Run, Hide, Kill

A cry rings out.

A red stain blooms on his chest, the arrow piercing through his leather armour. Perfect shot. The man falls, sword limp by his side. His eyes full of disbelief.

They never believe I can kill them — until I do.

…

Father used to tell me that I should let nothing get in my way. When things, people, nations were in his way, he would destroy them. He was powerful. He was the king.

Now, there were plenty of things that were in my way. Long court gowns, for example. The constant eyes of my ladies in waiting. Royal etiquette, the palace guards, the looming threat of a political marriage.

But these walls weren’t things I could burn down. I was the wealthiest girl in the kingdom, and yet I had almost no control in my own fate.

I say almost because I had one unauthorised skill I had been taught in the few moments we were alone.

I knew how to fight.

…

I silently race through the forest, ducking under mossy branches and leaping over ditches. My faded cloak flying, I skid around a boulder, pressing my back against the damp stone. My laboured breaths are louder than they should be.

I hear the other men crashing through the undergrowth, then their cries of alarm as they discover their dead comrade.

I poke my head out from behind the boulder. The two other men lean over their friend. Barely concealed terror on their faces.

There is that familiar twinge of regret. These men had families. They had lives. Most likely they didn’t even want to chase after me, but had been ordered to. They had no choice.

Just like I had no choice in my old life.

But it is only a matter of time before they find me. If they do, they will kill me instantly.

It is either me, or them.

Leaping out from behind the boulder in one swift motion, I reach over my shoulder to grab an arrow. Nocking the arrow to the bowstring, I draw back the string, aim, and release. With barely a pause, I do it again. The two arrows sail through the air almost parallel.

One of the men look up. His eyes meet mine. Unlike most of the other men I’d shot, his face is unscarred, without the signature marks of battle. He looks only a few years older than I.

I wish I can snatch the arrow out of the air, prevent it from sealing his fate. It’s too late.

Either me, or them.

Thunk. Thunk.

The shocked cries tear through the air, tugging at my heart. They don’t make as much effort to hide pain when they’re alone deep in the woods.

I turn away, desperately trying to swallow my remaining humanity. With each kill, it should be easier, but it isn’t.

My life or theirs.

I run.

…

It was nearly impossible to spend time alone with Ainsley. Those ladies in waiting never gave me a break. But the key word here is nearly. It wasn’t impossible, just difficult.

I was five or so years old when I first met him. He was a couple of years older than I, the son of a high ranking lord. As a five-year-old, I thought he was fascinating. He knew how to use a sword, and was learning archery.

Of course, I wanted him to teach me.

We lived in different parts of the castle, but we saw each other in the courtyard sometimes. He always carried his sword as a symbol of status or something like that, and I never passed up a chance for a lesson.

Within a few months, I knew use a sword quite effectively.

Next I wanted to learn archery.

But those nosy ladies in waiting started to pay more attention when Ainsley ‘borrowed’ a full sized bow from a suit of decorative armour, and a quiver of arrows and brought them into the courtyard.

On my first try, I shot an arrow straight through the dress of one of the ladies in waiting.

I was promptly banned from speaking to him ever again.

But I wanted to keep practicing my skills. I ‘borrowed’ a dagger that I found, the only swordlike weapon light enough for me to handle. I slew the velvet drapes with it. I then learned to climb up stone brick walls. After that, I slew more drapes, then ran laps around my bedroom before slaying them some more.

Father was most displeased when he discovered the drapes in my room were nothing more than shreds of velvet.

But more than anything, I wanted Ainsley to teach me archery.

I knew that Ainsley would be out in the children’s courtyard at this time of day. He would be unchaperoned, as he was only the son of a lord.

The children’s courtyard was directly below my window.

It was one of those rare moments when whoever was chaperoning me wasn’t paying close attention. In this case, the lady happened to be dozing off on a chair.

I didn’t hesitate. I clambered out onto the windowsill. Placing one foot firmly into a gap in the wall, I began climbing down. From the second story. I was six years old, and I felt no fear. I had no need to.

It was windy, and I pressed myself close against the stone. One foot at a time. One hand at a time. Slowly descending, but gaining confidence.

“Valley!” Ainsley cried from below. “What are you…”

His voice trailed away. But somehow, as I climbed down the wall, I knew he was grinning.

Once my feet touched the grassy courtyard and I turned to face Ainsley, I was proven correct.

