Hatchetfield.

the cell

So. Steph has ended up back where she started. Stuck in the palace, desperate to break free from the path set for her. But this is far more urgent. This isn't the old pattern from before where she resented her title and the expectations set for her as a princess. No, of course she won't just be restored. That would be too easy a punishment for her and too gentle a response from a cutthroat ruler like her father.

Steph was due to be hanged at noon in two days, to serve as an example. All the criminals in Hatchetfield would face their due consequences, even if they were the heir to the throne.

It isn't her death that scares her, though. Well, it does, but it's a mere footnote compared to the complete dread she feels whenever her mind wanders back to Pete (which is almost constantly, so her dread never fully goes away. Not really).

She'd promised him she'd return him to his tower safely. He'd get to see the fireworks, and that would be that. She didn't want to start liking him. He made her like him! All because of his curiosity and intelligence and that stupid, dorky, charming smile of his. She didn't even want to leave him anymore, dreading never seeing his smile again and hating his caretaker even more. How fucked up does someone have to be to leave someone locked in a tower with no outside contact for his whole life, wanting nothing more than to see a fireworks show in person? Pete claimed to be content enough and willing to go home, but the thought scared her.

Still, she made a promise.

One she didn't even get to fucking fulfill because after the fireworks, as the Honey Festival was beginning to draw to its close, she thought that maybe he deserved just one more gift. A little souvenir to remember the trip (and her) by. She made sure her hood was properly adjusted, still not ready to let anyone in the royal guard catch her within Hatchetfield's walls, and bought him a little jar of honey. It was the best she could do, there wasn't much else for sale. And yes, bought it, actually purchased something for once in her life. But by the time she returned to where he'd sat, he was gone.

There were footprints in the sand, and only one trail. They had to be his. She didn't know why he'd just wander off, but she'd hoped by following, she could find out.

Steph didn't make it too far, though, as they led straight to the Witchwood within just a hundred feet, and his trail disappeared. Steph called out to him. No response. She turned around, dumbly hoping to find him back at the festivities, and barely made it halfway back to her starting point before the royal guard stopped and captured her. No trial, no hearing, nothing. Her father said she'd be made an example of and had her tossed into his dungeon, and that was that.

Steph sighs. At least there's some light in here. And company, she could argue, but neither she nor the man she's sharing a cell with have said a word to each other in the three hours she's been here. In fact, he was sleeping for the first two. So it's not much, after all, the more she thinks about it.

She keeps fearing just what had happened to Pete.

Despite the fact he's been awake for a while now, the most acknowledgement she and the man have had with each other is when he realized he had to share his cell now, looked at her liked he was trying to figure out if he knew her, then only nodded. All Steph could do was nod in return.

But now they were both making eye contact. He awkwardly clears his throat.

"Aren't you the princess?" he asks.

Steph scoffs. "So?"

"Why are you in here?"

"What, haven't you heard? I'm the country's most wanted criminal now. I'm not above any laws. They're gonna use me as a message."

He laughs bitterly. "No, I've been here for almost a year. I hear nothing. Why, what did you do? Not show up to court once?"

She shakes her head. "N–No, I...I ran away. And then to get by, I became a thief." She tries not to shake, or let any of her fears fill her voice. Not in front of a stranger, especially not a potentially dangerous one. "I don't regret leaving. Or getting caught. Just that by hanging, I'm breaking a promise."

"What promise?" he asks.

"Fuck off."

"Okay! Jesus!" he says.

The silence stays in place for several minutes, growing more awkward by the second. Steph speaks up again. "...what are you in here for?"

"Why is that your business?"

"Because," she says, "you're stuck with me for the next forty-eightish hours and I'd rather make this as not-awkward as possible."

"But you won't say—"

Steph cuts him off. "I'd rather take that promise to my grave. Least he deserves is for me to not disrespect it more by spreading it around."

"He?"

"Fuck off!"

Steph isn't going to let him know about any of this, no way in hell, and it finally seems to click with him.

The man sighs this time. "I stole a book."

"A book? You're in here over a fucking book?"

"...it was one of your dad's books. I heard it was in the palace library and took my fucking chances."

She looks at him with some sort of mixture of awe, impressed, and bafflement. "Why the fuck would you need one of the palace's books?"

"Because I heard it would help!" He leans even further into the corner he's resting against. "I lived with my little brother. Kinda had to, I was technically raising the kid. Dead parents and shit. But when he was just four—" (he hold up four fingers as some sort of emphasis) "—literally only four fucking years old, some bright yellow demon motherfucker came and took him in the middle of the night. Haven't seen him since."

"And how does a book help you?"

"It was supposed to have the instructions to some ritual to put that thing back where he came from," the man explains. "Got as far as a clearing in the woods. The guards found me before I could actually do it."

Steph's mind clicks all at once. Bright yellow, just like Pete's hair, and so many of the little murals in his tower. Demon? She'd never seen Tinky for herself, but Steph would guess only something truly evil would kidnap someone and put them in Pete's situation. And if enough years passed it could add up to why Pete only seemed vaguely familiar with the outside world. And that Tinky was somehow tethered to this world...

Tinky needed Pete.

"I know your brother!" she says, quiet like a whisper but with as much passion as an exclamation.

"You what?!"

"I–I met him. I brought him into town because he wanted to see the fireworks and then he disappeared..." Unless he was taken again. "I–I think I know where he is," she says, a bit more frantically. "Do you still have the book?"

"No, of course not," he says.

"Do you know where it is?!"

"Yeah, I had the good sense to hide it! There were plenty of bushes out there, so I chucked it as they took me away. Stupid bastards never even noticed."

Steph's heart is racing. "I–I can get him out. I can save him!" she says. "What kind of bush?"

"Some fuckin' berry, I don't know!"

Steph observes the man's eyes. For all the tough he's put up, she can see fourteen years of grief and worry behind those pathetic brown eyes. She's got to do this. Not just for her own sake, but for Pete's and his.

"Pete's your brother," she says out loud, and it's an assessment, not a question.

"Yes."

Good. She really is on the right track after all.

"I know where to find him," she continues. "And I'll do the ritual and free him for you. But first, you gotta help me bust outta here."