Escape: A Royal Tom Holland Romance

Locked Away

The cold was no stranger to Beth, but somehow this bitter, frigid dampness seeped into her bones and numbed her. Harrison shivered next to her, a threadbare blanket stretching around their shoulders. Fall was fast approaching, the once warm, lovely summer browning and shriveling like the leaves of the trees. Several weeks had gone by without any ray of hope that they may be released. Not a word from Tom. Not a word from anyone. Just a plate of scraps and cups of water slid under to them every now and then. Nothing was enough, for their stomachs still lurched with the pain of hunger.

"I feel sick." She moaned, turning her head to Harrison.

"It's about time you said something."

"What—"

"I heard you vomit last night, and the morning before. This cell must be making us sick. I feel like hell, too."

"The worst is that there's not much in my stomach to come up. My throat aches from dry heaving. I don't understand how it's so cold. August hasn't ended yet, has it?"

"No—I don't know—it can't be. The princess was born on the first of September. That is when they'll marry. Surely they would have done something with us by then. I know she wouldn't want us near on her special day." Harrison snuggled back in, the chilly air hitting him.

"Do you think they've forgotten—"

"Not a chance. If Tom is half the man I know him to be, he's putting up a fight."

***

"No, I don't think I will." Tom crossed his arms.

Queen Nicola shooed the anxious tailor out of the room, a scowl threatening to escape her lips. "Thomas, couldn't you just once cooperate? If the preparations are not completed according to schedule—"

"Oh no, the little princess will have a fit, won't she? I'm sure you can handle that, mother, as it seems you two get along most pleasantly!"

Meditatively, she spoke again. "If the preparations are not completed according to schedule, your father may not make it past the wedding date."

"He seems strong enough. Strong enough to make my life hell—"

"What did you expect, Thomas? Tell me, what did you think was going to happen??" She yelled, distressed by her son's woe and her husband's fury. It was too much with his condition.

"Mother, you're the only one who has any inkling of what I'm feeling and you don't even offer a single condolence!"

"I did all I could to spare her life! Is that not enough for you? You will never have to suffer as I did! Be grateful for that—"

"Grateful? You want me to be grateful that you're marrying her off to my best friend and sending them away from me forever! They may as well be dead—you won't even let me see them!"

"That's not true! I tried to—your father and the princess won't stand for it. I am not trying to go against you, Thomas!" She took an exasperated breath, feeling like she'd regret what she was about to say, but couldn't hold back. "You're arrogant, Thomas. You honestly thought it could end in your favor? Because your love was just so special and—and invincible? Well guess what, boy, you're going to be just as loveless and miserable as your old mother. Get used it to it. The sooner you stop fighting, the easier life will become. You'll survive."

Tom's eyes darkened, a shadow of grief hovering over him. "Is that to be my life, mother? Just surviving? That was my life until I met her. When I was with Beth I felt like I was living, like I could somehow escape it all—like it was somehow destined to go differently for me. But it's not." He sat down on a sofa, wiping his face with his hands. "Do you—do you remember how it felt? When you were here? In my place? When all that you really loved and cared about was being taken from you and you couldn't do a single thing to stop it—where you've tried everything you know how to do and nothing works—nothing—"