The Last Princess (2 page)

I’m sick and useless. The doctors say I won’t live much longer anyway. I can’t stay here. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.

2

I RACED DOWN THE LONG HALLWAY TO THE BACK STAIRCASE
, Bella following close at my heels. I jumped down the stone steps three, four at a time, keeping one hand on the banister for balance.

My Wellingtons squelched in the mud as I ran down the winding trail to the stables. Only three horses were out to pasture, and Jamie’s mare, Luna, was missing. Hurrying, I unlatched the wooden gate to the
field.

“Jasper! Quick, quick!” I called to my horse. There was no time to bother with a saddle or reins, but I’d been riding bareback on Jasper since I could walk. I clambered up onto his back and turned toward the woods. We were almost out the
gate when I saw a pale green cardigan looped over the post. It was Jamie’s. He must have left it when the rain stopped. I felt an immediate pang of relief.
He hadn’t been gone long, and on gentle old Luna, he couldn’t have gotten far.

If he was in the woods, I’d need a weapon. The Roamers could be out there. I grabbed the only thing I could find, an old knife with a broken leather-bound handle. I could throw it or, if I had to, fight with it. After the Seventeen Days, without phones or computers or television, Mary and I amused ourselves play-fighting
with the Royal Swords. The Master of Arms gave us lessons, teaching us to slash, stab, and parry. Mary and I would fence against each other, betting on the little luxuries that were still left over from before: a square of Cadbury chocolate, a piece of spearmint gum. Later, when the government food rations were gone, we would take spears and throwing knives to the woods around Balmoral, hunting
the snakes and pigeons and few other creatures that remained. I was surprised to find that I had quite good aim, unlike Mary, who never could get the hang of throwing a knife.

“Bella, come!” I held out the sweater for her to sniff. Bella could catch almost any scent you gave her. Polly and I had trained her one summer, hiding things in the woods—a toy, a shirt, an old shoe—rewarding her with
a treat when she
found them. Bella sniffed the sweater up and down. “Track,” I said firmly.

She placed her nose to the ground. After a few seconds, she took off running toward the fields.

The brown earth blurred beneath me as Jasper galloped behind Bella. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes. I hated seeing my woods like this. The Seventeen Days had transformed
the sun-drenched forest of my childhood into a dark, tangled place. Most woodland animals had died in the destruction, or were later hunted to extinction by the Roamers. Only the worms, leeches, and snakes were left. The ground was covered with gnarled, rotting tree roots, spreading out in every direction like giant hands.

I pulled Jasper to a stop at the top of the hill, scanning the woods for
signs of the Roamers—smoke, fire pits, grave markers. Or worse, the hearts of their prey, human and animal, mounted on sticks. The Roamers had banded together after the Seventeen Days, when electric security in the prisons failed and the inmates were able to escape. They gathered in the woods, eating anything they could kill. Since most wild animals were dead, they hunted humans. You could tell
a Roamer camp by the sickly sweet smell of roasting human flesh.

I felt something brush against my forehead and looked up. It was a frayed rope, hung from a high branch. The base was knotted to the tree, a piece of webbing left hooked on a branch. A trap. I fingered the edge of the rope, looking for footprints. They were there, clear outlines in the mud.

“Go!” I shouted to Jasper, trying not
to think of Jamie caught in a web of rope. Bella raced up the logging trail along the side of the hill. Finally, I spotted Jamie’s small figure in the distance, hunched over on Luna, riding deeper into the woods.

“Jamie!” I yelled, even though I knew the Roamers might hear us. “Jamie, stop!” He paused but didn’t turn around. The small backpack on his shoulders was filled to bursting, and I wondered
what he had packed for the outside world. A pillow? A flashlight? I spurred Jasper on, and quickly reached Jamie and Luna.

I slid off Jasper and ventured closer. “Jamie,” I said softly. “Please come home.”

He turned to look at me. Dark circles like bruises spread below his blue eyes, which were sunk into the hollows of his face. His skin was white as rice paper, and in the dim light of the forest,
he seemed almost translucent.

“I don’t want to be a burden anymore,” he said simply, his voice so weak it was nearly lost.

