real possibility. Scanning the
beach as he clumsily trod water, he saw the figures of the three guards racing
along the shoreline. He wondered whether they planned to launch a patrol
boat and how long that would take to organize. Perhaps they would instead
post watchmen at various points about the perimeter of the lake. Either
way, Undinell was an expansive body of water, and they would find it difficult
to stop two people slipping through any net they chose to cast.
As he was gathering his wits, attempting to orient himself for what
promised to be an exhausting swim, Niu broke the surface a few feet in front of
him. Discovering that Simon had been unable to match her speed, she’d
doubled back. Pulling clinging strands of wet hair from her dark eyes,
she pointed out across the lake at a blur Simon couldn’t distinguish.
“Follow me,” she said, and ducked back under the water.
With very few options, Simon took one last longing look at the shore
and followed her.
IV
In the wake of its forceful contact with the wall, the unfortunate
plate exploded into fragments and rained down on the carpet.
From the start, Princess Tiera Minus had been opposed to her
father’s idea of marrying her off to whomever managed to slay the beast the
town criers had dubbed The Cannevish Wyrm. She was no one’s property, to
be bartered for services rendered. If the King followed through with his
plan, she’d promised herself, her groom wouldn’t survive the wedding
night. She’d smirked whenever the dragon had devoured another would-be
suitor, making no secret of her mocking relief.
Then farmer-boy had showed up at court. Tiera had found
herself unaccountably attracted to the lad. He was incredibly common, of
course; coarse in his manner, scruffy and slovenly; his hair looked as though
he’d sawed it off with a blunt rock. For all that, he was well-built,
even strapping, and if his eyes showed no great depths of intelligence, at
least they were an attractive shade of sky blue. Undoubtedly she’d want
to have him put down eventually, of course, but she’d enjoyed the idea of toying
with him a bit first.
Who could have imagined, with his having been offered the
opportunity to wed a princess, that this presumptuous rustic would have
the temerity to ask for the hand of that lowborn whore Niu! A mere
servant, a gift ! How even a peasant could be so
short-sighted, so unambitious, baffled and infuriated Tiera. Would he
have stooped even lower, had he the choice? Perhaps he would have
preferred a milkmaid ?
Panting, she glared at the shattered plate without really seeing
it. Nor did she notice the scurrying blur of her remaining handmaiden,
Farrow, as the girl - brush and dustpan in hand – made haste to tidy up the
mess. Instead, she stared at some blank middle space at an unreal world,
where - for all the allure of her beauty and power - she couldn’t command the
heart of a simple peasant.
Her father had agreed that the insolent wretch needed to be
punished. That, he said, was his domain, to be left in his hands.
Tiera had argued, but her father had remained firm. Eventually, she’d
resentfully agreed to this stipulation, on the understanding that she was free
to do as she saw fit with Niu. If Tiera couldn’t ruin Simon personally,
she’d decided, then she would damn well vent her frustrations on the bitch
who’d bewitched him. Fifty lashes would be enough to break her spirit,
after which the real punishment would begin.
As events unfolded, the wily handmaiden had foreseen her fate and
disappeared in the night. Tiera had placed the girl’s chambers under
surveillance; Niu’s only possible escape route had been the hair-raising
descent from her chamber window to the courtyard a hundred feet below.
This astonishing display of skill and courage only heightened Tiera’s
antipathy. When she finally laid her hands on the witch, she would have
her flayed alive. Or perhaps hanged? No; too quick. Possibly
burned at the stake.
beach as he clumsily trod water, he saw the figures of the three guards racing
along the shoreline. He wondered whether they planned to launch a patrol
boat and how long that would take to organize. Perhaps they would instead
post watchmen at various points about the perimeter of the lake. Either
way, Undinell was an expansive body of water, and they would find it difficult
to stop two people slipping through any net they chose to cast.
As he was gathering his wits, attempting to orient himself for what
promised to be an exhausting swim, Niu broke the surface a few feet in front of
him. Discovering that Simon had been unable to match her speed, she’d
doubled back. Pulling clinging strands of wet hair from her dark eyes,
she pointed out across the lake at a blur Simon couldn’t distinguish.
“Follow me,” she said, and ducked back under the water.
With very few options, Simon took one last longing look at the shore
and followed her.
IV
In the wake of its forceful contact with the wall, the unfortunate
plate exploded into fragments and rained down on the carpet.
From the start, Princess Tiera Minus had been opposed to her
father’s idea of marrying her off to whomever managed to slay the beast the
town criers had dubbed The Cannevish Wyrm. She was no one’s property, to
be bartered for services rendered. If the King followed through with his
plan, she’d promised herself, her groom wouldn’t survive the wedding
night. She’d smirked whenever the dragon had devoured another would-be
suitor, making no secret of her mocking relief.
Then farmer-boy had showed up at court. Tiera had found
herself unaccountably attracted to the lad. He was incredibly common, of
course; coarse in his manner, scruffy and slovenly; his hair looked as though
he’d sawed it off with a blunt rock. For all that, he was well-built,
even strapping, and if his eyes showed no great depths of intelligence, at
least they were an attractive shade of sky blue. Undoubtedly she’d want
to have him put down eventually, of course, but she’d enjoyed the idea of toying
with him a bit first.
Who could have imagined, with his having been offered the
opportunity to wed a princess, that this presumptuous rustic would have
the temerity to ask for the hand of that lowborn whore Niu! A mere
servant, a gift ! How even a peasant could be so
short-sighted, so unambitious, baffled and infuriated Tiera. Would he
have stooped even lower, had he the choice? Perhaps he would have
preferred a milkmaid ?
Panting, she glared at the shattered plate without really seeing
it. Nor did she notice the scurrying blur of her remaining handmaiden,
Farrow, as the girl - brush and dustpan in hand – made haste to tidy up the
mess. Instead, she stared at some blank middle space at an unreal world,
where - for all the allure of her beauty and power - she couldn’t command the
heart of a simple peasant.
Her father had agreed that the insolent wretch needed to be
punished. That, he said, was his domain, to be left in his hands.
Tiera had argued, but her father had remained firm. Eventually, she’d
resentfully agreed to this stipulation, on the understanding that she was free
to do as she saw fit with Niu. If Tiera couldn’t ruin Simon personally,
she’d decided, then she would damn well vent her frustrations on the bitch
who’d bewitched him. Fifty lashes would be enough to break her spirit,
after which the real punishment would begin.
As events unfolded, the wily handmaiden had foreseen her fate and
disappeared in the night. Tiera had placed the girl’s chambers under
surveillance; Niu’s only possible escape route had been the hair-raising
descent from her chamber window to the courtyard a hundred feet below.
This astonishing display of skill and courage only heightened Tiera’s
antipathy. When she finally laid her hands on the witch, she would have
her flayed alive. Or perhaps hanged? No; too quick. Possibly
burned at the stake.
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