Page 56 of The Stolen Princess
Another reason to hate Horseface.
“Watch it,” Drake said. “She’s a princess and deserves our respect.”
Dawsick folded his arms across his chest. “I grant respect to those who are worthy. Princess Seran deserved the utmost respect. Adler’s daughter does not.”
“She’s not like Princess Seran.” Drake shrugged. “But she’s still a woman and deserves a measure of respect.”
An unexpected rush of hurt filled her chest. She hadn’t known Seran and didn’t know what kind of perfection they were comparing her to, but something about how they talked made Myka feel thatnotbeing like Seran was a bad thing.
Winslow turned, walking away. “I’m going to get a fire started. Why don’t you guys gather some firewood?”
Drake looked at the shack, making Myka duck even though there was no possible way he could’ve seen her through the tiny crack. Then he followed after Winslow and Dawsick.
She watched as the men walked away into the woods. Myka angled her head, trying to get a better view of the trees and what was out there, but she couldn’t see anything. She grabbed a wooden chair from the small table and skidded it across the room to one of the high windows. She stepped onto the chair and pressed her head against the glass. Her eyes reached the bottom of the opening, even when she was on her toes. The glass must have been poorly recycled because Myka could barely see out of it.
The sounds around the shack faded, and eventually, she stepped down. She paced back and forth for a moment. The village they had just come from was only an hour and a half away by horseback. There must be someone in that village who was still loyal to her father and would be willing to help her.
Not Caressing Cora, of course. But someone else.
She could make it to the village if she could find a way out of the shack. Since Drake was busy, maybe she could take his horse and sneak into the trees before anyone saw her.
Myka remembered the second window on the opposite side of the room. She stepped onto the cot below it, but the window was still too high. She grabbed the chair and placed it on top of the cot, putting her at the perfect height to see out. This window was different. The glass wasn’t as thick, and there were two hinges on the top, letting her know that it would at least open. She undid the lock and banged her fists against the wooden edges, trying to loosen the glass. With each bump of her fist, the window budged a little bit more until finally, it swung open.
Success!
The opening wasn’t big, but Myka was confident she could scoot her body out of it. She grabbed the window sill and jumped, pulling herself up. The force of her leap knocked over the chair beneath her. Her head and her hands popped out of the window first, and then she shimmied her body until the sill was at her waist, cutting into her stomach. Myka looked around. Drake’s shack was nestled between two large trees, and with the window on the side of the shack, she had a little bit of cover from the rest of the camp. She looked around for the other kidnappers.She couldn’t believe they were holding a royal hostage and no one had stayed nearby to keep an eye on her. They had sorely underestimated her skills.
What idiots!
The bigger concern was the drop she was looking at. She was at least ten feet off the ground, and her only option was to fall headfirst, somersault style onto the dirt. She might be able to pull that off.
She was spry.
Drake’s speckled gray horse looked up from his barrel of food, making eye contact with her. He was her ticket out of there. What was the horse’s name? Do kidnappers even name their horses? She tried to think back through their ride, but she couldn’t recall Drake ever calling the animal by name.
Myka clicked her tongue, wiggling her fingers. “Horse!” she whispered. “Horsey! Come here.” She clicked her tongue again, but the animal just stared back at her, chewing on some grass. She narrowed her gaze into his eyes, trying to do that telepathic thing where a person talks to their horse with just their mind. In that mental conversation between Myka and the horse, she promised him all sorts of things if he would walk closer to her so she could fall onto his back and not the ground.
What do you want? Oats? Done. Some one-on-one time with a mare? I can arrange that. Whatever you want.
The horse whinnied.
The deal had been struck.
Drake
Drake had made ithalfway through the forest when he realized he’d forgotten his knife. It would be easier to gather some of the drier branches up top if he had his knife with him, but it was still tucked neatly in the bag that he’d dropped so he could carry Myka inside. He jogged back to his house. It was supposed to be a quick grab, then he would rejoin Dawsick, but the sound of Myka’s voice made him slow his steps.
“Horsey! Come here.”
Drake’s brows bent in, and he poked his head around the corner of the shack. Half of Myka’s body hung out of a window high above the ground. Her arms flailed out in front of her as she tried to get his horse’s attention.
Drake’s posture stiffened. How had the men he’d sent to set up the camp not thought about the window? They had thought of everything else. In their defense, the windows were high above the ground. They wouldn’t think the princess would dare to climb out of them. Especially headfirst. She would have to be crazy to do something like that. Then Drake remembered all the stories and scars Myka had shown him back at Rommel’s. The woman wasn’t afraid of heights.
He watched her for a minute, shaking his head. There was a part of him that questioned her mental stability in attempting this escape. Another part of him admired her for it.
He cleared his throat loudly, alerting Myka to his presence.
Her head snapped to him, and she groaned.
