3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale by Danbert Nobacon Read Free Book Online

What’s yours will be mine. And that includes your precious Morainian metals, deep in these hills.” He closed his eyes as if savoring her dowry already.
     
    That was a mistake.
     
    In that instant Stormy managed to wriggle partially free. Unseating the Prince, she forced her knees up in front of her, and with the tautness of a crossbow, kicked out with all her might. Her heels crunched into Mercurio’s ribs. He let out a surprised groan, and fell backwards.
     
    Stormy curled up in a defensive ball, burying her head in the bed, expecting the worst. Bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught …
     
    … A nonillionth of a moment become a nano-moment, that stretched and split. Those two nano-moments then elasticated and split again, like cells dividing and replicating. Four became eight; eight became sixteen, and so on exponentially … The attack never came. There was only silence.
     
    Slowly, very slowly, Stormy lifted her head and turned. Through her tears she looked and saw the Prince sprawled on the wooden floor, looking up with a fixed expression on his face, and a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. She saw blood on the bedpost. Then there was a banging on the door and shouting.
     
    Mechanically, Stormy lifted her legs over the side of the bed and began to walk, stepping around the dead prince, to the door. She slid the bolt back, opened the door, and stood aside as Gwynmerelda rushed in. Geraldo came behind her, quickly shutting the door behind him.
     

Chapter 8
     
    YOGA BREATH
     
    S tormy threw herself at Gwynmerelda, burying her head in the queen’s breast, as if by shutting her eyes tightly, she could make it all go away.
     
    The Queen took in the grisly scene with one look. “I knew it,” she said grimly. “That look on his face …”
     
    Geraldo bent over the Prince or, more accurately, what had been the Prince and said dispassionately, “Little bastard. He must have cracked his skull when you fought him off.”
     
    Stormy nodded mutely.
     
    “My fault,” said Gwynmerelda tensely. “We used you to gain time. But there’s no time now. We have to get you away from here.”
     
    “Can I sleep … can I come to your room?” the Princess whimpered.
     
    “No I mean, yes, come to my room, but we have to get you away … away from the castle … tonight.”
     
    “I’m afraid so, Stormy,” nodded Geraldo, as a look of bewildered horror crept across the Princess’s already confuzzled brow. “There is no seer living who could predict what the Oosarians might do now. We have to get you as far away and as fast as possible. For your own safety,” he continued, putting a finger to his lips and ushering them out of the room. Geraldo closed the door on the dead Prince.
     
    “Take Stormy downstairs,” he said, looking at Gwynmerelda.
     
    “Yes,” she whispered back. “You wake The Fool.”
     
    The Queen led Stormy quietly down the back staircase and into her own chamber, where she briskly checked through a knapsack she had hidden, already packed. Stormy watched, barely understanding what this meant. Had the Queen known the Oosarian visit would have unintended consequences?
     
    What Gwynmerelda really wanted to do was to fold the frightened Princess in her arms and reassure her. But for her own safety, Stormy would have to be able to stand on her own now. She had to learn she was alone. “Don’t stand there looking like a goggle bird, Girl,” she barked. “Move!”
     
    The harshness had its intended effect. Stormy angrily came out of her trance and set to work.
     
    “Packing for a camping trip, ladies?” The Fool stuck his head in the door. He had been pleasantly drunk and fast asleep, but the news that he must shortly leave sobered him up quick.
     
    Tearful goodbyes were out of the question. Gwynmerelda knew that any sign of sentiment now would only hamper Stormy. So with dry eyes and unyielding body, the Queen pushed Stormy and The Fool out into the