The War Of Crowns | #ONC2023

Chapter 3

The flimsy paper crumpled easily in Leia's fist as she paced her room. Despite knowing now that the prince needed her for some plan of his, she kept a wary eye on the vines that climbed the walls.

Annoyance rippled through her as she carefully opened the note again, trying not to rip it while she smoothened out the wrinkles.

We leave at dusk to my brother's place for negotiations, it said.

A command. She rolled her eyes, tossing the paper on the bed before flopping onto the soft feathered mattress with a sigh. She was grateful it wasn't a cold dark cell, regardless, she still felt every bit the prisoner that she was.

That familiar feeling of rage warmed her blood. She hated someone having control over her.

He wouldn't reveal any details about his plan, only that it involved his brothers. Nowhere in his words did she see her relevance in stopping the war. She couldn't figure out all the secrecy if not to harm her in some way for the plan to work.

She kept waiting for him to come and discuss it with her but instead, he kept her locked away for days with nothing to do but stare at the rising and setting of the sun through her window. The sheets were soft in her hands as she tangled her fingers in them, letting out a frustrated grunt. This whole thing was maddening.

The true monsters in the Land of Faeries were the ones who looked most like humans, save for the pointy ears. She had personally helped villagers recover from their loss when the faeries stole from them. She had held the crying children whose parents had disappeared after a visit from a faerie. Their pain still resonated in her heart. He was the Prince of Monsters, no matter how kind he was a couple of days ago. What else could she expect from him?

"That's enough," she said, more to convince herself than anything else. She refused to lay there pitying herself.

The last time she reached for a weapon, she had been caught off guard and frantic, picking up the first thing that came to her mind. This time, she took her time, turning over every piece of furniture she could lift and crawling on her knees to look under the bed in search of something she could use, anything, to make a weapon. She sighed. There was nothing.

The shoes the brownie had brought up for her fit her feet snug as she slipped them on, and the coat was warm, though a bit bulky. Both the perfect size for her. There was absolutely no way she would let herself stay in this room to rot away any longer. If the prince wouldn't break her mind, this captivity just might.

She rattled the door handle and it was still locked. It wasn't a surprise but she still huffed to herself.

The tray of food sat beside the door, a simple meal of bread and butter. It would be so easy to take a bite. She had lasted so long without it, settling with only drinking water from the bathroom tap that was connected to her room.

Never eat the food in the Land of Faeries, the general would say in his lessons. He didn't say exactly what would happen if she did, but she didn't want to test it to find out.

She shook her head, feeling herself bubble with more frustration. The chair by the desk had been crafted with a delicate hand. Flowers swirled in the engraving of the backrest and the cushion was embroidered with a lovely tree. It was heavy to lift, at least in her weakened state, but she braced herself against the weight and ran over, slamming it into the door. The force violently rattled the chair, and she screamed as she dropped it.

Both the chair and the door remained unscathed. Her foot connected to the backrest, which only sent more pain through her. She yelped before she turned towards the window.

Desperation had its hold on her and with a flip of her finger she unlocked the latch and pushed the window outward. The wind tickled her face as she peered out, breathing in the salt air. She took a deep breath as she ran her hands along the outer wall of her room.