Chapter Thirty-Four: A Wish For Something More

Her eyes thrust open with the force of an airborne parachute. A sharp intake of air immediately followed as she found herself unable to breathe at full capacity. She felt as though she was being crushed; her only reassurance was seeing the ceiling of her bedroom, still engulfed in the evening's shadow.

Malinda's torso was being squeezed, as if giant hands were clutching her with all their might. Any movement that she made only tightened the hold and intensified the throbbing. Malinda had never felt physical pain like this before. She was in agony.

She was blind in the dark, unable to see the cause of her anguish. So she groped around frantically, lacking the sufficient breath to formulate coherent thoughts. And then she felt it: a stiff item of clothing wrapped around her waist; a corset.

Whimpers and moans escaped her mouth, and she clenched her jaw to suppress the pain, sweating profusely. Malinda felt entirely helpless, but still tugged at the corset, refusing to give up. All questions were pushed aside: how long she had been unconscious, if Derek had undressed her, how she would escape now that the Ice Queen wanted her dead.

The item of clothing was unfamiliar to her. She had never worn such constricting things, with the exception of her bra. Her experience in removing her bra in the darkness of her room before she went to bed each night provided Malinda with essential knowledge. There had to be a hook – or in this case, a ribbon – that would undo the whole contraption.

Malinda was becoming numb as a result of the lack of proper blood flow, doubting if she still had fingertips or toes. The veins in her head felt on the verge of explosion. Malinda's room was fogging up slightly, indicating to her that it was getting colder; that she was making it colder. The stress from her current predicament seemed to unleash her powers.

After nearly a minute of groping, Malinda grew more exasperated. She was almost at the point of screaming, but had some sense to not be so loud and obvious.

She could feel the front of the corset, where the ribbon lacing was located. But the ribbons were impossibly tangled, and could not be undone fast enough. Malinda grabbed each end of the corset and motioned to rip the ends apart, tearing the strong ribbon. It was a long shot, she knew, but it was her last option.

And suddenly, Malinda discovered a new power: super-strength. She could feel her pupils changing, a tingling sensation like getting toothpaste near one's eyes. She could feel her muscles tense and expand. Malinda grit her teeth, holding in a yelp.

In one swift act, she tore the ribbons and released herself from her confinement.

Malinda let out a long breath, her eyes watering. Her body returned to normal, collapsing on the mattress. She threw the corset arbitrarily in the distance, promising to never see it again. Malinda rested there for several minutes, no particular thought occupying her mind. But then she felt the tears welling up. And she wept; she cried because she had been afraid of how powerful Derek was, disgusted by the Ice Queen's cruelty, and shocked by her own helplessness.

How am I alive? she wondered. Never an overly religious person, she hesitated to give a divine force credit for her salvation. No, it was something more basic than that. The Ice Queen had underestimated her. And Malinda had misjudged her own willingness to survive. I'm alive because I chose to be. Because I wished to be.

She wiped away the excess liquid from her cheeks and chin. The room's fog had dissipated. Malinda arose from the bed, her joints aching. She went to the window, which, despite the perpetual cloudiness of the sky, managed to emanate some light. For the first time, Malinda saw what she was currently wearing, and she was startled.

The corset appeared to be the most conservative part of her outfit. Her dress of sorts was constructed with smooth chiffon of a pale yellow color. Malinda was bare-breasted for the time being; the corset was the only thing covering her chest. The layering of the transparent fabric concealed her pelvic area, producing a makeshift mini-skirt. A single sheet of chiffon covered her shoulders, like a cape. Rectangular bits of cloth constructed her train, which stopped slightly below her ankles.

Malinda marveled at the light that came upon her; she was always intrigued by the moonlight's rays, however faded they were. Moonlight. Evening. It was still nighttime. But how?

She knew she must have been unconscious for hours, but by then it would have been morning. Malinda deduced that a full 24 hours – if not more – had passed since her attack. And during all that time she had not been checked on or bothered, which indicated to Malinda that an inspection was nearing.

