The Fabled

Five

"When Little Red Cap entered the woods a wolf came up to her. She did not know what a wicked animal he was . . ." -Brothers Grimm, 1857.

Gwyn leads us back down to where we came from, despite my protests that Clay and I can get to the cells safely on our own. I realize the handmaid is more of a leech than anything else, constantly feeding off of attention from others, including my mother. If Clay wasn't here, I'd be-

"-soon as I figured out what the other handmaid meant, I tried going to the king's room to do some digging of my own," Gwyn starts, talking sweetly. "But of course you beat me to it, with the enchantress at your heels no less."

"Has the queen started looking for her yet?" Clay asks as we turn another corner. "She ran away last night, right?"

The handmaid's face scrunches in confusion. "She ran away-"

"Gwyn here is helping me keep the queen less frantic no doubt," I say. "After all, she helped me with my escape. I never got to thank you."

She stops in front of the staircase and turns back to give Clay a very convincing beam. Please play along please play along please play along. "That's correct. Anything for a damsel in distress."

Clay laughs at this as we make our way back to the first floor. Great, now I'm the helpless princess willing to side with a rebel cause. Clay told me they are a benign group. A democratic revolution doesn't sound very friendly to the crown, and whatever they're going to do with me if I don't agree is going to be far from fun.

Risk your neck with some rebels, or with your mother? Neither sound promising.

I start hearing the heels again, ringing in my ears like a lingering nightmare, but I frown when I see that Gwyn has turned ashen. The clicking fails to disappear, and the atmosphere grows so, so cold. Blue, dark blue. My heart grows worrisome.

Everything is numbed, a different sensation than from the cold, but Clay doesn't fail to take action. We follow him down the hallway and duck into another corridor. Instead of joining us, the handmaid gives Clay a reassuring smile before tucking the strands of blonde hair behind her ears and turning the corner. I can hear her muster the most convincing, "Your Highness! I was just getting something from the kitchen."

A born actress. I would laugh if my heart wasn't in my throat. She may be an irritating nick in my plan but is certainly a worthy opponent to take out.

The queen is silent for what seems like an eternity, but when she finally speaks, I can't help but shiver. It's as if her breath was tickling my ear yet again, a taunting, painful lullaby. "Someone disturbed my ice in the dungeons. Did you see anyone unfamiliar, maid?"

At least I know she won't rat me out, not with Clay right next to me. His shoulder presses against mine as he shrinks further into the shadows of the hallway. I mutely follow.

"No, Your Highness," Gwyn replies, and even I was fooled there for a second. How quickly she can change her demeanor. Makes her all the more dangerous, Talia. "Do you request my assistance?"

The queen once again grows quiet. I imagine her looking unfazed and unemotional, reading Gwyn's face and maybe even debating to kill her. She looks at everyone that way, even me. However, her frigid tone once again rings through the corridors. "Yes. My huntsman. Has he not returned?"

The handmaid's voice is suddenly hinted with fear. Stammering, she answers, "No, Your Majesty. The palace staff hasn't seen him, either."

I can almost hear my mother purse her lips, but her voice is oddly calm, almost- dare I say -playful considering the news? "Then we can assume he's dead, murdered no doubt. Don't bother waiting for him to show, but I want the search for my daughter active by dawn. See to it that it is arranged."