It didn’t matter much on the first level, she noticed, but the higher the floors rose, the more the stairs became cliffs.
Eventually, Skylar stopped looking around. Her feet were starting to drag from the weight of the shackles, and her wounds were hurting from the climb. Because of her injured nose, breathing through her mouth was the only way she could get enough air, which hurt her swollen and cracked lips. The keepers pushed her forward as they reached the next level, and she noted that despite the open staircases, the platforms did have railings. All she could assume was that the railings were to protect the keepers from falling in case of a rowdy prisoner.
The three marched on, passing the prisoners who were shunned from society. Skylar couldn’t help but steal glances inside the cells, finding them as dim as her own. However, when she caught sight of a very young prisoner curled up in a ball on the floor, too weak and malnourished to reach his straw bed, her throat tightened.
She was never told that children were kept in the prison.
Somewhere in the vicinity a shrill cry erupted, and even the keepers stopped to find the cause of it. Skylar, along with her captors, watched from across the way as a keeper yanked a young woman out of a cell. She witnessed, petrified and shocked, as the girl screamed for death. The keeper dragged her across the platform, and suddenly, from the girl’s despair, she shrieked, “Mandolyn will rise!”
Her words sent a cold shiver down Skylar’s spine, her hands trembling against the cuffs.
“Mandolyn will rise!” the girl repeated until regaining her own strength and fighting against the keeper. From down the hall, the onlookers watched as another keeper approached from behind the girl, giving his fellow comrade the signal to let her go. She stumbled backwards, never seeing the keeper who was approaching. All she did was yell and scream and pronounce, “Mandolyn will rise! She’s not dead! The Princess Royal’s not dead!”
On her last word, the keeper who approached shoved her from behind, and she was thrown forward onto the stairs before tumbling over the side. There was a piercing scream that filled the cavern in all its intensity before ending abruptly.
Skylar gasped for air when her keepers grabbed her by the arms and turned her back around towards their destination. She didn’t feel the pain or the shackles that dug into her skin, only the burning cold stinging her inside, prickling her eyes until the tears came.
She didn’t know how far they traveled when they reached the door, but once she passed through it, she found they had entered a room very different from the one previously. There was a smaller table and one chair facing the door with a lit torch hanging on each wall, lighting the room better than anything else in the prison. Behind the chair, suspended from the ceiling, were iron cuffs attached to chains. Even through her blurry vision, Skylar saw the cuffs dangling on either side of the chair, their long chains tied on opposite walls, for reasons she didn’t want to think of. Without hesitation, the keepers sat her in the chair and then took their posts behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught one of the keepers standing at attention near where one of the chains were tied, and she didn’t even bother to guess where the other one placed himself.
Wiping her face with her hand, Skylar then placed her cuffed hands on the table and examined the wood, finding similar cracks and stains she had seen before. She tried to keep her mind on the present but couldn’t because of the murder that had just taken place.
There had only been two other deaths she witnessed as a bystander: her father, the murder that was publicized, the one an entire kingdom knew about; and the stranger, the private death that took place in the woods. Her thoughts found that memory as she touched the wood of the table, remembering that early morning and the smell of the dawn as she tried to sneak out of her room without disturbing her ladies-in-waiting.
Skylar remembered she dressed as quickly and quietly as possible, throwing on her tan-and-brown leather corset over her short-sleeved white shirt. She grabbed her short brown leather jacket, designed to cover her neck and arms yet tailored to fall just below her shoulder blades so that she could move more freely. Because her brother had always told her to be prepared, she pulled out the leather thigh holster that still held her pistol in it. After inspecting the weapon, she strapped it to her right thigh, the gun snug against her pants. She pulled her hair up into a simple ponytail, put on her leather gloves and her knee-high riding boots with their cut-out lace-like design on the knees. Mindful of the thick heels, she tiptoed out of her bedroom and made her way to the railing, overlooking the majority of her chambers.
Two stories down was the open sitting room, a large bay window overtaking the far wall that faced her with the large thick curtains that were the color of wine blocking the outside view. To the left of the window was a door that led into the chambers of the ladies-in-waiting, closed and flushed with the mahogany walls. Crystal urns sat with an abundance of sweet and colorful flowers, but nothing stirred except for the grandfather clock that ticked away by the main entrance doors underneath where she stood.
Skylar’s eyes trailed to the right, where the blue pearl granite hearth stood, a gold mirror hanging overhead. In front of the cold hearth sat two plush sitting chairs of mahogany and wine, positioned in a semicircle around the fireplace. Her eyes traveled across from the hearth to where the wide staircase started. She followed the scarlet rug that climbed the steps as they narrowed to the second floor, stopping long enough to act as a balcony for the frosted glass doors that were the entrance to the conservatory. Even through the frosted panes, Skylar could make out the shapes and colors of the plants inside that room, flourishing under the glass dome. She could also see that no one was in there.
Despite the silent interior, Skylar followed the railing to the stairs leading down to the second floor where the conservatory existed. Light-footed, she trotted down the steps, passing the frosted glass doors and continuing down until she came to the base, facing the hearth. Looking towards the closed door next to the bay window, she proceeded to the main doors, taking one last look over her shoulder before turning the doorknob.
