“Walk with me,” Tiffany said.

Taken by surprise he might have been, but Atticus Fletcher was still Atticus Fletcher, and he did not budge.

“Where is he?” he demanded. His hand flew to his side, but found only air; Ash and Bridger had kept his sword in the apartment, claiming it would draw unwanted attention in public. Taking hold of the princess’s arm, he pulled her behind him, falling into a fighting stance as he faced the door, waiting for the enemy to emerge.

Tiffany blinked. “Where is… who?”

“The man from the woods,” Atticus said. “The warrior who chased you here.”

For some reason, she looked even more confused. “Who?”

“He drove you out of the Valley, pursued you through the woods. That is why you ran, is it not? He was skilled; even I could find no distinct trace of him, but—”

“Atticus, he’s right in front of me.”

He turned to look at her. “What did you say?”

“I said he’s right in front of me.”

“Yes, yes, I heard what you said, I was merely giving you a chance to fix it.”

“To… fix it?”

“Yes, there is clearly nobody in front of you. You sound as though you’ve lost your mind.”

“You’ve misunderstood.”

“Oh, have I?” Atticus scoffed. “Do tell, princess.”

“Gladly. It was you.”

The words hit Atticus like a freight train (or, perhaps more appropriately, another pickup truck). Uncomprehending, he shook his head firmly. “Don’t talk nonsense, princess.”

“I’m not talking nonsense. The only person who chased me was Atticus Fletcher. There was no one else.”

“You were running.”

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you came after me,” she said. “I had to keep ahead of you. I tried to get as much of a head start as I could.”

“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Here was yet another brand new experience for Atticus Fletcher—being wrong.

Tiffany hesitated. “Walk with me?” she said again, this time more of a question.

Atticus couldn’t explain why he acquiesced, but as she moved past him, her shoulder brushing against his upper arm, he fell into step beside her.

As they walked, Atticus fully took in the sight of the princess for the first time since her exit from the salon. She no longer sported her usual wardrobe, but somehow the flutter-sleeved blouse and slim-fitted pants suited her. Still, it was strange to see a woman outside of the knights of the Valley wearing pants.

The wardrobe wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Tiffany’s hair, which had once fallen nearly all the way down her back, now reached no farther than her shoulders. Silently, Atticus marveled at the difference that made—she looked so different, and yet… she almost looked more like herself than ever. Though Atticus had never seen this version of her before, it felt like Tiffany, in a way the princess of the Valley never had.

“We’ll cross the street here,” Tiffany said, pointing. “There’s a park over there that will be perfect.” She stepped onto the street and moved swiftly across. Eyeing the multitude of cars in the area, Atticus took a breath and followed her.

“Perfect for what, exactly?” he called after her, breaking into a light jog to catch up to her again.

“Talking,” she replied. “Atticus… we need to have a long conversation.”

“I’m really glad you came, Atticus.”

Tiffany sat on a small rectangle of wood, attached to the lower branches of a tree by only two old ropes. A ‘swing,’ she called it. Atticus had wanted no part of it—hence his current position, seated safely on the grass beside the trunk of the same tree.

“You said I was the one chasing you,” he pointed out. “You said you were trying to keep ahead of me.”

“Yes, I was—” Tiffany cut herself off, shaking her head. “Look. Can you really tell me—honestly tell me—that you wouldn’t have carried me straight back to the Valley if I’d let you catch up?”

Atticus said nothing.

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “I needed you to find me eventually. I just couldn’t let it happen before you got here. I needed you to see this.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you get it, Atticus?” Her hand swept through the air, gesturing toward the cars, the lights, the people that populated the strange land. “Do you have any idea how wonderful this is? There’s so much more than we ever realized. For heaven’s sake, we thought the Valley was it! A few enemy civilizations in the mountains, maybe. But nothing like this.”

“And what… is this?” He was reluctant to voice his uncertainty, but the question needed to be asked. “What makes it so much better?”

Tiffany was silent.

“Fine, don’t answer. But you can at least tell me why you came here. And how you knew.”

Judging by the way Tiffany tightened her lips, the accusatory tone in his voice had not gone unnoticed. As her swing glided forward, she dug her toe into the ground, stopping herself short. “I knew because Douglas told me.”

“That’s no way to refer to your father.”

“I’m not referring to my father. I’m referring to the king.”