“Hello, Ainsley,” I said. I knew I was smiling too. “Archery lesson?”

Ainsley laughed. “Well, you—” he broke into laughter again. “That was amazing. Okay, I’ll get my bow.”

…

I am deep in the forest, where barely any light can be seen. Yet I know where I am going.

In front of me is a dense wall of greenery, seemingly impassable. I know better. I push through the foliage, emerging into a leafy hollow like I had so many times before. There, hidden behind a bush, is my tent.

I cross the hollow, stepping over the cold campfire. I duck into my cloth tent and peel off my cloak. I unclip my sword belt, my old dagger still hanging from it in its sheath. Shaking out my long hair, I lie down on the worn mat that has served as my bed for months. Only then I allow myself a huge sigh of exhaustion.

Running, hiding, running again. It is what I get for being an outlaw. Always being careful not to be caught.

As long as I am careful, I will not be caught. Not one man has crossed me and lived to tell the tale. But now? The whole kingdom is chasing me. Nowhere within a thousand furlongs is safe.

Well, so be it.

My thoughts wander, flying free. They swirl into the rustling canopy, blurring with the leaves.

Wake up at dawn.

I close my eyes, letting myself drift apart from the cold reality of the world.

…

I was fifteen. And I was leaving the kingdom forever.

I was going to a small, neighbouring kingdom for the dreaded marriage. I knew nothing about my betrothed except that he was a young king in his early twenties, and that he was only marrying me to form an allegiance with my much more powerful father.

Father insisted upon me being transported in a litter. I’d been in a litter a few times before, and I despised it. For long journeys, it was suspended between two horses. It was an uncomfortable, bumpy, absolutely ridiculous way to travel. But he insisted that I was too delicate to ride a horse.

Ha! As if.

After farewelling Father, the ladies, and my various royal brothers, I was taken out to the parade.

I was in the centre of the procession, surrounded by all those watchful ladies in waiting. The trumpeters in front, knights and armed men surrounding all of the ‘important’ people. The amount of staff and knights needed to ‘protect’ me was quite ridiculous.

The only thing that gave me a small amount of comfort was that Ainsley was one of the knights surrounding me.

It was a long, tiresome trip. Nothing happened. We stayed at the homes of nobles and such. A few of brigands foolishly tried to attack us, and failed. I was bored half to death.

Once we arrived at the castle which would soon be my home for life, Ainsley managed to speak to me for a moment.

“Valley, I got you something,” Ainsley said. I leaned closer to him from that hated litter. My eyes widened.

He’d found my gold-hilted dagger.

The one I’d stolen and learnt to fight with, when it was more of a lance to me because I was so small. It was still hanging from the leather belt.

“Where did you find it?” I said, taking it from him. “I lost it years ago.”

“It was back in the armoury,” Ainsley said. “I found it when I was getting my sword for this trip.”

“Thank you.” I wanted to suffocate him in a hug, like I used to when we were younger. But that would cause a scandal. I looked down.

Ainsley studied my face for a moment. “Well, this is probably goodbye,” he said. He smiled ruefully. “I…don’t think I’ll be able to talk to you after this. Since you’ll be the queen, climbing out the window isn’t going to work anymore.”

I returned the smile. It was a smile that always worried him. Last time I’d smiled like that, I climbed the wall of the four-storey keep and ended up on the roof. I wasn’t allowed out of my quarters for a week after that.

“Oh, I’m not going to be queen,” I said emphatically. “I’m taking to the forest.”

Ainsley’s eyes widened. For a moment, I thought he was excited.

No, he was horrified.

“You mean you’re running away?” Ainsley said. He grabbed my hand, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t even meant to be talking to me in the first place. “You can’t. That forest is dangerous. It’s full of outlaws. Please don’t, Valley. Don’t leave me. Don’t go into the woods.”

He was staring deep into my eyes, searching desperately for a slither of hesitation. “I’m sorry,” I said. I squeezed his hand tighter.

For a moment, I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to be able to talk to Ainsley freely, hold his hand without having to check over my shoulder every minute for fear of being watched.

But here I was, barreling on towards a future I didn’t want. I could only see one way out.

I let go of Ainsley’s hand.

I drew the curtains of the litter shut, sealing me into a stuffy, perfume scented box.

I stripped off my red and gold bridal gown, cutting the laces because I couldn’t be bothered to unlace it. Underneath, I was wearing a short brown tunic.

