Escapade

Iris glared at the senescent tower’s plain ceiling in frustration, and the isolated, dry, oak bedframe creaked under her weight as she got out of bed. She couldn’t remember what day it was, or even the time for that matter.

The monitor orb floating inches below the conical spire and her ankle monitor flickered occasionally to update her status in the prison tower. Iris guessed that it sent reports on her every hour or so, but she couldn’t bother to calculate the exact time it took to update. Iris spent every night watching the sun set and keeping track of how many days had passed. She tallied that this was her fourteenth day stuck in captivity.

Iris sluggishly walked over to the open window and fell to the concrete stone ledge, letting the cool night wind gently brush her black hair. The refreshing breeze calmed her nerves a smidge, but she was still frustratingly resentful over the treacherous witch that fooled her and Calais straight back into her father’s nefarious hands.

She stared in awe at the hazy band of speckled light in the night sky and caught a glimpse of a shooting star. Iris raised an inquisitive eyebrow because she knew wishing upon a star was simply an unnecessary superstition. Even though she knew, she closed her eyes and she wished for a life beyond this uncanny palace she reluctantly called home.

She sucked in the scent of the old prison tower. The musty stone, the nearly rotten wood support beams, and of course, the pungent smell of cloying lilacs that bloomed in late spring. She loved the flowery scent, but that was practically the only thing she loved here. The entire palace reeked of lilacs in spring, as it often overtook the putrid stench of excrement and filth.

She tried to leave on her first day here by pounding her booted foot into the door, but moments later she was shocked by the ankle monitor from the orb that detected her loud cries for freedom.

Minutes before she was captured, she told Calais to run away from the knights that were sent to retrieve them because he was the one her father wanted most. She desperately wanted to escape and see him again. But if she were caught, then her father would inaugurate some ingenious way of locking her away from society thrice more.

Soft, discernable chirps snapped Iris from her reverie. She listed her head in confusion.

“I-t-s m-e.” It was Morse code.

Realization flashed across Iris’s pale face and she instantaneously brightened. She hastily looked around the tower’s base and surrounding structures stations and chirped back,

“T-h-e c-o-a-s-t i-s c-l-e-a-r.”

“Calais!” She lowly whispered. The rustling of movement in the deep brush prompted Iris to lean over the stone ledge in anticipation. Calais’s dark clothing camouflaged most of his presence, but his tousled lavender hair fluttered brightly like the clusters of lilacs he’d emerged from.

Although she was ecstatic to see him, anger crept up behind her and reminded her that she waited for him for two eonian weeks. Maybe even longer. She waited for him every day, stared into the courtyard, and expected him to pop out of the bushes with her key to freedom. She released a wobbly sigh. Her anger was momentary, and the crave of his gentle presence overflowed her desire to claw his eyes out.

“I’m sorry for taking so long.” Calais said and treaded through the freshly trimmed grass without breaking eye contact. He was ten paces away from the tower’s base. With a sly smile, he reached into his pocket and revealed the dozens and dozens of golden keys that could unlock every room in the entire palace. Iris hung her jaw in surprise.

“What—how did you get that?” Iris whisper shouted. Calais grinned and didn’t bother to answer her question. He gestured toward the nearest entrance, a door that led to the main hall, the library, and the other three prison towers. Back when Iris stole her father’s set of spare keys and freed Calais, she dropped them near the witch’s cottage when the knights came searching for them, and she’d immediately given up hope of ever finding them again.

A loud knock on the tower’s door reverberated throughout the stone walls. Iris furiously shook her head and swayed her hand to signal that he should retreat back into the lilacs. She heard the shuffle of a key in the lock. Iris crawled back into her bed and meekly shouted for the intruder to come in as if they would need her permission.

One of the palace maids, Cetara, gracefully opened the door and stepped inside. It unnerved Iris how she didn’t even hear her dainty footsteps traipsing up the stairs. Iris awkwardly stared and felt Cetara’s aura of growing suspicion.

“How did who get what?” She folded her hands together impatiently.

“Um—the orb…got my location.” She deadpanned. Cetara squinted her youthful pink eyes and stepped forward.

“I’m going to have to alert your father in case you misbehave,” Cetara sternly said, with a hidden tone of softness. “Your stepmother’s coronation is scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and he wants you there. He wishes to speak with you about a different matter as well.”

“What?! I thought it was supposed to be a month away. Why so early?” Iris raised a brow in disconcertment. She let the words sink in. Iris’ throat constricted. The witch’s betrayal and now this?

Abella craved the throne and would go lengths to get what she wants. Now that Iris was imprisoned, it was the perfect time to become queen. She didn’t even give a care in the world about war or politics, which was obvious when Iris studied her at the royal conference. All she did was pick at her nails and sigh.

