Flameshore, Chapter Two

Muse was aware of two things. First, she was bound and gagged. She felt the stiff rope rubbing on her wrists and ankles. Second, she was moving. Swiftly, she could tell from the sound of turning wheels. Apparently she was on some sort of cart. Maybe one of a merchant.

She opened her eyes tentatively. Immediately, she wished she hadn't.

Yes, she was in a cart. She was in the company of dead animals. Thinking back, she could of swore that she saw a cart come into the palace just last week at sundown, carrying that month's supply of meat. Putting two and two together, she decided she was in a meat cart. The stench of the meat was almost overwhelming, though. If there hadn't of been a gag over her mouth, she would have puked.

Her eyes had just adjusted to the dim lighting when the cart abruptly stopped. A small, dead doe landed right in front of her face, and she was sure her eyes would pop out of her head. Making a silent decision, though, she promised herself that she wouldn't scream in frustration.

A man in all black opened a hutch in the top of the cart and peered down to her. He had fawn hair, with a small silver hoop in his right ear. His eyes were wide and intelligent, but the smug smile on his face ruined his attractive appearance.

“Awake are we, Princess?” His voice was slimy. It reminded her of the times when her father's friends would get drunk and ask for her to come back to their bed with them.

All she could do was glare.

“I'm going to come down there, girlie. Don't try anything stupid. I'm not against beating a woman when she needs it.” His voice rose in anticipation as he jumped from the top of the cart down, and landed stealthily in front of Muse. He stooped down to her level and pulled his knife.

He laughed as her eyes widened, and she promised herself again that that would be the last time he, or anyone else for that matter, saw her fear. She was Princess Muse, heir to the throne of Flameshore, and absolutely no one was going to stop her from returning home to her father to reclaim her position by his side.

“I'm not going to hurt you, girlie. Watch.” In one fluid movement, he had sliced through the gag in her mouth. She spat it out, and tried not to breathe in. Her mouth was as dry as sandstone, and unfortunately, she had tasted sandstone before. Thanks, Flame. She thought bitterly to herself.

“Ah, nothing to say, eh? I can change that.” His voice grew cold and calculating. He leaned down even further and looked into her eyes, and then gingerly placed his hand on her knee. Without looking down, his hand rose steadily, until he stopped at the top of her thigh.

Her eyes had become cat like slits. Her hatred for this man grew with every breath she took. How dare her touch her! How dare he even think about touching her, let alone act on his desires. He tilted his head to the side in either wonder or curiosity, when she finally spoke. Her voice was strong and sure, and it surprised her greatly that it wasn't hoarse.

“If you do not remove your filthy hand from my leg, I will personally cut it off and let you eat it for dinner.” Her voice was steel.

The man only laughed, but she noticed he hastily removed his hand.

“So she can speak. What a beautiful voice you have, Princess. What a shame you won't be talking much longer. I would have loved to hear you scream my name.” He said, with a cocky grin that made her want to punch him in the face, hopefully breaking his nose painfully.

“What is your name?” She asked sharply.

“Limirh.”

“Well, Limirh. If that's your version of a threat, just hand me your sword now, and we will fight. And I assure you, you will lose. Either way, I'm hungry. As your Princess, I command you to bring me a feast.” She said boldly, mocking his ability to actually hurt her. As she spoke, his eyes became darker, more frightening.

“You stretch my patience, Muse.” He said lowly.

“And you stretch my humanity. Big deal.”

His hand whipped back and smacked her square on her cheek. Pain exploded throughout her face, slowly traveling on her nerves until they reached her brain. A massive headache engulfed her, causing her to bite her lip from crying out in pain. Slowly she opened the eye he hadn't smacked and said very carefully, “You start a war you cannot win. If I ever feel your touch again, I swear to you now, you will never open your eyes to see daylight. You will never know the comfort of a woman, or the pride of a child. I will dismantle your body from itself slowly. You will regret that smack, even though I felt nothing.”

His gaze was still very cold, but somewhere in the depths of his gray eyes she could see something stirring. Was it sorrow? Did he really feel bad for slapping her? Or was she imagining that he had that sort of refined taste?

“Drink this.” He said, shoving a spoonful of cold, watery soup into her mouth. It tasted terrible, and she retched it up.

“It's all you get, so I suggest that you eat it and be glad we're feeding you at all.”

“So there's more of you? What does this accomplish? You really have no idea how much of a headache I can really be.” She said with a smug smile, even though her entire body was screaming at her to fight him and run. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get him to loosen her ties...

“Yes, there's more of us. We want things. Your father can give them to us.” He stammered, clearly upset that he just gave valuable information away. He would most likely be punished for his ignorance from Master.

“My wrists hurt.”

“You'll get over it.” he grunted. She would have to try harder next time. He shoved more of that disgusting soup in her face.

After the soup was gone, he tied the gag back over her mouth. She protested with squeals and shrieks.

“What?!” He asked, shocked.

“I've been good. Why can't you leave the gag off?” She glared.

“You get one chance, girlie. And if you screw up, I will beat you.” He threatened, and turned to leave.

“Oh, by the way,” She called up to him as he was about the close the hatch, “If you ever call my girlie again, I'll cut your tongue out.” She said it as sweetly as possible, and he smiled and closed the hutch, leaving her in that awful dim light.

It gave her time to think. Where was Flame? She knew he had saw her, and she knew he had heard her, because she had made eye contact and she had said his name. Did he try to save her before the riders' did? Who were the riders'? She wanted to ask herself why they wanted her, but it was obvious. She was the heir to Flameshore. The first female heir in almost over one hundred years. She had to do something.

Muse was starting to get very tired. It took everything she had to keep her eyelids open, and trying to get her mind to work was even worse. She finally realized that they had gave her a sleeping medication, and then she was totally asleep.