Page 64 of The Stolen Princess
Drake stood. He walked to the shack, unlocking the chain, and pushed the door open. The room was dark, but the fading sun illuminated Myka’s hunched-over body. She sat atop her cot, knees tucked up to her chest, forehead down. She slowly lifted her head when the door opened and stared back at him.
Her sad expression tore at Drake’s heart—his rock-solid, hardened heart. Or maybe it was the guilt brewing inside of him over the stupid bet he never should have made. He shouldn’t feel guilty. This was a job. But guilt was exactly what he felt.
Drake cleared his throat. “There’s dinner out here.”
“Am I allowed out?” she asked.
“If you want.” He held the door open wider, trying to encourage her to come.
She scooted herself off of the cot and walked to the door. She paused for a moment, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. The anger that was usually in her eyes was gone, replaced by something that looked a lot like sadness.
She stood before him, a beautiful, sad girl.
Had Drake done that to her? That was a stupid question. Of course, he had. His heart pressed inside his chest. He tried to ignore it, but the nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.
She lifted her chin and walked past him out the door without another word.
He closed his eyes, hating the way her vulnerability had affected him. He shut the door behind them and led the way to the campfire for dinner. Drake gestured for Myka to sit down on an open spot on the log.
“Hey, princess,” Dawsick chirped, “do you want to sit on my lap?” His speech was starting to slur, and Drake wondered if there was more than water in his cup. He could easily imagine Dawsick bringing illegal and non-essential alcohol with him on the mission. He’d probably bought some in the under-the-counter market.
Myka’s blue eyes flashed to Dawsick. “I can sit on your lap if you want a knee jammed into it.”
Drake suppressed his wince, knowing that she meant it. “The princess is only out here for dinner.”
He handed her a cooked skewer, avoiding eye contact. Then he joined Grady and Portlend across the fire where he could still keep an eye on Myka from a safe enough distance that his heart wouldn’t be softened by her. He’d work on gaining her trust another time.
Myka
After dinner,Myka walked silently with Drake back to the shack. She’d been planning her escape all afternoon and had decided that her best chance would be to run at night. Yes, she wouldn’t be able to see, and yes, a scary animal might attack her in the woods, but if Myka couldn’t see, then Drake couldn’t see either, and that might be the advantage she needed.
“I have to go to the bathroom before bed,” she said.
Drake nodded, switching the direction he walked in from his shack to the woods.
Myka sucked in a breath, going through her plan one more time. She would stab Drake in the neck.
The neck? Really?She swallowed, feeling guilty about how violent that seemed.Yes, Myka. The neck. He kidnapped you. Do you ever want to see your father again?
She closed her eyes, using the action to mentally pump herself up. After the neck stab, she would run, using the trees to keep her hidden. She would keep running all night, and in the morning, when the sunlight swallowed up the moon, she would climb a tree, preferably one that had a lot of leaves still on it that could hide her. She would wait until night again to make another run for it. It was a loose plan with a lot of holes. What was she going to eat? How would she know where to go? But, she would rather take her chances in the unknown woods than stay there with the kidnappers.
“You can go to the bathroom right here,” Drake said, pointing to a tree.
Myka stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, her fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the curtain ring weapons. She was ready. This is what she had trained for, except that she hadn’t been training. That’s just what people said in these situations.
She nodded back at Drake, waiting for him to turn around. Once he did, she wouldn’t have that much time before he noticed that she wasn’t going to the bathroom. His back turned, and she pulled in one giant breath. She clutched the weapons tighter and brought her hands out of her pockets, going into battle mode.
You can do this. Jab it right into his jugular. He’s a bad man. He kidnapped you.
Her heart raced with fear and adrenaline.
It was now or never.
She went to take her first step but paused. The element of surprise was crucial for this to work. Should she move fast like a cheetah or slow like she wasn’t up to anything?
Definitely cheetah style.
In one quick motion, Myka leaped for Drake, raising the small make-shift knife above her head ready to bring it down hard against the side of his neck, but he turned, hearing her not-so-quiet cheetah moves, making Myka’s weapon stab him on top of his shoulder between his neck and his bone. He might have yelled—maybe even swore—Myka wasn’t sure. Everything seemed to be happening so fast. She didn’t hang around to see the result of her blow. She took off running in the opposite direction of the camp, keeping her focus on the ground. Tree roots reached out like arms, grabbing at her feet, tripping her up. She jumped and leaped, her chest feeling the heavy weight of exertion.