Malinda had to make her escape now or the queen would surely finish her off. She ripped parts of her bed's white canopy, made of a similar translucent material. She wrapped it around her bust, securing the ends of the cloth at the back of her neck. In such scant clothing, Malinda was happy she couldn't experience the cold.

x

It was the same dilemma Malinda had experienced when she first tried to escape the 8th Kingdom castle. The darkness made any movement difficult. Malinda had to trust her memory of the hallway's construction to guide her. The ridges in the columns made gripping them uncomfortable; her fingers were still tender from the lack of blood circulation. But this would be the last time Malinda attempted this escape. This time, she thought, I will succeed.

She was alert to any footsteps other than her own, or any echoes in the distance. She didn't panic when unfamiliar voices engulfed the corridors, bouncing from wall to wall. Malinda remained calm and focused, her eyes becoming accustomed to the shadows.

It only took Malinda a few minutes to locate the spiral staircase – the place she had bypassed during her first getaway – that led to the first floor and brought her that much closer to freedom. Her memory was serving her well. But the staircase was even less illuminated than the hallway. Measuring with the heel of her bare foot, Malinda determined the steps were steep and jagged. This particular exit had not been used regularly, she figured, judging by the vast amount of dust she inhaled. The urge to cough was tempting, but she held it in like a laugh in church.

Several minutes later, she reached the landing. The uneven corbel stones made balance a difficult task. Malinda gathered herself, adjusting her breasts' position and pulling her skirt down to cover as much of her body as possible. She sighed, inhaling one last bit of dusty air for courage. As Malinda looked up, she saw the rounded wooden door outlined with light.

The castle was still active and not at rest as Malinda had assumed. This new fact made running away even less feasible. Malinda's resolve wavered; she was as paralyzed as the stone on which she stood. A part of her – the scared inner child who detested any degree of confrontation – yearned to return to her room and await her heartless mother's punishment. Her plan seemed to be falling apart. But Malinda shook away any doubts; any negative thoughts from her mind. Either way, she reasoned, I risk being killed. I'd rather die doing something brave than being afraid.

She tentatively motioned to open the door, her hand caressing the rusted metal of the handle, lingering there. Malinda analyzed the best way to tackle a newly discovered issue: the aged stairwell's door would undoubtedly make a creaking noise when opened. She paused for a moment, listening in on the other side. She could pick up some idle chatter. People were close by. So Malinda inhaled sharply again and abruptly pulled on the door, avoiding the sound she dreaded.

And there it was: the semi-illuminated hallway straight ahead. She wasn't on the first floor as she had hoped, but rather the mezzanine. The doorway in where she currently stood was adjacent to a balcony that overlooked another hall. Malinda peaked over it, her hands still glued to the doorpost. Two guards loitered by the tall frosted windows below. Their casualness was deceptive for at a moment's notice they could easily bring about her death. In that respect, the Ice Queen had trained them well.

Malinda glanced back and forth between the soldiers and the open space of the corridor right in front of her. Her head moved side to side, producing a ticking sound in her mind, counting down to the second when she would make her move; her mad dash to freedom.

Malinda hurriedly leapt from the doorway, optimizing on an instant when both guards' backs were turned. And she ran, her bare feet lightly touching the marble floor, sprinting along so as to be as silent as possible. Her heart was booming and her body was shaking; she was horrified by the thought of being caught, but exhilarated by the idea of escaping.

Her arms swayed and the chiffon of her gown flowed in the self-propelled wind. The bits of fabric threatened to give her away as they cascaded at Malinda's back. A smile was creeping up on Malinda's face as images of Benjamin and Virginia and Wolf – and Gabriel – flashed before her.

She turned the corner, the train of her dress trailing her like a lazy shadow. Malinda recalled the passageways from when she was first brought into the castle, and retraced them seamlessly. She ran for several minutes without interruption, only slowing down when her panting became too loud for her to ignore. Malinda turned another corner, jogging now. She kept her head down her as she ran, readjusting her clothes while on the move.

"Hello Malinda."

A gasp left her mouth, her hand rapidly lifting to cover the sound. Her pupils shrunk and eyes widened, her body quivering. Henry Rivers was situated inches away from her. The hall was dimly lit and Malinda could only make out the contours of his face, his expression cryptically hidden by the shade. She questioned whether he had been waiting for her, aware of her plan all this time.