The castle was still asleep when Skylar peeked out into the corridor and found no one around. Ever so quietly she turned around to close the door, proud that she made it through her chambers unseen or unheard. But when she turned back around and came face to face with the black-leather-clad chest, she jumped backward into the door. Realizing who it was, Skylar cursed herself for forgetting about the one person who had been quieter than her.
Harlin stood in the dim hallway, the morning barely peaking over the horizon through the window behind him. “Your Highness,” his voice whispered, though there was a question that lingered.
Gazing up, Skylar could barely see his face in the shadows but could tell there was disapproval marking it. “Harlin,” she whispered back, “you move too quietly.”
She could tell he was smiling when he replied, “You don’t.”
Skylar gritted her teeth at his too-honest approach and lied, “I just need some air.”
“Open a window.”
“I,” she started as she slunk away from his overwhelming presence, “need to stretch my legs.”
Once she started walking away, she began to feel more at ease until she realized he was following her. Coming to a stop, she turned around to find him just a few short paces away. They exchanged looks before Skylar commented, “You don’t need to come with me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well then, for the next couple hours I relieve you of your duties.”
“No,” he replied without hesitation. “You are not relieving me of my duties. You walk, and I will follow.”
Skylar mulled his words over, trying to figure out how to get out of his contract. “But I don’t need you to,” she tried to reason. “So you can have a break. A much-deserved break, I may add.”
Harlin looked right at her before saying, much more forcefully, “No.”
“You’re not even going to listen to me?”
“No.”
Skylar took a deep breath before deciding to pick her battles and let him win this one. She knew the next exchange would be that it was her father’s order to have Harlin around, and she really didn’t want to waste more time losing her own argument. So, with her anxiety creeping back into her skin, she moved quietly down the hallway with Harlin trailing behind.
They managed to avoid most of the castle guards, and once they reached the safety of the outdoors, Skylar took a breath of the fresh, dewy air, already feeling the warmth of the day against her skin. The castle towered overhead, and while she made her way to the stables with Harlin, a single thought brought her to a stop.
“You’re not going to ask me where we’re going?” she asked as she turned around to address him.
That question caught him off guard. After a moment, Harlin answered with, “Do you plan on robbing someone?”
“No,” she replied, thoroughly bewildered.
“On murdering someone?”
“No.”
“On pillaging and torturing a household, even in their sleep?”
“Not yet,” she said as she eyed him.
“Then it’s safe to say that you’re not putting yourself in any danger,” he concluded. “Thus, I will follow blindly.”
Part of his explanation made her cheeks blush with guilt. “I wouldn’t say it’s not dangerous.”
Harlin looked at her suspiciously but said nothing. His piercing eyes were what forced her to explain.
“My brother was killed in the woods. For my own reasons, I need to know what happened out there that claimed him.”
Harlin took a deep breath, breaking his gaze to look off into the woods that lay a few miles from the city’s border. She saw him thinking it over and was almost sure he was going to drag her back to her chambers, when he bowed his head and replied, “Yes, Your Highness.”
He continued to stare at her, never blinking, never saying anything, and Skylar would have almost lost herself in those eyes if the infamy of her actions didn’t pull her back. “I’m sorry, Harlin, but I just have to know,” was all she could say before turning away towards the stable.
Skylar didn’t look back when she approached the building, finding a stablehand sitting out front on a stool enjoying the early morning. Upon seeing royalty, he immediately leapt off his stool and bowed.
“I need two horses,” she told him. “We’re going for a morning ride.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the stablehand responded. “I have two horses already saddled. They’re for the men-at-arms but fine creatures just the same.”
“Perfect,” she reassured him.
The stablehand bowed again before running off down the aisle to collect the horses. Skylar played with her gloves, feeling Harlin’s presence behind her. She had hoped to make this journey alone, and now she silently begged for it. Her thoughts were cut short as the stablehand approached with one of the horses, a golden palomino whose mane and tail shimmered pearl white and coat radiated amber-gold. He was seventeen hands high at least and was built for hard work. He walked with an air about him that was regal, and he chomped on the silver bit, matching the silver attached to the oak leather bridle and saddle.
“Suncaster,” Skylar mused with a smile, falling back into the love of horses that she once shared with Brayden. It was a trait they inherited from their mother.
The stablehand beamed as he brought the horse to a halt, always happy to see a fellow equestrian. But before he could make any comments, Harlin already stepped forward, walking past Skylar and taking the reins. “He is remarkable,” he admitted, rubbing the horse’s forehead. Suncaster, though still chomping on his bit, lowered his head to accept the attention. Gaining the horse’s trust gained the stablehand’s, and after he checked to make sure the saddle was secure, the stablehand jogged down the aisle to retrieve the other horse.
Skylar admired the way the palomino took to the knight, though it was short-lived when Harlin turned and addressed her. “Your Highness,” he said, telling her in his few words that he was going to help her mount.
