Page 8 of The Abandoned Princess

“Impossible,” I said flatly, giving up the attempt of maintaining a childish facade.

“I think you’ll find far more things are possible than you could dream,” the woman said, sounding pleased with herself.

I tensed my muscles and rushed toward her, determined to shoulder my way out of the wagon if necessary. The woman moved, however, turning slightly to give me just enough room to squeeze past.

The bare skin of my arm brushed against something hard and sharp on her clothing, but it didn’t scratch deep enough to draw blood, so I didn’t bother to look back. Jumping down from the wagon, I dashed toward the scattered fires.

I came to a sudden halt when I saw ours, my mouth dropping open. Just as the woman had said, Lori lay beside it, fast asleep.

Impossible! There was no way she had returned from her conversation, found me gone, and just lain down to sleep. I rushed toward her, taking in the details I had missed at first.

She lay awkwardly across her bedroll, still fully dressed including her boots. It was less like she’d prepared for sleep and more like she’d been knocked unconscious. But despite the formal air of the locals, they couldn’t possibly have missed someone attacking Lori in their midst. And while the Northhelmians might not be the friendliest of people, they had so far seemed scrupulously honest and law-abiding. I couldn’t believe all these groups were part of some elaborate scheme against us.

“Lori! Lori!” I cried loudly, but she didn’t stir. Neither did anyone else even look up from their fires.

I knelt over Lori, attempting to shake her by the shoulder. My hand kept slipping off however, my fingers unable to get a proper grip although I could see nothing unusual about her clothing.

I sat back on my heels, frustrated and confused. At least I had managed to ascertain that she was still breathing.

Clambering to my feet, I marched up to the next fire and faced them down, hands on my hips.

“Excuse me, but did you see what happened to my companion?” I pointed back toward Lori, but I needn’t have bothered. Not one of them even looked my way. “Excuse me!” I repeated more loudly. “What is going on here?”

Again, none of them looked up. I gazed around the shelter. Not a single person was looking my way despite my loud tone. No one had even broken off their conversations.

Taking a deep breath, I let out a blood-curdling scream. I usually saved it only for special occasions, and my siblings both swore it was enough to give its listeners a heart attack.

No one flinched or started. No one gave any indication of hearing me at all.

I stared around at them, utterly at a loss.

“So it works regardless of age,” the lone traveler said. “That’s good.”

CHAPTER 4

I turned slowly to face her. “What is going on here? Are you all in league together? What have you done to Lori?”

“Relax, child, she’s just sleeping. It seemed the least messy way.”

“Least messy?” My voice rose. “Why are you doing this? And why are all these people helping you?”

I glanced around, looking for the tell-tale signs of people watching while pretending not to. But either these people were the best actors I’d ever encountered, or they genuinely couldn’t hear a word I was saying.

“Oh no, they’re not involved,” she said. “They just can’t see you. Or hear you. Or sense you.” She paused, frowning slightly. “At least, they shouldn’t be able to sense you. Why don’t you try grabbing one of them? You could give them a good shake.”

I stared at her, increasingly sure I must be lying beside the fire myself, trapped in a dream.

“Go on,” she prompted. “Give it a try.”

I wanted to refuse—just on principle because it was what she wanted me to do. But I had to try something.

I reached for the closest person, attempting to grab his shoulder and shake it. But as with Lori, I couldn’t get a proper grip. Just as my fingers were about to grasp his shoulder, they swerved, skimming just over the top of it. I tried holding my wrist with my other hand and forcing my fingers forward, but it was no use. While I never made the conscious decision to pull back, my fingers acted of their own accord each time, preventing me from making proper contact with him.

So I tried the cup in his hand instead, intending to wrench it free and dash the water over his face. I couldn’t pry it loose, however. He didn’t appear to be holding on tightly, but his fingers might as well have been pincers of steel.

A wild, terrified feeling was growing inside me, sending panicked thoughts racing through my mind. I scanned our surroundings and spotted another cup sitting on the floor nearby. Some of my fear eased when my fingers closed around it and lifted it with ease. But no sooner had I got it to waist height, than the person closest to me reached out and took it from me.

I was powerless to stop him, my fingers turning weak and useless. I still felt a surge of hope at the interaction, however, but the other person gave no indication of having noticed it. He simply reached out, took the cup, and replaced it on the ground, all the while never ceasing his quiet conversation. It was if the action had been done entirely without conscious awareness.

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