The usually verbose and sharp-tongued girl was silenced by fear and disbelief. She was so close, and now…

Henry awaited a response, but the look in Malinda's eyes seemed to crush him. His face contorted, brows furrowed and lips frowning. What was it about her that made him so yielding? He forcefully clutched at her arm, dragging her further along down the hallway, deeper into the darkness. Malinda followed under the guise of submission. Her mind was a mess, but it couldn't end this way. It couldn't.

Henry stopped when the two reached a window, much like the one Malinda marveled at earlier. The clouded light of the dawn provided a spotlight for the couple; private yet theatrical. He let go of her frail arm, almost throwing Malinda against the floor, her legs producing a thudding sound. Henry's mouth opened, but Malinda spoke first.

"Please," she said, a tear leaving her eyelid. She made eye contact with Mr. Rivers, on her knees and supporting her frame with her palms. He was the only inhabitant of the 8th Kingdom palace with any semblance of a soul. Malinda appealed to his humanity. "Leave me my life, Henry. Please."

"No, I can't—"

"I will run away into the wild forest and never come here again." Henry scoffed. He saw her in the pale light. She was so beautiful and at his mercy. He had been sent by the Ice Queen to capture her. She sensed Malinda's departure from her room, and, ever the cruel woman, sent Henry to chase the girl. She was forever testing him; waiting for the moment when he would fail her. This, Henry thought, would be that moment.

He took pity on her and said, "Run away, then, you poor child." His pitch was low and gentle, surprising Malinda. She slowly arose from the ground, brushing off her kneecaps, her eyes fixed on the man's face.

Henry looked around for a bit, and Malinda made no contestations or remarks. He took hold of the curtains that adorned the window, pulling pieces of it off. He continued this course of action until enough strips of cloth were on the floor. And in one agile motion, he pushed the glass open, a gust of air bringing Malinda's dress to life. The material flew around her, giving Malinda an otherworldly quality that Henry was sure she was oblivious to. How could he not save her?

"Go," was his simple command, as he gave Malinda the now joined sheets of curtain. It was a long rope of sorts. She realized that she would have to climb out the window and onto the ground. A difficult task, but a chance to escape nonetheless.

She took the rope and positioned herself on the edge. She looked back once, mouthing a "thank you" to Henry before beginning her leave, the rope securely tied to a post. The unforgivable terrain of the woods that surrounded the kingdom was a death sentence in itself. He could not say for sure whether she would survive it. Still, Henry smirked and it was as if a stone had been rolled from his heart since it was no longer needful for him to kill her.

He was at peace. And she was finally free.

xxxxxxx

It was sunrise. King Wendell rode on his horse in silence, as did the rest of his troupe. Prince Gabriel rode slightly ahead, guiding them and going over his steps. The breeze was light and chilled, which refreshed them. The once cloudless sky was now trickled with occasional fluffs of white. The scenery was breathtaking. But, on some level it pained Gabriel to return to these spots, each place holding its own memory; a mixture of happy and distressing moments between him and Malinda.

They had started traveling the night prior. Almost an entire day had past since then; since Violet agreed to aid them. She was seated alongside Wolf, the only member of the team who seemed to utterly scare Violet into compliance. The initial feral groans Wolf had produced in protestation were now reduced to annoyed grunts. They were all tired, in every sense of the word.

But they were getting closer. The green pastures and brown dirt roads of the 4th Kingdom were gradually transforming into the arctic and pallid terrain of the Ice Queen's domain. Wendell assumed they were currently in the 7th Kingdom, along a shortcut that both Violet and Gabriel insisted existed.

And despite never having taken this exact route, Wendell could recall his own journey into the 8th Kingdom many years ago, and for a similar reason. On both occasions a woman was involved. Ironically, this time, instead of saving a woman who was been taken against her will, they were rescuing a young lady who had left voluntarily.

But the king could not blame Malinda or feel any enmity towards her. She ran away because she felt hurt, he assumed, and because she needed to know more than his knowledge could offer. The images of his first trip to confront the Ice Queen's realm were still fresh in his mind.

