The Princess's Servant

10. The Arena

The knight did as he was asked. Holden tucked the fabric into his pants pocket and took the weapon in hand as he opened the door. When he entered the pen, the young prince realized the boar was much larger than it had looked from the sidelines. The beast stared at him with a wildness that promised victory. He had seen this look before, he thought, but he tried not to remember the events of that evening for the twenty thousandth time.

The beast lunged. Holden dodged and nearly fell, but caught himself instead. He lifted his hand to find sticky mud and dried leaves coating his palm. He crinkled his nose and wiped the ick on the cloth he'd been given. The boar raged when he saw the fabric and went to charge again.

BAM! Holden had rolled out of the way of the butting skull by a fraction of an inch. He looked to the door. The others slammed it shut.

The door clicked and Holden remembered that the pirate had the keys. He slumped his head. He'd kill those suitors if he didn't die first, he promised.

But the prince had greater worries than the men outside those walls. The beast shook its head and drew back from the stone, and it turned its gaze again to Holden. He widened his eyes and picked himself up. His fine clothes were covered in mud, and he smelled like something worse, but Holden knew these were the least of his problems. Looking again to the princess's tower, he grabbed the boar's right tusk in his left hand and swung around. He landed himself atop the pig and fumbled in his pocket for the flower. The boar bucked and bucked but Holden held fast to the tusk and seized the petals in his palm. But as he went to present it to the animal, it gave a great kick and sent the young prince flying.

His back hit the wall and he landed on his neck. The princess pulled away from her spyglass, almost unable to watch the tragedy unfolding before her. But she floated her eye against the looking glass and saw the man scramble up the scraggly wall as the pig charged at him again.

Holden held tight to the stones and watched the beast scrape the ground with its hooves. From his vantage point, he saw something glitter in the pen and he spied a gold lock on a small door opposite the gate. He looked again to the back of the beast and flung himself down from the wall.

The pig raised its hind legs in protest and twisted to avoid him, but Holden hit his mark. He landed squarely on its back and locked his hands around the beast's neck as not to slide off. With the flower in his right hand, he shoved it into the beast's nose and waited for him to inhale. But before the beast could breathe, it chomped its molars down. Hard.

Holden felt his shoulders tense before he realize what happened. He heard the crunching of bones and experienced the mixing of saliva and blood. Holden cried out, but no one could help what had already been done. He pulled out his hand and beared witness to the crimson, angular mess it had become. His empty palm glistened in the sunlight and Holden fought back tears.

But tears turned to anger, and anger, to determination. The boar bucked and bucked but Holden held on tight. Tighter than he'd ever held on to anything before. Holden thought of that night. Gripping her dress. He wouldn't let go.

"I need backup!" He shouted at the door. He was met with a long silence from the others, who seemed to agree the Duke should be the one to reply.

"I think you're doing swell," he said.

"Not emotional backup!" Holden yelled. "I've figured it out! This is all a setup!" Holden yelled. "Misdirection! The boar isn't lunch, it's—AHHH!" The beast bucked it's back high and Holden felt his good hand lift from the pig's horn. He floated for a second before falling on his rear straight into the dirt. Laying there a moment, he made a new promise to haunt the suitors if he died. It would be their fault after all.