She found them in one of the back rooms, hunched over a long table and arguing over a map.

“The day I crawl back to Cold Castle,” Jamie was saying, “would be the day my head is stuck on a spike!”

“Lord Prince Jamie,” said Sir Moralis. “You must not let anger cloud your judgment.”

Jamie scoffed. “And let cowardice rule me instead? Where is your honor, general? Your lust for victory?”

“Those died with my youth, Your Highness,” Sir Moralis replied evenly. “But my heart for your father’s kingdom remains the same as it was the day he knighted me.”

Jamie pounded a fist on the table. “If you truly think that then you will not deny me this plan.”

Sara cleared her throat. The two men whirled around.

“Who said you could come in here?” demanded Sir Moralis.

“He did.” Sara pointed at Jamie. “Or was I supposed to make a reservation?”

“There's no need for that,” Jamie said. He stepped around the table, face breaking out into a wide grin that made his earlier outburst seem impossible. “I knew you’d look even more stunning in blue.”

Sara stood still and let Jamie kiss her fingers. His lips were rougher than Tom’s and there was a hint of stubble.

“Jamie.” The old knight’s voice took on an edge of wariness. “I cannot say I approve of this.”

“Then don’t,” Jamie said, going back to his place at the table. “Either way, I see no other way to stop the Tachelm Prince.”

“The Prince of Skulls is formidable,” agreed Sir Moralis. “But he is no Calamity Dragon.” He reached across the map and moved a few of the pieces that were on there. “The boy prince is no doubt thirsty for an end to this war, especially after his earlier victory today. My guess is he will attack us at dawn.”

Jamie went very still. “And you are sure he will not see these maneuvers coming?”

The old knight rubbed his weathered face, moving the loose skin. “I do not wish to lie to you, Jamie, but till tonight I thought our movements were secret.”

“Clearly, they are not,” said Jamie.

“Aye," said Sir Moralis. "We may have spies among us, Lord Prince.”

“Then we agree on something,” said Jamie. “Which is why I know you’ll like my plan.” He turned to Sara and smiled that same smile. But there was an edge of it this time, lurking behind his white teeth. He gestured for her to sit.

There were only two chairs in the room. One was behind Jamie and the other was next to Sir Moralis. Sara chose the latter. She dragged the old knight’s seat over to the end of the table and sat there. It gave her a complete view of the entire map. On it, she saw mountain ranges stretching across one side, a river cutting through an eastern valley, and a bunch of wooden pieces stacked further south, where she guessed they were right now.

“Look at her,” said Jamie, taking his own seat. “She’s perfect. Sent by the White Witch herself, no doubt.”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Under normal circumstances, Sara would blush at receiving a compliment from a prince. But the whole situation felt off, like walking up a flight of stairs that was just slightly crooked. It felt like any second now, Sara would lose her footing and plummet off the face of the Earth.

Sir Moralis shook his gray head. His fingers fumbled at the scruffy hair tangled under his chin. “When your grandfather did this, I was a boy. But I still remember the stories.”

“They are only stories,” Jamie said.

“Your father will not approve,” Sir Moralis said.

Jamie snorted. “The King is mad and a coward.” He raised a finger. “And I know you are too wise to speak a word about my mother.”

Sir Moralis leaned with his back to the table. He folded his arms and looked sullenly at the door.

Sara raised her hand. “Could someone catch me up on what’s going on here?”

“You shall address the prince as Your Majesty,” reminded Sir Moralis, but Jamie waved him away.

“The traveler may address me however she likes. She isn’t bound by our laws, and in turn, our laws need not apply to her.”

Sara frowned at the prince. She could tell there was a lot of hidden meaning behind his words, but try as she might she couldn’t crack the code. She needed to get more information specific to herself, and quickly, because the air in the room was getting thick.

Jamie stepped over to her. His strides were long, his gait light like a dancer, or a duelist. He cupped Sara’s chin between his fingers, holding her like a wine glass. He spoke softly.

“You have questions, I know. But we have much preparation to do and little time for setbacks. If you wish to return to your world, you will do as I say. Understood?”

Jamie was still wearing his gauntlets, and his touch was steel-cold.

Sara did her best to nod. Let him think she was obedient. It wasn't smart to rock the boat before she even knew what was in the water.

The prince returned to the map. He looked down at it, leaning with his hands on either side of the pile of figurines. “Gather the circle, Moralis. Tell my men the time has come.”

The old knight dipped his head and said nothing. Then, he marched straight out the door without looking back.

Sara shivered. It was getting cold and the night was dragging out. Something was happening and it involved her. She thought about running, but where could she go? She was stuck in the middle of god knows where and surrounded by monsters and men, with nothing but the clothing she was wearing.

“I’m really going to need an explanation, Jamie,” she said, getting up from her chair. No sooner had she opened her mouth than the door flung open and a boy rushed in. He was red-faced and panting, his hair wild.

“Lord Prince,” he said. “A bird from the Front.”

Jamie’s gray eyes blazed. "Speak," he commanded.

“They’re coming,” the boy said, grasping the door frame. “A battalion heading towards the river, lead by the Prince of Skulls himself.”

Silence hung over the room.

“Should I…” The boy gulped. “Send a raven to Cold Castle?”

Jamie swept his arm across the table, flinging figures and tokens onto the floor. “And ask the Mad King to send farmers with pitchforks? This is all there is left! This forsaken bit of rock is the only thing keeping the realm from falling into the cursed boy prince’s hands.”

“Your Highness,” the boy gasped, his eyes darting to Sara.

Jamie grabbed the back of his chair and hurled it at the boy. “Get out of here! Take your ravens and slaughter them all before I send someone to do it!”

The boy fled just in time, pulling the door behind him. The chair cracked against the hardwood, splintering to pieces on the carpet.

Sara’s voice died in her throat. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and stared at her fingers. They were scuffed and her nails were cracked.

She heard Jamie sigh. “What is your name?”

Sara swallowed. “S-sara,” she whispered. “Sato.”

“Sara Sato,” the Prince repeated. His footsteps drew close as he came to stand in front of Sara.

He crouched down. “I need your help, Sara.”

When she didn’t look at him, the Prince tilted her face up. His eyes were the same color as the steel of his armor. The golden studs in his ears shimmered, almost as bright as the stars through the window.

“I need you to be our savior.”

Sara needed to say something then, whether to ask for an explanation or demand her freedom from this place. She was falling down a pit and she knew she needed to save herself. But when she opened her mouth, she suddenly pictured her mother crouched in Jamie's spot, asking the same thing he was.

And then she couldn't refuse, even if her life depended on it.