As we pass under the portcullis of the great city, we are ordered to wait as heavily armoured men verify our identities. A large, unkempt guard approaches us, his face hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet. His movements are deliberate; he knows who Caspian is. He stands for a moment, tilting his head at me.

  “Who is the girl?” He snarls, his voice oozing with disdain. Is that disdain directed at Caspian? The tone of the man confused me; how could he act so arrogantly against such a beastly man? Is he wanting a death sentence?

  “A handmaiden from Dunmed, I require one for my castle,” Caspian states impassively to the guard’s tone.

  Out of all things. A handmaiden? Seriously?

  The guard tilts his head before scoffing and crossing his arms. He doesn't buy it.

  “Yet she rides with a Duke. And not with the filth of your people back there.” He arrogantly gestures with his thumb to the drained men cladded in chainmail trudging alongside the horses.

  “Has a Duke fallen so far that he is smitten by a servant?”

  A slow, thick silence follows.

  Smitten by a servant? Anyone would be glad to be smitten by me! I'm a catch.

  Caspian’s fingers tighten around the reins. His presence shifts subtly, the temperature dropping with the passing of the guard’s words.

  “Watch your tongue, guard.” His voice is low, edged with sharpness. “Or I shall cut you down for your impudence to my rank.” The guard stiffens, his hatred seething in silence. Caspian holds the hilt of his sword in preparation.

  Then, with an abrupt throw of his hand, he steps aside and barks for the gates to open.

  We pass through, and the city erupts.

  The sound of roaring claps and booming cheers surrounds us, rows of people lining the paths to watch the army arrive. Strung white flowers decorate the old city of white stone and wood buildings. With Caspian leading the troop into the city, cheers strangely turn away from him and redirect to the other men in the battalion or completely halt, with some even frowning at him.

  Who the hell have I put my trust in? A man hated by everyone? Just my luck.

  I can feel the weight of their glares, their resentment, their disgust. I squirm in the saddle, uncomfortable from the number of spiteful gazes. I thought Caspian wanted me hidden in this city? Is he an idiot? Tsk. As if being hated wasn’t enough. Poor guy. However, in my questioning state, I notice something. Their stares didn’t last. They’d scowl but divert their attention soon after, as if Caspian’s presence is both visible and invisible. Acknowledged but unnoticed. Why? The question churns in my stomach as I glance around. Women and children run alongside some of the men on horses, trying to give them personal items. Husband and wives, children and siblings, reunited, knowing that, alas, by tonight they’d all be home safe.

  “You’ve killed my son! Where is he?!” An older woman grapples on the front of Caspian’s horse. “Where is my son, Lavid Curoso?! Where?! He was in your squadron!” She cries aloud in a desperate screech, gaining the attention of onlookers who are also searching for their loved ones.

  Caspian pulls his horse to a halt to save the woman from any injury, and from his belt, he pulls off a small coin purse, grabbing the lady's hand and placing it gently within.

  “War is cruel. It’s equal to all those who serve. Your son paved the way to victory; that’s an honour you must revere in his absence.” Caspian pulls his horse away from the crying woman, shouting that money won’t bring her son back. These men are all victims of war, especially those wrapped up in the wagon.

  Is that why people hate Caspian? Because he led these men into war and didn’t bring them back?

  From what I’m aware of, jobs like his aren’t chosen. They’re given.

  The cavalry of men make it to the doors of a grand white, ivy palace, hidden behind a wall that separates it from the city. A neat garden spans itself in front of the castle, the rest of the land between the space of the city’s wall and the palace was working land of horse keepers, blacksmiths and other high professionals seemingly only catering to those in the palace. The men spread out, taking horses to stables, weapons to the weapon smiths, and sorting out resources to take into the city. Caspian unclips the fur coat holding us together and wraps an arm around my waist, lifting me to the side of the horse and letting gravity gently guide me out of his arms onto the ground. If I had a gun, I’d shoot him.

  Would you ever let someone manhandle you? Oh, I’d never let someone do that to me. I have proprietary. But you’ve fallen into a world with weird, glowy hands. Oh, let me see. No? Oh, but it’s the medieval period, and you’re a woman. Fuck you.

  I huff, glaring at Caspian as he swings off his steed with practiced ease. Yanking his cloak off the horse, he throws it around his shoulder before reattaching it. Recreating his cold, barbaric look from the war tent. A few soldiers walk over to us and take Caspian’s horse and sword. Ester is not far behind, strolling over to us at a brisk pace, gripping something silvery on his belt. Why does he look so anxious?

  “What now, Cas- My Lord?” Ester corrects himself in front of the legion of servants bustling outside to accommodate the weary army.

  “Send for Mandell. She will take this maiden under her charge till our departure.”

  “Resourceful. Aaedan won't go near the scullery, she'll be well hidden until we can leave.” Ester nods with his arms folded over one another, finally relaxing.

  ‘Aaedan and Nesseth cannot find out.’ I think back to Caspian’s words from outside the city. Is Ester anxious about these people finding out about me? I tilt my head in further thought. But why? I’m not important. Caspian already fleshed out that I’m an ordinary woman.

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  ‘She’s without…without ferra.’ Ester’s voice flashes in my head. Ferra? Is that important here? What even is it?

  Wait, did he just say our departure? Where else would we be going?

  “Leave? Where are we going?” I pipe in. If I don’t escape by tonight, I need to know where I’ll be hauled off to next.

  “To my home, in Arken. Our sole purpose here is to report to the king.” Caspian glances down at me as he loosens the string on his leather fingerless gauntlets. I need a map.

  The forest is about a day-and-a-half ride through that plain field. If I sneak out tonight, then I can go to the stables and nab one. I just need to make sure it’s not that freak-sized horse Caspian has.

