The gray stone towers of Castle Valava stretched overhead, towering above the front courtyard, where coaches and carriages of various shapes, colors, and sizes were pouring inside the open front gates. The Prince's ball was indeed known throughout the kingdom, for some of the elegantly gowned ladies stepping delicately out from the many coaches where from the farthest corners of the kingdom of Valava, and had traveled many miles just to get to the center of the kingdom for this one ball, this one chance to become a member of the royal family.
Among all the coaches and beautiful ladies entering through the open gates, the snow white coach pulled by equally white horses didn't stand out at all. The auburn-haired beauty that descended nervously from within passed by like all the others, the blonde that drove her horses leading the coach to the area reserved for parking of carriages.
Rella, moving with the crowd, headed inside the large open doors, into the magnificently large entrance hall. There was one scary moment as she was stopped by a herald standing just within the door; but he merely asked for her name and place of origin, so she could be announced to the Prince. "Lady Rellana tir Lorea, of Nordon, on the far eastern edge of the kingdom," she had replied, mentally blessing the fairies for briefing her on who she supposedly was and where she had come from.
Freed from the herald, she was able to look around and admire the grand entrance hall of the castle. It was a simply gigantic room, bigger even than the entrance hall of Rhianna's castle had been. The ceiling stretched miles above, and the round room was simply gigantic, her blue slippers tapping lightly upon the tiled floor. Long tables stretched along the sides of the room, refreshments placed out along their length; another, longer table stood at the head of the room, a table at which the royal family sat, the King, Queen, and their only son sitting majestically upon their thrones.
Getting her first look at the Prince she was here to try to marry, Rella could see why there were so very many attendants to this ball. Besides his royal status, Prince Thadindor was devastatingly handsome. His blonde hair curled lightly around his face, wisps of it escaping every now and then to drift into his astonishingly blue eyes. He had the perfect face to go with the perfect body, and it was certainly understandable why half of the woman present would kill for a chance to marry him.
Nearby the smaller throne where the Prince sat, another herald stood, introducing the other ladies present at the ball to him. As Rella stepped in the doorway, she could hear the man all the way from the other side of the room, announcing, "The Ladies Lianne and Anastasia Tearlia, daughters of the Lady Sorceress Rhianna Tearlia--"
Stepping around a fat woman in a hideous pink gown who insisted on blocking the way for everyone else, she saw Lianne and Anastasia in all their hideousness, curtsying far less than gracefully to the handsome Prince. Ha! I can even curtsy better than they can, Rella thought triumphantly.
Seeing the barely suppressed grimace upon the Prince's face as he looked at the two sisters, Rella tried very hard not to laugh. She didn't quite make it, but at least she managed to hide the laughter behind a hand.
Yet another herald--how many heralds did this place have, anyway?--steered her towards the back of a line of women waiting to be introduced to the Prince. The line was growing shorter steadily, despite constant additions; most of the ladies had arrived well before Rella, and had already been introduced to the Prince.
"Just wait here until it's your turn," the herald told her, and so she did. Listening with half an ear to the introductions of the ladies ahead of her, she did her best not to wipe her sweaty hands on the front of her dress, and started to wish she could help herself to a drink of water to ease her dry throat.
After what seemed like an eternity, her turn came. Taking a deep breath, she walked in front of the Prince and dipped down into a curtsy, wobbling slightly from anxiety. "The Lady Rellana tir Lorea," the herald announced.
Daring to take a look up, she saw the Prince looking at her with interest, and blushed crimson. "Greetings, Lady Rellana," he said softly, making her cheeks burn even redder; he wasn't exactly required to say anything to the ladies he greeted, and she knew he hadn't said as much as two words to most of the ladies. "Perhaps we can talk later?"
She knew her cheeks must be burning bright red by now, but if the Prince saw, he didn't seem to notice. She stammered something she hoped would pass for polite conversation, and got away as soon as possible. A waiter handed her a glass of clear, sparkling water; she took it without really looking at it and downed half of it in one gulp, praying her cheeks would cool soon.
Left on her own, she wandered over to one of the side tables, helping herself to a tiny sandwich as she had seen some of the other ladies doing. Her cheeks at last back to their normal color, she risked looking at the Prince again; he wasn't looking at her, as she had half expected, but at the young blonde beauty curtsying before him, the last of all the ladies to be introduced.
