Kidnapping The Princess

[Alistair]

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Alistair did not see himself as a villain, but he knew he wasn't a hero. Today's plan (one that had many goals) would cause him to befall in the villain category more then the hero one. So he was rather annoyed with how easy things were so far. Had he been a real villain, he could have had the city on it's knees in no time.

Camelot was having some sort of festival celebrating a new treaty signed by five kingdoms. The festival was lasting five days and on each day there was some sort of event, followed by some sort of ball. Today everyone had gone hunting. With all the kings gone hunting, most of knights seemed to be with them to protect them.

Which meant not only had been bale to walk into the castle, but make rather far into it with out anyone noticing. Thanks to so many strangers in the kingdom for the festivals, everyone assumed he was visiting. When a visiting knight wearing the right seal passed by, Alistair quickly came up behind him and wrapped his arm around the man's neck, cutting off the air supply until he struggling man passed out.

After stealing the man's clothing, Alistair made his way up the princess' room. This would allot several goals to be meet. 1: Embarrass the King 2: Get some much needed coins for the poor druids who were living in hiding. With so many visiting kingdoms, it would be near imposable for the king to keep this from them and the fact that it happened in his kingdom would embarrass the whole royal family and guards.

Arriving at the princess' chambers he knocked quickly, and made his voice sound urgent. "My lady, I bring an urgent message from the king."

[TAG: Isadora, My lady.]

[isadora]

Wincing as a maid teased her long hair tightly back, Isadora found herself looking in the mirror, and, not for the first time, envying the long, spiraling locks of the girl behind. It was silly, and childish, and vain, she knew all those things...and yet she couldn't help but think that maybe, if her hair weren't so blastedly pin-straight, she wouldn't have to endure the torture of having it combed and pinned every time there was a ball or a banquet or some other affair of state for which she had to look beautiful. Then she chided herself. Who honestly complained that looking beautiful was a chore? Princesses, apparently, if her visit here was any indication.

Isadora wasn't the only princess here, but she was the only one who appeared to have any participation in the actual peace talks that occurred before the partying began. She wasn't really surprised; the kings hadn't liked having her there, she could tell, even if they didn't have any problem with Prince Arthur at his father's right hand. But how could she leave her father alone in these negotiations? It was troubling enough that he'd had to make the long, tiresome journey here in the first place, she wasn't about to abandon him to those vultures.

But the peace talks were over now, and much to Isadora's surprise, they had been successful, and now the entire kingdom of Camelot was celebrating, a celebration that would no doubt be repeated on their return to Caerleon. She gave a slight muffled sigh, before she squeezed her eyes shut tight as the maid pulled tightly on her hair. Only a few more days of this, she told herself. Then they'd be traveling, and fortunately, none of her knights expected her hair to be combed while they were on the road...in fact, she thought they'd be quite unnerved if it was.

When she opened her eyes, the woman appeared to be done, and Isadora forced a graceful smile as the woman excused herself, bowing, apparently to make some other preparations for tonight. She was grateful that she wasn't expected to participate in today's events, at least, not until the menfolk returned with their prizes later in the day. She did worry about her father, he wasn't really well enough to be out hunting, but they had managed to keep details of his illness from the other kings throughout the negotiations, they couldn't risk giving the truth away now. He had promised to be careful, and Isadora had sent all but a few knights with him to ensure his safety, despite his protests; what could happen to her here, safe in the castle, she'd argued.

A knock at the door had her turning towards the source; it wasn't her maids, they used the servants entrances and entered silently, so it must be someone else. Alone in the room, she smoothed the wrinkles from her deep navy skirt as she stood, checking her reflection in the mirror quickly before she headed to the door. Her gown was in the colors of Gwent, a deep navy with black accents and gold brocade, and, loathe as she was to admit it, the girl had done well with her hair. She'd have to thank her properly later, she thought to herself as she opened the heavy wooden door.

