My hands are stuck together at my waist. I start to sit up but my legs are also bound. I open my eyes, fear pulsing through my veins.

It's dim, but I can make out a tarp overhead and a pounding of hooves. My body jostles up and down. I'm in a cart? I've been kidnapped!

I strain my memory. Hale?

Squinting into the enclosure, I can make out farm tools and sacks of something. Across from me are a pair of long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Hale?" I try to say, but my throat feels swollen and it comes out as a cough-like yelp.

A deep masculine chuckle fills the small space. I don't recognize it.

I try to swallow and work up some saliva so I can speak. My whole body feels wrong and my mind is slow and fuzzy. I was drugged with something. I have no idea how much time has passed.

I try to speak again but it's a mere croak. Tears build and gush down my cheeks and I begin to softly sob.

"Aw, that's going to get old," says the male voice. "We've got a long ways to go yet."

Where do I recognize that voice from? It's not Hale, I don't think.

I try to say, Release me, but it comes out like a broken wail. My tears seem never ending.

Finally, the feet uncross and scoot forward. I strain to see the torso they are attached to, but before I can focus, the feet give me a sharp kick in the thigh. I grunt and try to roll away but the pain swallows me. I curl into a ball and drift off into a weak and confused half-daze.

When I open my eyes next, I am in horrible pain from being crunched up with my hands and feet tied and the constant bumping of whatever we are riding in.

I try to rollover but I don't have the strength.

After some time, I hear male voices, raised to be heard over the horse's hooves. I can also make out the sound of grasses and rocks scattering away from what must be a poorly maintained road.

"She worried you'd lost yer heart to the b*tch," the same, oddly familiar voice says.

I scan the cart. The other person is no longer in here with me.

From farther away, and somehow above us, a voice I know to be Hale's responds coolly, "Not a chance of that. Just had to wait for the right moment is all. Have a little faith, you wanker."

"Should I jab her again? We got about an hour," the closer voice says.

"Sure, go ahead. I'm not looking forward to hearing that stuck up voice again any time soon," Hale shouts back.

I freeze with dismay. It's true. I'm their captive.

There is a rustling behind me and I twist and crane but I cannot even turn my head in the direction of the noise. A cold pinprick at my neck infuses a numbing sensation through my body. Again I lose myself into the black void of unconsciousness.

                                                                                             * * * * *

I open my eyes to find Hale peering down at me.

"You!" I croak out. My throat burns with the word but at least I got it out.

He smiles that devastating smile. "Me," he says smugly. "I bet you had no clue."

I stay silent. I didn't.

I cast my eyes around the room I am in. It has dank stone floors and walls, exposed eaves, and pink fiberglass poking through the ceiling's shiny silver insulation. An echo-y silence presses down on me.

"It's just you and me sweetheart," Hale says, smirking.

He leans in and I struggle, squirming backward until my back is against the cold damp wall.

Hale breathes evenly, but reaches out his long arms. In one hand is a knife.

I close my eyes. I hope they find my body soon, before it rots. I hate to think Mom would never know what became of me. In many ways, a quick death is preferable to what I thought he had in mind for me.

I feel a loosening around my ankles and then my wrists. Cool air surrounds me. I open my eyes. Hale is across the room again. He sits on a stool, sprawled really, like he's a lazy school boy. There is a bucket in the corner and a deadbolt on the sturdy looking door on the far side of the room. Nothing else. My eyes widen and I turn to Hale, who is causally scrutinizing me.

"You can thank me later," he says. Then, before I can scream or threaten or bribe, he stands up and stalks out. I hear the lock turning.

I try to stand but I fall back against the hard floor. It takes minutes of massaging my wrists and ankles for feeling to return to my hands and feet. I finally prop myself upright with the support of the wall. I stumble the perimeter of the small room. It's a holding cell basically. Nothing to signify any other use. No window. No fixture except a bare bulb ten feet up in the center of the unfinished ceiling.

A wave of vertigo consumes me and I sit back down before I fall. Eventually, my headache becomes unbearable. I'm starving, freezing, and I have to relieve myself. I start to cry but my tears are dried up, I have nothing left. I close my eyes and search for any thought to comfort me.

My mind conjures up Kile. His messy room and his awful tie. I actually manage a small smile. That damn tie. His crazy hair that is so soft to the touch. His lips when they smile against mine. I finally drift into a more peaceful daze.

The door opening rouses me.

It's Hale, with a small brown bag. He's in sturdy trousers and a work shirt, dingy and patched at the elbows. He is still a handsome man, tall and broad, magnetic and confident in his bearing. He looks down his nose at me and his face is impassive. Turning, he goes to the stool and sits. I feel disappointed that I didn't make it to the stool first, to deprive him of the one thing this room has to offer. He would have tossed me off, I suspect. I am beginning to see how little they value me. Either they plan on never being caught after they ransom me or they don't plan on anyone ever seeing the state I'm in.