Taking a deep breath, she approached the horse’s side, patting him on the neck to let him know she was there. Putting her foot in the stirrup, she pulled herself up and swung her leg over his back. Once seated, Harlin moved to the horse’s side, handing Skylar the reins. However, even when she held the leather in her hands, Harlin grabbed hold of the reins from under Suncaster’s neck, keeping command of the steed while forcing Skylar to look at him. “Don’t ever apologize to me,” he told her. “Not unless you do something wrong.”
Skylar’s voice was soft when she replied, “I just wanted to be considerate.”
“I’ve never questioned you on that,” he told her, and there was sincerity in his voice that made her face burn from the inside out. Harlin let go of the reins, and she was left to sit on her horse in silence when he walked past them both.
Behind her, Harlin was thanking the stablehand before mounting his own steed. Hearing the hooves approaching, she squeezed her legs against Suncaster’s side, causing the horse to trot out of the stable and into the fresh morning air. Harlin eventually came to her side, pulling his horse down to a walk. Skylar smiled when she caught sight of the steed, his familiar black nose and legs fading up into his dapple gray coat. His mane and tail did the same thing, fading from black to a silvery white at the tips. He was the same size and build as Suncaster but much more energetic.
“And what’s his name?” Harlin asked, his tone reserved despite the horse that kept prancing underneath him.
“Lexton,” Skylar laughed, knowing all too well of the horse’s reputation.
The horse threw his head upon hearing his name, prancing as he went. Despite his unruly nature, Harlin controlled him with a firm yet gentle hand that eventually soothed the steed down to a walk next to their companions.
The two rode out past the guards and archers standing watch on the curtain wall. The large iron portcullis was already pulled up for the wagons that would be entering later with fresh food for the kitchens, allowing Skylar and Harlin to ride out past the wall without being stopped. They continued on down through the cobblestone streets of Correnth, past the creamy cement walls and the sienna-brown and salmon-colored roofs, the green hedges and wrought-iron fences. They passed the four-and-five story buildings whose stones were molded like lava, rounded and dramatic in their pure attempts to enrich the buildings architectural design. Skylar caught herself looking high up at them before she was brought back down by the change in the horses’ hooves. Harlin reined Lexton to a walk, and Skylar immediately made Suncaster follow suit.
The two slipped by a few narrow streets with their high archways and terracotta flower pots bursting with the summer aromas of colorful flowers before reaching the Gothic Quarter. The main street, though well lit from the gas lamps, seemed peaceful in the morning. Skylar admired the different-colored awnings that stretched out in front of the store shops, shading the sidewalk. A couple of the stores were lit inside, the shopkeepers getting ready for the day while the rest of the kingdom was still busy sleeping. The only sounds besides their horses were the tones of the skyfall serenade trees, lined in between the gas lamps. The full-grown trees held the daintiest sky-blue flower that, when it fell from the tree, would twirl and create an airy whistling sound until it landed on the ground. Because the flowers all varied in shape and size, each flower held its own unique pitch, and when a few would fall at once, a small serenade rose up in their place.
“In which part of the woods did the accident occur?” Harlin asked, keeping his voice down among the melodic trees.
“I was told it was in the western part. He went just beyond the borderline when they heard the gun.” Skylar looked behind her, a fluttering anxiousness playing with her mind. “Did they tell you how he died?” she questioned after coming to terms that there was nothing behind them but the sleeping streets.
Harlin glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “His rifle exploded. I’m not sure what the cause was.”
“They said the rifle was probably dirty or a jam wasn’t fully cleared.”
“So in short, they’re not sure.”
“No one saw it happen. They found him on the ground with his face bloody and the gun barrel split open.”
“Well, all those can be causes.”
“But he knew how to handle weapons,” Skylar asserted. “He would never fire a dirty gun, and if he wasn’t sure a jam was cleared, he would have made sure no one fired it until it was properly cleaned.”
“Things are different out in the world. There are other factors that could have been involved.”
“So I’ve been told,” Skylar mumbled, ending the conversation when they approached the city wall. They rode past the guards and archers who kept their eyes on them even after they slipped by and were a good distance away in the farmlands.
The two remained silent as they rode under the open sky, the orchards and farms stretched out on either side of the dirt road. The stars were still barely twinkling over-head, the pink dawn rising wider in the eastern sky, shimmering in the waters of the distant ocean. Out in the country air they let the horses run, their pounding gallop erasing any hope of a conversation. Skylar didn’t mind as she leaned forward, grabbing hold of Suncaster’s mane as the wind threatened to push her off. She steered him towards the borderline of the woods where she knew her brother would have gone. Harlin followed after her, keeping Lexton a couple paces behind despite the horse’s tantrum, caused by its desire to outrun its competitor.
With the borderline fast approaching, Skylar felt her anxiety snap into a distraught panic, feeling as if she were about to witness a reenactment of Brayden’s death behind the darkness of the woods. This place was eerily quiet, and the early morning shadows were quick to grab imaginations, only to run off with them in mad hysteria. The image of Brayden alone, standing in the overgrowth waiting for her, made Skylar’s skin crawl with goosebumps.
For the first time, she was glad Harlin was there.