He arrived at the Ice Queen's palace out of breath and frenzied. The soldiers that had accompanied him were far behind but steadily catching up as Wendell paused to inspect the area. Just like everything else, the estate was blanketed in snow; everything around it was dead. No plants, no animals no servants tending to the castle. It was as if the palace had been abandoned, but Wendell suspected otherwise.

He walked closer to the frozen fortress, now joined by his men. Wendell noticed the lack of fencing or walls around it. The Ice Queen was more concerned with keeping people in than out, he deduced. And perhaps the queen's reputation alone was enough to keep her palace guarded. The cruel dictator had been defeated by a coalition of several kingdoms' armies in her own home, yet later assessment found no remains of the Ice Queen.

And there was still at least one person inside the castle: Wendell's wife, Cecile.

Upon entering the palace, his men were split up into teams of three. Wendell insisted on surveying the place by himself since this mission promised to be an emotional one for the young king. But at the insistence of his comrades, two soldiers followed him. After nearly an hour of carefully searching, Wendell finally reached a small tower, the entrance to which seemed tucked away purposefully.

Reaching the top of the winding and steep staircase, Wendell could hear whimpers. He presumed they belonged to his beloved wife – whom else could they belong to? – but the intonation and pitch of the voice was foreign. He had seen Cecile in pain before; this was not she.

With two men at his back, Wendell paused when he arrived at the door, the white paint chipping off and splinters everywhere. The space was cramped and the king's pulsating heart made his whole body shake. He prayed his wife was inside, and feared what he knew was actually behind the dilapidated door. In one swift motion he opened it, his eyes closed all the while. His companion's reaction was what compelled the king to look.

"Sir," one of them said loudly, stepping ahead of the immobile king to attend to the prisoner. It was a little boy, huddled at the edge of the tower's room. He held his skinny knees to his chest, trapped by his feeble and shivering arms. His clothes were dirty, with specks of frost scattered all over them. The boy lifted his head when the door was forced open, but now he leaned his chin against his wrist with squinted eyes.

Wendell extended his arm to prevent the soldier from moving nearer to the child, his eyes fixated on the young boy. "It's alright," he muttered, bending down to the boy's level. But the child did not respond, only a defeated and weary expression on his face. "We've come to rescue you."

Those simple words seemed to ignite a hope within the boy. His face changed; he grinned and opened his body, no longer in a fetal position. Wendell was able to get a better look at the kid. He had light brown hair, somewhat tan skin, and dark brown eyes. Cecile possessed those features, Wendell thought, but the boy's facial structure made the king feel as if he was looking into a mirror, or a time machine. And the king became nauseous, his stomach twisting and his lungs decreasing in size.

"Daddy?" asked the boy in a raspy voice. A single word was all he could muster. And suddenly Wendell could not breathe. He got on his feet, requesting assistance from one of the soldiers.

"Was there anyone else with you?" one of the men inquired.

"Mom," the child let out, lifting his finger to point to the room's minuscule window.

Wendell picked up the boy and escorted him out of the castle and into the warmth of a carriage belonging to the 4th Kingdom, the boy's new home. Wendell opted to ride with the newly freed boy. Prior to leaving the 8th Kingdom, a team of soldiers had found the frozen cadaver of a woman in the courtyard. She had been identified as Queen Cecile.

It didn't take long for Wendell to realize that the boy was the son of his wife; that the boy was his son. He stared at the child in the seat across from him, tightly wrapped in a wool blanket. It was a bittersweet moment. Wendell had lost his wife, but retained a part of her through their child. He smiled. "What's your name?"

"Gabriel."

x

The group paused for a few moments, making a stop along the now mostly frozen surroundings. With a little more than a full day's travel ahead of them, Gabriel was eager to get back on the road, feeling the seconds slipping by. Still, he tried to conceal his fretfulness. The prince leaned on a leafless tree, alone with arms folded and body leaning to the north. His shoulder kept slipping, sliding down the tree trunk, the rough bark scratching the skin under his shirt. He flicked his fingernails blindly, his eyes hooked to the path.

