The Princess's Servant

24. The Attempt

Holden shuffled ahead of Sybil, who kept her blade brandished. He watched the dirt for signs of tracks and cursed himself for not running when he'd had the chance — before he'd been chained. Before they had fought.

'Fire and water,' he thought. What a terrible analogy. And how dare she complain about how hard it was to be around him, when she was the one who kept him there! If Holden had gotten his way, he would've marched straight out of that tavern and never seen her or her podunk kingdom ever again. But she'd had him arrested. She'd taken him captive.

But... Holden lowered his head. She hadn't been the one to propose his subjugation. That was a horror that only he'd bestowed upon himself. She'd wanted his hand, and he'd wanted to keep it. He admitted that he thought escape would be easier but... Shit. Maybe he should have let her have her way to begin with.

Whatever, he thought. This was still her fault. He wasn't the one keeping someone he hated close at hand. Why keep him close, anyways? He wondered. He supposed she tormented him, but his anguish didn't seem bring her any joy. Most often than not, she appeared... displeased when he was with her.

Holden wondered what Sybil looked like when he was not with her.

The princess sighed and sheathed her blade. They had been walking for over an hour since their fight and Holden guessed her sword arm must've gotten tired. It was time, then. The morning sun had risen high, but there was still plenty of daylight to make it back to Ward. The perfect conditions.

They were met with a pair of tracks, and the princess knelt down to inspect them. Holden exhaled a breath and prayed his plan would work.

"Princess," he said as she stood up.

"What?" She faced him, prepared for another fight.

"I have to go," he told her in his subdued voice.

The princess sighed. "Ha ha, very funny. "How many times are you going to make me say that you're staying right here?"

"No, it's not—" He squinted his eyes shut in tired frustration. "I have to go," he reiterated.

The princess blinked her eyes at him. "Oh," she said, and she brought her hand to her mouth to clear her throat. "Well... pick a tree," she gestured, and she followed Holden to an old pine.

She watched him wrap the fine chain slightly around the trunk and averted her eyes when she noticed a bare leg. Holden had squatted, so the princess supposed he would be a moment.

Sybil breathed out. She listened to the birds of the forest; felt the cool breeze against her face. As she watched the swallows flit between the leaves, she found strength. "Oi, Wardian" the princess called in a quiet voice. "I know you that work in your home country's palace. So perhaps..." Her eyes shifted to the trail. "If you sent word to your prince — got him to arrive — then we could come to some sort of agreement. One where you could go back to your old life maybe, and I..." The princess glanced at her hands. "I could hurt someone more deserving. What do you say, Wardian? Do we have a deal?"

The sounds of the babbling brook had suddenly ceased, and the captive gave no answer. Even the birds had seemed to quiet.

"Wardian?" The princess asked. She turned to face the tree.

The chain had been affixed to the trunk of the pine by a pair of wet trousers. The lead's loose end dangled against the bank with the faintest echo of recent touch.

The princess's face went cloud-white. She felt a weakness swell inside her breast.

She took one step closer. "Wardian?" She asked, but he was nowhere to be seen. She inspected the horizon and found no sign of him nor anybody else

"Wardian?!" She yelled, and she ran off through the brush.