Shivering, I try to muster some strength to sit up. I manage to scoot against the wall and sit with my legs splayed in front of me. I stare at him with as much disdain as I can. I think about in what manner I would want to die. I want to go out fighting, with dignity.

Alright then.

My tongue is furry feeling but I say, "You tried to make me suspect Kile." After the bonfire he planted that seed of doubt.

He shrugs. "I wasn't sure what he heard that night, whether he was unconscious or faking. I was worried he had seen me."

"So you turned me against him?"

"Ha, that might have been the plan, but you didn't seem turned against him. Last time I checked you were pressed up on him, like you couldn't get enough. Figures you'd go for his type."

"His type!" I choke out.

"Brainy, messy, just his hair..." Hale shakes his head like a real offense has occurred.

"I can't believe we're talking about Kile's hair when you're...kidnapping me! What's the ransom?"

"Oh, money is not the issue this time. We got plenty of jewels already, in part thanks to you."

"My tiaras."

"It was a consolation prize that really paid off. We came for you. We were going to take you then. But my, oh my, the uptight future queen was not in her bed that night. Neena was shocked and I have to admit, so was I. Which of the Selection boys had your favor that night? Am I the only one who hasn't been enjoying the taste test?"

"It was you who led the invasion! Since you knew your way around." His weird clothes during the invasion. I should have noticed more. I'm such an idiot.

"You and Neena?" I feel like I may vomit. I am not sure how much time has passed since I was taken. I have been unconscious most of the time. I have nothing in my stomach and my hands are shaky like it's been hours since I ate.

"Did you recruit her? Or did she find you." I need to know how long she was spying on me. Pretending to listen while she gave me a hand massage. She was storing away all the info she could to hurt me and my family.

"Oh, she was ours from the start. We planted her and she bloomed didn't she? You were fond of her. You fired all your other maids so quickly we weren't sure Neena would stick. She's a pro."

I flinch.

He stands up and saunters over, kneeling down in front of me and closely inspecting my face. He seems pleased with what he sees.

"Hurts to hear the truth, huh."

I smack him so hard my hand vibrates in pain. He holds his cheek.

"Ouch." He smiles. Pain amuses him. Great. How did I miss a sociopath right in front of me? Didn't they do background checks?

"What are you going to do to me?" I wheeze out.

He cocks his head and realizes what I'm afraid of. He laughs, "You really aren't my type. I just wanted you to know how your country feels. Helpless. At the mercy of a person more powerful than you."

I fight nausea.

"What a royal pain in the country's ass you've been. It will actually make me happy, and nothing makes me happy, to see you break down under the weight of reality. Just like all the people of Illea have felt while you preen in front of your three way mirror." He sighs. "It was a long wait, but I finally got you."

"The invasion, you were trying to kidnap me that night?"

"Well, that's a loose word. We were trying to remove you from the equation. As we now have succeeded in doing."

"Remove me? For how long? What's the ransom?" Dread floods my body.

"No ransom. We want you gone. Without you, we have hope for change. With you, we're in for another thirty years of oppression."

I roll my eyes.

"You did not just roll your eyes when I said oppression."

I turn away but I do it again.

"You are my captive. No rolling eyes!" he chuckles. "I have to admit, you've gotten almost brassy. I hated you at first but now I'd say it is more a very strong dislike. Progress."

"Let me go!"

"Oh, no. You can never lead our people. You're too entrenched in tradition, monarchy, absolute reign. It's sickening, really."

"You know Kadan will ascend, and if not him, Osten or Ahren. You cannot succeed in removing my family from power."

"Let's just say, we'll start with you. If you haven't noticed, I have succeeded. You are at my mercy."

"They will find me."

"Doubt it."

"They will. Kile will."

Hale smiles. "That fashion disaster left for his new job before I snatched you. He doesn't even know. Is that irony? I'm not sure. Irony is a tricky concept, way overused. You sent away the only person who truly cared about you. The castle is keeping quiet about your disappearance. They don't want to create alarm."

I know he is right. It's protocol.

"If your dead body turns up, they'll most likely say you succumbed to the family heart condition. Or they can say flu, overdose, whatever. No one will admit the rebels took you."

My body freezes. He means it. Shooting me is a possibility. This boy I let into my home, who I trusted and complimented and laughed with.

He throws the bag at me and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. I don't want to look in the bag but I do. There are two pieces of bread in it. No drink. I devour the first piece, and then fight heaves as it wants to come back up. I slowly eat the second. Then I lie down and try to think my way out of this. I come up with nothing.