Tomorrow

By Katie Hanna

“We’re risking our lives for a princess no one has ever seen,” I grumble, tossing my knife and catching it again. Ruddy light from the fireplace dances down its long, wicked blade.

Most people think it’s odd for a girl to be so fond of weapons.

But if I cared what most people thought, I wouldn’t be drinking ale with King Gerard’s most wanted enemies.

“Come on, Rory.” Fenn’s black eyebrows knit together under a mop of unruly curls. “It’s the night before the rebellion. There’s no time for cold feet!”

“I do not have cold feet,” I retort. “I’m just saying it’s strange how loyal we are to Princess Aurora, given she’s done nothing to earn our trust.”

Fenn’s jaw clenches. “That’s not fair!”

Hatchet-faced Vernon Redmayne, veteran of the last War of Succession, chuckles. “She has a point, Fenn.” He taps the oaken table with a gnarled forefinger. “Sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t.”

“Sure,” Fenn scoffs, passion smoldering underneath his sarcasm. “Because a king who burns crops, poisons wells, and drags innocent men from their homes is definitely better than a princess who sends baskets of food to starving families.”

“Vernon never said King Gerard wasn’t a tyrant.” My voice quivers, despite my efforts to hold it steady. I know better than anyone what Gerard is capable of. “But Fenn, you can’t tell me you’re not worried who Princess Aurora might turn out to be, once the throne is hers.”

“It’ll be hers tomorrow,” Vernon growls, his eyes on the golden flames. “Tomorrow, everything changes.” He glances at me and Fenn. “For better or worse.”

“Well, I’m not worried.” Fenn lifts his chin. “I believe in the princess. I don’t care if she hides in the castle and sends her messengers to help the peasants in secret.” Sparks leap in his dark eyes. “I believe she wants the best for our kingdom, and once her uncle is gone, she’ll lead us like a true queen.”

“Gods above, Fenn.” I pull a sour grin. “You’re such a little romantic.”

“And what are you, Rory?” Fenn grins back, a dangerous flash of white teeth, a cocky toss of his head. “Defying your family to join our rebellion—what kind of starry-eyed dreamer does that make you?”

My cheeks flush. I flip my knife again, but instead of landing in my palm, it clatters on the table.

“You know me, Fenn.” I cover my embarrassment with a laugh. “I’m just here for the sword fights and the free ale.”

Though I’ll never admit it, I envy Fenn’s faith in Princess Aurora. I wish I were half as confident this kingdom could be saved—and that a seventeen-year-old girl is the one to save it.

But how can I live with myself if I don’t try?

Fenn and I crunch through the underbrush, moonlight glistening on the coarse bark of the trees. The village lies behind us, and deep forest lies ahead.

“Here’s where I split off,” I say softly, gesturing to the fork in the path.

Fenn’s shoulders tighten under his leather vest. “I wish you’d let me walk you home.”

“My uncle hates the rebels, remember? It’s not safe for you to come within two miles of our cottage. Besides,” I flash the knife, keeping my voice light, “I don’t need you to walk me home. I’ve got company.”

“Rory,” Fenn mumbles, closing the gap between us.

He looms above me, half of his face eclipsed in shadow. The moon shines bright on the other half. Clumsily, he cups my cheek.

My body tenses.

Fenn’s fingers feel rough and chilly, but their touch is gentle. I stand frozen, desperately calculating what it means if Fenn kisses me. If I even want him to kiss me.

Would he still desire me, if he knew the whole truth?

But Fenn only stares into my eyes, swallowing hard.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers.

My blood is still buzzing half an hour later as I approach the castle.

I step silently, careful not to alert the perimeter guards. Of course, they’d never dare question me. Even if they were bold enough, I have an alibi. But it’s simpler if no one sees me.

My feet carry me easily along my secret path through the bramble hedge. I find the least-patrolled corner of the stone wall and clamber over, dropping onto the smooth grass of the castle lawn.

From there, it’s a brisk trot up the wide, welcoming stairs to Princess Aurora’s balcony.

I pause at the ornate, carved door to catch my breath. My ribs heave, even though I’m used to the exertion. It must be something else. Too much ale, maybe.

I press my forehead against the window, peering into the room for any sign of the castle servants. But there’s no movement, and no golden lamplight filtering through the thick glass. Princess Aurora’s chambers are hushed and staid, just as I left them. Just as a proper princess’ quarters should be.

Fishing my silver key from my leather hunting trousers, I stick it in the latch. Click.

When I slip inside, sweet perfume envelops me, and a soft, thick rug cushions my weary feet. Even though it’s too dark to see, I picture the rug clearly in my mind. Rose pink with ivory and gold accents. The color of the dawn.

The color of my birth name.

Aurora … Rory … Who am I, really?

Am I the princess who brings a new dawn to her suffering people, or the fraud who deceives the only friends she’s ever known?

I light the nearest candle, a warm spot in the darkness. I draw my knife and gaze at my reflection in its silver mirror. The memory of Fenn’s hand brushes my cheek, and the weight of what I’m planning crushes my shoulders.

“Tomorrow,” I murmur to the listening castle walls, “everything changes.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Katie Hanna is a writer in her spare time and a Hufflepunk all the time.  She has a Master’s degree in history from the University of Memphis, and puts it to work writing historical fiction and historical fantasy.  Katie likes strong women in her adventure stories and Oreos in her ice cream.

---

More Stories | Author Website