Seven Deadly Sons

Ameline. (12)

"But where will we go my fragile thing?" He used my waist to push himself up against the cushions, looking entirely like he was considering. "I have no where with as little gold as you require, and not nearly cool enough."

"The forest!" I blurted, kicking myself again. Was I going to kill this one now? Not picky was I. Offered any prince I could. Even ones that were notoriously vicious and bloodthirsty, ones that had been to and won more wars than years I had been alive. Sure, Ameline, you'll probably kill him quite swiftly. Im sure he won't even see the weapon coming.

And — another thing — did I expect him not to know what drugs tasted like?

Quirking his brow at my frantic outburst and even more unnerved expression, I tried to explain for lack of another option. I couldn't exactly reject him now when I hadn't even been invited to my own grove yet.

"Well, you see — Hanging Wood has this lovely little grove that I found with -... with some friends of mine. Its so warm and bright and comfortable and— well, perfect!

"I thought you didn't want to be warm or somewhere bright? Why not just stay here darling?" The frown was much deeper now, this was going terrible wrong. I was going to be spending the night in the court dungeon, maybe even the palace dungeon in Eflame! God, help me.

"Quite right you are, my Lord!" I laughed, it sounded a bit hysterical to me. I was still laid on my side too for no apparent reason. "But there's this lovely little grove I would just love for you to see! Perhaps you could even name it? What about... what about the Wickery Grove - because wicked is like bad... and bad is..."

Looking at his face, I knew I had to cut myself off. He was squinting at me as if he expected I was about to combust into flames and disappear so he might continue his day.

But then, just as quickly as my face fell with doubt, we were up and walking. I was so relieved so have control of my body again that I allowed him to take my hand to the crook of his arm again, and walk me toward this floors exit.

The exit stairs had shimmering gold curtains draped around the frame, and an excited palace guard waited to guide the princes up the stairs when they decided to leave.

"Call the carriage, Thistlebriar." The prince straightened his spine when he spoke, and I found myself copying him. Like books are balancing on your head, mother used to say.

"Certainly, at the quickest speed horses can run, Sir. Where would you like to go your highness?"

Expectantly, the prince looked at me. "To...?"

Sputtering, I recovered "To the most northwestern point the horses can manage through the Hanging wood." I did a little head bounce, too, because I wasn't sure if I came above or below the guard. He smiled kindly, but as he turned away to go up the stairs it looked more like a laugh.

The prince wasn't happy with me either. Squeezing my hand with his elbow, he pushed my fingers against one another until they ached. We were half way up the stairs when I both gained my courage and had had enough - again. Difficult one, short tempers.

Stopping, I swung round to him with as much dignity as I could on the staircase only just big enough for two.

"Your Highness, I beg you to let me speak my mind." At his pursed lip nod, I crossed my arms and tried to put as much dainty fury into my voice. "I do not think it entirely that appropriate that you are trying to dismember my bloody fingers from its palm with your muscles!"

He didn't reply to me. The only thing I got was a look of shock and exasperation, before the prince carried on up the stairs without me — whilst he shook his head.