After the blonde was introduced, the King clapped his hands, and curtains placed on either side of the table at the head of the room lifted, revealing alcoves within the wood, where a group of musicians sat. The King nodded to them, mouthed something, and they set to their instruments and played.
Everyone else in the room automatically moved into the starting positions for the Cariare. Rella was a step behind everyone else, but no one really seemed to notice, as everyone was looking towards the Prince, who had descended from the Throne and was joining the others in what the fairies had said was his favorite dance.
A heartbeat later, the dancers began moving, Rella included. She was somewhat surprised to find that she could manage to keep up with everyone else on the dance floor--I only learned to dance two weeks ago, and they've probably known how all their lives!
The next dance the musicians began to play was a waltz. Everyone was anxious as the musicians set up their instruments for the dance known as the Baroque Waltz--for this dance, the Prince would have to choose a single partner, and everyone was wondering who it would be.
The Prince began moving through the crowd, making his way through the people with purpose, seeming never to notice that all eyes followed him and that each woman he passed by without even looking at pouted and looked distressed. He was coming closer and closer to the place in the crowd where Rella was standing--
No. No way. He has to be coming towards somebody else who just happens to be standing around me, he has to--
Prince Thadindor smiled charmingly at Rella and bowed to her, sweeping out his arm. "If you would do me the honor of joining me for this dance, milady...?"
Stunned, she did nothing but let him lead her out onto the dance floor. She couldn't help but notice the jealous glances the other women sent her way that the Prince seemed completely oblivious to--once, she even heard Lianne's voice whispering savagely, "Why her, hmm?! What does she have that I don't?!"
Rella couldn't help but agree with Lianne. Why me? I mean, I can see why he'd rather dance with me than with Lianne, but what about all the beautiful ladies here? I'm just a scullery maid, I'm not a beauty, I'm not a noble, I shouldn't be standing here, dancing with the Prince...
But yet there she was, and it was all thanks to the fairies that she was. Taking a deep breath, she let the Prince loop his arm around her waist, and began twirling in time to the musician's tune.
All throughout the dance, Rella was afraid she would stumble, or step on the Prince's toes, or something equally embarrassing--but somehow, she survived. The dance ended after what seemed like a torturous eternity, and she sank down into a conveniently nearby chair.
The next dance was a popular jig called the Rayaja, and the Prince chose another partner for this dance, which Rella was grateful for. Although she knew the steps, and she got several offers from other young men to partner her for the dance, she declined, instead choosing to sit on the sidelines and drink some water.
Most of the rest of the evening passed by in a blur. The Prince partnered her again for the next dance, and then chose several other partners for the next few. She danced with some of the other young men that seemed oddly eager to dance with her, but eventually the Prince reclaimed her for another waltz. She couldn't help but notice that he had so far danced with her more than he had danced with any other single woman, and had to wonder why.
It was after that waltz that the King announced a formal break. Retiring to the sidelines again, Rella took another of the small sandwiches, even though she wasn't hungry, and forced herself to eat it. She was in the process of gulping down another glass of water when the Prince came to her yet again.
"Greetings again, milady Rellana," the Prince said amicably, taking a chair next to her. Choking, she nearly dropped her glass of water, and caught it in time, but not before splattering it on her dress. Mentally muttering curses, she turned, only to find the Prince ready with a napkin waiting for it. Taking it gratefully, she dabbed at the puddle on her skirt uselessly, at last giving it up for a lost cause.
"I apologize profusely," the Prince said, sounding polite and sympathetic but not truly sorry. "I was simply wondering if you would perhaps like to walk for a bit outside? The castle has some truly lovely gardens; you really should see them before you leave."
If she had still been holding her glass, she would have dropped it again. First the Prince doting attention on her all night, and now he was offering to take a private walk with her in the royal gardens! Out of the corner of her eye, she could see several of the other ladies giving her jealous glances, a fact that made her feel quite uncomfortable. She stammered something; she wasn't sure exactly what, but apparently it passed for an "I suppose so," as the Prince delicately looped his arm around her own and strolled off confidently, leading her to a small door set off to the right.
The castle gardens truly were lovely; although the only flowers she recognized by name were the rosebushes, she could still appreciate the many other kinds of flowers, trees, and bushes the large royal gardens were filled to the brim with. The top was open to the sky, the garden surrounded by tall hedges, enclosing the garden and ensuring privacy. Gray cobblestone walkways led around the gigantic enclosed gardens, entwining throughout the bushes. Small white benches, just big enough for two, were scattered elegantly about the paths.
