CHAPTER FOUR

T he next morning, I slept past breakfast, which was expected as I did not get back to my room until shortly before dawn. When I met with Rose in the late morning, we sat on my bed as I told her everything about my exchange with Balor.

“You’re sure he’s hiding something?” she asked me. Balor was difficult to read, yes, but I was sure he was keeping something secret from me. For whatever reason, he wouldn’t tell me, but he made it seem like I would find my answers in Zolmara.

“I’d ask you not to go, but I know you better than that,” she said with a smile that did not match her sad eyes. I smiled with her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“If you have any other options, I’d love to hear them,” I replied. “This dream. This book. They will haunt me until I get the resolution I need. I have to get to Zolmara somehow.”

“I know,” she answered with a slight sniffle. “And I know I can’t come with you.” I opened my mouth to tell her I would never ask that of her, but she continued. “I’m not adventurous like you, Aura. I’m not courageous like you. I don’t know how to fight. I would only slow you down.”

“You’re braver than you know, Rose. But I won’t ask you to join me.” Not only was a handmaid not suited for such a quest, but I would also never forgive myself if something happened to her. There was a moment’s pause before I spoke again. “I’ll need you here to clean all the nasty cobwebs under my wardrobes, anyway.” I nudged her with my elbow, grinning at my own joke.

She laughed and elbowed me back with playful force before shifting to a new question at hand. How was I going to get to Zolmara? Who in Rimor or otherwise would be willing to travel to the Forest of Torment with a runaway princess? It would need to be someone with experience in traveling, who knew how to survive in nature. Someone who could hunt, make shelter, and navigate the vast woodland between kingdoms. Traveling the beaten path would not be an option for me if my father was looking for me. He’d have Rimorian guards monitoring every roadway.

“Would one of your guards be willing to go with you?” Rose asked.

“The guards are too loyal to my father,” I replied. “Not one of them would hesitate to go running to the King the second I opened my mouth about it.”

“Hm,” Rose agreed. Her gaze shifted, and her eyes darted for a moment, something I noticed she did when she was lost in thought. “I might know of somewhere you could find someone, but it’s a longshot,” she said at last. “There is an alehouse towards the outskirts of Draymarn. I can’t remember what it’s called. Let me think.”

Draymarn was the same city where Rimor Library resided. Sometimes I forgot that Rose had free roam of the kingdom when she wasn’t on duty as handmaid to the Princess. She was with me so often, it always felt like she was trapped in the castle by my side.

“The Cracked Hoof!” she exclaimed. I quickly gestured for her to keep quiet, knowing two guards stood outside my room like always.

“Why would someone at an alehouse agree to escort me?” I asked, not condescendingly but with genuine intrigue.

“I’ve never been, but I’ve heard others talk about it. It’s the kind of place women are told to avoid at night,” she said. With that, I understood. “It is frequented by thieves, criminals, and miscreants. I wouldn’t even step foot near it during the day,” her face turned sour.

I thought about this for a minute. The Forest of Torment was rumored to be riddled with criminal-kind, so who better to ask how to get there than a criminal? And if it was money they were after, I could certainly afford their fees. I could potentially pay one of them to simply get me there and guide me through the so-called labyrinth. That is, if I could trust them not to rob me first. It may be a longshot like Rose said, but it was worth a try.

After further discussion, this was the only idea either Rose or I could come up with. She was always smarter than me; something I adored about her. I told her I would make my final decision by tomorrow and start planning from there.

The rest of my day was uneventful. What I wanted to do was meet with my father once more and give him a final opportunity to spill the truth, but then I would risk the chance of raising suspicion. I decided against it, and had casual, uninteresting conversation with him during dinner instead.

That night, I had the dream again and I took that as a sign that I was making the right choice. I decided I would go to The Cracked Hoof and scout for any potential men or women willing to safely lead me to the Forest of Torment. And I would do it tomorrow night.

The next morning, I gave Rose the news and watched her try to hold back her tears. She may have been regretting putting this idea in my head. “What if you don’t find anyone there? Will you come back home?” she sniffled.

