The Princess that never was

Chapter Two

"Father?" Rose questioned the man standing across the room.

Her father's eyes were wide with an expression she had never seen on him before. He looked like a caged animal, like he knew what he had done wrong. Rose repeated her question. He blinked a few times, whilst the banging on the door got louder and shouts started to from the front porch.

He rushed to her, and whispered fiercely to Rose, "Get under the bed... and don't make a sound. Understand?"
Rose trembled.
"Rose?!...," he repeated urgently in a hush, "Understand?"

Rose nodded and dropped to her hands and feet softly. She scooted under the cot and bent her legs to fit. She hoped they wouldn't be able to see her underneath. She also knew this was probably a false thought as well.

Rose's father crept to the back door, when the front door-jam exploded.  Rose slapped her hand to her mouth to keep from making any incriminating noises. She prayed to Ole' Gregg that Phillip stayed in the barn, if he knew what was good for him. Her vision was obscured by the cot, but she saw them swarm into her home.

They overwhelmed her father making him fall to the ground. His chin hit the floorboard and for a brief second his gaze locked with hers. He looked away and shook his head, only just noticeable to her. Her hands shook violently, and tears poured out of her eyes like a running stream. Mr. Mclovin fought the other men; she knew that he would. From what she could see of the men, they wore the bright silver cuffed pants, and shining black boots of the royal guard. She felt sick.
She felt responsible.
Her stomach felt gouged as if someone had taken a dull blade and sliced her through.

Kicking wildly, her father was dragged out the front door. A loud voice rang through the still humid night.

"Well, well, well. Look who it most obviously must be." The man coughed. "Excuse me, frog in my throat... " He made a sound as if thrilling his lips rapidly. "Okay, now where were we? Ah! Yes. Mr. Mclovin I presume?"

"Eat a cow pie." My father replied. Rose squeezed her eyelids tightly with the loud audible sound of her father's grunt and thud. They must have kicked him.

"Now, now, now. Boys we're trying to be at least a little civil, right? That there warranted for at least two good ole' springs of the foot... At least!"

If Rose didn't know better, the man's tone sounded as if this encounter was a trivial matter. How could they care about her father who undoubtedly laid in the dirt. Another thud and strangled sound came from out the door. The man's voice came forward again.

"I'll take that as a yes from my previous question. Now! Mr. Mclovin, a little birdy came to me this day with the most incredible tale. At first, I thought she was bat living mad! But! She did come with references...," he pauses, "Anyhow, she told me that you have been keeping a little secret."

Someone snaps their fingers a few times, and the man says, "Boys."

Rose's breath shuddered as she clamped her mouth shut, sweat licked her skin as if telling secrets; as if giving a kiss. Boots flashed into her line of sight, many, many boots. They flipped the table, grabbed our wheat meal and dumped it onto the floor. Two pairs of feet marched towards their beds, one took father's and turned it over, issuing loud scrapes and bangs.

She prayed in silent horror.

The other pair of boots stopped right in front of her eyes. Everything came in such slow motion, watching as if she could everything to stop. One hand slithered under the frame, followed by another.
The next series of events happened in very quick succession.

The frame lifted and was slung across the room. Rose was still frozen in place. More hands, hands, hands than she could count gripped her under her arms, her legs, and her back. they hauled her out of the doorway. She came alive. Rose twisted, and a raw kind of sound escaped her throat.