Captured: A White Road Tale novella #1

Chapter 8 - First Lesson

"Where do you think you're going, boy?" Olden bellowed when Tarek's hand grasped the door handle.

Troll's breath! He'd almost escaped. "Out."

Olden's chair scraped over the floor. "Oh no. You're not doin' any more poachin' for now. Since you never showed up at the tavern, they're more suspicious than ever."

"Wasn't planning on hunting, Pop. Just going out." Tarek stared at the wooden door. Shafts of dull sunlight shone through the cracked planks. "And I told you, I was detained. The dungeon master needed some help."

Hot breath, smelling of rotted vegetables, brushed over his collar. "You don't get involved in other's business. How many times I gotta tell you that?" Pop's hand smacked the back of his head.

Shaking his mussed hair from his face, Tarek turned toward Olden. "Look, I'm not going out hunting. I haven't been to the tavern because it upsets Ma. If there's somewhere else where you all meet, I'll be happy to go there. But not that reeking pit."

"Such a little nelly, you are." Olden spat onto the floor, causing Tarek's stomach to churn. He was running late and needed to figure a way to escape his father.

Tarek shifted through several possible stories. Working extra in the kitchen? Unless he could bring back some looted goods, that wouldn't work. Taking on an extra job in the castle wouldn't work either. Hunters thought servanthood was beneath them. He refused to tell anyone he was the princess' dance instructor. Even if he was doing it to save all their necks. However… Another idea popped into his head.

He breathed out a long sigh, letting his shoulders sag. "Fine, just promise you won't tell Ma." His voice lowered to a whisper. As he suspected, Olden's brows rose in interest. Anything that had to be kept from Ma must be good. "I met this girl, and we've been," he grinned and shrugged, "you know. Meeting up from time to time. She has the afternoons free."

The corners of Olden's lips curled up. "So you say? A servant girl?"

"From upstairs." Tarek wagged his brows.

Olden rocked on the balls of his feet, his smile widening. "A hoity-toity one, eh?"

"Well, you know, just having a bit of fun." Tarek leaned closer to his father and asked in a low, conspiratorial voice, "Now, you wouldn't detain me from my appointment, would you?"

Olden pounded his shoulder, chuckling. "Go on with you. I'll keep your secret."

"Thanks, Pop." Tarek tore out the door and ran across the servants' quarters. He was extremely late now and decided to take the back entrance into the castle. Once inside, he ducked into one of the secret passages he'd found and headed toward the ballroom.

Princess sat in the middle of the floor, a leather-bound book in her lap and an ornately designed silver music box beside her. "I was beginning to think you'd made a run for it." She flipped through the pages, smacking each one down harder than necessary.

He wished running were a possibility. Looking around, he felt too exposed. If one of the servants who knew Ma passed by and saw him, he'd be done for. "Is there somewhere more private we can do this?"

She flew to her feet and began backing away, her book clutched to her chest. "What do you mean? No," she answered before he had a chance to explain. Shaking her head, she said, "No, we stay in the open."

"You don't understand, Princess. I can't be seen. If my family finds out about this, I won't have to worry about that blasted dragon."

Scowling, she looked around uncertainly. "I told you I hate being called Princess."