Duty Bound

Chapter 1

There was a mob surrounding her. At the forefront were the now-familiar faces of reporters and their camera crews. The cameras were all trained on her, and she had nowhere to hide. Her hands were bound behind her back, and a guard stood on either side of her. She still had her armed escort in public -- even if she was a traitor, she was still a princess.

Her wounds from the Palace of Justice were still fresh, and the stitches strained whenever she attempted to regain her posture. Even though pain stung her with every movement, she stood up straight.

But for all her attempts to appear as proper as her role demanded, she knew she looked broken. Her eyes had sunk into her sallow face, and she had that absent gaze that many people had after emerging from the Palace. She was almost dangerously thin, and didn't think she would ever be able to eat again. Indeed, she knew she would likely not have the chance. Her trial would determine that. In a few short hours, she would either be pardoned, or executed for treason.

An armored van beckoned for her and her guards. There were soldiers struggling to keep the crowd at bay. She felt something hit her shoulder, and saw that a rock had been lobbed at her from somewhere. It was nothing compared to the agony of her wounds.

She was rushed into the van, and the doors slid shut with a decisive thunk. Her guards got in the front. The man who sat in the driver's seat was about forty, a little too fat for his uniform, but with a captain's badge. The other man was younger, also with a captain's badge. He was tall - almost too tall to fit comfortably in the van.

Neither of the men spoke to her. The captain started the car and began to drive. She saw people swarm around the vehicle as it pulled off to deliver her to the Crown Court. She felt blows landing on all sides of the van, and it wasn't until they had driven away from the Palace of Justice and away from the mob that she dared take a full breath.

She was surprised when the van did not stay on the main thoroughfare, along with its security detail, but took a turn.

"Are you going the right way?" the younger captain asked.

"Orders. Seems it'll be too risky going through the city. They want us to go through the West Woods."

"Without any security?" the younger captain added.

"It's not my place to question orders - or yours."

The conversation ended there, but she knew that this was the work of her brother. He had something planned.

The van took detour after detour, eventually ending up on a dirt road in the woods. Dread pooled in her gut.

"This is all wrong," she finally spoke. It was her first time speaking in days. Her voice had almost gone, and the guards didn't even hear her. She cleared her throat.

"Please," she rasped.

The younger captain turned to face her, his face devoid of expression.

"We must return to a main road," she said.

"Orders were to go through the West Woods!" the older captain barked. "Don't mind her, Crowley," he said.

The younger captain - Crowley - turned away from her without a word.

Every time the van shook, pain shot through her, stitches feeling like they might burst. She hid it as much as she could. She suspected that her driver might start to do it on purpose if he knew it was hurting her.

When the van suddenly stopped, she looked up. She could see a vehicle stopped ahead of them, a man standing beside it. Her insides seized up with fear. This was it.

"Shit," the older captain sighed. "Looks like he's broken down."

He moved to open the door, and she cried out,

"Don't!"

He looked her in the eye at last.

"It's a trap! If you stop, he'll kill you both," she warned.

"And why would he do that?" he asked.

"To silence me. He doesn't want me going to trial. I have information that will destroy him - he can't risk doing things publicly."

"Who's "he"?"

"My brother," she said.

"The crown prince?" the captain's eyebrows shot up, and he slapped his knee with a big bellowing laugh. "And am I to take the word of a traitor?"

"Please turn back," she begged.

"I've had enough of this. Crowley, watch her," he said to the man in the passenger seat.

"Yes, sir," Crowley replied.

With that, and against her hoarse pleas, the captain jumped out of the van and approached the broken down car.

She watched the scene unfolding with her heart pounding between her ears.

"Please," she said to Crowley, who was very deliberately ignoring her. "We have to get out of here."

He didn't answer. She watched the captain walk up to the man with the broken car. They exchanged words, and the captain popped the hood of the car and began to examine its insides. She saw the man reach into his coat and pull out a gun. She screamed at the same time as the assassin fired a bullet into the back of the captain's head. He fell against the car, sliding down onto the ground.

The assassin then took aim at the van. She ducked down just as the windows shattered as several bullets shot through the car. With her hands bound behind her back, she was powerless to defend herself.

"Stay down," Crowley commanded, opened the door, and began to fire back at the assassin.

Stay down? In this death trap? She saw that the back window had shattered in the gunfire, and slid past the back seat and through the broken window, taking care to lie flat against the shattered glass.

She fell out the back of the van and onto the dirt road. She could hear Crowley and the assassin exchanging gunfire, and knew that she didn't have long to make her escape. She shakily rose to her feet and tore into the trees.

Despite having been through a physical hell, the adrenaline proved an exceptional fuel even now. Her legs propelled her through the trees, and her chest felt like it was burning with every icy breath.

She noticed that the sound of gunfire had stopped. That meant one of the men had killed the other. She prayed that it had been Crowley who'd won, but she didn't want to stay to find out.

She heard the sound of feet hitting the ground in pursuit and increased her speed. The sound was getting closer.

"Stop!" a voice called out. Crowley's voice.

Momentarily distracted, she tripped over a root. She shock of falling and the sudden expenditure of energy were catching up to her. Her vision was growing dark, and it felt like she couldn't get enough air.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

"Yes," Crowley said, crouching beside her.

"Good," she muttered, but the darkness closed in, and she lost consciousness before she could finish saying the word.