The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 1

“I love you, Ares. You know that. I’m doing this for you. For us. Don’t you want to be together? Don’t you love me?”

I feel sick to my stomach as Mom’s fingers dig into my shoulders. Her ice-blue eyes, too wide and too bright, like they’re on fire, won’t let mine go. Everyone tells me I have her eyes. Do I look this crazy and scary?

Just the idea makes me feel cold, like I’m about to throw up. I don’t want to scare anybody with her kind of craziness, especially not the girl I met since Mom brought me here.

I can’t afford to give in to the urge to hit Mom. It’d only get my hands tied to the old wooden chair, too. So far Mom has left my arms free, but tied my torso, legs and ankles tightly to the chair. I’ve tried to get free, but can’t. Mom’s a good sailor, and knows a lot of ways to knot a rope. Maybe I should’ve gone sailing with her a few times when she asked so I could’ve learned how to undo her knots. But by the time I was old enough, my parents’ marriage had begun to fall apart, eventually ending in gunshots, a 911 call and a lot of ugly publicity that Grandmother says brought shame to the family. Now they’re in the middle of a vicious divorce. Well, Dad is forcing it, even though Mom doesn’t want to leave him.

And now she’s trying to avoid it by kidnapping me. She would’ve gotten the twins, too, but I fought and made it impossible for her to grab all three of us. Bet she regrets that. I’m stubborn, but I’d give in if she’d threatened to hurt Bryce and Josh.

She must see something in my face, because she relaxes her grip and pulls back, giving me some space. Finally, I can breathe without smelling that gross floral perfume. Even the shampoo she uses smells like flowers—makes me want to puke every time her pale golden hair brushes over me.

The air inside the cabin is stale, like old bread. A small window behind me is open to let fresh air in, but it isn’t enough to hide the smell of old fungus. Twigs and dirt cover the floor, and the dusty spider webs over the fireplace mean that nobody’s been here in a long time.

If only I could get loose…! The door is just a few feet away, right behind Mom. I doubt she stays anywhere near the cabin after her daily visits. There isn’t any electricity here—I haven’t seen any lights, and when the sun goes down, the cabin plunges into absolute darkness. The pitch-black nights combined with the sounds of rustling animals and bugs are torturous enough to make me want to agree to whatever Mom wants, which is why she’s doing this—in the name of love.

Mom sighs harshly and looks around. Then she gestures at the plate of freshly baked cookies with a maternal smile, her exasperation disappearing faster than a drop of water on a hot pan.

My empty belly twists hard. The cookies smell so good.

“I brought them for you.” Mom’s voice is calmer, more in control. I don’t trust it. She always appears sane and sweet, like those fairytale villains who pretend that they’re good guys before they show their real selves. “Why don’t you have some? You haven’t had anything to eat in the last five days.”

“I’m not hungry.” But my stomach really hurts. I’ve never been this hungry before, but I’m not gonna let her see it.

Of course, my belly decides to growl. Triumph flashes in Mom’s eyes. “Was that a sad little sound from your tummy?” She shoots me a teasing smile. “Are you sure you don’t want—”

“I don’t like cookies.” My voice is shaky with betrayal and helplessness. I never expected Mom to drag me to some cabin in the woods. Our fight made her lose Bryce and Josh, so she then put something in my food that left me unable to think or move. “No more defiance,” she said with a soft tut-tut.

Once I figured out that the food was making me unable to fight, I quit eating. I don’t care how bad the hunger gets; I’d rather die of starvation than be under her control like that. I might not understand everything, but I know enough to realize she wants to use me to get Bryce and Josh—and manipulate Dad. I overheard Grandmother say Mom wasn’t getting anything—no alimony, no custody. Words I know because our whole family is lawyers.

Mom cradles my face in her delicate hands, stroking my cheeks and chin with a tenderness that makes my skin crawl. Her unblinking blue eyes focus on me, studying my eyes, my nose, my mouth. “You’re so much like your father. He’s the only man I ever loved,” she whispers, her gaze softening briefly. “Flowers. Fireworks. Torrid confessions and whirlwind trips everywhere so we could mark the world with our passion. You’re the fruit of that love.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to throw up. If I weren’t hoping for the girl’s secret visit again, I’d puke up the uncomfortable acid in my belly.

