Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins
Chapter 8

It was late now; the little bit of light that had managed to passbeyond the shutters had disappeared and the Princess could feelherself beginning to nod off in her chair. She'd been trapped in thesmall room for a week now, at least. Her initial panic had subsidedand she was left feeling resigned to her imprisonment. She reasonedthat her life couldn’t possibly be in danger because if she waswanted dead then it would probably have been easier to send a hitafter her; rather than arrange a kidnapping. She was being used as abargaining chip, for money probably.

Princess Stella hadbarely left the palace as a young girl and at the age of seventeenher excursions out into the kingdom of Corthus were few and farbetween. It was on one such rare outing that her coach had beenhijacked and she had been bundled off; quite unceremoniously she hadlater thought, to this small shack in the middle of goodness knowswhere.

Her captor was a large,bumbling man whose stench she could smell before he even entered theroom. She had yet to learn his name. Stella was no genius herself butshe could spot a mindless minion a mile away and she felt it safe toassume that she was not dealing with the brains behind the operation.Conversation with the unkempt man had been somewhat lacking; hisresponses to her questions had consisted mainly of low grunts andsnarls. This was, however; a step up from his response on the firstday which was to gag her with a; quite frankly, rancid piece ofcloth. The princess tilted her head back to ease the strain on herneck. Her dark hair had long fallen out of her immaculate bun and nowtickled her back between her shoulder blades. She dreaded to thinkwhat she must look like; she hadn’t washed in days. She guessedthat she mustn’t have smelt very pleasant either but it was hard tojudge considering her surroundings. She wrinkled her nose; this washardly a place for a Princess.

As Princess Stellacontemplated her plight her captor entered the room and slammed therickety wooden door behind him. He plonked himself down heavily on asmall chair across the room from her, pulled a bread roll out of hispack and began munching away on it. The Princess straightened up inher chair out of indignation:

“Nowlook here you.” She started, her voice shrill with anger andfrustration. “I have had just about enough of this. I have no ideawhere I am or what I’m doing here, I haven’t washed in at least aweek- though I dare say youcan barely notice given the state you are in, I cannot remember whenI last had something decent to eat… and you come in here, sit downopposite me and stuff your face without even so much as a ‘hello’.You may be a common criminal but that is hardly an excuse forrudeness. You might at least have offered me some bread…”Princess Stella’s stomach chose that exact moment in which togrumble; embarrassingly loudly she thought, yet perfectly timed as ifto demonstrate her point. The bulky man opposite her tossed a roll ather which hit her squarely in the chest before falling into her lap.She stared down at it for a moment; it didn’t look particularlyappetizing. In fact it looked stale. Her stomach grumbled again;loudly. “Thank you, but how am I supposed to eat this?” The mangrunted an incoherent response while he ate his own. “Well?”

“…Withyer mouth?” he snarled at her; bits of bread clung to his dirtymoustache.

“Oh yes,very good, very funny. My hands are tied together so unless you wishto feed me then untie me.”

“Oh no, Ican’t be doing that.”

“I’mhardly going to run away am I?” She nodded down to her feet whichwere tied by the ankles to her chair. “And I can hardly put up muchof a fight can I? Unless of course I was to hit you with the breadroll because; quite honestly, I think it is well past being softenough to eat comfortably…”

Cutting her off mid-flowthe large man before her stood, groaning as he did so. He stomped,flat footed, over to where the princes sat and clumsily untied herhands. Her wrists were sore and chaffed where the thick rope hadrubbed against her skin.

“Thankyou.”

“Welcome.”

“So.Seeing as we have now established that you are not a mute and arequite capable of understanding and answering questions… may I knowyour name?”

The man swallowed hisfood before answering; “No.”

“Well Ihardly think that is fair.”

“Listengirly, life isn’t fair.”

“I see.”Princess Stella daintily picked up her bread roll and examined itcarefully. It was stale that was for sure but it looked clean enough.She took a small bite. It was heavily salted and gritty. “Oh!”her mouth pursed in disgust. “Where on Earth did you get suchterrible bread? I don’t think I have ever tasted bread as horrid asthis before, you really ought to rethink…”

“I madeit.”

“Oh. Isee.” And with that Stella finished her bread roll without sayinganother word; much to her captor’s relief.

Outside the small shacka man stood in the shadows, it was late and he had come a long way ina short space of time. Doing so always wore him out. He sat downquietly on the ground; he would rest a moment before moving on. Itwas not safe to sleep here. He counted out the coins that his‘friend’ had given him. He had been short changed, again. Hewould be sure to bring it up with him next time; it was importantthat he not underestimate who he was dealing with. The money was oflittle consequence to him; but he would not be made a fool of.

From where he sat hecould hear the Princess prattling on. It was a wonder that she had somuch energy given the circumstances. But, he reasoned, a lack ofenergy had never been her problem. He stood swiftly and pulled downhis hat. The night air was cold around him; he would replace somewheresheltered to sleep. As he set off he put his hands in his pockets; inhis right hand he could feel the stone gently pulsing. Quietly hehummed to himself.