The Prince led her not to one of the benches as she had expected, but instead to the water fountain in the center of the garden, a water fountain in the shape of a satyr. The stone half-goat was blowing a horn, out of which water cascaded delicately. The Prince took a seat on the rim of the fountain, carefully inspecting it first to be sure it was not damp. He seemed to expect her to do the same; wondering why in the world she had ever agreed to go to this ball in the first place, she gingerly took a seat beside him.
"So, Lady Rellana," the Prince said, giving her a dazzling smile that made her heart pound. "Have you been enjoying your visit to the kingdom of Valava?"
She blinked. "I...guess so. I mean, well, yes I have, of course, I--"
"Milady," he said, interrupting with a frown, "you don't seem at all comfortable here. You haven't for the whole evening. What is it?"
"I--I just, well, I mean," she stammered incoherently, flushing and wishing for the moment that she could magically disappear into the ground. "It's just...I'm just a scul--I mean, that is...I guess I've just never talked to a Prince before," she concluded lamely.
"Is that all it is?" he asked, smiling warmly. "Well, you don't need to be uncomfortable; I'm just as human as you are, after all."
"Well...I mean--I suppose that's true, Your Highness, sir, but I just--"
"Please, don't," he protested, interrupting her again. "You have no idea of how tired I get of having everyone 'Your Highness'ing and curtsying every five seconds. You can just call me Thad," he finished, giving her that warm, dazzling smile again.
She gulped. First a Bard telling me to call him by his first name, now a Prince telling me to call him by--by his nickname! What is wrong with these people?! I'm just a scullery maid!
"I--I mean, I--I wouldn't, couldn't presume to, to--"
He sighed. "Please, Lady Rellana," he protested plaintively. "You don't have to be uncomfortable around me. I really wish you wouldn't; you of all people I don't want curtsying and simpering every chance you get, trying to get on my good side."
She blinked, staring at him. "Why do you say me of all people?" she asked, forgetting for the moment to be polite.
"Oh, no particular reason," he stated nonchalantly, then gave her another of those charming smiles. "But I would appreciate it if you'd talk to me more like you just did, and less like you have been."
"I--I'm just trying to be polite," she stammered, feeling incredibly awkward.
"Don't worry about it, Lady Rellana," he told her, still smiling. "And--"
"Please," she interrupted. She couldn't help it; being constantly called a Lady when she wasn't one was bothering her, and with any luck, the Prince would think she was just trying to make sure they were both on first-name terms. "I don't--I'm not--don't call me Lady Rellana, okay? It...makes me uncomfortable. Just...you can call me Rella."
"Only if you agree to call me Thad."
"Well...alright, Your Highness. I mean--Thad."
"Good." He smiled once more. "Rella." He shifted position slightly, making himself more comfortable. "Well, now that we've spent all this time getting you to agree to call me by my name, let's get back to the original question. Are you enjoying your visit to Valava?"
"Well...I guess so. I mean, I've lived--that is, my home country is pretty much just like it is here. I guess...I guess most countries are a lot alike."
"In some ways, yes, I suppose they are. But--where is your home country, anyway, Rella?"
She silently blessed the faeries for having given her a cover story about where she came from. "Nordon," she told him; it was a small, quiet town just near the eastern border of Valava. Being Lady of a small, country place like Nordon would hopefully help to account for any small social mishaps she might make; or at least, that was what the faeries had said. "I don't suppose you've heard of it?"
"But of course; after all, one of these days I'm going to be King over all the kingdom, including Nordon." The smile faded momentarily, but was back in full force so quick that Rella had to wonder if she had but imagined it. "If you come from there, then you must have traveled quite a long way to attend this ball." He tilted his head to one side, curiously. "So far, has it been worth it?"
"I...suppose so," she faltered, unsure of what to say. "I just..." She frowned, looking at him. "Why have you been spending all this time with me?" she demanded abruptly, in what was apparently a complete change of subject. "Why not one of the other ladies out there, someone who's of higher rank than me and far more beautiful?"
He shook his head at her, and then was silent for a moment, regarding her. "You, milady, are quite an attractive young lady," he said at last. "I might even go so far as to say you're the prettiest woman out there--and that, let me assure you, is saying quite a lot. You caught my eye ever since the herald first introduced you; and as for rank, I could care less if you're Lady of some backwater place like Nordon."
"You would care if I wasn't noble at all," she replied daringly, feeling momentarily quite brave.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you weren't noble at all, I would assume you wouldn't be at this ball," he said mildly. "And beyond that--no, I wouldn't care. You could be a scullery maid and I'd still be attracted to you."
