“I will carry you,” the armored giant booms.
I stumble back when he takes a step closer, looming over me. I feel like I’m looking up at a mountain, shivering and clutching blankets and cloth to my naked body. Somehow he slips his arms under me without touching me with the sharp steel claws on his hands and lifts me up off the ground.
I have no choice but to curl up in his arms. He moves like I weigh nothing at all. One of his men picks up Melissa and carries her.
“Prince Charming,” Brad spits. “He’s going to kill you the same as me. I hope he’s making a good impression.”
“Be silent and I will grant you a clean death,” the giant thunders.
I shudder. His voice rumbles from the armor against my body as he speaks. I feel like a child carried in an adult’s arms.
It’s a shorter trip back to the camp than I remembered.
My God.
The tents are all down. It looks like a giant strode through the camp, taking no care where he put his feet. The canvas and poles are down around piles of bodies. The trucks and generators are burning. The big mess hall is the only structure still standing, if you can call it standing. The back half is smashed in, all splintered wood, torn metal, and shredded cloth.
I turn away and find myself studying the man’s armor. It’s barely noticeable from a distance but up close I can make out gold inlaid into the surface, somehow under the black enamel. It forms the shape of a heraldic phoenix, wings outstretched, with arrows and swords clutched in its claws.
I’m shocked to find women back at the camp, dressed the same as the men, and armed. The crown prince lowers me onto a stretcher and Melissa sits behind me.
They make me hold still as a nurse examines me, and stand in a circle around me to give me some meager privacy as I dress in a plain black uniform like the ones they wear. Melissa changes as well, and hugs me.
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpers. “I’m so, so sorry—”
I shush her as the female guards give me a sharp look.
I can’t take my eyes off him. Two of his guards come from behind and clasp a cape to two points on his shoulders. It’s cloth of gold, so heavy it doesn’t swing or sway when he moves. They carry a heavy steel chair into the ruined mess hall, and he sits down.
The general, Brad, and a few other stragglers kneel in a row along the side of the room. I hold my breath, leaning forward to listen to him speak.
He starts in Kosztylan, but slowly and clearly, with a harsh, aristocratic accent, very precise and deliberate. I can make out enough of it to understand what’s going on.
He’s declared a trial, and the resistance fighters and Brad are the defendants.
He looks over his shoulder and glances at me. I can’t see anything of his face. I only know he’s looking my way because of a narrow slit in his helmet. I can just barely make out his eyes through a smoky material, too hard to be glass.
“You. Come forward.”
Shuddering, I get up and start limping toward him. One of his guards, a woman, slips under my arm and helps me over, and provides me with a folding chair.
“You can’t do this,” Brad spits. “You have no right to put me on trial. This is a farce. You can’t act as judge and jury.”
“You do not need your tongue. You will lose it if you continue to speak.”
Brad shuts up.
“Tell me who you are and where you came from. Do not lie. I will know.”
I shiver.
“You may speak freely.”
“I’m an American. My name is Penny. I was working across the border in Solkovia in an aid camp.”
Oh God, I can’t tell them Melissa was involved.
“The truth. All of it,” the prince booms.
I swallow and look at Melissa.
“It wasn’t her fault,” she cries out, sobbing. “It was me. I was helping Brad bring stuff here. I’m so sorry. Don’t hurt Penny, please don’t hurt Penny, I swear I—”
“Silence,” he booms. “Continue.”
“As she says. I followed Melissa out of our tent and found her helping Brad load a truck with boxes. We didn’t know what was in them. Please don’t hurt her, she thought it was food. She just wants to help people, she didn’t know what this place was like.”
I feel like I’m talking to a statue. I look away from him.
“They brought us here and talked about us in Kosztylan. I don’t speak your language very well but I understood what they were saying. They were going to sell Melissa. That man,” I point at the general, “said he was going to keep me. He already had another girl. Danielle. She’s the one who was shot. He…hurt her.” I can’t make myself say it.
The bearded general calls me a name that doesn’t have a direct English translation. It’s a mix of slut and cunt and it compares me to a female cat.
The butt of a rifle silences him.
“I don’t want to tell what happened when he took me. Please.”
“Did he…?” the question hangs unasked.
“No,” I take a deep breath, eyes closed, “but if you’d arrived a minute later he would have.”