The Unwanted Princess

Not a moment too soon

The cold water splashed over Avery and snapped her awake. She gasped in shock and sat up quickly, scrambling to move away from the source. Her back found the cold stone wall of the barn foundation and her eyes darted around the space, struggling to focus in the dim light and sudden arrival in consciousness. She was in a stable stall; stale hay lined the floor and the smell of livestock invaded her nose.

She brought a hand up to her face to wipe the water from her eyes only to be met with the clanking of chains. Her wrists were in shackles, a short chain connecting them and preventing her from moving her hands further than waist-length apart. An additional set connected her ankles. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and then blinked up at the stable door and Krastic glaring down at her.

"Oh good, you didn't die in the night. Now we can kill you," he growled.

Avery's head spun as she tried to remember how she got here. A fight. She fought. She had no memory of the movements, or who won, but she remembered a prefect calmness washing over her. A trance that blocked out all other sounds and heightened her focus. Then nothing.

Her head pounded and she felt nauseous. Krastic split into two as her eyes lost focus. Head injury, she concluded. Sticky half-dried blood coated her neck.

Two overseers stepped into the stall and grabbed Avery under the arms, hoisting her to her feet and dragging her out of the barn. Still dazed from the head-wound Avery couldn't muster a protest at the close contact with the males. In fact, they were the only thing keeping her on her feet.

The barn door slid open and she was blinded by the pale light of dawn. It wasn't bright but burned her eyes. Birds called from the canopy, their tunes still unfamiliar to Avery even though she had been at the plantation for months. Well into winter, she guessed. The day would be warm, but not unseasonably so. Just comfortable for a change. Good, she thought. My clothes are threadbare and the nights are chilly.

A group was gathered at the back of the big house, clustered around a large oak tree. The slaves were silent, carefully monitored by vigilant overseers with their batons and whips at the ready. Krastic they led them around the group to the base of the tree, impatient with how long it took Avery to walk with her legs fettered together.

Avery's mouth was parched. She couldn't think of anything but finding water.

Some part of her mind registered muffled crying from the group but couldn't identify the source. Several people had their hands to their mouths and tears on their cheeks. Still she couldn't muster any fear or sadness. She was empty.

Vaguely she noted Rena with her face buried in Heather's chest, Cedar with his fists clenched and a wild look in his eyes. In the back, always alone, she saw Leif with his jaw clamped tight, cloudy eyes focused straight ahead as though he could actually see what was happening. She knew his vision was far too poor for him to bear witness.

The sapiens lifted her up on a stool and lowered the nose to her neck. She looked up to the tree branch in curiosity, noting its sturdy girth and healthy leaves. The branch would easily hold her weight. Last time she did this the rope broke. But that was because of the magic.

Magic.

It could happen. He could find her just in time. She had gotten lazy, waiting around this farm for her knight-in-shining-armour to rescue her. She should have run ages ago and taken her chances in the hills. She was smart, fast, resourceful. She could have eluded them. Or at least died trying. Better than dying at the end of a rope.

She closed her eyes and forcibly relaxed her mind, reaching down for her happiest memories. She saw him smile the first time she used the block and tackle to lift him out of bed. She heard him laugh at her jokes, and proudly describe her latest invention. She felt the wind on her face as they flew over Corinth together and inhaled his scent. Not the scent of male, the scent of him. She felt his lips on hers and smiled at their touch.