Author's note: Thanks to Rhapsody, Falco Conlon, Gypsy, and Ireland O'Reily for their reviews. You guys are great! I hope you enjoy this part as well.
A cloaked figure slipped through the early morning's darkness without a sound. With the heavy-eyed guards leaning against the walls of the palace in their losing battle against sleep, the young man was certain that he would make it to the stables without anyone suspecting a thing until he was miles away. Although his heart pounded madly in his chest at simultaneous thoughts of escape and capture, he barely dared to breathe for fear of alerting the palace of his flight.
He crept through the throne room, the moonlight bathing him in an ethereal glow as he moved. He only stopped once to gaze at the thrones, smirking triumphantly.
So much for a wedding by the end of the week, the young man thought with a silent chuckle, and then quietly rushed out of the palace without causing the slightest disturbance.
He was halfway to the stables when he caught sight of a pair of soldiers strolling towards him. He swiftly leapt into a shadowy corner and held his breath, praying that the two guardsmen would not notice his form pressed against the gray stones. He lowered the hood of his cloak to completely conceal his well-known features and waited.
"…and he says to me, 'You can't take both of 'em.' And I says, 'Oh, I thought you meant the dogs!'" the taller guard laughed loudly, his mouth barely visible under his rather large mustache.
The guards were so involved in their own conversation that they didn't even glance over to attempt to see the young man hidden in the darkness. He gave a heavy sigh of relief when the soldiers were out of earshot, then rolled his eyes at the severe lack of security surrounding the palace. He didn't know whether to be extraordinarily grateful or absolutely furious.
He was about to dash to the stables when he heard voices drift down from above him. His stomach dropped at his recognized those voices; they could be none other than Queen Mimic and King Dutchy, monarchs of New York.
"He has to learn to obey the crown and my orders," the king said ominously. "The marriage contract has already been signed."
"I understand that, Dutchy," Mimic replied, her voice unusually tight. "But I cannot agree that this is the right thing to do for him. He simply cannot be thrown into marriage in this stage of his life."
"In this stage of his life he has to realize his responsibilities. And I intend to tell him so immediately."
The young man could imagine the queen rolling her eyes. "Honestly, can't this wait until—"
Her inquiry was cut short when another voice entered the conversation. The man was evidently a young soldier, somewhat nervous in the presence of the king and queen for some reason. "Your highnesses," he began anxiously, "I regret to inform you that the prince is not…ah…that is to say…"
"Then say it," Mimic prompted shortly.
"Prince Spot is…missing, your majesties."
The young man felt his entire body tighten with anxiety. He did not dare to wait and listen to the rest of the conversation; instead he bolted to the stables and grabbed the first horse he could, a black mare fortunately known for its speed. Without taking the time to properly saddle the animal, he leapt onto its sleek back and rode madly to the palace gates. He could hear the clamor of the guards rushing to their own horses, preparing to capture him and bring him back to his personal prison.
"Not if I can help it," he said doggedly and rode faster still, not even daring to glance back to see if the soldiers were at his heels.
The cloaked boy did not realize how far he had traveled until he daylight was breaking and his horse slipped a shoe just outside of a small farm. Cursing madly, he found no alternative but to borrow one of the manor's horses; surely they would understand, and he would return it as soon as possible. He leapt onto the unfamiliar horse and was just considering his plan to be a rather good one when a sharp pain pierced through his skull.
*****
The sight of the cloaked figure riding her father's beloved horse had sent Luna into a calculated rage. Her auburn eyes were bright with fire as she tossed the apples to the damp ground and reached into her back pocket to extract her faithful slingshot. With expert ease she drew it back, aiming at her target as he and the horse flew across the orchard. Without a moment's hesitation she released and struck the thief directly in the head, spending him toppling to the ground and shouting in a combination of pain and surprise.
"You think you can steal my father's horse?!" she exclaimed and shot another marble at the figure who currently lay on the ground.
He cried out involuntarily and attempted to rise to his feet. "I'm not stealing it; I'm just—OW!—borrowing it, all right?!"
"Perfectly understandable," she growled facetiously and narrowed her eyes as she took aim yet again. "And you were just going to return it, were you?"
" Of—OW!—course. Will you quit that?!"
"I want to make sure you know never to come here again," she replied and was prepared to shot a fifth marble at him when he threw back his hood, revealing the infamous features of Prince Spot Conlon of New York. Luna's eyes widened in shock and her heart leapt into her throat. Without thinking, she dropped to her knees and avoided eye contact, praying that her punishment for attacking the heir to the thrown would not to be too severe.
"Forgive me, your highness, I was greatly mistaken," she said with as much calm as she could muster at that point in time.
Spot frowned at the girl before him, although he couldn't make out her features with her face bent toward the ground and her jet-black locks acting as a veil. Rubbing his head, he muttered, "You didn't mistake any of your shots though, did you?"
Luna's stomach twisted into a complicated knot. "I know the penalty for such an act is extremely harsh," she said solemnly, imagining gallows, beheadings, and dungeons without sunlight or fresh air.
If he were quite honest with himself, the prince had to admit that he had absolutely no idea what the punishment would be. He cleared his throat, rather taken back that a young servant girl would know more about the judicial system of his kingdom than he did. "Well, then," he said as he remounted the horse, "forget that you saw me here and, ah, I will forget that you, ah, pelted me."
"Yes, your highness," Luna murmured in relief and surprise, and knew enough to remain silent as the prince prepared to ride off with her father's horse.
He gazed at the horizon for a moment, a sight that was not lost on the young woman. She did not have time to consider this or the reason why the prince might feel the need to steal her horse, for Spot had extracted a heavy velvet purse from beneath his cloak. Tossing it to the ground in front of her, he explained briefly, "Take this in exchange for your discretion." Without another word, Spot directed the horse to the forest. Soon the galloping steed and its royal rider had disappeared behind the massive trees.
Luna lifted the purse with her right hand and did not need to look inside to know what it contained: gold coins, and from its weight a great amount as well. Her eyes traveled to the woods only once more before she realized that Medda and her stepsisters would be awake by now. She tucked the purse and her slingshot safely into her pocket before rushing off to do battle with another sort of enemy.
To be continued…please review!