I shook my head. “Once I leave, I’m not coming back until I find my answers,” I said. “I will have to leave Rimor as quickly as I can, before my father has enough time to realize I’m missing. I need a decent head start, Rose. If by morning I do not find anyone in Rimor to take me, I will leave and head to Chatus first. Maybe someone there will be willing to lead me to the Forest of Torment. And there are less people in Chatus who would recognize me. I hope. Especially since I haven’t been there since I was a child.”

“Does it have to be tonight?” Rose whispered through silent tears.

“The closer to the new moon, the better chance I have of sneaking out without notice, by cover of darkness. I don’t want to have to wait another month for the opportunity,” I explained.

Rose bit her lip to stifle a small sob, and I let my own emotions unfold. We cried together for a few minutes, using this time to hold each other close. When we were finally able to pull ourselves together, we started preparing.

She helped me pack enough food to last for a while, such as hard cheeses, breads, and other items that had a good chance of lasting me a decent amount of time, even if stale. I also found a book in the castle library about wild plants that I packed as well, hoping it would be helpful. I placed it next to the mystery book from Rimor Library.

In my room, we packed my few clothing items that weren’t dresses. One of my least favorite things about being royalty was the dresses that I had to wear daily. I much preferred my trousers and functional, maneuverable tops. I dug through the chest where my rarely used trousers and tunics were kept, and pulled out a pair of leather pants from the very bottom. They were gifted to me by my uncle just last year, and I was excited to put them to good use. I decided if I somehow made it to any shops during this journey, I would buy more of them. That reminded me to pack a few pouches of gold pieces – my bargaining chip for my proposed guide. The guards didn’t even ask me about it when I pulled them from our vaults, likely because I often helped my father with ledger work and bringing him coin when he asked.

Lastly, I pulled my knife from under my pillow. It used to remain hidden under my bed before my recent intruder. It was my mother’s knife, which she gifted to me shortly before her death. My father reluctantly let me keep it. It was pure silver, and its intricately detailed handle reminded me of her own exquisite beauty. When I left the castle at night to see my uncle, the dagger always sat sheathed at my hip. My uncle taught me many ways to defend myself with such a blade.

Through more tears, Rose and I said our final goodbyes after dinner. I only wished I had the same affection with my father. A heartfelt goodbye. A long embrace. A kiss on the cheek. “ Be safe. See you soon .” That was the relationship I wanted. But instead, here I was plotting my escape from him. There would be no goodbyes. Only resentment.

Rose agreed to try to delay my father learning of my absence as best she could. She explained she would inform the guards that I wasn’t feeling well tomorrow morning, and to let me rest as long as possible. She would tell the guards that she would notify my father herself, but in reality would refrain from doing so. That might buy me a day, possibly two. She swore that she would not tell the king where I was going, no matter the repercussion. She was a loyal friend, and I trusted her completely. And with her quick thinking, I knew she would be able to come up with something, or play the role of the ignorant handmaid. I didn’t deserve her.

Darkness came, and I made the difficult descent down the castle walls, arms and legs still sore from the other night. The pack over my shoulder made it even more strenuous. As I reached the wall that surrounded the castle, I paused. I turned to get a good look at Rimor Castle. My castle. My home.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. Was this a mistake? Could I take my time in finding answers another way? Was leaving my home – leaving everything I’ve ever known – the right decision? I stood there a moment, mind racing with questions and doubt. Then the familiar sound of clanking armor echoed in the distance.

Shit . My small window before the guards made their shift change was coming to end as a pair of them headed back towards me. My heart pounded in my ears. I had no more time for doubt. The decision had to be made and it had to be made now.

And so I climbed the wall and made my way to Draymarn where I would find The Cracked Hoof alehouse.

On that night, I did not feel the sensation of being followed, which was a relief. As I finally got closer to my destination, I noticed that more people occupied the streets of Draymarn this late than I had anticipated. I put the hood of my cloak up, wary of someone recognizing me. No one really seemed to look in my direction, thankfully.

At last, I finally reached a drab looking tavern with a large logo of a horse’s hoof painted atop the entryway. As I hesitantly walked towards the entry, I was stopped in my tracks when the door swung open wildly. Two large men shoved a grungier looking man through the doors and spat in his direction. “And stay out,” one of them yelled as the other laughed.