Atticus stared in shock.

I am sure you are growing tired of this. From the end of the fifth chapter all the way to this point, midway through the eighth, this story has been a constant series of Atticus Fletcher being surprised. Perhaps that is getting a bit old. Perhaps it has even begun to annoy you. If this is true, I have one simple message for you:

Too bad. He’s got a lot more surprises headed his way.

(Also, why so judgmental? Put yourself in his shoes—don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t be shaking in your boots a little. As Ash might say: Golly!)

Sorry, sorry. Back to Atticus.

Atticus didn’t say anything, for he did not know what to say. Fortunately, Tiffany launched into the explanation without additional prompting.

“I was found just beyond the borders of the Valley, an infant alone in the woods. It was Douglas who found me, and he took me back to the castle, where his wife had died in childbirth just days earlier. The timing, you could say, was for him a happy coincidence, as neither the woman nor the child had survived the birth. As you might imagine, Douglas was racked with grief; the prospect of being able to raise a child gave him a small spark of hope.”

Tiffany’s gaze drifted past Atticus, over the park and into the sky. “It was nineteen years before he told me that story. I’ve spent every waking moment since plotting my escape.” Now she looked again to Atticus, and he was surprised to see she was smiling. “So as I said, Atticus—I’m really glad you came.”

“You knew I would?”

“I counted on it,” she said. “If you hadn’t, it would have ruined everything. Douglas has the whole Valley locked up, trapped within the boundaries by law. Only he and the hunting parties are allowed past the border. But I knew, if there was a compelling enough reason… he would send you. And I knew that you, better than anyone else in the Valley, would be able to find me.”

“So that I would come here.”

“Yes.” Tiffany nodded, running her fingers lightly down the rope connecting the swing to the tree. “So that you would come here. So that you would see the outside. So that you could help me free the Valley.”

“Free the Valley.”

“Yes.”

“From Douglas.”

“Yes.”

Atticus snorted. “Princess, you are out of your mind.”

“Am I?” Her eyes flashed, and abruptly she stood up. “This is your problem, Atticus—have you ever even considered that someone else might be right? That someone else might know something that you don’t? That you’re not always top of the class?” She fumed, appearing from his seated position to tower over him. Then, just as suddenly as the anger had come, it went, and Tiffany dropped onto the grass beside him. “If you won’t help me, I will do it myself. But you know as well as I do that the Valley folk won’t listen to me. They’ll listen to you.”

They spent a great deal of time in silence after that. Tiffany out of hopelessness, and Atticus… well, Atticus was just confused.

Finally—and completely out of character, I might add—Atticus Fletcher broke that silence.

“Princess?” he said, almost tentatively. And then he tried again. “Tiffany?”

“Yes?”

“What is it like out here? Outside of the Valley?”

And at that Tiffany took a sharp breath. Atticus wondered at first whether he had done something wrong, but she answered the question mere moments later.

“You really want to know what it’s like out here?” Her voice was slow, quiet, forcing Atticus to hang onto every word she said. She looked at him, and he realized she was expecting a response.

He nodded. He even forgot to hesitate.

And Tiffany went on.

“It sucks,” she said. “People are rude, and inconsiderate; everyone’s at war, and there’s garbage everywhere… the passersby hardly ever seem to smile.”

A bleak picture, to be sure. But then Tiffany did something wholly unexpected.

She looked at Atticus Fletcher, and in her eyes—hope. And she smiled. And kept talking.

“But they’re free. And they know so much… so much about things the Valley’s never even heard of. And they take that knowledge for granted, because it’s just the way of things here… It’s incredible. I can breathe here, Atticus. I never knew how to do that before.”

“You like it here.”

“Yes.” Tiffany laughed. “Yes, I do. You do as you wish—I’m not going back to the Valley with you. If we ever return together, you will be going back with me.”

“You expect me to overthrow my own king?”

“‘Expect’ is a strong word for it,” she admitted. “But I can hope, can’t I? Don’t you want all the Valley folk to at least have the chance to experience this?”

The evening crawled onward in silence, for Atticus Fletcher, once again, had no idea how to respond. To his ears her proposal sounded like insanity. He would need time to consider.

A great deal of time.



Back to Episode 7

Forward to Episode 9

Tune in next Friday, November 8 for episode nine…