The man on the other side was unfamiliar, which was curious; she thought she knew all of the knights of Gwent. But the thought was driven from her mind as soon as he spoke, her eyes going wide with alarm. "My father? Has something happened, is he all right?" Worry was evident in her tone and her heart raced, she immediately regretting allowing him to go on the hunt; it was too much for him, she had known it would be, but she'd let him placate her. Now what if the worst had happened?

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[Alistair]

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Alistair looked down when the door was opened and had expected a maid but knew without a moment's hesitation that the woman before his was no maid. Her skin to pale to have known many days working in the sun, and there was not a mark nor scar that he could see. Her face alone screamed nobility. Alistair knew he should abandon his mission now. Not because of her skin, but because of her face. He knew the face. For the past few nights he had dreamt of her.

Not in the torrid ways a man might dream of a beautiful woman but in the eerie ways a seer saw the victims of the world. A vision of death. He knew in the moment, if he took her into the woods, he'd be risking her life. This was why he was not a hero. "There was hunting incident." He used the word incident and not accident, on purpose. Leave her wondering over the danger her father could still be in should this 'incident' not be an 'accident'. He was not used to explaining so much but knew if he was to play the concerned knight he would have to seem more free with his words. "I do not know the extent of the wounds, My lady, I was sent to escort you to his immediately."

Alistair knew that if she was willing to go with him then he could get her out of Camelot with out drawing attention. This lie would get her out of the city on her own, and well away from the city before anyone knew what was happening. Including her. "Time is of the essence, my lady, I must request that we make haste. I have sent the castle's physician with the other knights."

[isadora]

Genuine fear took hold of her features at the knight's words, all thoughts of caution or propriety long gone from her mind as the man went on. Wounds? She had only feared a relapse of his condition...if he was injured, things could be much worse. What if infection set in? He wouldn't recover, she was certain of that. She stared at him without really seeing the man in front of her, her mind reeling at the possibilities. He could already be dead. Her eyes focused on him when he reminded her how pressed they were for time, and she nodded, her body moving without her mind following its course. "Of course, you're right."

Dipping back into her room, she opened the wardrobe and withdrew a velveteen cloak, a much paler blue than her dress, throwing it around her shoulders and fastening the silver clasp hurriedly, before she followed the knight out into the corridors, already heading for the castle's stables. Of course they would send for her, all the knights knew that if anything should happen to her father, the first course was to bring him whatever healers were available, then to get her. Healers first, then her, she had drilled it into them. She had no knowledge of science or the human body that could help her father, so her presence was only if the worst should happen...so she could say goodbye.

It was not knowing that was the worst part, as it always was. Isadora was good in a crisis, always had been able to keep her cool and make decisions that men balked at, but when she didn't have all the information, when she didn't know what her father's situation was, she couldn't help but worry. She just keep tearing herself apart for letting him go in the first place, why had she been so stupid? Letting the other kingdoms know of her father's frailty was a small price to pay if the cost of keeping it from them was his life. But that was her father, through and through...duty first, then personal affairs. She was the same way, except that her greatest duty had always been looking after him.

She moved very quickly, so much so that even the palace staff had difficulty scurrying to one side of the wide passages as she hurried by, bowing their heads respectfully, although she was too distraught to pay them any heed. She was on the verge of panic, knowing that the thought that her father needed her was the only reason she hadn't broken down at the news.

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[Alistair]

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She was quick for a spoiled princess. Alistair knew very little about her, or even about her country but he had assumed she would demand he bring a maid or something. She had not, only had the mental awareness to get a cloak and then rush behind him. He was glad he had the foresight to have two horses in the court yard. Had he not, that would have given away his lie. It would not to have her start yelling at him with so many in sight.

Once they were in the courtyard he stopped by her horse, and waited for her to come. How did ladies mount a horse? He didn't know and didn't have time to stall and wait for a mounting block to be brought. He wasn't sure when the hunters were coming home. If he passed by the prince, then Arthur would know he was no knight of Gwent. Once she was by her horse he put his hands on her hips, noticing how small she felt under his hand before lifting her up to her set with no words of warning.

