The Princess's Servant

57. The Return

Sybil didn't move once the entire way back to Ward. She slept soundly in the position that Holden had put her in, with her doll-like head resting on one of the carriage's pillows and with her legs tucked in like folded eagle's wings. Her limp form bobbed and jostled with the steady trekking of the cart.

Holden, on the other hand, did not sleep a wink. His eyes were fixed on Sybil's stomach, as he watched with incredible fear to see whether her exhale would be followed by an inhale. Her breathing was slow; shallow. His was quick, shallow, at times. This was hell. Somehow out of all the torments she had put him through, this one was the worst.

If she died, it would be over for Lailoy. If she died, his brother would kill him. If she died, he would never get his revenge. He didn't want it to end like this, like— like his suffering had no meaning. Like surviving had no point. Their relationship had been a game of chess, and her death would be like a toddler wandering in and knocking the whole damn table over. He could not have it.

More than that... Watching her sleep... Holden felt his breathing slow. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips were slightly parted. It was so strange to see her like this. So... Harmless. Holden almost couldn't comprehend it — how someone so beautiful and so naive could be that evil. Evil. What was evil? Was it Sybil?

Holden exhaled and sat back in his seat. He returned his gaze to her belly and watched as it rose, fell, rose, fell, rose... fell...

*****

By the time they reached Ward, the sun had long since set. Sebastian hailed over medics and Holden took a step out onto Wardian land. The climate here was hardly different than Lailoy, but the scent...

Holden took in deep earthy air that wafted over from the nearby woods and felt a smile spread wide across his lips. He'd made it. His soft shoes dug into the concrete pavement beneath him. He was finally home.

"Enjoying yourself?" Sebastian quipped, but Holden was in too good a mood to answer. He took a step towards the palace entrance, imagining already what it would feel like to wash in his own bath, to dress in his own clothes — to sleep in his own bed. But— His smile faded. Holden froze.

Thomas.

Holden looked around. No looming shadowy figures. No nervous guards. So his brother hadn't found him yet. But knowing Thomas, he would soon, so Holden had to run.

The medics had taken the sleeping Sybil, but they'd left her velvet cloak. Holden recovered it from the carriage floor and wrapped it around his shoulders. If nothing else, it covered the... necklace Sybil had so graciously locked onto him. And it covered the injured hand. The cuts and scratches. The battered frame. The bruises.

Holden wasn't smiling anymore. He quickly bade a guard to tell him first when Sybil woke, and then he scampered through the castle corridors to make it to his place.

He hurried through the halls and exited the palace, only to head down to the gate that guarded his cabin. The guard stepped aside and Holden lit up as he re-entered his woods. That scent of pine! What a dream! He slowed as he felt the spongey moss beneath his feet and as he heard the trickling of a distance banking brook.

Holden approached his cabin, which was as dark as he had left it. He lifted the painted rock that hid his spare key and spread his fingers on the grainy wood of the door. He inserted the key and entered.

He stepped inside. It was quiet, save for the sound of his footsteps on wood. Holden took his steel and flint and struck at the kindling he'd left on the fireplace. Sparks flew and Holden breathed fire to life.

He smiled again as he watched the flames grow. They lept and danced and filled the hearth with light. His smile grew too.

"Enjoy your travels?"

Holden nearly fell face-first into the flames. He scrambled and turned to see his brother's tall form towering over him. Holden remembered the metal at his neck and he squeezed his cloak tight shut.

"Sebastian tells me you were enslaved by the Lailoyan Princess. Is this true?"

His heart settling — a little — Holden rose to meet his brother's glare. Thomas was dressed in an all-black robe, no doubt to better sneak up on him, Holden was sure. His dark hair was tussled in loose strands about his face. His face was pale and his eyes were sunken as always.

"Perhaps..." Holden's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps that's what Sebastain heard," he said, turning halfway to the fire. "But I assure you, the truth is something else." Holden's eyes watched the flames.

"Enlighten your Emperor, then."

The young prince shifted in his cloak. He took in a breath and tossed his head towards his brother. "Princess Sybil and I were engaged in a premarital... game. Of sorts." He cleared his throat again. "I allowed her to lead my way before she submitted to be led by mine for all time."

His brother cringed at this. "A game?" His brother asked. "Sebastian said he found you in a cage."

Holden blinked a few times. "Aye, well," he said. "I'm sure you've heard of Sybil's... Preferences. I can't say I share them, but I'm a good sport, as a husband should be." The prince gave a shrug.

Thomas stepped towards Holden and Holden took a small step back. The fire's warmth drifted through Sybil's cloak. "A husband is commanding and firm," his brother said. "He leads at all times. He does not end up in a cage." Thomas raised his chin. "A prince, even less so."

Holden side-eyed his brother and did not move.

Thomas inhaled. "But," he said, "if that is all it was, then it sounds as though my servant was mistaken. I'll remind Sebastain not to believe everything he sees. You are released, brother."

Holden rolled his eyes. "Yeah, nice catching up with you too," he said.

Thomas headed for the door.

"And don't give Sebs too hard a time!" Holden called. "I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it—"

And in that instant, Holden felt something hot against the back of his calf. Something extremely hot. Something fire hot. And he saw and smelled that his cloak had dipped into the flames and now was burning.

"AH!" He cried. He threw the cape off of him and tried to smother the flame with the rest of the garment. The fire fought back, but Holden kept stomping on the flames until he'd snuffed out every last one. Holden smiled.

He felt a cool breeze flow in from his front door. Very slowly, he turned towards the entrance. Thomas stood there, his eyes boring into him. Holden felt the sting of his bruises and the cold of the metal collar on his neck. Holden looked back.

After what felt like several lifetimes, Thomas moved his gaze from his beat-up younger brother, and he walked out the door, as silently as he'd entered. Holden felt himself die. Why. Why. Why why why why why why why why why.

The cabin door shut and Holden was all alone. Even though, for the rest of the night, he felt Thomas's eyes on him.

*****

Thomas graced Sebastian's doorframe.

"Tell me exactly what you saw."

A/N: THANKS FOR READING!!

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