The Princess's Servant

11. The Hallway

When the crew reached the princess, they found her in the windowed hall Holden had seen the day before. Her attendants rushed to the sleeping barbarian and administered him some sniffing salts. He awoke with a shock and a shout, before he realized his company. The princess smiled at the men and greeted them as they approached.

"Your Highness," Duke Williams said, lowering his head and raising the basket. "I've procured this for your royal lunch. May it grant you the courage and strength you need to complete your noble work."

"Thank you, good knight," she said, taking the basket from him. She handed it off to a guard. "Now, regarding the next task..." She turned from them.

The duke straightened out. "That's it, my lady?" He asked.

She looked back at him with wide eyes.

"We went through all that trouble for you," he said, "and you're not even going to eat your figs? Or say who won?"

Holden watched the duke stare at the basket like a dog stares at a dinner plate.

The princess turned to him. "None of you won," she said. Holden's eyelids closed halfway. "According to the reports, you," she pointed at the duke, "did jack-all in the contest, you—" she pointed at the pirate, "tried to take the glory for yourself, and you—" she pointed to the Dracorian prince. "I was actually rather impressed with you. Keep it up."

The Draconian prince gave a slight smile.

"But Your Highness," the duke began again.

"And you," the princess said, turning to Holden. She paused for but a second when she noticed the hand he cradled. He couldn't be certain, but he thought he saw something move in her eye at the sight of it. Something... interested. "You get five lashes for what happened out there," she said. "Marcus?"

Marcus grabbed Holden's good wrist. He twisted, but her grip was firm. "Wha— Why?!" He asked.

The princess crossed her arms and sighed. "One's for the duke's selfishness, two are for Garg's attempts on my beloved pet's life, another one's for trying to solo the entire effort, and the last one's because— well— Four's not really that round of a number is it? Five feels more... correct."

"What?!" He called. "You're insane!" The prince twisted and twisted, but he couldn't get free. Marcus freed her stick from her waistband.

"Everyone else, follow me," she said, and the other suitors did as they were told with some reluctance.

Marcus's eyes widened as she watched her princess leave. "You're not staying to watch?" She asked.

The princess shot her a glance as she continued on her way. She moved her head forward without saying a word.

Soon the suitors and the princess rounded the corner and Marcus watched the spot where they had left. "She always stays to watch," she said. She looked to Holden. "It's probably just because she has company over," she said. "Don't you think?"

Holden glared at Marcus. He said nothing for a long minute, and when he did he said, "I don't like that you're a part of this." He again tugged at his arm.

"Oh come on," Marcus said, pulling his wrist. "It won't be that bad." Holden resisted and tried to hug his arm to his chest, but she was stronger.

"Let— ah," the guard struggled to get his arm to stay still for longer than a second. He yanked and jerked around so much that when she finally drew her club, she had to make it quick. "Stay still!" She said. "I—" she tapped the tip of the stick to his wrist in rapid succession. "Onetwothreefourfive! We're done! See?" She asked, releasing Holden as he stumbled backwards with the momentum of his own force. "Done."

He grabbed his wrist and looked at her. Angry, but confused.

Marcus sighed. "Let's just— get you to the others." She pushed him down the hall.

Holden rubbed his wrist against his pant leg and inspected the skin where the guard had assaulted him. Not a mark. Not even a red glow from where the stick had been. Holden was near certain that Marcus's grip had hurt more than her strikes. He put down his arm.

The room Holden was escorted to was another familiar room: it was the dining hall from earlier that morning. The quaint nook with the table and chairs that now all dripped with honey. Holden scanned the room with the others. He jumped when he noticed a large painting that hadn't been there earlier.

It was a portrait of a noble lady painted in a garden, surrounded by greenery and forest animals. She looked happy — and pregnant, Holden thought — but there was something in her expression that unsettled him. Looking at her was like looking into the eyes of the condemned.

The princess approached him. "Have a nice beating?" She asked.

Holden offered her a ticked-off look as a reply.

She smiled and brought her gaze up to the portrait. "Do you like the painting?" She asked.

"It's... nice," Holden allowed. "But it makes me feel a little uneasy. I'm not sure why."

"Well it would have that effect on you, Wardian," the princess replied. "That's Queen Cara. My grandmother. The last true queen of Lailoy, before your precious emperor turned us into his little puppet state."

The princess trucked away, but Holden stayed staring. There was something in that face, those eyes, that captivated and scared him all at once. Though he'd never seen this woman before, she seemed more familiar than this room. She seemed like a memory.

Holden shook his head and cleared his thoughts. Nope. Nope. He didn't have time for things that hurt. He turned from the painting and rejoined the others, his pants still crinkling with mud.

"The next task is rather simple," the princess said when he had joined their little circle. "Whoever can sit in their chair the longest, wins," she said. "Any questions?"

The pirate, who still held the handles of the wheelbarrow and the fully-awake Garg, raised a hand.

"Yes? Edmund."

"Aye, miss. There's something in the seats," the pirate said.

The duke looked closer and let out an affirming, "Ohhhh...." as he investigated the golden dew.

"Very good," said the princess. "There is something in the seats." The princess surveyed the others. "Any other questions?

The Draconian raised his hand.

"Yes," the princess called.

"What is in the seats?" He asked in a high, haunting voice.

The princess stared at them all with her arms folded across her chest. She was silent for a long moment. "Honey," she replied at last.

The suitors looked to each other and seemed to come to an agreement. After another beat, the duke raised a timid hand in the air. "Why is there honey in the seats?" He asked.

The princess wiped her clean hands on the front of her dress. "No more questions," she said. "Last one remaining wins," she said, and the suitors nodded. "Take your places."

Slowly, they obeyed. Holden shuffled to the seat on the end of the table, the wet honey pressing into the crunching dirt on his pants. Looking up, he realized he faced the creepy painting in this position. Of course, he thought.

As soon as they all were seated, Marcus wheeled in a large wooden box the size of a shed. The prince tilted his head at the massive structure and wondered if he was the only one who could hear a faint buzzing. The princess lifted her skirt and left the room in a hurry. Marcus appeared apprehensive.

"Time starts now!" The princess yelled from the hallway as Marcus tugged a rope. As she did, a horrible buzzing broke out and Marcus fled the room. She slammed the doors and a thousand thousand flying bugs erupted from the box.