Iris’ stomach twisted in rage. The moment she becomes queen, Abella would waste no time in tormenting Iris; she would be a puppet, and Abella—the puppeteer. If Abella, whom was a million times worse than her father, knew that she was plotting to escape, she would tell her father some sickening way of keeping strict control over Iris. She managed to narrowly avoid the political marriage prior because of her escape, but now she’s merely malleable clay in her father and Abella’s hands.

Cetara seemed to notice her terror and her lips opened but closed again. Cetara shifted in her spot.

“I’m sorry, Iris. I promised myself I wouldn’t ever betray you, but I don’t want to be executed.” Cetara moved forward and reached into her puffy black maid uniform. She pulled out a strangely shaped device that looked like the semi-translucent orb above her. She kneeled and aimed it at Iris’ ankle. By instinct, Iris withdrew her limb like it were a hot stove.

She mouthed, “Scream.”

Iris hesitated but obeyed once she caught on. Iris screamed.

 Cetara gripped her ankle and Iris knew that she was trying hard to be inconspicuous. With a click, the ankle monitor fell off, and as quick as it was released, she snapped it back together and hid it under her bedsheet.

Cetara handed her a yellowed sheet of paper.

I will tell you everything later. Try and move the ankle monitor around every so often so this doesn’t seem suspicious. Don’t leave until the morning. Your father is going to arrive here at ten. Leave after he’s done speaking with you.

Cetara stood up and stared at her, her eyes illuminated with pride. Iris finished reading the note and stared at her with a confused expression.

She turned on one heel and without waiting for a mouthed reply, she swiftly shut the door, locked it, and retreated down the hall that connected to the several other halls and rooms. Iris noticed that she had an air of confidence, one that she definitely didn’t have before.

She waited a few minutes for Cetara to leave until she could communicate with Calais again.

She tiptoed over to the ledge and peered over in search of a lavender head. She whistled a series of notes that translated to,

“A-r-e y-o-u t-h-e-r-e?”

She waited and hoped he hadn’t left her. Iris couldn’t stop staring into the bush of lilacs that surrounded the entire palace. When she waited for minutes and heard no return of the low whistles, she groaned and crawled back into bed.

Her thoughts wandered to Cetara’s motives and why she wanted to help her. She mentioned that her father is coming tomorrow morning to speak to her, but she couldn’t deduce why he wanted to see her now instead of her first day in captivity. Maybe it has something to do with Abella’s coronation.

Head aching from all the recent events thrown all at once, she turned over and closed her eyes. Although she’d rather have a life outside of this kingdom, having her father and Abella pay for what they’ve done is more important to her, and now that she was a step closer, her damned political marriage must be avoided.

                                                    ♥♥♥

“Iris! Iris!’”

A pair of firmly grasped hands shook Iris until she returned to consciousness. Iris ogled at the person who interrupted her first good sleep she’s had in weeks. Tousled lavender hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and the dark clothing he uses for hunting.

It was Calais.

He stopped shaking her, but his hands remained on her shoulders. His head whipped around to detect any open-eyed witnesses.

“Now you show up?” Iris scoffed. “It doesn’t take weeks to find keys.” She swiftly sat up, folded her arms, and pretended to be fuming. But inside, she felt differently. She looked over his bent posture and noticed that the door was a crack open.

“Yes, it does. It only took me a day to search for the actual bundle of keys, and the other days, well—that’s a secret for later.” He smirked. “Come on, I know you want to get out of here.” He straightened himself and held out his calloused hand.

Iris’s eyes softened and she didn’t hesitate to take his hand. The moment she stood up, she wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled her face into his chest. Calais’s fingers caressed her fine, dark hair. His other arm was wrapped around her waist and Iris let herself sink into his warmth.

“I’ve missed you.” She mumbled.

“I know, I’ve missed you too.” He planted a kiss on her head. “I know I said this already, but I’m really sorry I took so long.” He released her. She was displeased with the short embrace.

“We really have to get going, the orbs may have reported that I’m here with you already. I can’t say anything here, but I promise I’ll explain everything to you soon.” She yearned for Calais’s warmth again.

The door swung wide open, and Iris leaped back. She gawked in surprise. The perpetrator wasn’t her father. She was flabbergasted by the shiny armour and monolithic sword. They were covered from head to toe in palatial silver and the only sense of human she could trace was their daunting grey eyes.

Iris blinked, and like a startling shock she realized this man was lieutenant-colonel Vassellon. This was the man who created all the ankle monitors and orbs in the four prison towers. And the communication orbs and surveillance orbs.

“Have you come to try and execute me?” Iris sneered.

He didn’t speak, and Iris remembered the detached ankle monitor that wasn’t connected to her anymore.

“My sincerest apologies, mademoiselle Vespertine, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.” His smooth, yet cruel voice sent chills down her spine. He pointed his sword at Calais, and Iris scooted towards him.

