Chapter 1 – The Princess

At her aunt’s order, the guards threw Princess Lillia Ashvalin through the dungeon door.

There was no floor.

She fell.

“No. No. No. Please!”

She hit the stone, and the last word broke against her teeth.

Above, laughter. Not murmuring or unease. Laughter.

“No! Otto! Sven! Please don’t—”

The door creaked as it slammed.

“Please…”

The bolt clicked into place.

Metal ground into stone.

Then no one said her name.

Darkness fell. Grey. Black. Pitch.

The princess remained on her knees at the bottom of the pit, staring up at where she thought the door was.

They would be back for her. Her aunt was trying to teach her a lesson. Scare her a little. She always stopped before it went too far.

This was not, strictly speaking, abandonment.

Even now, Lillia adjusted her dress. Modesty still mattered, apparently, even in holes, even as the darkness was so deep it seemed to choke out sound itself. Everything—heartbeat, shallow breath, and the rustle of fabric—was muffled.

Lillia’s knees were getting sore. She could taste the blood where she’d bitten her cheek on the way down. How long had it been? Was she even looking at the door?

“Hello?” she squeaked.

The princess shifted, getting off her knees and moving to sit on the floor. Lillia paused. She didn’t want to sit directly on dirty stone, but she certainly couldn’t ruin her dress by sitting on it. Court would never recover from the scandal.

A droplet of water landed beside her and broke the silence. Lillia’s chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. How much air was in here? Could she—

“Anyone?” she asked.

Echoes answered.

Sitting and kneeling were cold, so Lillia stood. The princess blew into her palms to keep her fingers from going numb. She paced. Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

She’d count. That would help.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Back. Forth.

One thousand. She must have been counting too quickly. Right?

Back. Forth.

Eight thousand and thirty-six. Lillia was hungry now. Properly hungry. The chef had been planning something with the lamb. Or had that been yesterday? It was hard to say when she didn’t know what day it was anymore.

Back.

Twenty thousand. Eight hundred. Ninety-two.

Lillia stopped pacing and slumped against the stone wall. Her slippers bit into her heels. Of all the ways to die, it would be deeply embarrassing if it were the shoes.

Twenty thousand. Eight hundred. Ninety-three.

She could feel the pressure behind her eyes as they strained to see something, anything.

“Twenty thousand. Eight hundred… ninety…”

Lillia pulled her knees to her chest. Her dress scraped along the stone floor as she pressed herself against the wall. She wasn’t going to cry.

She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t supposed to cry. Her mother had told her to be strong, even when it was hard.

At the time, Lillia had only scraped her knee behind her father’s throne. The words had seemed stupid and hollow then.

Five years under her aunt had tested them properly. Lillia had bent. She had sobbed. She had cried out.

But there would never be tears.

It just hurt… trying to hold them back.

She couldn’t just stay in the corner and wait to be forgotten.

Lillia knew her castle. She knew every wall and secret tunnel that cut through its foundation.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

This wasn’t the castle’s dungeon. If it were, there would have been a secret passage in the northwest corner.

But secrets were still secrets.

Lillia stood and began to feel her way around the room. She tested each stone on the edge of the floor and the base of the wall with her heel. None of them moved, but that just meant she needed to try others.

The stones stopped, and Lillia found wood. She patted around and found the edge of a door. Just when she considered whether she was going to need to learn to kick in a door without ruining her slippers, she found the handle.

More surprising still, the handle turned without resistance. The door swung inward.

If this was a prison, Lillia had notes.

The light beyond was dim, but it burned Lillia’s starving eyes. She turned away from the source, staring at the floor and her shadow that now stretched across the room.

There was still a chance her aunt was coming back. Maybe Lillia hadn’t waited long enough. Maybe patience would be rewarded. Maybe good girls survived by staying where they were put.

Maybe.