The poor bloke that was thrown out proceeded to vomit all over the street in front of him, and I backed away quickly to avoid the chunky splatter. I almost retched myself at the smell of it. I watched as the man drunkenly stumbled away, muttering profanities to himself.

We were off to a great start. I took a deep breath and headed through the door. As I did so, the bustling noises of the chatter inside seemed to quiet down, and I felt many eyes on me. I had high hopes that no one would recognize me, especially in common clothing. Back at Rimor Library, my expensive clothes and cloak, pinned-up hair, and face of my mother may have given me away. But now I had commoner’s clothes, hair messily braided down my back, and dim lighting on my side.

I peered up through the hood of my commoner’s cloak, graciously donated to me by Rose, to confirm the amount of people who may have been staring at me and to get a good look at the establishment. The bar was to the left of the entrance, and behind it were stacks of barrels filled with ale as well as several glass bottles labeled as different kinds of liquor. Wooden beams were placed throughout the room, helping to hold up the heaving stone structure. Although there were all sorts of stains on the floors and walls, the building itself was in decent shape.

Rectangular dining tables filled the room, leaving space in front of the bar. The tables held a multitude of patrons, most of which were men, with the occasional promiscuous looking woman dancing on one of their laps. The men that took notice of me watched me like a hawk. Many of them appeared disheveled, with scars lining their dirty faces. I wondered if this was where my father found Horus.

Some of the men looked at me with curious glances while others had hungry lust in their eyes, which made me shiver with discomfort.

I ignored the stares the best I could and made my way to the bar. I sat and pulled a gold piece out of a hidden pocket in my cloak and placed it on the counter. “One, please,” I said to the barkeep.

He was a middle-aged bald man with gray scruff and crooked teeth. He looked me up and down. I wondered if he was not used to hearing the word ‘please’ in this place. Or perhaps a gold coin was too much. How much did a drink cost in a place like this?

The man greedily snatched the coin from the counter and started to pour a pint. “You’re on the wrong side of Draymarn, lady,” he said through rotting teeth. “You best drink your ale and leave if you want to make it home in one piece.” It was not a threat, but a warning.

“I am looking for someone who may be willing to help me,” I started explaining. “I need someone to take me somewhere up north, a far trek from Rimor.”

The barkeep spat on the floor, and I held back from grimacing. “And where might that be?” he asked.

Assuming he didn’t know the name Zolmara, I said, “The Forest of Torment,” before taking a sip of the bitter beer. The entire room seemed to get even quieter as I felt more eyes peer in my direction.

“Ain’t nobody here willing to go there, I’ll tell you that,” said the man. “Anyone who tries to go there gets lost and just turns right back around. Those that make it never return at all.”

At least the rumors surrounding the place are universal , I thought.

“I was told the Forest is home to criminals and the like. Is that not true?”

The barkeep made a nasty noise in his throat before spitting directly onto the floor once more. It took immense effort for me not to look disgusted. “People don’t live there. But they do die there. Whatever treasure people think is on the other side ain’t worth it.”

I was about to form my rebuttal, when I heard a man’s voice from behind me. “I’ll take ya,” he said. I turned around and saw a grimy man with greasy hair and dark eyes stumbling towards me. He stopped so close to me that I could practically taste his rancid breath. “I’ll take ya anywhere, darling. With a little payment, of course.” He grabbed his trousers between his legs.

Disgusted, I got up and stepped to the side. “I’m not interested,” I tried to say politely, not looking for an escalation. The man only stepped closer to me, forcing me to back up.

“Right, well maybe I’ll have my way with ya anyway,” he blubbered. I looked over to the barkeep for help, but he faced elsewhere, pretending to take no notice to the situation. “You’re a pretty little thing,” the unkempt man said, his breath making me want to vomit. “My little friend down here really wants to meet ya.” One hand gestured between his legs while the other raised towards my breasts. I slapped his wrist away before he could get the pleasure.

“Do not touch me,” I said through gritted teeth, my body filling with fighting energy. I was not about to let this man get his way. I wondered how many women he had done this to in his miserable life, and my anger flared.

