Of What is Red

Chapter 8: Any Red

My heart raced and my arms shook. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly, my fingers were white. Unsure if I was holding my breath, I consciously inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled fully out my mouth, over and over. This didn't calm me, but at least I was breathing.

We had half a tank of gas left. I had no idea where it would take us, or if there would be more wherever we would end up.

I would kill us all, but at least my conscience would be semi-clear. More clear than it would've been if I had gone straight to the Crimson Kingdom gates.

The sand became more compact. Dead trees stood from the ground like the Ghosts of Stranded Strangers Past.

“Where are we?" Rowan asked with a voice like sandpaper, sounding right next to me when I thought he was still asleep in the back.

I jumped. “Your Highness! I don't know how much time passed. Does this look familiar?"

“It does not." I glanced and caught him squinting at the time, then at the compass, then at the odometer. The tension melted from his eyes and he blanched. “What did you do?" he whispered.

“I only ever turned to avoid a sand dune," I lied. “I set us back on course - I thought I set us back on course." For an on-the-fly excuse, I came up with something much more convincing than I ever thought I could.

He was shaking his head with increasing worry. “Stop the bus."

I did. He turned off the engine and everything sounded so much quieter, and so much worse for it. He pulled open a compartment and withdrew a map, rolling it open over the dashboard. Walking his fingers from a predetermined point, he muttered to himself and glanced at the odometer and the time for reference.

“How bad is it?" I asked, dreading the answer despite my intentions.

“Bad," he answered, distracted. “But…not terrible. We have enough fuel to make it to the nearest colony."

I wouldn't let my face betray it, but I felt an internal sigh of relief. My deviation from the route gave me more time to form a better judgement on Rowan's character, even if it would just be a day.

A flicker of movement in the distance caught my eye. A crowd of fifteen-or-so people.

“Rowan?" I whispered, then offhandedly wondered if I should assume I was on a first name basis with the Crimson King.

He glanced at me, not seeming to think anything of it. I directed his attention to the people outside. He went as still as a hunter when he noticed. “Ah," he said.

The crowd stepped closer, the headlights reaching them to reveal weather-stained, off-white attire in varying degrees of “dressed." Swords hung at their hips. The class mixed with the need for ease of movement reminded me of what the people from Lumora wore, except these people all seemed to hold themselves with a sense of self-important duty.

“This is the territory of the old Ivory Kingdom," Rowan explained.

My eyes widened. “Are they…?"

“They seem to think they are," Rowan answered, seeming to know my question before it formed. The crowd believed they were descendants of the magically banished Ivory Kingdom.

One of them spoke, a white horned crown atop his head - possibly made of real ivory. I heard his voice, carrying like an opera singer before his big song, but I couldn't hear what he was saying through the walls of the skoolie. He gestured widely toward the open Land of Night.

I rolled open the window. Rowan nodded, taking it upon himself to lean across me and stick his head out.

'I could've moved,' I thought. I leaned back, but this didn't make him less comically in my space.

“Pardon the interruption," he called to the strangers, “but would you mind repeating yourself? We couldn't hear you."

I couldn't guess what was about to happen, but I pocketed the keys and looked to Rowan to ensure he noticed. He nodded; he did.

The crowned leader scowled before his eyes widened. “Is that a Crimson Crown atop your head?"

“…No," Rowan lied.

I dropped my jaw at him. “Creatures prey on lies?" I hissed.

“Grippers give up on me," he muttered back without looking. “People are trickier."

“That's the Crimson King!" yelled one of the others, encouraging a battlecry from the rest.

Rowan grimaced, then came back inside, eyes darting with each passing thought.

I lifted the keys to the ignition. I wasn't sure why I had pulled them out. “Let's just drive away."

Rowan shook his head. “Then they'll attack the bus. If they s***h the wheels, we'll never get out of here."

“What do you suppose they'll do to 'us?'" I asked, scared and impatient.

“I need to speak their language," he said under his breath - for me just as much as it was for himself. “I need to speak it better than they do." Nodding with increasing certainty, he pushed the lever and opened the door.

I didn't like this. “What are you doing?"

“If they kill me, leave while they're distracted."

“Don't sacrifice yourself!"

