Chapter 17: Two Days, No Packing, and a Lot of Guards
It's been two days.
Two days since the Starlit Gala.
Two days since I used my stupid mouth to sign my fate.
Two days since I tried to kill my father, and let me tell you, that feeling was still strong and heavy in my chest.
And it's exactly the two-day stretch Zorathys had given me after he told me—with a fucking smile, which yes made him look more handsome—that he would come get me. He told me all I had to do was pack my clothes and everything I would need, and that I could go with a maid if I wanted to.
Heh. If he thought I was going to just go with him to the demon realm then he was fucking joking. That was the thought I had when he told me he would come for me in two days.
I planned to run away using every means possible. But because I had someone who I apparently called father—he will forever be father and not dad, because he was pissing me off—all my attempts to escape were derailed.
And you know what's funny? My father avoided me like the plague. Who would have thought he was scared of me and what I could do to him if my hands landed on him.
So yes, it's been two days trying to escape from the castle and to no avail.
I had plans—plans I was sure would work—but then, like I said, my father had a plan also. A plan that began with "avoid Elyn" and ended in "surround Elyn with more muscle than sense."
He tightened security and when I say tightened, I mean caged me in. I'm not joking.
They were everywhere. Corridors. Garden hedges. Stable doors. Even the bath had a sentry—yes, a female guard, which was both impressively thorough and profoundly violating and irritating too.
And let me tell you, these guards grated on my fucking nerves.
They had clean, severe lines of armor with gold trim catching light whenever someone breathed in the corridor. The breastplates bore the royal sigil embossed over the heart—tiny embossed crowns that made me want to roll my eyes—and the guards wore practical boots that sounded like punctuation when they marched. There were no frills, no ostentatious capes, just that shivery glint of gold whenever they turned their heads. If you were strolling through the palace and saw the gold flash, you could be reasonably certain that escape routes were being recalculated somewhere behind the tapestries.
I'd tried every dramatic exit. I do not mean "oh, I might pack a bag." I mean full-spectrum royal escape artistry. And I didn't stop at the first one either. I was determined, and let me tell you, determination is my middle name... actually was my middle name because I found out my father was the weapon fashioned against my escape after all my attempts failed. And they were good attempts, but the guards were good too. I am not joking. My first attempt was simple, but it was good—or so I thought...
Attempt one: escaping through the garden hole.
I borrowed clothes from the palace gardener's wardrobe (apprentice's jumper, dirt on the knees—very convincing) and attempted the old crawl-under-the-hedgerows-and-leap-the-low-wall routine. I made it to the outer hedgerow before a disapproving hand fell on my shoulder and a guard turned to me with a frown.
"Your Highness, this is not ideal," he told me.
Who cares about ideal? I'm trying to escape, you idiot. But I didn't say that; instead I turned to him and smiled.
"I was just learning gardening," I told him.
He gave me a look that screamed he didn't believe me and I gave him one that screamed he should let me be. Did he listen? No.
"Gardening isn't for royalty. The king wouldn't like this," he told me. "I'll escort you back to your room."
I gave him a false smile and that was how my first attempt failed.
Attempt two: the midnight bedspread test.
I tied bedspreads together so I could use them to go down my room at night. I'd seen this done in numerous novels and thought, well, there's no harm in trying. And also, it always worked. I dressed like a burglar, wearing all black from head to toe and began my journey of stealth. I had been halfway down the last spread before a guard cleared his throat on the grass below and asked,
"Your Highness, what are you doing?"
His eyes were wide with horror like he could not believe his eyes. Well, I couldn't believe my eyes either. Why was he standing there? Why was he even there in the first place, and how did he know it was me even if I was dressed in black?
"Um...I don't know any princess," I told him.
"But I know you, Your Highness. This is dangerous; what would the king think if he saw you hurt just because you are..." He looked at me and back to the rope. "What are you even doing?"
"Testing the tensile strength of the bedding, isn't that obvious?" I asked him with a scoff.
And just that statement gave me away. Sometimes, I was an idiot. I should have continued pretending not to know who he was talking about, but my big mouth gave me away.
So...that attempt failed.
But we still had more to go after all. So I continued, because I was determined—not defeated.
Attempt three: escaping through the kitchen backdoor.
I planned to elbow my way into the scullery, hide behind an enormous stack of cabbages, crawl under a cart and vault the west wall. I did the entire silent-movie creeping thing, and then promptly walked into a guard whose eyebrow raised like an accusing flag.
"Your Highness," he said.
I didn't even let him finish. "I was just trying to see what we were having for dinner today," I said to him, then touched a cabbage. "These cabbages are good," I added with a smile.
That attempt failed too, but perseverance doesn't know what hit it... I think.