I don’t know who she is—she wouldn’t even share her name. She’s much smaller than my twin brothers, and they’re two years younger than me. She has messy golden hair, a pointed chin and different-colored eyes, one green and one blue. Dirt and leaves stick to her bare feet, and her skin is almost as pale as the grass-stained white dress she wears. She looks like some kind of a wild forest fairy, except she’s always carrying Wonder Bread and bottled water.

Three days ago, the first time she broke into the cabin, she asked me if I was hungry. I was starving after not having eaten for two days. She gave me a slice of the bread, and I gobbled it down and regretted it when it was all gone within a second. She nibbled on a slice of her own, focused on chewing like it was the most important thing in the world. She offered me another slice. “I can’t give you more because it’s for the whole week. But if you want, I can come by tomorrow.”

Then she shared her water with me. She kept her promise to come back. But she wouldn’t tell me her name, even when I threatened to call her “Bread Fairy.”

That only made her giggle. “Ew.”

“Then what? Princess?”

“Nope.” She tilted her chin up. “Princesses have no power.”

“Yeah they do.”

“Haven’t you read any fairytales? They get bossed around. I wanna be a queen. Nobody tells them what to do.”

“So you want to be called ‘your majesty’?”

“Nope. Just ‘Queen’ would do fine.”

“Of course. Queen Wonder Bread,” I said, making it sound all formal, and she giggled again.

She tried to undo the knots, but gave up. I felt disappointed, but Mom’s too good. Still, I like it that the girl tried.

From our conversations, I figured out she was an orphan who got stuck with an aunt and uncle after her parents and grandfather passed away. They must be pretty poor to leave her barefoot and in the same stained white dress all the time. When I leave this place, I’ll take her with me and ask Dad to foster her. I’ll make sure to protect and take care of her. That’s the least I owe her. She’ll look really pretty in new dresses and shoes. And she’ll be happy to have something other than Wonder Bread and water. I don’t know if her aunt and uncle are sending her to school, but she can start. My family always pays its debts.

“You don’t have to eat if you aren’t hungry,” Mom says suddenly, breaking my train of thought. Her smile says, Aren’t I reasonable and considerate? “But I’ll leave you those cookies, just in case you change your mind. I made them with love, so you should—”

Her phone rings. She checks the screen, eyebrows pinching slightly. Is it Dad, demanding to get me back? Bryce and Josh ran while we were still in Los Angeles. They should’ve been able to make their way back. All they have to do is say that our father is a lawyer at Huxley & Webber, and people will know exactly where to take them. It’s one of the largest and most prestigious law firms in the country.

“I have to go.” She softens her abrupt tone with a smile. “Be good, sweetie. I’ll be back soon.” She puts her hands on her knees, bends down and looks tenderly into my eyes. “You know what? Why don’t we grab some burgers later? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Suddenly, she goes behind me and grabs my hand, yanking it back at an unnatural angle. Pain shoots through my shoulder. I cry out, tears springing to my eyes, and feel something icy circling my wrist. She grabs my other hand, pulling it back. Something cold and hard wraps around my other wrist with a metallic click—then she lets go and the throbbing subsides. I wiggle my hands, then realize she’s handcuffed me. I glare at her with all the hate in my heart.

Her eyes flick in my direction. She doesn’t seem bothered by my blatant loathing. She takes the cup of water on the table and grabs my jaw tightly, exerting pressure until my mouth opens. She pours the water into my mouth. Desperate, I shake my head and try to spit it out. Half the liquid gushes down my chin. Tsking, she pinches my nose. Out of reflex, I swallow twice—it’s either that or suffocate. I hate her for doing this to me, and hate my body for giving in so easily.

When there’s no water left in the cup, she throws it on the floor and places a quick kiss on my head. I spit at her, hitting her cheek. Her expression turns blank, and she swipes her fingers over the wet spot.

“I’m doing this for you, Ares—for our family. You’ll thank me when we’re back together again.” It’s scary how sincere she sounds. The rusty hinges on the door creak as she opens it and walks out, slamming it shut.

I glare at the slab of wood, then at the giant, snarling iron wolf above. Its jaw is wide open, the teeth sharp. Inside its mouth is a capital H, for the Huxleys—my family. If Mom wants to show her fealty to the family, she’s doing it wrong. Grandmother hates it when the family coat of arms isn’t faithfully replicated.

But even if Mom replicated everything faithfully and promised to live by the family motto—pietas et unitas—Grandmother would never welcome her back. Hell, Dad won’t let her through the gates to the house.