He fought the urge to look around to try to notice who was watching them but, so far had not started looking around. He mounted his own horse and looked over at her. "Stay close. The roads hold more danger." With that he kicked the horse into a hurried trot and glanced back to make sure she was able to follow. If not then he would just ride behind her.

[isadora]

When her eyes fell on the waiting horses, Isadora didn't question it. She didn't ask how he had gotten the horses saddled and ready so quickly, nor why there were no castle grooms holding the reins and bowing as she approached. She didn't even notice that it wasn't her usual mare, the steady horse that usually bore her everywhere. They were all important questions, all things she should have noticed, and would have, were her mind not too busy with thoughts of her father. The man couldn't have known it, but he had found the one perfect way to make Isadora forget everything a lady of noble birth should never forget for her own safety.

The worst thing that she didn't notice was that there was only one knight; her own men would never let Isadora leave the safety of the castle with but one man to keep her safe. It was well known that she had never even held a sword in her life, let alone wielded one with any measure of success, and one man, even a knight, was simply not sufficient to keep her safe should ne'er do wells wish her harm. But she missed all the signs, and even if she was surprised by how roughly he passed her up into her saddle, she said nothing, instead settling herself onto the saddle for the ride while she waited for him to mount up. She traveled often, and she was comfortable enough on a horse, even if it wasn't necessarily her favorite place to be. She could handle a horse well enough.

She followed the knight outside the gates, resisting the urge to spur her horse onward and gallop the whole way; she didn't even know how far out they were. "Do we have far to go?" His worry about dangers of the road went over her head, what did she care for her own safety right now? When her father could be dying, or worse, already dead? Of course she would stay close, she just wished he would go a little faster. Again, she failed to notice the way he rode, without the grace and airs of a knight who had been trained to fight as well on horseback as he could on foot, if not better, as the knights of Gwent were. She simply wasn't paying attention.

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[Alistair]

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Do we have far to go? Now the questions began. Alistair knew better then to give her to many answers, one wrong word and she could bolt. He was not about to have a horse chase with her, this close to the swords of Camelot. he knew he best chances were to get her in the woods, before changing his story. "An hour's ride, less if you can handle a hard ride?" He did not know how princess like the princess was.

By the look of her, (and he was fighting not to look at her to often) she would not know what he meant by a hard ride. She did not appear the type to enjoy outdoor things. He lived the out door world, she seemed built to sit in a golden palace.

He lead them out of the castle and over the draw bridge. A few knights looked his way, wondering where they were going but they did not seem to care. He wore her seal on his stolen tunic, and they would just assume he was making him take her for a ride. Little did they know the was the other way around. Heading the woods he began to relax even as he knew he should not. "This way, my lady." He wasn't sure were the men were hunting, but he knew it was not this way. He had a chance encounter with the young prince a few mornings past, and had learned some of the plans.

[isadora]

An hour. Her panic began anew. All their court healers told her that the sooner treatment could be given for his ailment, the less severe the damage would be. If he was an hour out, that meant it would be at least two hours before the healer would even be able to get to him, much less treat him! Her hoped dwindled rapidly, and her spirits fell. The sooner she could be by her father's side, the better.

"Very well, we'll ride at your pace, if I have difficulty keeping up I'll let you know." Could she handle a hard ride? Maybe. She'd rode for days on end before, but they didn't push it more for the sake of the horses than the princess; it was well known among the knights of her escort that Isadora hated spending nights on the road, especially when she had things to attend to, whether they were at Caerleon or another kingdom. For the sake of her father, she was certainly willing to make the attempt...even if the worst were to occur, Isadora couldn't stand the thought of letting him die without saying goodbye.