“I don't think they'll kill me. But, just in case." Rowan looked me dead in the eye. “Scarlet. I know nothing about you, but I've enjoyed your company." He turned away, fingers light on the handrail as he started down the steps.

“Rowan!" I scolded, trying to shock some sense into him.

“My name sounds lovely on your lips!" he called back, down the last step and out the door.

“Rowan!" I yelled louder, hurting my throat.

He walked calmly with his hands raised in surrender. “You got me! Now state your demands!"

The warriors slowed their advance, looking to their leader to see if this new idea of “demands" changed anything.

Their Mad Ivory King - a portly man well into his fifties - squinted at Rowan, clearly suspicious of a trick.

Rowan continued, “You realize if you kill me there will be war, with very real casualties. No harm will come from a mere delayed voyage, but I don't want anyone to get hurt. There's people I care about, as I'm sure there's people you care about."

Damn, he was really good at this. It was attractive but it also made me feel inept at handling people.

The Ivory Madmen spoke quietly amongst themselves, debating.

“Take him prisoner!" ordered their leader.

Rowan's arms slowly sank to his sides as the small militia recommenced their advance. I doubted this was part of his plan. He had his sword, but I got the impression he'd rather die than have more blood on his hands.

Leaving Rowan at their mercy wouldn't advance any of my plans in the slightest.

“Wait!" I screamed as I scrambled out of the bus, the keys in my Lumoran jacket pocket. “By order of Ivory Princess Lily, I command you to stop!" None of them were women, so this role wasn't taken yet.

Rowan tilted his head, half-turning his body to look at me. I couldn't read his expression. It was like I puzzled him, but I couldn't tell how he felt about it - if he was worried about the outcome of the situation, or if I had made everything worse, or if he believed I was who I said I was.

The Ivory Madmen's motions lulled at my announcement, and in the following silence one of them called, “Her hair's red!"

“Seize her as well!" yelled their king, and the subjects cheered and barreled towards me.

My eyes widened. I didn't think about what would happen if that didn't work. “Squit."

***

The madmen who believed themselves to be the new Ivory Kingdom brought us to the old castle ruins. One tower remained standing, with its spire looking like a dollop of diamond whipped cream with gold fixtures.

They led us down a stairway to the intact dungeon and had us strip naked. Rowan's first reaction was to chuckle, but then he glanced at me and his eyes widened at a concern outside himself.

“No, 'that' would lead you to an 'immediate' death, and I wouldn't even care if you killed me back," he warned, a touch of raw emotion that wasn't present in his voice before now. It was the only moment he seemed concerned with what was going on.

The 50-something-year-old leader squinted at Rowan in disgust. While he spoke in an operatic voice, it wasn't necessarily loud at the moment - just clear and theatrical. “She's not getting special treatment for being a girl. Prisoners strip. It is law."

“For what purpose?" Rowan demanded.

I doubted talking back would play out in our favor. Not wanting Rowan to defend my honor to his death, and not considering anything beyond that, I quickly pulled off my jacket and unbuttoned my dress.

It was quieter than it was a moment ago. I looked up and noticed I had everyone's full attention. Some of them shifted uncomfortably, not a lecherous look among them even if some of them did openly stare.

“Well, don't gawk," I said.

It was as if I'd reminded them I could see them; the madmen all diverted their gazes at the same time. Rowan was too close beside me for me to see his response, and I didn't care to know.

I covered my breasts with my arms and kicked my clothes to our captors. My hands were balled with the skoolie keys hidden in the left grip, and I really hoped no one would check.

My ears didn't get hot until it was quiet for another brief second longer. The longer the second stretched, the more time I had to think about it.

I hadn't been naked in front of anyone in by adult life before.

I was about to see Rowan naked.

We were about to be naked and alone together.

My mind went on a field trip with vague fantasies and intense feelings. I couldn't predict how I would function alone with him like this.

I deliberately kept my stare forward as Rowan disrobed. I glimpsed his bare arm when he handed his clothes over in a bundle.

Satisfied, the Ivory Madmen locked us in the only cell without the clutter of debris. They left the dungeon, leaving Rowan and I to stand in our nudity, a silence hanging between us.

My whole body heated up, and I saw how red my face was in just the sliver of cheeks-and-nose a person could see of oneself without a mirror.