The Princess's Servant

90. The Kidnapping

When Sybil first felt the chill dampness of a puddle and the tight roughness of binds, she thought she was dreaming. Usually she didn't have these sorts of dreams (save for the odd confusing dream about the Wardian — though being near Holden had largely put a stop to those). But when she felt the scrape of rock beneath her cheek and opened her eyes to pure darkness, she knew that this was no dream nor vision. This was real — as real as the rope around her ankles and wrists. As real as the freezing water that clung to half her clothes.

Sybil sat up. Her binds were tied well, by someone who had done almost as good a job as she could have. She looked above her. No stars. No light anywhere to be found. And the only sounds she could hear were the percussion of her own breathing and the distant but constant dripping of water. It echoed in the hollow space around her. A cave, she thought. This had to be a cave.

"Hello?" She called, but there was no reply. She heard a shifting of clothes and tensed as a sharp hissing sound rang out. A small flame on a stick illuminated, casting light onto the bony fingers that fed it into a lantern. When the white wick caught, Sybil could spy the sharp point of a jaw, a willowy white-cotton clad frame, and the long silver hair that nearly looked gold in the flickering light.

Sybil could spy that her own half-wet hair was still brown and she guessed that her eyes were very much the same. She made her eyes go wide and forced herself to tremble — which wasn't too difficult considering her deep coldness.

"W-Who are you?" Sybil said. "Let me go!"

The silver-haired woman smiled. She set her lantern on a box next to her stool. "I know who you are, Princess Sybil. You don't have to act scared."

"I'm not the princess!" The princess protested. "I'm Cara, a simple huntress from the woods! Please! Untie me and release me to the wilderness to which I belong!"

The woman's smile broadened and she pinched her lips shut as she laughed in her throat. She withdrew a long knife from a sheath at her hip at watched the flame twist in its reflection.

Sybil rolled her eyes and straightened out a little. "Tch," she spat. "You say you know who I am. But if you really knew, you wouldn't have taken me. That was a bad move on your part."

"Oh? And why's that?" The woman stood, knife still in hand. "Are hordes of men going to pour down upon my head for nabbing a royal? Or do you mean to imply that you'll murder me for my misdeeds? I've read your file, 'Princess,'" the woman neared her, "and you may have an extensive history of violence, but nowhere is there any evidence that you've ever killed anyone." She crouched before Sybil and placed her free hand on her shoulder. She got close to the princess. Close enough for Sybil to see the palest moon-white irises she had ever seen. "Gazing in your soft brown eyes, I can tell. You wouldn't end my life if I handed you the blade."

The princess's wide eyes narrowed as her face scrunched in disbelief. "Of— Of course I wouldn't," she said. "What in the world makes you think that you would deserve that from me?"

The woman grinned at this. "Well, I haven't done much to you yet," she said. "But give me a few hours and I'm sure you'll change your tune."

"A few—!" Sybil fluttered her eyelids. "You think a few hours of torture is enough to make me want repay you with murder?"

The woman stood and turned from her. "Most people would agree that would only be fair." 

"'Fair?!'" The princess could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Well forgive me for being traditional, but I don't believe a lady should murder someone just because they expect that from her! A death at my hand would be... a privilege! Something that would have to be earned." The princess dipped her chin. "And it's something I'm saving for the right person. It's not for a stranger who toys with me for a few hours like I'm some doll!"