Prison Princess

words felt significant when compared to the opportunity to escape. So instead, I wrapped my fingers in his because I couldn’t bring myself to consider elsewise. I was really doing this.
His skin was rough and coarse like he spent most of his life working with his large hands. He had a strong grip too, squeezing me tightly as if he was terrified I’d let go and scream.
Part of me wanted to.
If I didn’t do this, nothing would change. At least now—even if it went poorly and I was punished—tonight something different had happened. A chance was better than nothing at all.
He nodded to me, a piece of his black hair covering his eyes.
“Hold tight. This is going to hurt.”
What was going to hurt?
I never got the chance to ask, because the world seemed to fold onto itself and then do it again. We were spinning, jolting, and being thrown around. For a second, I wondered if I was going to blackout. I’d never fainted in my life. I wasn’t really that type of person. If bad shit was going to happen, I wanted to be awake to see it head on because being unconscious meant you were vulnerable. I still could see myself keeling over.
Cypress was absolutely right. This...hurt. Badly. It was like a million stinging nettles—I knew about those because they’d come in on a goblin once—attacking me at the same time. I cried out. My body shook with overwhelming pain. It was as if my skull fractured and squished—like my brain was dripping out of my nose and onto the floor. I couldn’t focus on one singular thing, but I could feel Cypress’s hand. He had a vise-like hold on me. I let out a scream as we moved, and he pulled me closer to his body. I grounded myself against the virtual stranger and cried against his muscular chest.
And then, just as fast as it started, it was over. The second my body landed on solid ground, my lungs expanded, and I released the pressure that had built behind my rib cage. I blinked a few times to orient myself. Where the hell were we?
Once my vision cleared and I realized I was flat on my back, I slowly looked around. We were in a field. I recognized it from books an old swamp witch had snuck into my cell in exchange for a lock of my hair. I used to stare at the pictures for days on end, wondering if I'd ever get to see it in person. Tall grass kissed at my skin, brushing softly against me in tenderness. I ran my fingers along the blades as tears filled my eyes. I’d never even seen grass, let alone experienced its growth on my skin. The courtyard where they allowed me to roam was nothing but dirt and sand.
I blinked twice and drew my attention to the sky. My stomach was still reeling from whatever magic Cypress had performed. The moon—oh my heavens, the moon—hung above my head, and as I lay on my back staring at the sky, it was all I could focus on. I’d wanted to see the moon tonight, and there it was.
Bright. Brilliant. Bold and beautiful. The moon hung gracefully in the air like a beacon. I couldn’t stop staring; it was like time held its breath for me and the goddess hanging above.
“Up, Princess,” Cypress shot out, dragging me out of my musings. My entire soul seemed to scream at the intrusion of his cold voice. “We can’t linger here. You were safer in that prison. They’ll probably kill both of us without care.”
His words didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t ever technically committed a crime. Escaping prison was my first ever offense, and if I were being honest, it was liberating to actually do something illegal. Now, I was worthy of the cell they put me in.
“If they catch me, they’ll lock me up tighter. Not kill me,” I scoffed. If there was one thing my observations at Nightmare taught me, it was that I was valuable. Guards that were too rough with me were swiftly fired. I wasn’t included in the regular torture that other inmates experienced—but I didn’t escape all of it either. I wasn’t starved, broken, or beaten. No, my torture was all psychological. They denied me interaction with others. They denied me a change of scenery. Some days, I would have traded a broken arm just to feel the wind on my face and the touch of another. Death wasn’t the sentence for me, ever, but when I was lonely and miserable, I wished for it.
“There are worse things than prison officials. Trust me on this. We have to get you to the castle. Your father’s wards prevent me from doing that directly. Up. Now. Don’t make me carry you. I won’t be gentle.”
I struggled to my feet, and it was only when he put his hand on my arm that I was sure I wasn’t going to pass out. I stole one last glance at the sky. “The moon is so beautiful.”
“It’s the Hunter’s Moon. I’m not surprised it speaks to you. But you have your entire life to look at it. Whether that life is short or long depends in part on how well you listen.”
I swallowed. “Cypress...I really don’t understand what’s going on.” True to his word, he’d gotten me out of Nightmare, but for what purpose?
“Shit.” He looked left and right. “I can keep you alive, or I can give you answers. I’m choosing to keep you alive.” With his hand on my arm, he pulled me along. His hold wasn’t biting, but neither was it comfortable. Not particularly. “Move, Layne.”
I stumbled but followed him. Like earlier, there really wasn’t a choice to do anything else. “Why did my parents send you?” I asked in a low whisper. The wet dew on the grass tickled at my ankles, and my exposed flesh buzzed as if the moon coaxed tingling pleasure into