The Princess's Servant

42. The Ribbon

Holden had crouched on the forest floor, his entire body tense with horror. Why? Why had he needed to see that flash?

The odds that he'd see that flash had to have been very slim. After all, Sybil's telescope lens couldn't have been much larger than the palm of his hand, and at that distance, it might have well have been the size of a pinhead. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, Holden had told himself, but he knew as he thought it that he was only trying to make himself feel better.

Which meant she'd likely seen him. And if she'd seen him, she'd likely also seen Marcus cut him loose. He couldn't be certain of what the princess would do to her guard if she found out, but he couldn't imagine it would be anything good. If Marcus was lucky, she'd be tried for treason. If she was unlucky... The princess might deal with her betrayal more privately.

He could stand, he had told himself. He could keep trudging towards Ward. He tried to move forward a little. He got one step in and smiled, but his smile dropped as quickly as it had appeared. What was he doing? Marcus had risked everything for him. Could he really leave her to her fate while he sipped wine and downed fistfuls of berries in his palace's gardens?

Holden stared at the ground without really looking at anything. Why? Why was he made this way? Why couldn't he be cold-blooded like his brother or unfeeling like his father? Every day that passed, he understood Nara's curse more and more.

It was with great anger that he turned around. Great frustration that he stamped through the waving fields and along the paths to the city walls. Great annoyance that he arrived at the city gates, and great apathy that the guards  recognized and seized him.

Great irritation as he laid in that time, in that manner, in that throne room.

The hall itself was silent. The prince and the princess sat there in the glowing stained-glass darkness for a long time. Sybil didn't move from her mother's throne, and she didn't move in it. She sat stock-still and stared down at that little roped bundle for what felt like forever. It was him. It was undeniably him. Not a decoy or a dummy or a doppelganger or a doll. The thing in front of her was the Wardian, in the breathing flesh.

Holden fought the impulse to fight his binds. He could feel the blood start to pool in his feet and his legs begin to tingle. But Holden was working with a brand-new theory that maybe — just maybe — if he stayed perfectly still and perfectly uninteresting, then Sybil would leave him alone.

And so far it seemed to be working. He hadn't heard Sybil stand or shift since the others had left. Was she even still in the room? He couldn't be sure.

It wasn't until Holden heard a long drawn-in and longer drawn-out sigh that he knew she was still with him.

"You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?"

Well that wasn't very fair, Holden thought. That was supposed to be his line. But the prince was determined to test his theory, so he didn't so much as sneer under the cloth of his gag.

"Why the fuck did you come back?"

Another baiting question. He took in a breath that was a little bit deeper than the last, but otherwise did not react.

"You can't keep playing dead forever. I can see you breathing," she told him. "And if you want to keep breathing, I suggest you answer me. So I ask you again, why are you here?" She hit those last four words like he didn't speak her language or like he was a flat-out idiot.

Holden took this as his clue that his non-reaction was pissing her off more than reaction. He cringed inward, half strategically, half involuntarily.

"Ah." He heard her stand. "So the reason's something shameful." She hopped down one step. Two. "But what could it be? What could have had such a pull on you that it brought you back into my little world? Hm?"