She did her best not to wince, and decided not to answer the scullery maid comment. "I thought the invitation was to all eligible maidens," was all she said.
"Yes, and half the women out there aren't maidens," he replied cynically. "But, no matter; despite what the invitation might have said, the only ones who would have the means to get here would be those of noble birth. After all," he added, barely hiding the note of disdain in his voice, "how would a kitchen maid be able to afford a dress like--oh, the one you're wearing, for instance?"
"Oh, I don't know," she said mildly. "I suppose they might be able to find a way."
"Yes, but then how would they get a coach, and horses, and someone to drive it? The only way there could be any non-nobles here is if they were a sorceress, and no sorceresses ever work in kitchens."
"No, I suppose not," she said vaguely, wishing desperately for a change of subject, to something that might make her less uncomfortable.
He smiled at her again, and she could feel her heart pound. "I'm sorry; I suppose our conversation has gotten rather off-track, hasn't it?" Stretching, he shifted himself into a more comfortable position. "So what is it like in Nordon?"
"I don't--backwards, I guess. Not at all interesting to hear about."
"I see. And what sort of things do you like to do in Nordon?" he asked, tilting his head to one side and gazing at her with those intensely blue eyes.
"Um," she stated eloquently, desperately trying to think of something noblewomen did with their time that she might actually know something about. "I like horses," she blurted out at last. "I mean, riding them."
He smiled. "No, I assumed you meant feeding them. So do you ride often, back home?"
"Well, sort of. I haven't much lately because--" Searching her brain for a way to explain her lack of having ridden recently, the real reason being her six years at Rhianna's, she suddenly had an idea. "--because, see, my father didn't really like it. He said it wasn't ladylike, that if I had to ride I should at least do it sidesaddle."
The Prince blinked. "Well, you have to admit he does have a point. I should hate to think what the people of Nordon would say if they saw their Lady riding astride."
She shrugged. "Yes, but you would think I should be able to ride how I wanted to, at least when I'm at home. Although actually, I think it was the part about me wearing breeches that got to him more than the style of riding did." She smiled up at him sweetly through her lashes, wanting to see how he took this rather unladylike announcement.
He merely blinked, looking surprised. "Breeches?"
She nodded. "Well, yes. After all, one can't properly ride astride in a dress, you know. It's so much easier in breeches. But Father didn't like it."
The Prince looked as if he didn't quite know what to think of this. "Well...breeches aren't exactly typical clothing for noblewomen," he said at last.
"Neither is riding astride," she reminded him. "But, oh well, we needn't discuss clothing now. We've been out here for a while--shouldn't we go back inside?"
"I...suppose so." Still looking slightly stunned at her having the audacity to admit she had worn breeches, he actually let her take the lead, going back into the grand hall by herself. If she had thought no one would see her, she would have laughed at the expression on his face.
The dancers were just finished a song as the two reentered, and struck up another one immediately afterwards. The Prince chose a different partner for this waltz, for which she was grateful, but he returned to her for the next dance, and the one after. She almost felt as though the jealous glances of the other women were leaving a visible burn mark on the back of her neck.
Over the remainder of the evening, she had plenty of opportunities to talk to and dance with Prince Thadindor, and her opinion of him dropped a notch. Handsome he might be, but his attitudes on certain issues were typical of male noblemen--disdain towards those of lower rank, and the feeling that women were inferior to men, that their only use was for marriage and producing children. He never actually said as much, but it was painfully obvious through some of his harmless little comments, and the tone of his voice when he said them.
The later it got, the more and more uncertain she became about the Prince, and whether or not she really wanted to marry him. True, he was devastatingly handsome; she could feel her heart pound every time he gave her one of those warm smiles, or gazed at her admiringly with those startlingly blue eyes. But she hated to think of what would happen if he ever discovered she was really just a scullery maid, despite his reassurances that he would still be attracted to her no matter of rank. And besides that, she knew she despised his attitude about women.
Yet, who knew; once he had time to get used to the idea, he hadn't really seemed to mind the fact that she wore breeches and rode astride; had in fact seemed rather intrigued by her audacity.
And at the same time, she could tell he was quite arrogant and selfish, in a way only royalty could be. Despite his having told her that he hated having everyone bow and suck up to him whenever they got the chance, once they were back in the ballroom, he seemed to expect it of everyone and take it for granted. She knew she didn't want someone for a husband who expected that of people, and for some reason, with that thought her mind flashed back to Bardic, and she remembered how uncomfortable he had been when she had treated him with all the formality due a Bard.
