Love and Insects

By Emily Gellhaus

I linger in the shadows of the antechamber door. Of all the places a lady should never be, a dank, dark, and—I wrinkle my nose—malodorous cave tops the list.

You’ll chicken out. The mysterious peddler’s voice haunts me. Turn and run like the spoiled princess you are.

I clench my fist around the parchment that guided me here. I’ll show her. I’ll show everyone. Especially those idiotic suitors drooling at my door.

And yet…

I peer cautiously at the crone bent over a glowing pool of bluish water and shiver. Maybe I should go back.

“I can sense you, child,” the old woman croaks.

Oh, well. I smooth my green silk dress, straighten the silver circlet over my red curls, and step forward. “I am Princess Elyanne. I’m told you can find my true love.”

“True love isn’t found.” She snorts. “It’s built one choice at a time. I can guide you to a possibility, but the rest is up to you and your partner.”

“Then guide me,” I answer boldly, though shaking inwardly. The woman looks ragged as her dusty clothes. Likely a spinster living vicariously through gullible women.

Her gaze crawls over my face. “I know of someone. But he’s in the otherworld.”

“Otherworld?”

“A world near ours but separate.” She pulls out a wand and draws a large circle in the air which blazes to blue-white life. “Enjoy Brazil, Princess.” She shoves me into the portal.

My scream disappears in a swirl of light and colors. The brightness steadies and turns green. I splash down, ankle deep in a muddy water. The cave is gone. A wide, jungle-lined river stretches as far as I can see. Horror squeezes my stomach. The old hag tricked me. I don’t have the slightest idea what a “Brazil” is or how to get home.

I will not scream. I will not scream.

Something big splashes into the water out of sight. I jerk my dress clear of the river and stumble to shore, the pressure in my lungs continuing to build. On the edge of the jungle, I shudder at the darkness, unsure which way to go.

Snap out of it. I am not a spoiled princess. Or a helpless one.

Tiny legs scurry over my arm. I glance down. Black and brown insects as long as my palm swarm my mud-spattered dress.

My mind goes white. The scream releases in bloodcurdling style. Leaping and twisting, I try to fling the horrible creatures to the other side of this nightmare world.

“Hold on, miss.” A male voice. Hands on my shoulders still me. He swipes the insects away a few at a time. “Relax. They’re just roaches. Ugly but harmless.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine I’m home in one of the gardens. No, in the ballroom, where the only living things have two legs. There’s a full orchestra. Couples in sumptuous suits and gowns are twirling, twirling, twirling.

“I think I’ve got them all.”

I open my eyes to a tall, forgettable-looking man with a shock of brown hair. His bizarre clothes appear made by a drunken elf. The green hat’s brim is only in front, his sleeves don’t even reach his elbows, and his legs are bare between knee and boots.

An awful thought pricks me. Surely the crone doesn’t expect this unkempt man to be my true love?

“I don’t mean to be rude, miss—”

“Princess.” I pull myself up sharply.

“What?”

“I am Princess Elyanne of the Highlorn Kingdom, and you will address me properly.” And never, ever marry me.

“Er, I’m Ian.” He squints and mutters something about “fruitcake,” though what cake has to do with it, I have no idea. “Look, Princess Elyanne. I don’t know how you got here, but we need to go. Now. That scream’s probably bringing every tribe for miles straight toward us, and at least two are extremely unfriendly.”

“I will not be ordered—”

An arrow thunks into the riverbank.

I grab his arm. “Lead the way.”

The jungle shreds my dress. Guttural calls ring out behind us, and the occasional whizz of an arrow keeps my heart and legs pumping quickly.

Ian cries out. His arm slips from my grasp. “Keep running.”

I risk looking back. He’s slumped on the ground, legs tangled in some sort of rope. I run, guilt chasing me. He saved me without even knowing me, and now I’m leaving him to die?

My foot catches in a hole. I trip, landing flat on the jungle floor. Deep pain lances my arm. I jerk back, and my mind locks up again.

A creature straight from the underworld scuttles away. It’s longer than my hand, with a snakelike body and far too many legs. The jungle floor bubbles with more. Twin holes in my arm throb mercilessly. Am I poisoned? Dying? How can anyone live in this place? After five minutes, I’d pay a fortune to get out.

Maybe I’m not the only one. Refusing to think too hard, I rip the fabric of my dress until my own calves are bare. Revulsion climbs my throat, but I fling the material over the nightmare beasts, trap several in the folds, then race back the way I came.

Ian is surrounded by painted natives in even less clothing. Releasing another bloodcurdling scream, I open the fabric and fling the contents at the closest ones.

Cries of “la craia” riddle the air. Vegetation flies as the men disappear.

“Well, that was stupid.” Ian yanks the rope from his legs.

My chest tightens. “It saved your life.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t grateful, Princess.” His smile warms my suddenly fluttery stomach. “Now, let me return the favor. My boat isn’t far.” He frowns and holds out his hand. “I can put something on that arm, too.”

I take his hand, a new feeling almost covering the pain. I’m nowhere near love, but I’m ready to give that old woman a chance.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emily Gellhaus is an adventurer in a homeschooling mom’s body. A former elementary teacher who’s lived in a dozen states, she currently resides in New England with her husband and two children. She enjoys good coffee, good chocolate, and good books. Her future plans include traveling the world and trying all the new things (except bungee jumping, which freaks her out).

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