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Kess didn’t dare to breathe.  This was impossible, this was the stuff of stories from all those well-hidden books her mother had given to her.  Death was an impossibility, it wasn’t, it couldn’t, be real in Kess’s world.  What was going on?  Her widened eye stared so fiercely straightforward that it seemed to be trying to burn a hole through her door.  Her hands shook slightly, causing her still father to twitch with her and another cough spat more liquid down her white shirt.  He was alive.

A light breeze fluttered and brushed her back.  Perplexingly enough, it stayed on her back, along with the sickeningly iron-scented liquid staining her shirt.  “Who are you?”

The word undid her paralyzed state and she dropped her unconscious father lightly to the ground and spun around.  A lanky boy, of all things stood there, holding a slingshot in one hand and using the other to brush messy, dark blonde bangs from his face.  He was tall, at least a foot more than Kess, and his eyes were a deep chocolaty brown that seemed to speak volumes of silence and secrets.  His eyebrows were knit close together in a look of worry as he stared at Kess and her father.  “He must’ve had an allergic reaction to it,” he muttered, “Normally, they don’t start coughing up blood when it hits them.”

Curious about his comment, she glanced at her father and her mouth fell open in surprise.  A small dart, no longer or wider than her pinky, protruded from his head, and the silvery liquid in it continued to drain into him.  For the first time, a shivering feeling of fear grabbed hold of her stomach, and she backed away from the intruder.  “What are you here for?” she asked, the terror in her voice unmasked and extremely obvious.

“I could ask the same for you,” he said, after a long pause.  He looked troubled and confused.  “Who are you?”

She blinked, highly wary of the fact that someone from the dangerous outside had entered her haven.  “I could ask the same for you,” she parroted, praying that her body wasn’t shaking as badly as her voice was.  Being cocky and confident in a terrifying situation always seemed to work for those book characters, she reminded herself.  If there was a time for acting like that, it was now.

He blinked back, looking surprised.  Then his face cracked into a sincerely amused smile.   “I was under the impression that Lester Winsler lived by himself, not with an intelligent girl.  I’m Phil Rose.”

“Kess,” she said, trying to throw off the blush that was coloring her face that resulted from his flattering words.
“Sorry?”

She hesitated before rolling her eyes, as it seemed proper for an arrogant person to do, and said, “My name, kind sir.”  It wasn’t as hard as she had thought it was, slipping into this act.

Phil grinned and said, “I apologize to you, fair maiden.  May I have the honor of knowing such a lady’s surname?”

Kess laughed, surprising both herself and her new acquaintance.  “Sir, it appears to me that you have put my father in a state of unconsciousness,” she waved her hand at said man and gasped suddenly.  She hadn’t properly examined her dad earlier, and now that she looked at him, she noticed a small dart, no larger or wider than her pinky finger, was protruding awkwardly from his wrinkled brow.  The silver liquid inside the dart was slowly draining itself into him.

“What did you do to him?” the question, unbidden, sprung out of her lips before she could stop herself.  She dropped herself to her knees and reached to pull out the tiny, horrible object when Phil grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t.  He’ll die if you do.  He’s only knocked out for now, he’ll be fine in a while, a few hours from now, I’m guessing, but the blood isn’t something I’ve seen before…” he trailed off, looking uncertain.  Phil immediately tried to sound a bit convincing and kinder by adding, “But it isn’t supposed to kill, so he should be alright in a few hours.”

He dropped her arm and she knelt there in the same position as before, letting her limb swing back and forth as she stared at her father.  He opened his mouth a few times to try and apologize or something, but realized that he had no proper words in mind to say and he wasn’t accomplishing anything by looking like a fish.

“What are you here for?” her voice sounded hard and icy.

“I can’t say,” he stammered.

She turned around to face him, giving him a glare that clearly shot daggers at him, “Then I ask kindly of you, sir, to leave at once.”

“Only if I am accompanying you, my lady,” he answered.

A flicker of confusion crossed her face before being replaced by the same cold expression.  Clearly this girl had never had much practice with hiding her emotions.  “May I ask why, sir?  Outside my home is unsafe and I choose to remain here.”

“My lady, outside of your home is a least twice as safe as your home.  Look at yourself,” he tried to reason.

“I am looking at my father and the damage that has come upon him from none other than one from the outside, sir,” she retorted smoothly.  The words and mood felt foreign to her, they sounded unlike herself, but then again, she had never felt this threatened or angry before.  Her tone and voice, she realized, was beginning to resemble her mother’s.

Phil said, “But the temporary unconsciousness of your father promises far less safety for you than if you left with me to the kingdom below.”

Kess raised an eyebrow and said, “Then, my kind sir, if this is a kingdom and my father is the king, I refuse to leave because I await the return of our beloved queen.  Should I leave this palace, I fear that I would be lost and she would be unable to find me.” Her voice quavered towards the end of her sentence and the truth of the statement dawned upon herself.  She could have left to search for her mother herself many times, even if her equally loved father had told her to stay up there, but she had never chosen to because she was worried of losing her way in the twisted, falling apart town’s streets and her mother would never be able to see her again.

Phil remained silent for a while, for he too knew that the wife of Lester Winsler had disappeared seven years ago (it had been quite the talk of the town back then), and he had no response that could convince her.  Finally, he said, “Then I want you to ask yourself, ‘princess,’ if your mother were here and well, would she want to see you in this state?”

“I wouldn’t be in this shape if the queen were still here,” she whispered.

He drew in a deep breath and said, “Then would she rather you be here and injured or out in the kingdom?”

Phil stood and held a hand towards her to help her up.  The dull throbbing in her knees suddenly reminded her that she was still kneeling.  “My princess, would you come with me then?  To a place that promises adventure and little consistency?  Would you be willing to come with me and, along with my friends, help at the task we have at hand and search for you mother?”

Each question seemed to target something in her.  Yes, she wanted to live out the life of a story book, yes she wanted to live a life of excitement, and above all, yes, she wanted to see her mother again.  The little child inside herself screeched in hope at the offer and she contained herself for a moment before taking his hand and standing up.

“I accept, my knight,” she said.

He looked relieved and turned slightly to remove something from his formerly unnoticed backpack.  A rucksack was produced from the contents of his bag, and he handed it to her.  “Pack you belongings, princess, and we shall be off,” Phil said before pausing and adding, “May we end this charade?”

She accepted the bag and said, “Sure,” while dropping her few clothes into the rucksack along with the candle and matches.   Kess felt a small, rarely felt jolt of pride at the impressed look he wore when he saw the wish-candle, though she wasn’t quite sure why he would react that way.  She considered pulling up the floorboard to take the books her mother had given her, but decided against it since she would return anyway and her life would soon be as exciting as any one of those books.  She cast a guilty look at her father and picked up a used match to write a short message: Sorry, Daddy.  I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.   I love you.  Much love, Kess.

“Ready?” Phil asked.  She turned to him, noting the identical guilty expression he had.  She did a three-sixty, taking in the small room she had lived in for her entire life and spent the last seven years in.  The small mirror in the wall reflected a bright ray of sunlight into her face, as though approving of her departure.  She took a deep breath.

“Very,” she said, walking towards the window with him.

He smiled.  “Good.”

His sudden shove catapulted her out the window and she was falling, falling fast.