She didn't question the knight as he led her away, and no one else did either. She had no reason to fear for herself, only her father. She had no idea where they were hunting, either; it hadn't seemed like something she'd need to know, so beyond the knowledge that it was in the forests near the castle, she hadn't thought to inquire. She remembered how her father had seemed so lively this morning, excited to go out on a hunt. He hadn't gone in so many years, and she knew he missed those things. In his youth, he'd been a man of action, a knight and a great hunter, as he was fond of telling her. A strapping youth, it was part of why she hadn't protested more vehemently that he stay away from the dangerous hunt; he was just so happy, like a little kid again. How could she say no to that?

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[Alistair]

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Alistair heard the worry in her voice and he felt a twinge of guilt but he knew it would not last long. Once she knew her father was safe that worry would wither turn to rage or panic and fear. He could deal with fear, in some cases. He did not want to scare but he was not going to loose sleep over it. It was the rage he was hoping for. If she was angry then he could just ignore her and not have to worry about feeling guilty.

He let them ride hard for as long as he dared until he noticed that she was unused to the ride. She might be sore later if he pushed her to hard. He wanted to slow to make it easier on her but knew that would not fit in with his story. "Not far now." He told her to encourage her to travel a bit further.

After they had traveled the distance he needed he brought his horse to a stop. Making a bird call with his hand before dismounting he turned and ran over to her horse. Reaching up he pulled her off the horse with out a word and then looked around. Soon a boy ran p to him. "You have the letter?" At the boy's nod, Alistair lifted him onto the horse the princess was riding, and then slapped the horse' rear making it speed away.

Turning to face the princess he knew what was about to come. Had she started to guess? "This way, my lady." He said, grabbing her arm and pulling her down a path leading to the river.

[isadora]

When the knight stopped suddenly, she pulled up on her reins abruptly, leaning over to pat the horse's sweaty neck soothingly. The ride had been as hard on the beast as it had on the lady, her breathing labored, some of the pins having fallen from her hair, letting tousled locks hang loose around her face. She was growing increasingly anxious the longer they rode, so she was grateful that they had arrived. She put her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her from the horse. "Where is my father?" She asked as her feet hit the ground.

He didn't answer, and then he ignored her as a child ran forth. A letter? What letter? There was no one here. They were far from the castle...would they be hunting this far out? The letter tugged at her mind, and she was surprised when he sent the child off on her horse. Slowly, her eyes widened as realization dawned, the signs she hadn't been paying attention to crashing down around her. He grabbed at her arm, but she yanked it back before he had a grip, and then she was running.

Could she get away? Probably not. But her body was reacting, her mind still reeling with everything she'd missed; how could she not have seen it? It was so obvious. Her head start wouldn't be enough, he was bigger than she was, almost certainly faster. Even if she weren't wearing a ridiculous dress that hindered her movements, he probably still could've caught her. But she couldn't not run, she couldn't stop running now that she'd started. Fear pushed her, and adrenaline poured through her veins, spurring her on. If she stopped, her life would be in his hands, and she couldn't just let that happen, even as she cursed herself for her ignorance.

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[Alistair]

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Damn her!

Alistair felt her jerk from his grip and he started chasing her. He caugh her and wrapped his arms around her middle. Let her kick and scream. His goal was to get them to the river, and on the boat before the knights of Camelot got the ransom note and came after them. If the used dogs to hunt them down the river would make them loose the scent. Once he had her there, they were in the clear.

But first he had to get her there. She wasn't stupid, point one for her. She seemed to have caught on with out his having to explain what was going on here. It would make it easy for him, having not to try to find the right words and have a conversation.

Still some words were needed. Using his arm to lock her body against his chest he used he free hand to tilt her head, so her ear was close to his lips. His words were spoken low, almost in a growl. "I can wrap and bid you up like a Christmas gift, and carry you over my shoulder or you can walk ahead of me on your own feet." He gave her, her only two options.

