Shadow of the Prince

Entry Level Positions

She woke the next morning to a pounding head and hazy vision. She tried to press her hand against her forehead but found that she was restricted. A clank of metal at her sides caught her attention, and she studied her hands before processing that she was chained to the floor.

Dal squinted above her, seeking out the only light in the dimly lit place she was in and saw a small, barred window overhead. 

"Miss Peppercorn," a sad voice trembled, almost so quiet that she wondered if she heard anything at all. Dal sought the noise, and caught sight of Prince Tullvomm, standing behind more metal bars.

She was imprisoned, she realized. Dal recalled the words of the king that slowly trickled back to her, and she wondered if she should fear for the worst.

"Just... show me your real face," his voice was breathy, near wistful. 

She surveyed the fire headed Prince, and searched his face with caution. There was no telling what he or the King knew, and she wasn't about to start giving away her secrets, now. 

She had trusted Beasty and Garvis, and look where that had gotten her.

"What do you mean?" 

"I know you've been wearing faces, Miss Peppercorn. Just show me your real face. Be honest with me."

Out of the corner of her eye, another figure moved in the darkness. The glint of a golden toed boot had her recoiling backward. Kine Belatron stepped forward beside his son, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.

"Yes, Dalia Peppercorn, child of the wind. Show us your true face, and repent for what you have done."

Dal narrowed her eyes at the king and steeled herself against his judgment.  

"What do you mean?" She asked coyly.

King Belatron hit the side of the bars, the clang echoing around the bricked chamber. Fury was etched into his fine, royal face. 

"You dare play dumb, witch? You committed treason by impersonating the Queen, and poisoned Princess Aramaia with one of your potions. You are lucky the Princess isn't asking for your head, and that Queen Estoria is of a gracious nature. If you care for your life, you will show your true face."

Perhaps it was her throbbing headache from being knocked out, or maybe it was the tired ache in her bones from holding this form for so long, but Dal was tired of being ordered about and threatened with one impending doom over the other. What was the point in any of it, if she was promised one terrible outcome either way?

She thought back to her mother's visions and the old crone's fortune-telling, and suddenly she found herself laughing. The sound erupted slowly, but built until she couldn't contain herself, and had she not been shackled to the ground, she knew she would have clutched her sides from the force of her laughter. 

Through tears, she made out King Belatron's furious expression.

"King Belatran, you have said that I will burn for my actions. You said it just before I was rather rudely smacked over the head and dragged down here. If that is so, what reason could I have to show you anything, royal half-blood to the gods, or not?"

"You ill-mannered, ill-tempered-," the king grasped the bars, his knuckles turning white.

"Please, King Belatron," Prince Tullvomm interceded, his voice pleading, "allow me to explain something in private."

Dal moved her focus to the red-headed prince, a pang of guilt shooting through her. It seemed her potion had worked if the pained expression on the Prince's face was anything to show for it.