Overthrown

The cake had been a joke- a bad one, mind you- by the jailers. "Here you go," the scrawny big nosed one said as he slid the plate into the cell, "we all know how you love your cake, your highness," he spoke the title mockingly. A night ago he might have been killed for that, but with the executioner dead Andre supposed the rat faced traitor would keep his head a little longer. Once he got out of here, however; these men would be the first to pay for their crimes. The heavy metal bars slammed shut and a roar of laughter sounded from down the hall. "Idiots," he grumbled.

It was a clumsily made thing, falling heavily to one side and so thick with chocolate icing it looked more like a mound of shit than a cake. Haha, very funny, he thought with a grimace, so that was the plan huh? Starve to death or eat poisoned cake, which would it be? Neither. Andre laid back to stare at the ceiling, the stench of piss burning his nose as he disturbed the straw beneath him. He was a prince dammit, like hell he was going to die rotting in some cell. Those morons thought he was hopeless, that there was no one who could possibly come for him now that everyone in the castle was dead, but they were wrong. If she'd ridden hard Madeline should be past the forest and well into the prairie lands by now, on her way to their neighbouring kingdom to bring back reinforcements. Even so, the thought brought more worry than relief. A servant girl riding such a well bred horse would raise some questions. Would they be able to identify his horse? And if they did would riding it be enough to associate her with him? He should have thought of that before sending her off. She could be in the castle somewhere being held by these barbarians or worst. The thought made him sick and he clenched his jaw, his eyes squeezing shut so that colours popped behind them. If they touched her, he would... he would... what could he do? Haunt them maybe, any hope of getting out of this cell was solely with Madeline now.

With his eyes closed he tried to envision her face, his imagination painting a picture of her upon his horse with a sea of golden wheat on either side of her. Her hair flowing back from her face as she sped forward, her eyes cool and steely with focus. It was that look that had first drawn him to her, it was the same one she had while handling a sword. That woman was not one he'd like to spar with, after all her father was the greatest sword master they had, and he'd been training her longer than he had the prince. Was it daytime now? He liked to imagine it was, that the sky was a soft mix of pinks and purples above her, and the sun warmed her flesh and brought out the red highlights that hid amongst her hair. Just keep thinking of her riding away, he told himself, not your cell, or the possibility of her being at the mercy of these men.

His stomach growled then. "Shut up," he whispered to himself "don't you know theres nothing here for you." The stupid cake had brought back his hunger, after three days it had settled but now the pain was unbearable and he'd begun to feel faint. It wasn't even a good cake, not at all like the one Madeline made. He remembered the last time she'd made it for him, laying it on the side table next him as he sat reading in the library. She'd frowned when he'd asked her to stay with him.

"I have to get back to work. Besides what would people think if they saw?"

"There's no one else here," he'd smiled a brazen smile and she turned to leave. "Wait! I don't want to be alone," he admitted, and she'd paused to look at him then, her mouth opening as though to refuse him but snapping shut before she could say anything. With a sigh she sat in the chair across from him and took a book from the table, turning it over in her hands. He remembered it had been a large leather bound tomb of fantasy stories. Did she like stories like that? Why hadn't he thought to ask her. Laying it in her lap she began to read, eventually sinking back into the chair as she let herself relax. He'd watched her overtop his own book, the firelight dancing across her cheek as she tucked her dark brown hair back behind her ears. It made them poke out which only added to her charm. His lips pressed into a straight line at the idea that she was now risking her life for him. She'll be okay, he told himself, she's strong and fast, they'll never catch her.

Yet, there was a thought that try as he might he could not expel from his mind, it was a terrible thought that chilled him more than the dampness of the cell. What if she'd decided to give up and join the revolt as well? Many had decided to forsake the crown, after all his father had been a cruel man, and Andre had never given them reason to think him otherwise. Maybe she should, she was safer that way. The idea should have comforted him, all he wanted was for her to be safe after all, but the thought of her rising against him made his eyes water. He should just eat the cake and be done with it. What was the point of sitting here suffering any longer? He pulled the plate over to him, the painful lurch in his stomach urging him on. Yes, the cake was the better option. No one was on his side anymore, even his own jailers wanted him dead. The prince who separated himself from them his whole life, who they only knew through paintings and servants descriptions. Who would even care if he died?

"Please, be careful," he could see her lips moving as the memory flooded back. She sat atop his horse, looking nervous yet stern as she tried to hide her fear. Her hands held the reins so hard that her knuckles became white, and her feet fidgeted in the stirrups. As she stared down at him her brow furrowed, and for once he could see vulnerability etched across her face. "I still don't understand why you wont come with me, look at it, there's nothing left to save." She was right, the city behind them was burning, everyone who hadn't joined the revolution having fled or been cut down in the streets.

"If they find me with you then they'll hang us both."

"I don't care about that! You can't stay here, they'll kill you for sure. At least try to live!"

"I will," he said, reaching up and pushing back her hair from her face, "I promise I will. But I cannot abandon the city, there may be people left alive." Voices rose in the distance and he turned to see the glow of torches moving across the yard toward them. "Go!" he said. She leaned down and kissed his forehead,"Stay alive," she said before kicking the horse into a gallop and disappeared into the forest. Just as the nights shadows enveloped her he'd been thrown to the ground by a pair of large dirty hands, pungent breathe rolling across his face as the blacksmith called to the others, "I have the prince!"

Thinking back he felt guilty, Madeline would never betray him. How could he even think that? Nooo! He threw the cake against the wall, the plate splintering and the chocolate leaving a dark smear against the stones.

"Well, I'm not cleaning that up," the voice cut through his rage, eliminating even his hunger as he stumbled to his feet in shock. He gripped the bars, his mouth twitching, unsure whether to smile or frown. He couldn't imagine being able to feel so happy and yet so upset at the same time.

"You're supposed to be gone, what are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you of course." Madeline smiled, lifting her hand to show him the jailers keys that hung from her finger.