9 Chapter 9

We were up early this morning, packing up bags, making sure the horses were fed. Now we're tracking along beside the river, listening to the water rushing beside us.

"So, do we just follow the river to Valeria?" I ask

"Not that simple, Princess," Maverick replies. "The river will eventually lead to the ocean, but that isn't where we want to go. It's too risky taking a ship, they'll have upped security after the escape and, after your little accident last time, I don't believe you want to be showing your face there."

"I guess," I mutter

"It means we'll have to go around the coast, to the west. That's why the journey's taking longer. We'll reach the sea tomorrow, but it'll take us about five days to cover the land and that's with good time. So no messing up, okay? We can't afford to waste time."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, you're going to be really boring, aren't you?"

He sighs and turns to face ahead.

"I'll take that as a yes," I say softly.

I can't help being relived for the silence. My mind is whirling with thoughts that refuse to land and I feel my heart skip a beat with every unusual noise, fear that the Alkardan King will find us.

We pass a bush dotted with bijouberries and I hop off, leaning down to grab some from amongst the leaves. The indigo juice stains my fingers and I pop them in my mouth, my tongue curling with their sharp tang.

"Stopping for a break already?" Maverick asks

I shrug. "They're delicious- and almost as sour as you."

He bends down from his horse and plucks a few from the bush. His face screws up at the taste and I raise an eyebrow.

"Don't like them?"

He shakes his head. "No, I do. But that doesn't change the fact that they are unbearably bitter."

"They taste better in a pie, with carnsuger to even out the flavour."

The flicker of a smile passes over his face. "I know, whenever we were younger my mother taught me and Carlos how to bake the perfect bijouberry pie. We owned a bakery in the village outside of central Valeria, people came from all over for her food."

I don't reply. Maverick has shared something with me, something personal, and he doesn't even realise it.

I withdraw a small box from the bag and fill it with berries, before leaping onto the horse again.

"Maverick?" I ask, falling into step beside him.

"What?"

"What happened to your mother?"

It's not what Maverick was expecting me to say. It's not what I was expecting to say. A normal person would have noted the reminiscent tone of his voice and not said anything, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

He glares at me. "Dream on, Princess."

"Excuse me?"

"You think you can poke at me and I'll tell you my life story. It's not going to happen. The less you know about me the better. It's safer for both of us ."

I sigh. "Well, what do you want to talk about then?"

"I'd rather not talk at all."

"That's really boring," I tell him.

"What a shame," he replies sarcastically.

"I have to say, your social skills are terrible."

"I'm heartbroken," he says deadpan.

"I'm serious," I exclaim, "I was raised in a palace with no one else my age. I've spent the past five years isolated from society, unless you count the dreadful birthday party I had last year, but I'm still better at talking to people than you are."

"Why was the birthday party so dreadful?"

I roll my eyes. "I think you missed the point of that statement. Besides, I'm not going to tell you anyway."

"It doesn't matter, I already know."

"Do you?"

He smirks. "The whole country knows. Princess Kamala gave a pitiful speech, but the big drama was that she attacked an unassuming party guest."

"He deserved it," I say shortly

He raises an eyebrow. "So it's true?"

"Not in the way you know it."

"What other way is there?" Maverick questions

"Not telling. I can be secretive and unsociable too."

Maverick shrugs like he couldn't care either way- and he probably doesn't.

'He made it abundantly clear,' I remind myself. 'Your life means nothing to him.'

'She means nothing to me.'

I shiver at the memory.

We stop for lunch after a long period of time. I am stiff from the ride and wince slightly as I dismount. Maverick leaps off effortlessly and I pull a face at his back, taking a rather aggressive bite out my apple.

"Are you going to share?" Maverick asks

"I wasn't planning on it," I reply, almost smugly.

He glowers and strides over, yanking the bag out from behind me.

"Hey!" I cry as I narrowly miss cracking my skull on a rock underneath.

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all.

I take another bite.

Maverick begins filling the two canteens with water from the stream, munching on a bread roll as he does so, the scowl staying on his face just as permanently as the hood over his head.

