My tiara slid forward, tilting into my eyes, and I regretted not having cast it aside earlier. Shaking my head, I threw it off. Metal clanged against rock somewhere below, an echoing sound which seemed three times as loud as I had expected. Shaking, I struggled to find another handhold on the rocky cliffside. My hand found a sharp outjunt and I grabbed it, pain blooming in my hand. With a gasp I yanked my hand back and tried not to cry as warm blood ran down my palm and dripped onto my pink summer dress. Closing my eyes, I took a couple deep breaths, then opened them and slowly began climbing, ignoring the stinging pain from the gash as it was pressed into dirty rock.
“Keep looking until you find them!” A palace guard shouted, his voice harsh and grating. I froze, breathing heavily. Feet fell hard against the ground above me and my vision blurred slightly. Blinking away the tears, I forced myself to relax and stop clenching my teeth. Drawing a shaky breath, I began climbing down again.
“One hold—” my foot caught in one of my petticoats, “—at a time—” my shoe was slipping off my foot. Sweat and blood slicked my hands. My grasp on the rocks was gone. I landed on my back and spots flashed before my eyes. Heart pounding in my throat, I rolled over and stumbled to my feet.
…gotta keep going.
Uncle Hassardal’s letter repeated in my head as I ran, “A farmhand will be waiting for you in a cave with Rurik and Nika. The cave is tucked away and hard to find, so listen carefully: After you climb down the drop you must …”
Murmuring his instructions over and over again like a well-versed prayer or chant, I picked my skirts and ran. Running through fields, climbing over boulders, hiding behind trees, and slipping down the violet slope of morada flowers, I ran faster than I had ever run before until my lungs burned and I could run no longer. Reaching the lush bushes uncle had directed me too, I crawled under the flower covered branches. My breath came in short gasps, and my eyes blurred with tears.
Where is my promised way in?
Collapsing there beneath the bushes, I cried and panted, my face hot from running. When the tears came no more and my breathing had slowed to a shaking, hiccuping inhale, I stretched out to stare at the flowers above me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw it, barely visible: a shadow darker than all the other shadows, seeming to swallow all the light into itself. Rolling onto my stomach, I peered closer. With an excited gasp I scrambled on hands and knees to the low entrance, and squeezed through. When the ceiling arced up I sat back on my heels, then stood.
The sharp edge of a blade slid in front of me, stopping a mere inch from my throat. Stifling a gasp, I swallowed.
“Identify yourself,” A rough young man’s voice ran out.
“H-her royal highness princess Sonia Katerina Levushka.”
“My apologies, my lady,” the blade was pulled away and resheathed. I shrugged, pushing down the surge of fear and trying to appear calm.
“Do you have—”
“The little ones? Yes,” he interjected.
Certainly a farmhand, no manners.
“We wait here until nightfall,” the man said. A warm glow brightened the cave as he lit a lantern. “Come,” he spoke softly, yet his voice bled with the authority of kings.
Pressing my bloody hand into my dress to staunch the bleeding, I followed him. We had to duck beneath a low ceiling, he stooping much further than I, before we reached the much wider back of the cave. Cries, magnified by the bare walls, echoed around the back chamber. I squinted around the dim room, searching for the source, and saw a small wiggling bundle nestled carefully in between bags. Running over, I picked Nika up into my arms and rocked her gently. Her blue teary eyes blinked up at me and quieted to hiccups.
Glancing back at the farmhand, I asked, “Rurik?”
He nodded mutely and pointed to a pile of cloaks next to some bags. I ventured over and, crouching down, pulled back the edge of a dark green cloak. Rurik’s breath was soft and even. I stroked his forehead, brushing his bangs out of his face. Stirring at my touch, Rurik yawned and blearily opened his eyes.
“‘Onia?” he said. I smiled, standing to bounce Nika on my hip.
He sat up and said, “Pick me up, pease.”
Nodding again I turned to the farmhand and offered him Nika. He obliged, taking her with unskilled arms and, awkwardly miming me, he jogged her at his hip. Turning back to Rurik I picked him up. He snuggled into my arms and bit my shoulder affectionately. I swore, jerking him away and dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. This wasn’t the first time, but he hadn’t bitten me for over a year.
The farmhand grabbed Rurik’s shoulder with his free hand and pulled him away. I pressed my hand into my shoulder and said, “I’m alright, thank you.” The young man let Rurik go and removed my hand from my shoulder with his—what felt oversized—hand. Turning my hand palm up he ran his finger over the bloody gash. I winced.
“He didn’t …” he glanced up at me.
“Almighty Tyes, no! I did that on some rocks, he just bit my shoulder.” The young man dropped my hand and gestured for me to sit down. I sat and he handed me Nika, then crouched down to search through one of the bags. He pulled out a small medical bag, and kneeling in front of me, took my hand again before opening the bag. Though his hands were awkward and unpracticed, he cleaned and bandaged the gash.
Glancing up as he finished securing the bandage he said, “Brandon Kwan.”
“What?”
“My name.”
“Oh.”
The farmhand, Brandon, moved off to repack the bags and I stood, inspecting the bandage. Not what a royal physician would have done but better than I could have. Nika started sniffling and I moved to pace with her.
I stalled, staring. Black goo oozed from Rurik’s mouth. He crouched on the ground, chewing thoughtfully.
“Brandon, sir, did you give Rurik something to eat?”
“No.”