I took a step closer. “You can’t just leave us.” My words sounded awkward and slight, even to me. “You can’t just give up.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said. “You’ll never understand.”

“You’re right, I can’t possibly understand.” I choked back a sob. I had no idea
what he suffered every day. “But think of all the pain you’ll cause everyone by leaving us. Think of Father, think of Mary. Please stay… for me?” I held out my hand.

Jamie slid down from his horse and took a step toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a wisp of smoke rising above the trees in the distance. I stiffened, pressing my fingers to my lips so that he would know to be quiet.

I heard the deep rumbling of men’s voices. A strange whirring. The sound of a motor starting. Jamie stared up at me, his eyes wide. “What is it?” he whispered.

I shook my head and took his hand. He didn’t know about the Roamers; Mary and I had tried to protect him from the world’s worst horrors. We ran for the granite rock at the edge of the clearing and crawled underneath. I held Bella in my
lap, grabbing her snout with both hands so she wouldn’t bark. One sound and we would be caught. Jasper’s ears pricked up as if he sensed the danger. He and Luna trotted into the woods and vanished from sight just in time.

A band of men entered the clearing just a few yards away. They were dressed in tattered gray prison uniforms, the words “MaxSec” tattooed in coarse black letters on their foreheads.
A few had guns. Most carried makeshift weapons: hooks, chains, gardening shears, bludgeons, old pipes filed down and sharpened to points, and what appeared to be a hedge trimmer that had been stripped of its casing so that the blade rotated menacingly. Two of the men carried a thick branch between them. A sack, soaked red with blood, hung from it heavily.

I tried to cover Jamie’s eyes with my
hands, but I knew he had seen. He had seen the worst of humanity.
Don’t look over here, don’t look over here
, I thought desperately. If the Roamers gave the rock a second glance, they would notice the shadowy area underneath and come looking for us. We would be as good as dead.

I tried to hold Bella close, but in a burst of strength she wriggled away from me and sprinted toward the men, barking
aggressively. I wanted to call her back, but I bit my lips until I tasted blood.

The two men carrying the bloodied bundle stopped and laid the branch down on the ground. One of them stepped forward, aiming his pistol into the darkness of the surrounding forest.

“Who’s there?” he called.

I pressed closer to the rock, holding my breath.

“Stop jumping at nothing,” the second man told him. “It’s
just a wild dog. A dirty old mutt.”

The man with the gun turned toward Bella. He was missing one eye, a metal plate covering the empty socket.

“Come on, the others are ahead of us,” the second man complained. “Can’t waste the bullet on a stringy, skinny dog. We’ve got other food needs eating.” The first man lowered his gun with a sigh. They lifted the branch and its bloodied cargo onto their
shoulders and started walking into the distance.

Jamie and I waited under the rock, holding each other and shaking. When I finally smelled the sickly sweet burning smell, I knew we could make our escape.

3

THE SUN WAS FINALLY STARTING TO EMERGE FROM BEHIND THE
heavy blanket of clouds when we returned to Balmoral Castle.

“Eliza! Jamie!” Mary’s voice rang out in the still air.

“You can’t tell her,” I reminded my younger brother. “You promised.”

“I know,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Jamie, I need you to know something.” I pulled Luna’s reins toward me so our horses were side by side. “You
have to understand that people didn’t used to eat other people. Before the Seventeen Days, there was no such thing as the Roamers. You have to believe things will get better.” I thought of him
alone in those woods. “You know there are good people in the world. That’s
our
side. If we give up, if we run away, then the bad people win.”

Jamie nodded, his eyes wide. Mary galloped toward us, pulling
the reins fiercely to reach a sudden stop. Her long blonde hair fell around her face, and her ivory complexion was flushed from the wind and exercise.

“Where have you been?” she yelled, looking from me to Jamie. “I’ve been looking everywhere. The train is leaving in an hour. Did you forget we were going back today?”

“Mary, I—”

“Jamie! You know better than to leave your room,” she said, ignoring
my protests. “You have to take care of yourself!”

She swung back to me, her eyes narrowing. “How could you let this happen?”

“I know, it’s my fault,” I said, fighting the urge to break down and tell her everything that had happened. “We wanted to have a nice last day…”

“No, it’s my fault,” Jamie interrupted. “I begged Eliza to let me go riding.”