With the thought of Bardic came a sudden and overwhelming wave of homesickness, and in that moment, she would have given anything just to be back in her campsite, with the faeries, with Bardic, with the ones that had become the only family she had.
She didn't have time to be homesick for long, as the Prince came to her again and led her again out to the gardens, the two again taking up their past seat by the fountain. Feeling awkward once more, she let her hand trail in the water slowly, creating ripples wherever it went, ripples that spread out to the farthest reaches of the pool.
Looking up at the gigantic clock that hung on the side of a tower far above the grand hall, she realized it was almost midnight, and stared. Where in the world had all the hours gone? Blinking, she looked back at the Prince. "I...it's almost midnight. I mean, I should be going."
"Why?" he asked lazily, stretching out luxuriously. "The party is going to go on for several more hours, at least. There's no reason you should leave now."
"I know, but...I mean, I'm not used to staying out this late. I shouldn't--well, I'm already getting tired."
"Nonsense." He smiled warmly, taking her hand in his. "I still have yet to choose my bride, and what in the world am I going to do if my bride has already left?"
She blinked, staring at him, able to feel her heart pounding in her chest. "What...what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." He raised her gloved hand to his lips, softly depositing a kiss upon the back of her hand. "I'm here to choose my bride--and I'm going to choose you." Leaning over, he tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head away, and his lips landed instead upon her cheek.
Heart hammering wildly, all she could do was stammer, knowing she had to sound like the simpleton Lianne and Anastasia had always told her she was. "I--I mean--you--but--why--I mean--just--well--but--you--you can't marry me!" she at last blurted out. "I mean--I'm not--I'm not a--a proper wife, for, for you! I mean, I, I wear breeches, and I ride, I ride horses, ride them astride, like a man, I'm not--"
He shushed her, placing a single finger delicately against her lips. "Shh. I couldn't care less about all of that. And I will marry you, I don't care what anyone else might say about it." Leaning over, he ensured she stayed silent by kissing her fully on the lips.
Rella froze, going entirely stiff as he placed his arms around her and pulled her up to her chest. The kiss lasted far longer and was far more intense than Rella would have liked, and she pulled away as soon as she dared and stood, shaking.
"I--I mean--what--what if...what if I don't want to marry you?" she at last managed to get out, stuttering and shivering, although she wasn't cold.
He frowned, looking at her in a confused sort of way. "What do you mean, what if you don't want to marry me? You're here, aren't you?"
Glaring at him, she took a deep breath and at last let herself go. "I only came here because Emerald and Ruby and Bardic wanted me to, I didn't even want to come here! I'm not a--I'm not a proper noble and I look horrible in this dress! And I think, while you are extremely handsome, you are arrogant, rude, ignorant, selfish, stuck-up, and spoiled, and I do not want to marry you!" Gulping, she remembered who she was talking to and shut up.
Great going, Rella, just great, she chided herself mentally, still shivering. Now you've ticked off the Prince, just great! He could have you beheaded if he wanted to, just for refusing to marry him, much less calling him arrogant, rude, ignorant, selfish, stuck-up, and spoiled, no matter whether he is or not!
But Prince Thadindor was just staring at her, shocked. "You--what--how--"
He sounds like me, Rella thought. She would have laughed if the occasion hadn't been so serious.
At last he took a breath and stood, glaring back at her. "I am not arrogant, or rude, or selfish, or--or anything else! And--and if you didn't want to marry me, you shouldn't even have come to this ball! Dammit, I am going to marry you, whether you like it or not!"
She glared at him coldly, beyond all emotion except for anger and indignation. "Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try!"
That said, she turned and began to stroll, deceptively calm, back to the ballroom. She heard the Prince rise behind her, and heard his footsteps, and broke out into a run. The Prince's footsteps increased behind her; she dashed through the ballroom, knowing the two of them were attracting stares, but not caring.
Trying to run down the small flight of stairs halfway through the ballroom, she tripped, falling and nearly twisting her ankle. One of her shoes fell off; cursing, she shoved off the other slipper and stood, leaving them where they were. Hiking up her heavy, encumbering skirts, ignoring the silence and stares everyone else was giving her, she began to run on bare feet towards the exit, the Prince constantly behind her.