[isadora]

Full blown panic took hold when he did catch her, and while it may have been smarter to just do as he said and save her strength, she couldn't. She fought against him with everything she had, which wasn't much, but it was all she could do. Already too out of breath for screaming, she fought his hold with everything she had, trying to free even just one arm. She felt so powerless, silent tears running from her eyes as she ceased her struggling, realizing that she didn't have a hope of fighting him off. Even if she weren't tired from the ride, he was still too big and too strong, not to mention that he probably knew how to fight.

She sagged against his hold in defeat as he delivered his ultimatum, her pride bristling as he gave her a choice. Did he really think she was going to make this any easier for him? Nevermind that it would be easier for her, too...if she couldn't get away, she could at least make life as difficult for him as possible. Not that she would tell him so. Let him figure it out when he let her go next. When she caught her breath, she didn't even dignify his question with a response. "You were lying about my father? He's in no danger?" She asked, even if she was sure it had been a lie, she felt compelled to ask. Besides, she wanted more time to catch her breath before he let her go again.

Was she angry? Yes. Afraid? Terrified. Panicking? Yes, but that was passing. Rationally, she knew there wasn't anything she could do now, which was really just all the scarier. Maybe making him angry wasn't a good plan; but Isadora didn't care. She was a noble, after all, she had her pride, her dignity, and that demanded some form of small revenge against this injustice, which meant that even if it cost her, she was going to make life as difficult for him as she could manage until someone saved her. Because they would. She was sure of it, she had to be.

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[Alistair]

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That-a-girl, he thought as she sagged ageist him. he wasted no time in using the hand that was holding her head to lift her legs and carry her the way he wanted them to. When she asked her question he almost didn't answer. It wasn't that he disliked talking, but his uncle had been more the silent type and after years of being alone he often times just did not have words to say. Or even how to say the ones he did want to say. "It was a lie." He admitted and did not bother to explain more. Let her put it all together.

One moment, he was looking down at the top of her head the next he was somewhere else. He knew it was one of his visions, and tired not to let his body to a reaction to it. He saw her then, as he had in his dreams. She was running, and men were surrounding her. The details were unclear but the closer an event came the clearer the details were.

He did not know these men, but he knew their type. Nomads, travelers. Like him maybe, but more like his uncle he would guess. They would see someone as beautiful as the girl in his arms as to temping to pass up. Easy pray. If he wanted to keep her safe, there would be rules she would have to follow. Which meant more talking, and that was something he was going to try to put off. Arriving at the water's edge he tossed her (as if she was a sack of potatoes) in the far corner.

[Off to bed, but I will reply in the AM. Thanks for my thread. I am enjoying it!]

[isadora]

Well, that was some small consolation, at least her father was all right, even if she wasn't. She gave a startled yelp when he lifted her off her feet, how was it that he made it seem so easy? She cursed him when he didn't put her down, robbing her of another chance to run away, even if it was short-lived. Who knew, maybe eventually all her attempts would pay off, and she'd make it. She hated him more with every step, just wishing he'd put her down...and then he tossed her bodily into some kind of wooden structure. She gave a brief cry of pain as she hit the hard surface, before she managed to stifle it by biting her lip.

Pulling herself up into a sitting position, she tried to orient herself, but the floor seemed to be...moving? And she could hear the sloshing sound of water against the sides. She was in a boat. They wouldn't be able to track them if they took a boat. Using the lip of the boat to pull herself up onto her knees, she looked over the edge at the water rushing below, wondering how strong the current was. It had to be deep...deep enough to drown. If she jumped in, would he follow her? Would she survive? She didn't like her chances, and dropped back down into a sitting position in the corner, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

She glared up at him stubbornly, pulling her cloak more tightly around her. She didn't bother speaking to him anymore, what would be the point? She already knew what he was like, one of those men who felt he could take what he wanted, regardless of what it meant to anyone else. And she knew what he wanted; money, or power. She didn't need to know why. Maybe he had noble intentions, but did that make what he was doing to her any better? He'd told her that her father was dying, taking advantage of her emotions to get his opportunity. Good people just didn't do things like that.

((Good night, have a good sleep!))