  If I eat tonight, I can hold off again until I’m back on Earth. The journey is too short for me to waste time on gathering items—

  Ah shit, I can’t sleep with nothing. Last night was only tolerable because of Caspian’s fur blankets, I’ll need to find a blanket of some sort. I can use it as a cloak as I pass through the city, never mind keep me warm until I’m back.

  Caspian gives Ester an unreadable expression before splitting off from us to report to the king. Caspian takes the main entrance into the palace, whereas Ester guides me around the building to a small wooden door. Loud noises of clattering, women laughing, and hurried footsteps echo from within. I suppose hiding in the scullery will give me some time to collect what I need. The workers won’t have time to accommodate a guest just hanging about the kitchen.

  Ester opens the door and guides me through.

  Standing in the wooden, herb-hanging, fire-crackling, busy kitchen. I finally feel as if I’d been transported back in time to a simpler era of close connections and humble living. Ester flags down an imposing, large woman who is hurrying maids holding bedding into the palace.

  “Oh Ester! My dear! Give meh a great ol’ kiss!” She slobbers a kiss against the head of the visibly unwilling Ester, who forces himself to smile once she releases her tight grasp.

  “Mandell, this is…Gen. She is with our company, so she'll be under your charge till we leave.” Ester flicks his eyebrows up, hinting that she has to ‘keep an eye on me, ’ causing her to quickly squint in thought before continuing.

  “Oh…Your company, eh? Well, we always have’a job needn’ to be done.” She gives a quizzical look in my direction, probably questioning why I, a lone woman, am with an army of men to begin with. A job? Are they putting me to work as a maid? A MAID?! When my situation happens to other women in stories, they become princesses, duchesses, or some other position of power. But a maid?!

  This is just ridiculous.

  “I supposed she be needn’ a bath and appropriate cloth’n then; come along child.” I look back at Ester who watches me get pushed away by the housekeeper into a room off from the kitchen. I refuse to be a maid for a day.

  cxxx{}::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

  “Ah, I figured they’d be of fittin’.” Mandell chuffs, skimming her hands over the simple long blue wool dress. It's clear that the gown was made for a working class woman, with its tight sleeves, lack of decoration, and patterns, it is a practical garment for getting work done. It’s humble compared to the long-sleeved silk gowns of the women in the upper classes, those of which I caught sight of in the celebration earlier.

  “Can I ask yer of the reason you be found with them men?” The large woman curiously asks from behind me, moving to the front of me and clasping her hands together with a quaint smile at the potential gossip.

  This is my opportunity…If I can get someone to pity me, to see me as a victim, this escape plan may be easier to execute than I thought.

  I sigh, slumping my shoulders and frowning, making myself seem as pitiable as possible.

  “Quite frankly, they found me.” My voice is quiet, and I tickle a wobble in my throat. “ I’m not sure why they won’t let me go, but all I want is to go home.” Mandell’s expression softens, her hand reaching out for mine. Good. Feel guilty. I need to escape.

  But then—the memory of the picnic comes to mind. The recollection of events stings like a punch to the chest. My thoughts become heavy with gloom. What could my friends be thinking? That I’ve died, gotten lost, or kidnapped. They’re probably worried sick trying to find me. They’re the only people I have left in my life. I already lost my family, I can’t lose them too…

  “Oh, you poor child…Them men be goodens though, whatever reason they be having, be a good one.” Mandell lets go of my hands and wags her head with a smile in remembrance of the men.

  I stare at her, baffled.

  “But this is kidnapping!” I throw my hands up, mouth agape and brows furrowed. How are these people justifying a crime?! I am an innocent bystander in this madness!

  “Neverthelessen’ knowin’ them men they be gettin’ yer home when time be right. It all just be a matter of wait’n my dear.” She smiles in an attempt to calm my righteous anger at the matter, but I just shake my head in disbelief. If these men were as noble as she thinks they are, they wouldn't have kidnapped or tried to kill me at every opportunity they’re given.

  Those men are nothing but lunatics riding on false righteousness.

  Mandell doesn’t stand around long enough for me to argue; she hands me a rag and forces me out of the room to get to work.

  “We best be gettn’ to clean’n then. Meals be tastin’ better after workin’ hard.”

  This world has magic, and yet I'm handed a rag to dust manually…

  Mandell watches me with an expert eye as we trail through the long corridors, dusting statues and accent tables. I map the layout in my head as we continue into the vast white stone castle, marking possible routes I can take within the night when everyone is asleep. Hearing footsteps approaching down the torch-lit corridor, I look to identify the noise. A man with brown wavy shoulder-length hair, in a black tunic with gold threading and a sleeveless fur-trimmed robe, makes his way down the corridor. Mandell gasps and pushes me to face the wall as the man walks past; the man pays no mind to the action and continues his walk. I am baffled at first until I remember that servants used to face the wall when higher social classes walked into a room. It’s like the twelfth century all over again, but with weird magic.

  When the coast is clear, Mandell removes her hand that was holding me to the wall and pushes me to continue cleaning, ‘encouraging’ me with reminders of how close we are to mealtime. Yum, more stale bread and cheese. Soon enough, another well-dressed, adorned man comes walking down the corridor, and without Mandell needing to guide me in what to do, I turn to the wall. As the man passes, I quickly turn around, avoiding Mandell’s suspicion, and pace myself behind the nobleman to disguise the sound of my escaping footsteps. We turn the corner before Mandell turns around, and I duck myself against the wall as the nobleman keeps walking, unaware. Without looking around the corner to see what Mandell is doing, I decide the best option is to hide in the nearest room. I quickly close the door behind me, cautious to not make a noise in case I’d be found by Mandell. Stepping back into the room, praying my feet don’t make a noise, my gaze begins to reveal the blessed sight of a book-filled haven. An old library!