I'm still not quite sure why that is there, but I know better than to ask. It's none of my business and I shouldn't care anyway. Besides Maverick is not going to answer, that is one thing I am certain of.

"We should get going, Princess," he calls, "the longer we stop, the more chance the king has of catching up."

I scurry to my feet, taking my horse's reigns from his outstret-ched hand.

"Is this how it's going to go from now on?" I wonder. "Constantly running for out live."

"Not constantly, just for a week. Granted, the longest week of my life, but a week all the same."

"Well, that sure cheered me up," I reply

Maverick smirks. "Don't fret, Princess, we'll get you back home to your bijouberry wine and cheese platers."

I roll my eyes, but his words make me think.

What happens when I arrive at the palace? My father didn't want to free me from the Alkardan king, I'm not sure he'll be happy to see me back in Valeria. But it is my home. The only one I have ever known. My mind shifts suddenly to Frida. Valeria isn't her home as such, it isn't where she grew up. Valeria's language isn't her native tongue. She arrived a year ago and had to adjust. She had to leave her old life behind.

Frida's voice rings in my head. "But there is one- a boy, we were everything to each other…"

I can't imagine having to give up the one person you truly love. Being separated. Knowing your loved one was alive, but unable to be together. My mother died, but that's not the same. I know it isn't. She didn't choose to leave me.

"You made her." A cruel voice whispers in my ear.

I inhale sharply, and a rush of unease sweeps over me.

I can't contain it, I'm out of control. She tries to encourage me, to soothe me, but it's hopeless. I'm too young, too naïve, too worthless.

Images flash before me, memories that haunt me. I'm sinking down. I'm detached from the present, two halves working in completely different ways. I'm thirteen once more.

Too young, too naïve, too worthless…

I shake thoughts from my head and focus on something else.

I wonder who the boy is. If Frida has anyway of contacting him. If I could have a way of contacting him.

The seed of an idea begins to take hold in my brain, but before I can process it Maverick calls from up ahead.

"You alright back there, Princess?"

I come out of my thoughts to see he has ridden a good length away from me.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I respond.

"Because you've been silent for the past hour."

I blink. An hour, could it have really been that long?

"Worthless." My mind hisses.

I block it out and urge the horse on to level with Maverick.

"I thought you would have been grateful for silence."

He rolls his eyes. "I was just checking you hadn't fallen in the river."

"You wish," I smirk

He pulls a pained face. "I really do."

I raise a eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've suddenly developed a sense of humour, Maverick? You've been verging dangerously close to banter in our last few conversations. I might have to start treating you like a real person."

Maverick glares at me.

"Sorry, my bad. I know that's a bit ambitious of me to think that, but we can dream can't we."

"If you could go back to not talking, that would be great," he mutters. "It would do you good to remember we are not friends."

"And I'm devastated by that fact," I reply, sarcasm dripping from every word. "But I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me for the foreseeable future."

"No. Talking."

I draw a hand across my lips and smile at Maverick who glares even more.

A sigh escapes from my lips. He's so easy to wind up, and he acts as though the thought of not loathing me would physically kill him.

I turn my head away and up to the sky. The trees reach upwards, so high that they look as though they can touch the clouds. But through their leaves, I can see an endless stretch of misty blue sky and the sight of the sun sinking down, sending a faint golden glow across the earth.

It's cold now, much colder than I'm used to. The disappearing sun has hindered our vision and I can hardly see Maverick striding on in front of me. Despite the lack of light, he shows no sign of stopping.

I hum a song, one of the ballads stored in my head from long ago harvest festivals.

I can practically see her now, dancing in the earth, illuminated by the glow of fire. Flowers entwined in her dark hair, the rising tune of a fiddle as everyone joins in with the dance, all underneath a blanket of stars. The life and soul of the festivals, everybody loved her, they wanted to be her.

Then the prison walls closed around her.

The thought strikes a surprising connection to Queen Julianne. A woman trapped by her husband.

I wonder how much courage it took, that small act of defiance to the king by letting me pass.

I think it took a lot.