“While I did all the cleaning and packing as
usual.” She sighed. “I hope you didn’t go near the woods.”

“Of course not! Just the fields.” I hated lying to Mary, but sometimes I had no choice.

Mary looked at me, the frown between her eyes softening. “Do you know what it’s like for me, always having to take care of you?”

“You’re not our mother!” I said angrily, immediately regretting it.

“Someone has to be the mother here,” Mary replied
quietly. I wanted to apologize, but she was already riding away.

On my way back to the castle, I saw George, our grounds-keeper. He had unlocked the steel doors of the gardening shed and unwound the thick metal chain holding them shut. The petrol tanks were in there, guarded by shepherd dogs, as protected as we could keep them without electricity.

The black Jeep we always drove to the train
station stood next to the shed. I watched as George tipped the end of the gasoline spout into its tank, a grim look on his face. Even from where I stood, I could hear the slow
drip-drip-drip
of the gasoline.

“It’s almost gone?”

George turned toward me, and I noticed for the first time how he had aged this summer. There was a hollowness in his cheeks, a troubled look in his eyes that hadn’t used
to be there.

“They should get the rigs mended soon enough,” George said, which we both knew was a lie.

“We can take the horses. They don’t need oil.”

I was trying to make a joke, but George didn’t laugh. “We have enough for this trip. The roads are too dangerous to go in an open carriage and risk the horses getting stolen.”

I looked over at the Jeep. It was made of bulletproof steel and glass,
but George had added an extra layer of steel over the windows. Shields of metal now protected the tires, and sharp spikes had been welded to the roof and sides. He had also sanded away the W that stood for Windsor. Without it, I realized, no one would know us. Ever since my mother’s death, my father had refused to let us appear in public or even to circulate royal portraits. Only our name was
recognizable.

“Is it the Roamers?” I asked.

“The Roamers don’t go on the roads.”

“Then what’s all this for?”

“Just extra protection. Don’t worry your pretty head about it,” he said, turning away from me to pour the last of the petrol in the Jeep.

I shook off the comment, knowing George didn’t mean to offend me, and continued on. “Who was in the kitchen last night? Late?”

George looked at
me curiously. “Why?”

“One of the staff called Jamie a burden. He heard her say it. Find out who it was. Please,” I added, in as polite and princesslike a voice as I could muster. “It nearly killed him hearing her say that.”

The door of my room creaked as I pushed it open. The girl at my writing desk turned around, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

“Eliza!” Polly jumped up out of the chair,
holding a piece of paper behind her back. “I thought you were out riding.” Her voice wavered with unshed tears.

“What’s the matter?” I said, walking toward her. Her hand shook as she kept the paper hidden from my sight.

“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “I was just writing you a good-bye note. Not finished yet.”

“I’ll miss you so much, Polly.” I drew my best friend in for a close hug, blinking
back tears of my own.

We heard footsteps approaching the door, and Clara walked in. “Eliza, honey, it’s time to go.” She was carrying a basket of food and a blanket. “I’ve packed you some sandwiches for the train.”

I leaned in to give Polly’s mother a big hug. She’d been like a second mother to me ever since my own died. Wrapped
in her arms, her rough wool sweater scratching my cheek, I felt
safe.

“Eliza! Hurry!” I heard Mary’s voice from the courtyard. Polly and I rolled our eyes at each other as we grabbed my luggage and raced down the stairs, starting to laugh.

In the courtyard, Mary was standing at the door to the Jeep, tapping her foot in impatience. I was surprised to see that Eoghan, our stablemaster, was in the front passenger seat next to George.

“Why is he coming? We’re
not taking the horses,” I whispered as I slid in the back next to Jamie.

“I asked Eoghan to come,” Mary mumbled, and I was even more surprised to see that she was blushing. “We need help carrying the bags.”

I refrained from pointing out that we’d always done fine with just George. I leaned back, closing my eyes against the rattling and sputtering of the motor, which was protesting the watered-down
fuel. George had been adding corn oil to the petrol to make it last longer. Bella jumped in beside me and I patted her soft dark fur.