10

A Princess of the People

A few weeks later, Hilda had managed to reach central Lorule. It hadn't been easy—she'd barely had any food and she was starting to feel sick from drinking from the polluted rivers. She'd done her best to avoid monsters, but she'd had a few encounters, leaving her with several new wounds.

But finally, she stood at the castle gates. Part of the gate had been broken in the commotion the night the cult had come and taken her, and it was just enough for her to slip through. In front of the door at the end of the stone bridge, however, her father had put up a barricade of furniture.

She strode up and began pushing away chairs with her remaining strength, giving up halfway through and sitting on the filthy bridge. She leaned against the side and raised her head to the sky, where she could see a storm coming her way. Thunder rumbled, seemingly shaking her to her core. Candlelight flickered from the window of the study.

Without warning, Hilda broke down and began to sob uncontrollably, pulling her knees to chest and burying her face in the torn fabric of her dress. Where had he been? Where had her father been while she was missing? Had he simply stayed behind the safety of the castle walls to protect his own skin? Had he abandoned her, like everyone else had?

"Father!" she screamed over a thunder clap.

Her wrist hurt. It had for weeks, ever since that fire monster from the Dark Palace burned it. She tentatively unwrapped the sliver of fabric from it to find that it had become greenish in hue. She wanted her father to come and tend to it. She wanted him to tell her that it would be okay, that they would survive like they always had. But Hilda knew her own father well enough to know he wouldn't. He was the sort to be distant and let her handle it herself.

Hilda wasn't sure how long she had been sitting out on the bridge, but before she knew it, her eyelids were heavy and she fell into a fitful sleep, feverish dreams of lanterns and glowing eyes following her.

"Hilda? Hilda!" said a voice, shaking her back and forth.

Hilda opened her bleary eyes to see someone standing over her, trying to pull her to her feet. He had her father's voice. She allowed him to pull her up to a sitting position against the side of the bridge. His hands were on her shoulders for support lest she fall forward.

"Father, are you there?" slurred Hilda. She tried to blink the blurriness away, with some success.

"Yes, it is I! You are alive!" The blurriness began to fade and she saw tears pooled in the king's eyes. "I did not know what to do! I had thought…" To Hilda's own surprise, this show did not move her. Rather, it made her chest swell with a red-hot feeling.

"Did you look for me at all?" Hilda asked with a slight waver in her voice, coupled with a bitter edge.

He looked taken aback, recoiling and looking down at the stone underneath his knees. He removed his hands from her shoulders and folded them in his lap in a decidedly deliberate way. His fists curled as he looked down, refusing to meet her ruby eyes. After a moment, Hilda looked away as well in the tense silence.

"I did not expect to hear otherwise," she muttered with an awful tone that made her want to apologize. But she didn't. A twisted satisfaction bubbled up in her throat and she let out a single hard laugh, immediately covering her mouth afterwards. "Do you care for me, Father?"

The king's eyes widened. "Why, of course, Hilda, but I could not possibly hope to find you. I believed that those scoundrels had ki—"

"They very nearly did," Hilda cut in. "They would have, if not for help that you did not offer. Do not give me excuses, Father, as you know as well as I where the cult base is, or the general vicinity. You could have come. You chose to hide yourself away."

"Must I tell you again? I truly believed that you were dead. I saw no point in getting myself killed when there was no one left to save," he countered. He still refused to look at her directly.

"Surely you saw through their plan. Indeed, they intended to kill me. Indeed, they hate our family. They were not only after me, Father, and I know that. You did as well. It was a trap, but I think I truly believed you would try in the deepest corners of my heart," accused Hilda, her shoulders shaking in a bottled rage. Why was she so angry? Hadn't she wanted him to come and comfort her moments before?

"I have done everything for you, Hilda. I have kept you behind these walls where you are safe. Itaught you all that you know. I have made sure that all these years you did not starve like so much of Lorule has. Do not tell me that I do not care!" he roared. He rose to a standing position.

"That is the problem. You must put our people first. Not me." Clutching the railing of the bridge, Hilda pulled herself up and looked the king in the eye with the chill of a wintry wind.

His jaw hardened. He sucked in a breath and turned away from her, stiffly walking into the castle which now seemed to have a shadow cast over it. He disappeared with a flutter of his tasseled coat around the corner.

Hilda didn't see the king again for the next few days. She assumed he had holed up in his study like he sometimes did, but she soon realized this time was different. She knew she had caused serious damage to their relationship, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize. Everything she had said to him—it made her feel awful, but it resonated in her with a distinct ring of truth. She didn't like it. But she still didn't apologize.

Their relationship only worsened in the following weeks. Hilda would not accept any comfort from the king, and the king would not eat meals with her as they had done before. Neither was willing to make a compromise on any issue or argument that arose.

One afternoon, in the middle of another dispute, five rapid knocks echoed through the castle. Her father immediately pulled her in the opposite direction, but Hilda broke away from his grip and tiptoed to the door, grabbing the candlestick they kept by the front doors. More knocks came, this time faster.

The king stared apprehensively from the next room while Hilda cautiously opened the door, raising her candlestick over her head. She lowered it immediately, for on the other side was the one and only Ravio, wearing his mask that was now partially black with soot. Behind him stood a silky black horse. She did not bother to ask where he got such a beast.

"Who are you‽" the king bellowed as he strode towards Ravio. Ravio jumped and looked his way, glancing back and forth between him and Hilda. "Well? Answer me, boy!"

"Ignore him." Hilda extended her arm between the king and Ravio. "What are you doing here? I thought you went to Thieves' Town."

"They're burning it!" Ravio exclaimed, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "The Elder found me there. They burned my tent first, then they went on to the rest of town! It's bad, Princess, and who knows what else they're going to do…I don't want to ask this of you, but please help!"

What did he think she could do? Still, she wasn't going to sit idly by and let this happen. "They are burning it down?" Hilda repeated, a well of panic rising inside of her. "We need to leave now. Can your horse carry another person?"

Ravio nodded and climbed back up on the horse, extending his hand for Hilda. She started towards him, but the king grabbed her hand. "No. You will not leave and throw yourself into danger!"

Impulsively, Hilda slammed her elbow into her father's stomach and he immediately let go as he doubled over. She sprinted across the bridge and Ravio pulled her up onto the horse, turning to leave.

Hilda looked back at the king. "You are a hypocrite," she spat. "I will be there for my people, even if you will not."