The sun glared down on my faded tattoos and sweat beaded across my brow, seeping into the swollen, yawning cuts all over my body. The muscles in my upper thigh were tight and burning from the constant uphill, and I was sure my mind had been turning the small shrubberies into sandwiches as I passed them—just to tease me.
By now, everyone would know I failed. David would be worried; he would’ve pinched his brow, probably even shook his head. Deep down inside, he knew I wasn’t capable of this—Mike knew, everyone knew. I was the only one who didn't. I was the only one who actually believed I might stand a chance.
I smiled then, thinking of another. Arthur. He believed in me, too. He always did. And I couldn’t understand why. I never gave him any real reason to believe. Everything clever I learned about ruling, I learned from him. But maybe that was the point. Maybe it wasn’t that I was dumb and young, but that I was capable of learning. Of all the people who would shake their heads in disappointment at this useless princess, Arthur would be the one man who would take me up in his arms, probably kiss my forehead and say he was glad to have me back. If I ever made it out of here.
As I distracted myself with his memory, I felt the unusual sensation of flat ground under me. I fell to my knees and locked my hands into the dirt, a snap decision away from kissing it, but I knew, with my luck, I’d end up with an ant biting my lip or dirt in my mouth which would just dry it out even more and send me into a coughing fit.
Not bothering too much to cover myself from Nature’s eye, I spun around disgracefully and sat on the ground, my gaze on the cavernous valley below. The grot around my fingernails stung, like the blood was tightening as it dried, peeling the delicate skin around my cuticles back. I didn't even have enough saliva to spit on them and wash some of it off. I blew on them instead, trying to rub the skin back the right way.
In the forest beside me, a beam of light broke the dimness, and fluttering along, ignorant to the agony I’d suffered, was a beautiful blue and black butterfly. It let the soft breeze carry it, landing right on the corner of my elbow.
“Hello,” I said, trying not to breathe on it. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
Without answering, it rose up into the air and fluttered to the border of the trees, where it sat on the ground for a second, shaking its wings. And something glinted under the soil, the sunlight beaming for a second. I struggled to my feet, gravity weighing me down, and wandered over, flopping onto my knees in the dirt.
The butterfly took flight, leaving me alone with this mysterious silver thing hiding in the earth. Each grain of dirt stuck to the dried blood, wriggling under the lifted skin around my nails as I burrowed my fingertips under the metal and dragged out a solid little key.
“How did you get all the way out here?” I said, wiping my thumb over the symbol on the top; it looked like a headless snake, winding and tangling around itself; no beginning; no end. A thin silver chain hung down from it, delicate and shimmering, like a spider’s web in the sunlight. The key was old, that much I was sure of, but it wasn’t rusted to decaying. It looked as though it belonged to something—to someone, once.
“Well,” I said, fastening the chain around my neck. “It belongs to me, now.” It rested neatly just below my collarbones, the chain slightly longer than the one my locket used to hang from—my own little treasure, the key to all my secrets.
I stood up again, dusting my knees off, brushing aside the silly idea that they key might be a metaphor—the key to hope. No way. That’s way too corny.
As I took a step, heading to who knows where, my ears pricked to attention. Somewhere in the distance, I was sure I heard voices. The newfound idea of hoping awakened my positive internal thinker and so, I farewelled the endless valley with one loathsome glimpse, and walked toward the ‘possible’ chatter.
But I only took two steps before my heart stopped and my feet froze, my eyes widening around the most magnificent sight I’d ever seen. People! My insides went on a frenzy. They’d found me.
“Mike?” I called, my dry throat amplifying the angst in my voice but drowning out the volume.
I looked inside myself for some strength. I hadn’t used my voice for so long now I could hardly remember how to say my own name. Swallowing, I moistened my throat with the last stratum of saliva and took a breath. “Mike!”
The sun was almost gone again, but darkness shouldn't affect his hearing. I trudged over the dry ground and stood right beside him, laughing.
“Mike.”
But he didn't hear me. He plain didn't hear me; he stared forward, focusing on something, as did every person in this small clearing with him. I looked at each face, studying each concerned gaze, and realised they were all watching one thing; my head turned slowly to the centre of the clearing and my heart washed away with a breath of pure shock.
The blood oath.
There, by the Stone of Truth, kneeling, eyes closed, bloodied wrist outstretched, was—me! I hadn’t left yet? I was still there.
“No!” I ran toward me. “What are you doing? We’ve done this! We’ve done this!” I yelled at her, but she didn't hear. “Please? I walked all night. Don’t you see?”
None of them saw, though; they all watched her as she cut herself open and bled on the Stone, her lips moving with the words of her promise.
I felt hollowed out, numb, walking backward until I found the welcome embrace of wiry branches, holding me up. “Please stop,” I whispered to myself. “Please don't say the oath.”
Her words trickled through me like a bad memory—one you wish you could forget, and without looking up, without taking a breath, she lifted the dagger and held it to her chest.
“No.” I reached out, buckling over with wide eyes bulging when a jagged, burning sear scorched the bones inside my chest. And with a tight-fisted grunt, drew back, hitting my head against the tree as the tip of her blade popped the surrounding pocket of fluid inside my heart, pausing its ragged beat momentarily.
Her breath stopped; my breath stopped, and time flattened out around me. She slowly scraped the dagger out; every inch like a slather of wood grating over teeth.
Sound came rushing back, the volume too loud, and I gasped a wild, shrieking breath, clutching my breast. My heart started back up again, pumping gushes of blood out over my fingers, staining the silver silk—soaking through and dribbling in a warm tickle down my stomach.
“What's happening?” I said, my breath barely a whisper; my eyes open, unblinking. “I don't understand.”