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[Alistair]

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He knew he hurt her but his people skills were such that he had not though about it hurting her until she cried out. Nor was he going to apologize. He pushed the boat so it would get fully off the bank and the hoped in as it floated to the centerish of the river. He had wondered if she would jump in. If she did he knew they both get hell. The waters were calm here but further down, they became worse, turning into unswimable waters. If she jumped there, he was not going in after her.

His plan was to travel up river (not following the current). Camelot would get their dogs and follow their scent to the river. Once there, they would work their way down stream, trying to pick up scents. Going up stream, would be hard on him but also give them the clean exit they needed.

Knowing she might jump, he knew he had to bid her hands but he was hoping he would not have to. "If you jump. I will drown you." He could not, as he would never hurt anyone with out cause so coldly, but he needed her to believe it for now. The more she thought he was the villian the easier this whole things would go.

Four days. The letter he had sent to Prince Arthur and the kings of the visiting lands said if they wished to see the princess again they would pack three chests of gold. All three would be delivered to the crystal caves, and left there. There were many entrances and exits tot he caves and they were like a maze under the huge hills. If the chests were found and no one was guarding them on the third day the princess would be set free and sent back to Camelot safely. Tomorrow would be day one, as the men would not return from hunting until late and chances were that no one would read the latter meant for a king.

Alistair began rowing up stream, with even strokes, while watching her closely. Waiting for some sort of reaction from her.

[isadora]

Isadora watched him as he began moving them, bracing one hand against the side of the boat and shifting her feet so they were under her. She didn't respond when he threatened to drown her, she had expected about as much...but why go to the trouble of kidnapping her to let her die now, when their escape seemed already assured? Either way, she wasn't going to jump, she wasn't stupid. Even if the current wasn't quick enough to drag her under, her skirts, once soaked with water, surely would. And even if he valued his ransom enough to go in after her, he was still wearing chain mail, and would fare no better than she. No, she wouldn't be going for a swim today.

She turned her gaze to the shore, trying to figure out where exactly they were. It was no use; she didn't think she'd been here before, but even if she had, how was she to recognize a river in the middle of the forest? It wasn't like Albion had a shortage of either, and when she traveled, she usually kept to the main roads, and she had a feeling they had gone off the well-traveled routes some time back. She looked back at the unknown man, still clad in the colors of Gwent, as he worked to get the boat upstream. Doubtless to throw anyone who might follow further off the trail.

"Did you kill the man you stole that armor from?" Now that she had a chance to look at him, she could tell that his armor was real, and she doubted that any of her knights would willingly give up their armor for such a plot. How could she have believed he was a knight of Gwent? His bearing was all wrong, that of a commoner. She knew she had other things on her mind at the time, but she still felt like an idiot. She let herself be fooled just because he had mentioned that her father might be in trouble; how he knew that was the best way to get her mind off the immediate situation, she had no idea.

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[Alistair]

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That was not the reaction he had expected from a princess. He had be waiting for spoiled demands or arrogant threats. Promise of violent deaths that she could not keep. Not worry worry over a lowly knight. Her question did make his lips twitch slightly at the reminder of the now naked knight. The man would wake up naked in the room of some noble and add to the embarrassment to everyone. Perfect.

He did not answer her, not caring to give her to many details on the type of man he was. Let her think he killed him. Let her think he would drown her. The more evil she feared him to be the more she might behave. Not answering was working out better then words. He just keep staring at her while rowing the boat up stream. The current was strong but so was he.

Alistair wondered how the young prince would recat to this. The only reason he had picked this princess over the others was because he heard this one was closer to the royal family of Camelot then the others. He wanted them to take this personally. To know he meant business. If he had taken the ward, he figured the king would just keep it hidden from the other kings. Taking the princess meant everyone would know what he had done. Giving a chuckle at that thought Alistair keep rowing. Almost there now.

