The Princess's Servant

39. The Dilemma

Holden awoke to evening birdsong and the trucking of wheels. He also awoke to the jarring realization that he didn't remember falling asleep.

The princeling tried to lurch forward in his ropes. He was bound in a sitting position to the wood of the cart, and so found little success in his well-attempted endeavor. And although the planks felt pliable enough to break, Holden could tell that any motion big enough or loud enough to free him would certainly attract attention.

But he was probably worrying over nothing. Afterall, with only one bandit, the cart would have to be heading...

West! To Lailoy! Holden checked the sky again. That couldn't be right. Where was the sense in ransoming him to the poorer nation? His breath picked up in his chest and he strained again against the ropes that bound him. He couldn't go back. He couldn't go back. He flailed around in his panic enough to earn a head flick from the bandit.

"Take me to Ward," he told the stranger. "The Emperor there is far wealthier than those Lailoyans. He'll give you anything you want — everything you want for the safe return of his second son." Holden was quite sure that wasn't true, but he was quite sure a forest bandit wouldn't know the family dynamics of the Wardian royals.

Despite his tempting offer, the rider did not turn face and head East. In fact, the rider did not so much as reply.

Holden turned towards his captor as much as he could as they bumped along the forest trail. "If your plan is to ransom me to Lailoy first and then to Ward, it's not going to work," he said. "The Lailoyans are insane. They'll never let you leave with me."

The rider said nothing still. The horse moved onwards.

"What do you want?" Holden asked, his voice wavering. "Gold?" He asked. "Land? A title? I can get you any of those, just take me to Ward!"

The rider (or perhaps it was the mount) let out a puff of air, and that was it. Holden felt his eyes begin to water and his knees begin to sting against the hard wood of the cart.

The prince took in a big breath and his searched for the strength within himself. "Listen." His voice and head had both dropped low. He took in another breath. "The Lailoyans," he said. "They're unkind to me. Less than unkind, really. I'd say, mean, even?"

The rider turned his head just a bit and Holden felt a stab of hope.

Holden snatched that hope and didn't let go. "Like really mean," he said. "They... hurt me and whatnot. Sometimes for no reason?" Holden shook his head fervorously. "Can't you please just take me back to Ward? I really don't want to go to Lailoy. Really, really."

The rider stopped at his word and hope leaped in Holden's chest... until he saw where they were. The two of them stood on the edge of the forest, with only a tree or two between them and an unobstructed the view of Lailoy's city walls and castle. The rider became still and birdsong blossomed as their disturbance fell silent.

Holden looked up at the rider.

The bandit gripped the reins tight. "You really are him, aren't you? The prince."

Holden's skin prickled and a wave of recognition passed through him that culminated in a shudder. That voice— "I am," he replied, his eyes wide and his heart racing.

Marcus sighed and took off her helm.

"Why...?" Was all Holden could bemoan before the guard answered.

"Bad luck," she answered, and she came down off her horse. "Her Highness sent me to make sure her bandits didn't kill any villagers. She also sent me to be look out for you, but I didn't think I would actually—" The guard threw her helmet down.