Mad Honey

Chapter Two

Unconscious bodies are heavy! Having dealt with both vacated and occupied bodies for a long time, there are a few universals that ring true. Women are usually bendier and lighter than men, though their clothing makes it more difficult to move them. I can carry a decidedly uncouth amount of weight for a young lady of good breeding, but the problem with boys isn't the weight, it's the density. I swear, they must load up on pastries and bonbons and mince pies and all sorts of yummies before passing out. This one is no different and right now I need to get him out of sight. He had found me waiting in a back hallway of this palace. It's not the official palace, smaller, used for hosting lavish parties and frolics. The corridor I'm standing in is beautiful, marble floors, gold leaf wallpaper, a few columns thrown here and there just for kicks. It has two uses. Difficult to get to without directions, and with the only windows being situated on the ceiling, it's quite discreet. I believe it is referred to as Lover's Lane with the more gossipy maids. The second reason, more secret than the first, is that there are several false walls, A push in the right place, and small passages that snake through the walls and under the palace are revealed. They were built in case of an enemy invasion, so the royal family could escape into the city, and their use is forbidden for anyone outside of the king, queen, and heirs. Since the city hasn't been invaded in more than a century, I feel it's more than fair to use these, at risk of blocking our fearless leaders from running from a fight.

The tunnel looks dark. Myself and the boy, who is laying face down on the floor, are in a small landing of sorts, a six foot by six foot space lit by a candle liberated from a sconce. In front of me is a small, dark tunnel, maybe six feet tall and two planks thick. I'm not a fan of enclosed spaces, too much time spent in the dumbwaiter as a child, perhaps. There is no part of me that wants to go in that tunnel, but as Madame Bishou would say, persistence leads to power, so I forge ahead. I step into the tunnel sideways, and grab the boy under his shoulders. I drag him about three meters, before having to stop to breathe, readjust my grip, and more often than not pull up my dress. The passageway is long, 400 meters, and at about the halfway mark I need a break. While doing reconnaissance for the mission, I managed to pilfer and pinch some royal guard rations and hide them in small alcoves carved out of the dirt walls, and we're approaching one now.

The cheese is tangy and creamy, and the water is cool and refreshing, and the hardtack isn't very appealing but that's alright because food is here in my hands and will soon be resting in my stomach. I love food. Whole family does, but especially me. If I could light a fire, or had a few herbs, this could be a full meal, but at the risk of alerting passers-by, I'm gnawing on the bread in silence. The tunnel here is wide enough that I can sit with my legs splayed out like a doll. It's been so long since I got to loll, got to just breathe, so I'll savor this, and rest a minute.

The boy looks more palatable while asleep, smirk wiped off his face. He has a nice face, with a small scar on the side of his temple from what must be an old injury. His head rests a few inches from my left side, and the gentle snores of sleep are reminding me of home more and more. I miss home. My hands are itching to do something familiar, and for a moment I'm pondering whether or not to braid his hair. No. I shouldn't treat this boy as a friend. He's a scoundrel and a spy and at my mercy now. Beads of water drip down my lips as I drink from the skin in frustration, tired of this pent up energy. One drips onto his forehead, and I think that is what breaks me. Though I love missions, this boy, this thing is the reason I have been bandersnatched from my home and am now crouching on a disgusting tunnel floor in an ornate gown, arms aching. If I have to get sweaty and smell, so does he. The water drips down on his face from my cupped hands, and I spell "fuck you" in droplets over and over and over until I'm grinning like a madwoman, and have to turn my back to his stupid face to take a deep breath. 

"Wshhhhh wshhhhhhh wshhhhhh." I whirl around. Hands are dragging across the dirty ground, pulling the boy's torso off of the ground. Shit, they don't wake up this easily usually! Everything about this trip has been more difficult than expected.

"No you don't." I have a foot on his back before his eyes have fully opened. Where's the sconce? I left it in the passageway when we entered. A quick glance shows the only thing maybe heavy enough to knock him out is the water skin, but it will burst upon impact, and it's the only one I have. As I look for a loose rock or abandoned boot, the boy is wriggling under me, struggling to get his hands under him. Gotta handle this quick. My fist connects with the side of his head, and with an "Ugh", he's down again. My hands quickly check his neck for a pulse, there, but slow. His breathing is shallow too, I hit him harder than needed. Serves him right though, bastard made me split my knuckle. Everything about this one has been strange and unpleasant. He reacts quickly and fought hard, but my chest swells, reminding myself that I caught him, I'm in control. I pick myself up, dust off my dress, pull this tiresome drooping neckline up again, and grab him under his shoulders. Only a few thousand steps left until we're out of here, and I can smile up at the familiar face of the moon.