Wolf had taken notice of Gabriel's state. He had not been there when the prince had received the news of Malinda's origin and hadn't had significant contact with the boy to get a good reading on his condition. And he knew Gabriel: unlike him – ever overflowing with emotion – Gabriel viewed displays of sentimental feelings as weakness, even if he would never say such things to Wolf's face.

He had been in charge of keeping the traitor Violet in line. "She has no loyalty to any of us," Wendell had explained, "but you scare her enough for obedience." Wolf at the time had taken it as a compliment, but now he saw it as an extreme favor to Wendell. And in these few minutes of respite, the soldiers among them watched over Violet for him. He wanted to be distanced from her, and closer to Gabriel.

The prince's head shifted to the left, aware of Wolf walking towards him. No words were necessary. They had never truly spoken to one another on an intimate level; this fact was not intentional, it merely was. But their interactions were not awkward, but rather built on mutual respect. Gabriel always appreciated Wolf's avoidance of indirect comments or meaningless words of comfort.

Wolf offered Gabriel a hefty wooden flask which was about half filled with water. The prince silently refused by shaking his head, and he adjusted his pose so that now his back was leaning on the tree. He put his arms to his sides, letting his guard down. Wolf's mind shuffled through the many icebreakers he had learned about from reading a self-help book about handling teenagers, but none seemed appropriate. To remark on the scenery or the temperature was not in his nature.

"So they've told you," he said softly. Gabriel shifted his body in uneasiness. The fact that Wolf knew about Malinda's secret, however, was of no real surprise to him. Malinda was his stepdaughter, and Gabriel, at this point, assumed that even the insects in the grass knew about it before he did.

He nodded, folding his arms. But Gabriel's body language did not dissuade Wolf. He tussled his own jet-black hair, getting closer to the young man. "But it doesn't change anything, right?"

"No," he sighed, "I suppose it shouldn't." And he was being honest, even though he was greatly troubled about what it meant for Malinda. Her genetics predisposed her to be like the most evil and vile woman he had ever encountered. Gabriel had thought himself rid of the Ice Queen and yet there he was, fighting to take her down once again. And perhaps cruelest of all was how the Ice Queen managed to taint his romance with Malinda. "She has taken everything from me," he stated through a cracked voice.

"I know," said Wolf, patting the prince on the shoulder. "But, huff puff… she gave us Malinda." Gabriel was startled at the optimistic statement. He almost felt bad to have neglected everyone else's reaction to the news. Wolf must have been in a similar depression.

"That is a…" he paused, searching for the words, "unique way of looking at it." He smiled, fully facing Wolf now. "Thank you."

"Do you love her?"

Gabriel hadn't been asked so straightforwardly before in regards to any relationship. He assumed his father knew of his feelings for Malinda, but these suppositions were never verbalized, just intuition. He hardly knew how to respond. He wanted to be as candid as possible with Wolf. It took him a few moments to respond. "I think so. I've never felt this way about anyone. I care about her," he said passionately, moving his hand to his chest as if to grasp his heart. "I was broken before I met her; selfish, immature. She makes me want to fight. She makes my life fun. She's exciting and interesting and… perfect for me."

"I know what you mean," Wolf smiled. Malinda was a clone of Virginia in that respect. "Trust me, you're in love." He parted with those words, returning to the rest of the group as they prepared to continue their journey.

Gabriel looked on as Wolf joined his father, certain that their conversation would remain in confidence. He was as loyal as his canine namesake. The prince's eyes wandered to Wendell, and he saw him in a new light. The king had calmly spoken to Gabriel before their departure, explaining Malinda's origins more thoroughly. Gabriel valued Wendell's candor. And Gabriel had almost hated his father for not having rescued his mother sooner. A life of fortune and safety was delayed because of his father's inability to act.

But now, seeking to save the woman he loved, Gabriel felt a connection to his dad.