The good thing about bridal dresses and litters is that it’s easy to hide stuff in there. I already had a full sized sword at my hip. I fastened the dagger next to it. I pulled off my delicate slipper, grabbing my sturdy leather boots out from under the pillows. My forest green blanket was actually my cloak. And most importantly, I’d also stored my favourite bow, and a quiver bursting with arrows under the pillows.

I peeped out from between the curtains. No one was watching.

I pulled the hood up to hide my face, then slid out from the litter.

I blended in with the crowd. Quite a lot of the guardsmen and knights were wearing similar green cloaks. Ainsley was a little way away. I slid up to his side.

“Ainsley,’ I hissed.

He started. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth when he realised it was me. “You know, no one would ever guess you’re a princess.”

“I was never meant to be a princess,” I said. I leant on his shoulder. I knew I’d probably never see him again. “I was meant to be a warrior.”

He touched a rough hand to my cheek. His eyes were glistening. “Be careful. Go.”

I disappeared into the woods.

…

My eyes flick open. I am instantly alert. It is still dark.

Something is wrong.

There. A slight rustle. Too quiet for a large animal, but too cautious for a small one. Then, the slight clink of chainmail armour.

Someone is out there.

I need to get out of the tent before the person finds and corners me. I clip my sword belt round my waist, grabbing my cloak and pulling the hood up over my eyes. I fasten the quiver of arrows to my back, reaching for my bow. With that, I step out into the night.

“Who goes there?” I shout, my voice ringing through the forest. It is important to show the enemy that you are confident.

The rustling stops, but I can hear breathing coming from my left. I turn. There is a dark, person-sized shadow between the trees. The moonlight reflects off a streak of silver in their hands.

I raise my bow, nocking an arrow. The bow creaks slightly as I draw the bowstring back.

Once again, I hesitate. I don’t know who they are. Even though their sword is drawn, I don’t know if they want to kill me.

Everyone wants to kill me.

Father used to tell me that I should let nothing get in my way. Not things, not people, not nations. Not hesitation.

I release the arrow.

At the same moment, they speak. My breath catches in my throat. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t scream for them to duck, to get out of the way. Because I know that voice anywhere.

“Valley?”

The arrow rips the air in half.

Ainsley continues, unaware. His voice is alight with hope. “Is it you—ow!”

Thunk.

I’d hit him.

“Valley,” Ainsley gasps. “What did you do?”

I run to his side, dropping to my knees. His face is ghostly pale in the moonlight, body crumpled up on the ground. The long arrow is lodged just under his heart, quivering.

“I—I don’t know,” I whisper. I grab his limp hand, holding onto him like I can tether him to this world. The world swims, tears pooling in my eyes.

No. I never cry. Never.

But this was Ainsley.

“Leave me,” Ainsley says, voice low with pain. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. “Run. They’re coming. The Bridgefeld Guard.”

Oh no. This is what I’d always feared. “The Bridgefeld Guard?”

“Yes.” Ainsley pauses, drawing a sharp breath.

The Bridgefeld Guard. Trained soldiers, sent to deal with only the most dangerous outlaws. I can handle unarmored, unskilled men. But soldiers?

I can’t about the soldiers. I can’t leave him. “How—how did you find me?”

“I’ve been searching,” Ainsley says hoarsely. His voice is faint, slipping away. “I haven’t stopped.”

“Ainsley…” my voice trails away.

“Don’t stop running,” he whispers.

He gazes deep into my eyes. I try to say something back, but my words stick in my throat, and I choke a little. I can’t see his face anymore. My tears blur him into a swirl of colours.

He takes one last shuddering breath.

He is gone.

My tears mingle with his blood as I kneel at his side, trembling as silent sobs rack my body. What just happened? What have I done?

What have I done?

I don’t know how long I stay there. Time stretches unnaturally, every second possessing the weight of a year.

I don’t hear them until they are close. The pounding footsteps, the Bridgefeld Guard running through the forest at full speed. There are a lot of them.

I look down. I am still clutching Ainsley’s lifeless hand so tightly that my own hand is numb. I have to let go.

I let go.

I stumble to my feet, gripping my bow so hard that it is surprising it isn’t shattering in my hand.

I turn away from him, taking a deep breath. I can’t keep looking back.

I have to keep running.

I won’t stop.

I can’t stop.

I never will.