Captured: A White Road Tale novella #1

Chapter 13 - The Secret Summons

Tarek lined up the tip of his arrow with the buck's chest.

"Easy there, Son," Olden whispered, his bow also loaded.

Two more hunters, hidden in the trees across the small stream, readied their own weapons. If he missed, they'd bring the beast down.

The arrow flew, landing true. The buck stumbled deeper into the trees, but not too far, before it crashed to the ground.

"Good shot, Tarek." Olden slapped his back before rushing over to help finish the deer off.

Tarek sank against the nearest tree, his stomach too knotted for his heart to be in the hunt today. He needed to forget the princess. He should be thanking his lucky stars he lived through the encounter with the king. He needed to get on with his life. His so-called life of servanthood. Of scraping by. Of hoping he didn't step out of bounds and give the king a reason to go ahead and kill him.

"Good night, boy, have a drink and stop looking so gloomy." Olden crouched before Tarek, holding out the bottle of homemade wine. Since the ball, the king's provisions had been more guarded.

Tarek waved it away. "I'm fine, Pop."

Yet how tempting it was to down the entire bottle and dull the persistent ache in his heart. Drown out the worrisome thoughts that continually plagued him when he allowed himself a glance at the castle towers. Was she all right? What had she given up by agreeing to comply with Darnel's wishes? To be the good, obedient daughter to a ruthless, domineering ruler?

Olden shook his head, muttering a string of derogatory names, before he said, "Not sure what kind of burr you've got in your pants, but I'm telling you, this'll cure what ails ya."

Tarek watched his father for a moment. Olden had a way of breezing through life, uncaring, living for the here and now. When circumstances became uncomfortable, he moved them on. All Tarek had ever wanted was a place to settle down and call home. A place where he could make a real life for himself.

Yet, here they were. Pop couldn't up and leave now when his wanderlust flared. They were slaves. Tarek might never break from his slave status to build the life of his dreams. Although, now he finally had the comforts he'd so desired when they were free. Strange how it all worked out.

"Is that why you always have a bottle in your hand, Pop?" Tarek chuckled.

"Son, life's hard. That's why I keep saying you ain't got nobody but yourself to depend on. We do what we have to do in order to get by."

No, Tarek thought, sometimes they needed the help of another person to get by.

Later, as Tarek made his way back home, he passed the dungeons and caught sight of ol' Ben hobbling up from the servants' quarters. He suspected the dungeon master, like Olden, went to the gardeners for the homemade ale they somehow managed to keep on hand.

Why did Ben always act like he was on his last leg? Well, Tarek wasn't going to offer his help again.

Ben tumbled forward, landing face down in the dirt.

Breathing out a string of curses, Tarek jogged over to him. After accepting the help up, Ben started cackling again. "Such a tender heart." He slipped a note into Tarek's hand and hobbled off toward his quarters.

"Troll's breath." Tarek squeezed the paper in his palm and searched for private place to read it. Once Ben disappeared through the side door, Tarek headed toward the back corner and leaned against the stone wall as he opened the small scrap of parchment.

"Meet me beside the garden gate tonight at high moon. We will be safe there from prying eyes, you have my word. Just make sure nobody sees you leave."

The note wasn't signed, but the fanciful writing let him know princess was summoning him. He crumpled the paper in his hands. Despite the warnings blasting in his head, he already knew what his heart would dictate. Besides, he had to know she was safe and doing well. A week had passed since the ball, since she'd saved his life. It had been hard for him to keep away from her, and even more to have her keep away from him, but he'd told himself her silence was for the best. If he wanted to keep himself and his family safe, he needed to get over his feelings for her.

Easier said than done.