Cursing fluently, she continued to run, heading towards the stables. Sliding to a stop nearby where her horses and coach were parked, she looked around for Emerald.
The faerie was apparently nowhere in the stables. "Emerald!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.
No answer, and the Prince's running footsteps were close behind her.
Cursing once more, using the colorful vocabulary she had picked up from listening to her father and some of his clients, she hiked up her skirts once more and began to run once more, abandoning all hope of finding Emerald and escaping from here in her coach. Turning, she ran towards the forest on the eastern side of the castle; she knew that they went beyond the boundaries of the castle, and the gate didn't go through them.
Once inside the forest, she had something of an advantage in their strange chase; not exactly that she knew how to be quiet in the woods, but the Prince was even worse than she was. She could have heard him a mile away, breaking twigs, rustling bushes, and cursing loudly as branches caught in his hair.
She ran for what seemed like an eternity, and yet it was over amazingly fast. Her feet had begun to hurt a while ago, and she was amazed that the Prince was still chasing her, wanting to catch her and--and what? Drag her back to the castle and force her to marry him?
Before she had long to ponder what the Prince would do to her when he caught up with her, she knew. Tired, she had begun to slow, and the Prince had been growing ever closer for the past several minutes. At last, he caught up to her; breathing heavily with the exertion of running for so long, he ran straight into her, knocking the both of them over into a nearby bush.
She let out a yelp as the bush's thorns scratched her, and then yelled again as the Prince hit her in the side of the face, so hard that her head whipped to one side, and she was sure there was a red mark on the side of her face. The Prince began to struggle to his feet; she did her best to climb to her feet, but the bushes hindered her progress, and the Prince grabbed her by the arms before she could manage to run. Turning her around, he hit her again, on the other side of the face.
Hands grasping at the back of her dress, he tried awkwardly to find some clasp or way of unbuckling it; realizing at last what the Prince was planning to do to her, she gasped in a mix of horror, shock, outrage, and fear, and did her best to wrestle out of his grasp and escape.
The only thing she succeeded in doing was ripping the bodice of her dress, and ripping the hem as she stepped on it. Turning back towards him, she swung her hand upwards, striking him in the side of the head as hard as she could manage.
He let go of her for a moment; turning, she ran, but fell to her knees, tripping again on the too-long hem of her dress. He was on her immediately, shoving her to the ground. Hand groping in the dirt, she found a heavy rock and flung her hand upward, smashing him in the forehead with a rock and flinging dirt into his eyes.
Climbing to her feet, she ran again, but he caught up to her far too quickly. He started to hit her again, over and over, until her ears were ringing and her head was numb from the repeated blows. She felt tears running down her cheeks, but didn't care in the shadow of the mind-numbing fear that had taken root upon discovering what the Prince wanted with her.
He beat her senseless, hit her until she couldn't fight back. She struggled weakly, but still he managed to rip apart the shreds of her dress that remained, leaving her naked, cold, scared, and defenseless. Staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes as he began to unbuckle his belt, she saw him smile, coldly and cruelly and completely unlike the warm, kind smiles he had given her earlier.
"What do you mean you don't know where she is?!"
"Just what I said," Emerald informed him, undaunted in the face of the Bard's indignation. "I wasn't in the stable for a while, and when I came back around midnight, I did a scrying spell to check inside the ballroom. She wasn't there. I don't know where she is."
"Can't you faeries do something, find her? Track her down with your magic?"
She shook her head. "No. If we had something of hers, that had been hers for a long time, to track her with, we could--a lock of hair is the traditional thing. But as it is, we can't."
Scowling, he began to pace. "What the hell is your stupid faerie magic good for if you can't even find her when she's missing, then?!"
"Not much, sometimes," Ruby spoke up, looking sad. "You two...I'm worried. Wherever Rella is, I think she's in trouble. Big trouble."
Long after the Prince tired of her and left, she lay there, sprawled naked in the mud, tears running down her cheeks. She hurt--hurt all over. She kept reliving it all inside her head--how much it had hurt, how she had whimpered in pain, and how he had ignored her, his only reply his moans of pleasure. How he had at last tired of her, pulled his pants back on, and left, leaving her alone in the mud. How much she still ached. How much she felt as though she had been ripped apart, and how she felt as though he had raped her mind and soul as well as her body.
She lay there for hours, sobbing, unable to think of anything, anything at all except for how much she hurt. At last, she cried herself to sleep, still laying, naked, sprawled ungracefully into the mud.