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Ren raced through the corridors, his princess right behind him.
Though the castle gates were still shut, the crowd’s shouting and screaming and crying seemed to be as loud as his own heartbeat.
They wanted blood- royal blood- but they weren’t going to get it. Not so long as Ren still breathed.
He’d lived in the castle his whole life. He knew every secret, every entrance and passageway and closet. He could find his way around deaf and blind. So could Lizzie, but she was understandably distracted.
He led her to the crawlspace in the kitchen, standing guard as she climbed onto the counters and into the cupboard. He went after her; it was a much tighter fit than it was when they were children. The crawlspace led out of the castle walls, well into the woods.
They walked to the nearby stream, and Lizzie practically collapsed on a boulder. Ren stood next to her, hand on his dagger, eyes darting back and forth.
The bottom of her silver dress was almost black with dirt. Her long pink hair was sooty and tangled; Ren pulled the silver ribbon out of his own hair, gently sweeping her hair up and tying it. When he was done, she leaned against his side. Her eyes, a lovely shade of blue-gray, met his, then went back to the forest floor.
“Mother is dead,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. It was the first thing she’d said since the queen had died- had been torn apart, limb from sorry limb, by her own people.
If he was being honest, Ren was glad for it. The queen was every bit as awful as the people thought she was- more, even.
She took prisoner after prisoner, her dungeons full of anyone she deemed undesirable. Each one was held on trial for whatever infraction she’d decided to accuse them of, then summarily found guilty and publicly executed. It was really only fitting that her blood stained the same courtyard where she’d killed so many.
And despite what the people thought, she wasn’t a great mother, either. The worst, if you asked Ren. She loved to dote on her daughter in public, but she barely looked at Lizzie within the walls of the palace. She made her sit at every trial since she was a baby, even though Lizzie didn’t like them at all- had, in fact, woken up crying because of them. Every so often, she’d decide that it was imperative that the princess learn a new dance, or a new instrument, or a new language. She’d make Lizzie practice until she couldn’t anymore, then abruptly decide that it didn’t matter anymore and she couldn’t care less about what her daughter did.
Ren didn’t say anything. Despite everything, Lizzie loved her mother. She’d done everything to please her, done everything she could to earn her love. Ren didn’t know how to tell her that she shouldn’t need to earn her mother’s love.
“She wasn’t a good queen,” Lizzie continued. “I know that. I just…”
“She was your mother.”
Lizzie nodded. “I… I understand why they hate me.” She looked back in the direction of the palace, the crowd’s shouting still audible, even from so far away. “I would hate me too. You should probably hate me.”
“I won’t,” Ren told her. “There’s nothing you can say or do that would make me hate you, Princess.”
“I wish there was,” she said. “They’ll kill me, you- you know. They’ll kill me- and they’ll kill you too. They’ll kill you too, because- because- because I love you. They’ll kill you because I love you, but- but if you hated me, then- then maybe-”
“Breath, Princess.” He took her hand in his, squeezing it as reassuringly as he could. “It’s going to be alright. They won’t kill you. I won’t let them.”
“You think you can fight off the whole kingdom?” she asked.
“To keep you safe? Of course I could.”
“I’d rather you safe,” she said. “Your father would be terribly cross with me if I got you executed.”
“My father adores you,” he said with a smile. “He’d be much more cross with me if I got you executed.”
She giggled. It was quiet, and nothing like the wild laugh he loved so much, but it was something.
He helped her to her feet. “Forever and for always, Princess, you have my loyalty. I will stand by your side.”
“Thank you, Ren.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Then she looked past him, and made a strangled noise. Ren spun around.
The palace had been built ages ago, out of dozens of different types of wood. It had once been built by and for an extremely wealthy lumber merchant; his grandson married into the royal family, and when an earthquake destroyed the original palace, he offered them his family home. In the many years since, they’d stayed there.
The palace was beautiful. It was also burning.
The flames rose so high Ren wondered if they might set the stars on fire. Lizzie leaned against him, a vice grip on his hand.
Ren had grown up in the palace. His father had been a knight, though he took up a position teaching swordplay shortly after Ren was born. He knew every hallway, every window, every nook and cranny. So did Lizzie. When they were small, after lessons, they used to climb into the window seats in the library; Lizzie would lie down and soak up the afternoon sun, and Ren would read out loud to her like he was putting on a play. As he got older, it was harder to put on plays when he could feel the queen’s suffocating presence in every part of the palace. Still, it was the only home he’d ever known.
His home… his home was gone. Burned to embers and ashes.
Except- except it wasn’t, not really. His home was right next to him, staring at the burning castle with wide gray-blue eyes. Warm and alive and holding his hand like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
He drew her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll be alright, Princess. I promise you, we’ll be alright.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said softly.
“I’ll keep it,” he said fiercely. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”