Petrice had not expected to live out of a cave for this long.
Though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that my father and his court would drag their feet, even when the life if their princess is threatened, thought Petrice as she took a sip of tea.
Rarely do carefully orchestrated kidnappings go as perfectly as their plan had. Serathir's roar had cut off the High Priest in the middle of his Harvest Festival blessing, causing the heads of every member of the congregation to whip in every direction. The drumbeat of Serathir's wings and a skyward column of definitely not agreed upon dragonfire set the crowd into a panic. As Serathir swooped down and ever so gently scooped Petrice into her claws (it had taken hours of practice to get the angle right), the blast of wind that followed her dive blew a general's hairpiece clean off.
It was chaotic, overly dramatic, entirely consistent with Serathir's personality, and Petrice's only regret is that she hadn't been in the capital afterwards to hear the reactions to the event.
Perhaps whoever my father sends will be willing to indulge us in a bit of gossip.
Petrice looked around the cave that had been serving as her home for the last month and a half. Most of it was reserved for Serathir's sleeping space, but there had been room to prepare a small living area ahead of time. A bed, an armoire, and a sitting area, all lightly scored by Serathir's claws from the trip, along with some crates that still held another two months of supplies. She sat at that table now, the blue silk of her dress and the porcelain of her tea set a stark contrast to the dry brown stone that surrounded her.
Serathir's return was announced by a gust of wind that raced down the cave entrance shortly before the thud of her landing. Her emerald-colored scales glinted in the candlelight as she entered the cave with a gracefulness that belied her size. "A rider comes, Petrice. Their steed is weighed down with gold. The wheel of our plan is in motion." Serathir's voice was deep and hissing, but to Petrice, the excitement in her sister's tone was clear as day.
A very un-princessly groan escaped from Petrice as she stood up and started preparing a second cup of tea. "Finally! I was beginning to think our plan would collapse in the face of my father not even trying to pay the ransom." With a second cup steaming, Petrice walked over, pressed her forehead to the side of Serathir's brow and gazed into one of her amber eyes. "Remember, dear Serathir, this stranger must be convinced to aid us. Please do not terrify them into violence."
Serathir's smoky huff was her only response, causing Petrice to laugh and pat the side of Serathir's scaly neck. "I'll take that as yes, Sera. Now please conceal yourself and allow me to make the first impression."
By the time the sound of hooves reached her ears, Serathir had moved to the dark end of the cave, crouching behind some rocky outcroppings. Petrice smoothed her dress, and even had the presence of mind to set out a small plate of pastries. It never hurt to be polite.
Now, let's see what manner of stranger my father has sent to deliver the ransom payment. A cutthroat mercenary? A stalwart knight? A nervous, stammering insurance agent?
вы entered the cave, and Petrice gestured towards the empty chair as she appraised them. Her eyes lingered for a second on the ransom chest they'd brought, then focused on the person holding it.
"Hopefully your journey went smoothly. I am Princess Petrice of Veretania. Please, sit."
She cleared her throat gently, fighting the urge to glance over to where Serathir was hopefully remaining hidden.
"I'm sure you're confused. There are certain aspects of my abduction that I would like to discuss."