The second he took a step forward, Calais wrapped one arm around her protectively and used the other to release a sphere of scorching hot water around Sir Vassellon. He bellowed and flailed around inside. He tried to use his sword as a means to slice the water.

“Iris! We have to jump!” Calais roughly took her hand and led her to the ledge of the tower.

“Jump? From this height? Are you insane?”

“Yes!” Calais kneeled and gestured for Iris to climb onto his back. If Iris looked down, she would surely pass out.

Sir Vassellon’s sword jutted out of the steamy sphere and thrust it into the door. He used his metal plated hands to his advantage and gripped the sword towards him like it was a climbing rope.

“Hurry!” Iris shouted. Sir Vassellon broke through the sphere and it popped and spilled all over the stone floor.

Calais cursed, then counted down from three and leaped out of the open window. Iris sealed her eyes shut.

Iris screamed into Calais’s back.

Sir Vassellon sprinted towards the ledge in a wasted effort to try and grab Iris. He growled and punched the hard stone.

To her dismay, they were submerged inside numerous water spheres that were vertically aligned to soften their landing. Iris throat was clogged with warm water and she squirmed in desperation for air. When they sunk down to the ground, all of the spheres collapsed and poured onto the grass.

She fell to the ground and coughed up the fluid in her lungs. Calais rubbed her back. Iris caught her breath and intertwined her fingers in the fresh earth. She was sick and tired of smelling the musty tower everyday. She wiped her drenched hair from her face and peered up at the window.

Sir Vassellon was frozen in his spot. His armour melted off his body like hot wax. Iris squinted in confusion. Underneath all that silver he wore a black tunic and black pants. He had wavy brown hair and a tall, muscular build. His face began to droop, and his flawless skin melted off his face and body.

“Calais, it was a trick.”

“You don’t say?”

Venomous orange eyes pierced into Iris’ soul. Their ruby, red lips curled in disdain. It was Abella. Before there was a muscular man, and now a dangerously beautiful woman with pronounced curves and honey-blonde curls. Her mahogany dress swayed as she leaned on the ledge and smiled cunningly.

Iris was stunned. She glared at Abella with delirium. If she were watching over her this entire span of weeks, then who knows what could happen to Cetara.

“Iris, this isn’t good. We have to go.” Calais lightly said with a masked tone of hatred.

Iris longer she looked at Abella, the more upset her stomach became. She turned around so fast that her wet hair clapped against her face. She followed Calais into the lilac brush. They both began to run through the bushes and ignored the twigs that slapped against their soaked bodies.

Calais slowed to a jog and rounded a corner of the deep forest, he stopped when a hooded figure and two horses came within distance. When the mysterious figure noticed them, they boosted themselves atop and flung the reins of the second horse towards Calais.

Iris gaped. The more time she spent around Calais, the more impressed and surprised she was by him.

Iris sighed and watched as Calais skillfully lifted himself on top of the caramel steed. Iris slowly trod through the twigs and branches. He swung his legs back and forth impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah.” Iris smiled in mild amusement. She used the stirrup to lift herself up. She hugged Calais to support her weight. Calais gently pulled the reins and commanded the horse to move. The hooded stranger followed suite and they all rushed past the deep forest.

Iris peeked behind her and reminisced of all the horrific tragedies she’s had to endure throughout the years. This was the final time she was ever going to be under the control of her father and Abella.

Iris turned back around and gawked at the now unhooded rider. Short, baby blue hair fluttered in the passing wind. They looked back and Iris was perplexed to see Cetara grinning back at her.

The two horses came to halt when they arrived by a river. Iris immediately hopped off and ran towards Cetara’s descending form.

“I thought you would have been dead by now!” Iris uttered.

“Nope. I left the palace after visited you.” She innocently smiled.

“I spent these last couple of weeks trying to figure out how to break you out, but it kind of backfired because of Abella.” The venom in his voice was stronger than before.

“I found the keys in the field by the witches cottage. I came here and Cetara offered to help set you free. Luckily, only the prison keys were numbered. We even planned out our dialogue so we wouldn’t seem suspicious to the surveillance orbs.

“I gave her the key to your specific room and now here you are.” He triumphantly beamed, with his hands on his hips.

Cetara nodded shyly.

Iris recalled that Cetara was acting a tad suspicious. Along with Calais, who meticulously made sure that Iris was no longer imprisoned. To Iris, the thought of them working together seemed like mixing water and oil.

“What about my father? Wasn’t he supposed to tell me something?” Iris tried to put the pieces together. Abella had the gift of morphing into others, and she had fooled them. How many times had she fooled Iris before? Iris shuddered at the thought.

“That—I don't know.” Cetara replied, and Calais nodded in agreement.

“Abella’s coronation is scheduled for tomorrow, and my father needed to tell me something. This is bad, I know they’re planning something.” Iris intently stared at nothing, deep in thought at what was about to come.