The Princess's Servant

29. The Nightmare

For the second time that night, Holden climbed into bed and closed his eyes. He figured that getting any real sleep would be impossible with his heart still racing in his chest, but he soon found himself in that dream-temple again, footsteps close behind.

The young prince tensed as the footsteps passed, but his fear fell when he saw who they belonged to. Bright bouncing curly blonde hair. Wide-awake eyes. A white dress that puffed like a cloud and a ribbon the color of a midday sky. This was Sybil as he had seen her but once, when she'd been only five years old. Holden's guard lowered and he frowned at the child.

The young girl looked at him like she didn't know him. A hand came down on his shoulder.

"Like what you see, boy? She's all yours."

Holden jumped. He looked up to see his father in those same dark robes he'd worn that fateful day. "She's a child," he said.

Holden's father looked at him with a darkness that struck the prince's heart. "So were you," he replied.

The prince felt the floor dissolve beneath him and soon he was falling, falling, through the patched stones of the temple, soaring through mist and darkness and silence. When he struck the ground, he awoke to a new scene, where he was clothed in his princely garb and crouched in a shadowed hallway. His body felt small. He remembered being this size, long, long ago. He remembered this place. Holden listened with fear in his chest.

"He's a child," his mother's voice said.

"He won't be for long. It's time he learns the ways of this world, before he grows soft, like his mother."

The Queen said nothing.

"You," his father said, and Holden jumped. "Fetch me my horse."

A servant muttered a "Right away, your Majesty," and scrambled to exit the room.

"Promise me you won't hurt him," his mother attempted.

"I'll do no such thing," the emperor replied. The first time Holden had heard these words, he'd thought they were meant in agreement with his mother— a promise that he would never harm his child. But hearing them again, Holden understood that wasn't how he'd meant it.

Holden's world blurred and suddenly he found himself in the forest with a rabbit in his arms. Its fur was soft against his freezing hands and he could feel its fluttering heart beat across his skin. He wanted to bury his face in its chestnut fur.

"Kill it," his father said, presenting him with a knife. Holden looked up at his father. He didn't want to kill the rabbit, he wanted to keep it.

"Mother says rabbits are the souls of departed children," Holden said.

"Your mother is a cuntless witch," his father replied.

Holden didn't know what that meant as a child and he didn't know what it meant now.

"Kill it now, or I'll make you regret it."

Holden furrowed his brow and clutched the rabbit tight.

"Kill it, boy," his father demanded.

Holden hugged it even tighter.

The emperor ripped the bunny from his hands and thrashed it against the forest floor. The meek thing shook and twitched the first three assaults, but had stopped by the time he threw it to the ground.

Tears streamed down Holden's face as he watched the bloody mess breathe still. Its eye had melted out of its socket and its tongue was on pieces on the floor, but still it's belly rose with life.