Free

Cressida

It won't be easy.

The gates are locked at night and guarded by strong, silent soldiers who I know won't hesitate to report me to my father. And if he found out what I was planning, I probably wouldn't live to see the sunrise.

As I creep through the flamboyantly furnished hallways, I feel a small twinge of regret. It's pure luxury, this life here. Feather pillows and glittering jewels are all I've ever known. Stifling and difficult as my life can be, I know I'll miss it.

But I don't have a choice.

Yesterday, my father, King Klaudius, invited two strangers into the palace. We had seen the posters: they weren't magic, exactly, they were 'psychic'. Or at least, one of them was; the daughter of an old witch who used to tell people's fortunes before she lost her powers. According to the photos, she can predict futures, she can read minds. Father read it and decided that, at the very least, it would be amusing, so he summoned the witch and the psychic.

They came to the castle the next day. The woman wasn't how I'd expected her. I suppose I'd imagined a cloaked, warty hag bent over with age. The woman stood tall, however, and her dark hair only held traces of grey. She wore a black cloak like I'd imagined, however, sparkling in the light and sweeping out around her. Her face was lined, but her features were sharp and somehow cruel looking. Her narrow eyes were a startling red, and they lingered as she looked at you as if they were piercing your soul. Her age was impossible to guess. She could have been anywhere between forty and eighty.

As she walked, she kept a hand firmly on her daughter's shoulder. A teenage girl, about my own age. At first glance, she looked quite normal- apart from her eyes, which were violet. She was dressed normally, her pale brown hair neatly tied up, and she looked reasonably well cared for. But if you look closely, you notice how thin she is. You notice the bruises on her face and her slender arms. You notice how domineering the hand on her shoulder is.

When she predicted my future, her eyes gazed straight into mine, but she didn't seem to see me. As soon as she looked at me, those dreamy eyes were a million miles away. She was frowning slightly.

"There is something," she said softly. "Something strong..." Her hand slowly reaches for mine, and I didn't pull away as she took it and closed her eyes. Then they suddenly flew open, and there was something in them I didn't recognise. An emotion between sadness and fear.

"Well?" pressed Father after a few seconds of silence.

"What do you see, girl?" growled her mother. Her grip on the girl's shoulder tightened, but I don't think anybody noticed but me. The girl raised her head slowly, and she looked into my eyes again, but this time she was looking at me.

"The sun," she whispered. "Day by day... it's rising and setting..."

"What does that mean?" Father frowned at her. This time she looked at him, and she bit her lip.

"Your daughter..." her hand tightened in mine. "Cressida... she has only days to live."

The throne room was completely silent for a minute that lasted a lifetime. I looked into those purple eyes and I knew that this wasn't a lie, it wasn't a trick. It was the truth. And as it sank in, I suddenly felt like I was falling down an endless hole, down and down, swallowed by crushing darkness. Darkness. Darkness meant the unknown, but what I was facing wasn't the unknown. I knew. I was going to die.
But what would happen then?

"You're lying," Father said at last. He sounded normal enough, but I heard the anger, the danger through his tone. "Leave this castle at once."

The girl started to rise from her seat, but the witch pushed her back down. "The money," she demanded.

Father rose from his seat abruptly. His eyes blazed. "You expect payment? Go! Go before you end up in a dungeon!"

The witch walked slowly towards the throne, until she was only a few inches away from Father. The guards immediately started to close in, but they retreated at a signal from their king. He stared at the witch, his eyes challenging. She was inches shorter than he was, but she somehow seemed so much taller.

"I would advise you, Sire," she hissed in his face. "To be a bit more... civil... if you want to help your precious child. Now I'm going to ask you once more... nicely. Give me what you owe me."

I didn't hear what he replied because I became aware of a tugging on my hand. I blinked at the girl.

"Thank you," I sighed. "I know it was the truth."

"There's more!" whispered the psychic. I felt myself freeze, my body tense, my free hand gripping the arm of my throne. "There's a way to stop it from happening!"

My mouth fell open , but before the girl could continue, she was roughly yanked away by her mother, who was wild-eyed and shaking with rage. But before the girl was pulled away, I felt a crumpled ball of parchment being pressed into my palm. I watch as she was dragged away by her seething mother,  then slowly opened out the paper.

Drawn hurriedly on the old, yellowing parchment was a little map.

Once I climb over the wall, I check the rough map. Father refused to listen. He was in a raging temper for the rest of the day, and he made it perfectly clear that he didn't believe that the prediction was true. My only chance is finding this girl myself, following the map she gave me and asking her how I can save myself. And maybe, just maybe, I can help her. Maybe I could take her away from her mother.

I start to run, and it feels so... free. I'm leaving it all behind me. My past. And for now, my future.