“I didn’t ask for your permission, you little bitch,” he sneered. He raised his hands to grab at my chest again, but this time I grabbed his wrists, turning my body with so much force that the man stumbled forward into the bar, knocking over glasses and spilling ale everywhere.

“I said, don’t touch me,” I repeated with bitterness. The man’s face turned red with rage, and he snarled loudly as he swung around to throw a fist at me. I easily dodged his slow attempt at a blow and swept at his feet with my leg, sending him flying face first into the floor. The men and women inside the alehouse began to laugh, and the man let out a howl of fury. He may have been too drunk to get up, as he needed two of his buddies to help him stand.

He pointed an enraged finger at me when he finally stood. “I’ll get you for that, you little bitch,” he repeated the insult. How creative.

The mixed excitement and animosity in me began to boil, because I wasn’t done yet. I pulled my mother’s dagger from its sheath and stepped towards the man, his companions backing away like I was a feral animal. Before the man could even see what was happening, I held the knife to his throat. He choked back a startled cry.

“Touch me, or any woman again without her permission, and you and your little friend are separating,” I spat, looking down and back up so he would get the hint.

I pushed the man backwards and he fell into his companions, all three tumbling to the ground. Some of the alehouse patrons cheered drunkenly.

Quickly realizing that my hood was down and all eyes were on me, I feared my cover would be blown at any given moment. And so I turned towards the door and hastily headed out. Rose warned me of the type of people that frequented this place, but I didn’t think it would go south this quickly. As I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, inhaling the foul-smelling air resulting from the other man’s vomit that I witnessed just minutes ago. I walked around to the side of the building and leaned against its stone wall, one dim streetlamp doing its best to illuminate the dark alley.

Initially feeling triumphant in my first brawl with someone who wasn’t my uncle, I slowly began to feel defeated. I contemplated going to find some other bar and asking other people about taking me to the Forest of Torment, but it seemed futile.

As I leaned against the outer wall of the alehouse, my mind was completely focused on contemplating my next move. I was so lost in thought, that I hadn’t even heard the door to the tavern open. I finally looked up when three shadowy figures stepped around the side of the building and into sight.

“You’re gonna pay, ya little cunt,” came the voice of the greasy haired man from before. And he brought his two friends. While my uncle trained me in many scenarios, it was only ever me and him. I wasn’t sure how I would do against a group of three large men.

They started to walk towards me, with Greasy Hair in the lead. I stood tall and planted my feet in the ground, ready to fight, when an unexpected voice broke through from the darkness behind them.

“The lady asked you to leave her alone,” came a deep, guttural voice that sent chills down my spine. All three men swung around, still blocking my view of the mystery man.

“Stay outta this, creep,” Greasy Hair shouted towards the darkness.

“I think it’s in your best interest to go back inside,” the deep voice continued.

Greasy Hair snorted. “Or what?”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

All three thugs laughed. “Get him!” the leader spat the order at his goons.

The two big men ran towards the voice, but were immediately met with someone who far exceeded their skill level. The figure knocked them out in less than three moves, and the men fell to the floor with moans and groans. The figure stepped towards my foe.

“A-alright. I don’t want trouble,” stumbled Greasy Hair. From his back pocket, he produced a knife and dropped it to the stone street below. I could have sworn I smelled the sudden stench of urine as he did so.

I wasn’t aware that he had a knife, which could have made our brawl have a less than desirable outcome for me. I cursed myself for not being aware of my surroundings, which was basic knowledge I’d learned from my trainings with Balor.

“Then maybe you should have kept to yourself,” the deep voice growled.

Before I could blink, my foe was on the ground with his companions, groaning in agony. I looked up at the tall, dark-haired man that stood over him. His muscular build was apparent, even in the darkness. As the man stepped towards me under the dimply lit lamp, my gaze made my way up to his eyes. They were as golden as honey, and an indescribable ferocity burned in them.

I didn’t know whether to be terrified or thankful. He stared at me, unblinking. Was he waiting for me to say something? I was speechless.

He then broke the silence. “I hear you’re looking for someone to take you to the Forest of Torment,” he said.

I nodded, still struck by his beauty and intimidation, and unable to form words.

“You’ve found the right person,” he claimed.