[isadora]

When he refused to answer, she could only assume the worst. What would she tell the man's family? There had only been a few of her knights left at the castle, all of them known to her; they made up her usual guard when she traveled alone, men she trusted. She thought of them now, wondering which it had been. Some of them had children, and she silently prayed that it was not one of those men. She knew what it was like to lose a parent at a young age, and she wished that on no one. Isadora turned her head to look at the shore again when her vision blurred with tears, lifting a hand to wipe them from her cheeks and hoping her captor wouldn't notice.

He didn't talk much, although she couldn't tell if that was simply because he didn't want to talk to her or he just didn't talk much. It was kind of unnerving, just sitting here, staring at one another. So instead she busied herself with pulling the pins that had managed to stay in place throughout the ride and her escape attempt out of her hair, letting the rumpled locks fall around her face freely. It wasn't like she was trying to impress anyone, not anymore. Absently, she thought of the girl who had spent hours painstakingly putting those pins in place, all for nothing. What a waste.

She tucked the pins into her bodice, she didn't know if they'd come in handy later, but she didn't want to risk throwing them away. They were carved bone and antler pins, not worth as much as the gold and silver pins she'd inherited from her mother, but she'd felt these were more appropriate for a day devoted to hunting. If nothing else, if she managed to get away she could sell them to buy her passage back to Camelot. Finding nothing else to distract herself, she looked back up at her captor. "What do you hope to accomplish with all this? If they catch you, you'll be hanged. Is it worth your life?" No, it wasn't a threat; merely a statement of fact. What could be worth throwing his life away, on the off chance he got away with this?

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[Alistair]

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Alistair was rowing the boat when he noticed her tears. He almost paused but there was just enough tug on the boat from the current to remind him not to. He was shocked that a spoiled little princess was crying over a knight she thought he killed. It was enough that he felt a little uneasy. Not that it showed. His face was always impassive. It had to be, if you gave away to much then you might as well give you life over to your foes.

When she put the pins into her bodice his eyes went there and he had to force them away. He was not about to be caught looking at her like a man should not look at a woman. Yes she was beautiful but if she knew it, it would give her a weapon. One he did not want her to have.

When she asked if this was worth his life he sent her a glare. "He can not hang me twice." He was risking his life by just being in the kingdom. If he was caught he was dead, even if he was innocent or guilty a thousand times over. He was still dead. He debated on saying more, and thought in this case he needed to. "You would cry for a knight you think is dead, but the king is killing men every week and I see no tears for them."

[isadora]

Her back stiffened at his words. If he meant what she thought he meant...then he was a sorcerer. She glanced over the edge of the boat again, reconsidering. Was it more dangerous to jump into a roaring river or remain with a man whose power she could not gauge or predict, who could do anything to her? Her fear, which had been constant for a while now, suddenly spiked; a normal man could hurt her, even kill her, but who knew what a sorcerer could do to her? After all, this wasn't the first time she'd been kidnapped by a sorcerer. The last time, the woman had stolen her appearance. Isadora still had the scars from where she'd cut her to take her blood for her spell.

So he had seen her tears; she cursed internally. "You wouldn't." She answered simply, she had never cried for a man or woman sentenced to die for magic, but then, the only people she could recall facing that conviction had used their magic in some nefarious way, to kill or harm or maim others. How could she let someone with that kind of power and the malicious will to use it live? Her responsibility was to protect her people, and magic was evil and dangerous, she couldn't stand by and allow them to come to harm because she lacked the will to act.

"I suppose that makes me a terrible person? Doubtless, I deserve to be taken and held against my will." Her tone was steely, with just a touch of haughtiness that only a princess could pull off properly. She glared back at him, considering that she was the victim here, he certainly did seem like the angry one. She didn't doubt that he had reason enough to hate the king; she couldn't know what his situation was, but she'd heard enough stories about people swearing vengeance against Uther to have realized that he was not a well-liked man, even if he was a well-respected king. She still didn't understand why that meant she should be kidnapped, but it seemed like kidnapping defenseless women was the cure-all solution for revenge ploys these days.

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