And he realized what Malinda was doing: trying to save them by putting herself at risk. It was stupid yet heroic in the purest sense. She was ashamed of her lineage and sought to conceal her altruism. The childishness and pride that Gabriel once exuded had dissolved. Malinda's only flaw – her crippling, tragic flaw – was the sadness she surrounded herself with. This feeling that she was not good enough or worth affection. Gabriel swore to correct this issue.

xxxxxxxx

The sky was white, like Malinda and the road and the trees were all drawn on a sheet of paper. She was hesitant to call it beautiful. The sight was odd, interesting, unique, and yet plain. The trees were all aligned creating a perfect hallway along the road. It was the sky's lack of color and the landscape's rigidness that made it distinctive. Perhaps she could not see any beauty because she knew she was still in the 8th Kingdom.

She had been walking for an incalculable amount of time. Malinda knew it was morning because the clouds became lighter shades of gray as she progressed. She felt like she was going in circles, no one tree or patch of ice looking any different that the ones she had seen before. It was discouraging to say the least. Malinda was hungry, tired, and was gradually experiencing symptoms of hypothermia, which was most nerve wrecking of all.

Malinda couldn't decipher if it was the 8th Kingdom's naturally unforgiving weather or her own budding powers that was the source of the snowstorm.

Not only had Malinda never experienced the cold, but also never encountered any physical consequences of it. She was entirely immune, but now she feared her natural powers were fading on the account of the Ice Queen's interference. Maybe the strength training was something else, Malinda thought. The Ice Queen seemed to have everything figured out. It was even possible that she knew of Malinda's escape plan and aided in it, knowing full well that she wouldn't last a day in the frozen woods.

Each step she took produced a crunching sound that calmed Malinda. It reminded her of playing in the snow as a child, a pastime she alone enjoyed so ecstatically. Benjamin would join her for only minutes at a time since – she recently realized – he could not stand the cold of New York winters, which was a normal response.

The thoughts of returning to the 4th Kingdom had once compelled her to keep going. But with each passing second, Malinda doubted their willingness to forgive her and see past her pedigree. She had made such a mess of things.

Malinda's foot suddenly skidded on bare ice, causing her whole body to elevate from the ground and collide with the frozen earth. Flakes of snow jumped up, fluttering down on her as she winced in pain. She slid her right elbow up so are to raise her torso, but Malinda could not balance herself long enough to stay upright. And so she rested there, ceasing to move or think.

She could see puffs of her breath materialize above her. She attempted to make shapes with the balls of smoke, just as she had while in the Ice Queen's custody; however, this time, Malinda was too cheerless to engage in such a game wholeheartedly. Her back was chilling, which was more troubling than hurting. She still hadn't reached the level of pain she felt when in the Ice Queen's cottage, but Malinda dreaded she would get there eventually. And this time, Gabriel wouldn't be there to help her.

Facing directly upwards, Malinda gazed at the atmosphere. It resembled the many posters in her classrooms at school; the kinds of posters that promoted the religious heavens, with the faded blue canvas and the glowing orange sun. As if heaven needed promotion.

Malinda began to reminisce about her life back home, back in Manhattan in her small apartment and mundane but safe life. She felt like a patient on her deathbed, looking back at the years gone by. But Malinda didn't have to look that far back. It was only a couple of months ago that her life radically changed. She thought about the sadness she had experienced here, in the 9 Kingdoms; the anger, the regret… and the joy and excitement.

If given the chance to go back home permanently, Malinda found herself doubting she would take that opportunity. She recalled when all she wanted was to find a way to get back home. "But," she said lowly, "that's not my home anymore."

The blizzard was slowing, the wind's howl reduced to a sporadic bark. Malinda had made a wish that day – the morning her brother came back from college – as she sat on her bed with her music blasting. Now she realized that her wish had been granted: a wish for something more.

That inner voice inside her – inside everyone – that gave her the drive to progress. She thought she had lost it, but was relieved to find, through all her adventures and trials in the 9 Kingdoms, that inner voice had not been silenced. Rather, it had only diminished to a faint whisper that there, lying in the snow in her tethered dress, she could hear loud and clear.

Malinda arose from the ice purposefully, the strips of cloth from her gown almost whipping against her legs. She looked in the direction of the 8th Kingdom, narrowing her eyes. It seemed like a waste to return: a waste of time, a waste of energy, a waste of planning.

But she had an idea.

So sorry for the extreme delay. I've been very busy, but I finally finished this chapter. Thank you to all my readers. There are more chapters to come.
Thanks.