The slant of the sunlight says it’s late afternoon. Mom stayed longer than usual. Did Queen give up and leave? She might have. Mom never lingered for so long. Bet she wants to know why I’m able to resist the various treats and drinks she leaves out. As far as she knows, I’ve gone five days without food or water. I should be dying for her poisoned crap.

The shadows slowly get longer. My head feels fuzzy. Queen isn’t coming. Why not? Was she peeking inside and saw what happened?

Dad says a man’s worth is determined by the confidence he inspires in others and how well he protects what’s important. My total helplessness probably doesn’t inspire any confidence. Weak, pathetic and useless. That’s what I am.

Darkness starts to creep inside the cabin. I squeeze my eyes shut. The sounds of the forest animals seem particularly loud today, and my skin crawls with chills, then something hot and uncomfortable skitters over my spine until my body spasms. My head hurts, like a sliver of rusty metal is sliding between my eyebrows. I realize I don’t even care about the bread and water Queen carries. I just want to see her—to feel like I’m not alone. Just to glimpse a sliver of goodness and sanity. All my thoughts grow hazy, then scatter like broken marbles until my head goes blank and darkness envelops me.

* * *

A sharp slap. Another. They send ripples through my mind, pulling me out of the drug-induced haze.

“Wake up! We gotta go!”

I try to focus through the haze. Another slap, this time harder than the ones before.

“Come on!”

“Queen?” I cough. The air is acrid with dust and smoke. A pale orange light casts shadows on her small face.

“You have to get up!”

I start to tell her I’m tied up until she shows me a small fruit knife.

“I cut you free.” She sounds inordinately proud, then clears her throat. “Not your arms, though.”

I’m stunned. I start to stand, then stumble and collapse on my knees. My legs are stiff from being bound for so long. Nerves prickle like millions of needles. I hiss with pain.

She grabs me. This close, she smells like lemon and bread. “We have to go. There’s a fire.”

Must be the source of the light in the cabin. She tugs at my arm again. I fight the effects of whatever Mom forced down earlier. Queen did her part, and now it’s my turn.

The smoke is thicker. The air feels like sandpaper against my throat and lungs, making me cough again—violently. I swallow, but my mouth might as well be full of cotton. It’s hard to balance with my hands tied behind my back.

Her skinny arms wrap around mine, and she drags me toward the door. I go with her, as the fog from the drug lingers, trying to overpower me again.

The door is banging open and closed from the wind generated by the fire. The metal wolf over it comes loose, swinging crazily on one nail, and then drops. Queen pushes me to my left. The wolf’s jaw falls on her shoulder, then the head rolls down my arm, tearing the skin. Searing pain yanks me out of the haze.

“Are you okay?” I demand.

Tears form in her eyes, but she doesn’t cry. She just sets her mouth in a tight line and nods. In that moment, she doesn’t seem like a little girl, but the queen she said she wants to be. And I want to be her knight and keep her safe.

“We have to run,” I rasp.

She nods, but doesn’t let go of my arm. Pain and anxiety pinch her expression, and I force a smile to reassure her. Doesn’t matter what Mom fed me; I’m going to do everything I can to protect my Queen.

We rush out together.

The night sky isn’t black anymore. Orange flames lick at the trees around us. The air is hot and thick. I look around, searching for a way out, but the only thing I see is fire and more fire. My right arm throbs, but I don’t make a sound. I can’t complain when she hasn’t said a word about her own shoulder injury.

She points. “There’s a lake that way.”

We hurry and cut through a dry, grassy field, the scorching air at our backs. I don’t know how long we run. It’s impossible to tell when I’m only awake due to terror and a sense of responsibility for her safety.

Finally, we reach the “lake.” It’s more like a small pond, but good enough. If the fire gets any closer, we can jump into the water to avoid getting burned alive.

My legs finally give out, and I fall to my knees. I can’t keep my head up without feeling like it’s about to explode with the sharp, pounding pain. I lie down and close my eyes, focusing on breathing. I hate Mom for drugging me. For making me feel helpless and useless and weak.

The dress rustles as the girl crouches next to me. “Are you okay?” she asks.

I’m too out of it to say anything.

“Don’t die,” she whispers.

I crack my eyes open. She looks down at me, her brows knitted with fear and worry. The fire casts an orange halo around her, making her look like an angel.

I nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

She gives me a relieved smile. I should smile back, reassure her, but all the strength in my limbs drains away and everything goes black.

When I open my eyes again, I’m in a brightly lit hospital room. Dad, Grandmother and Aunt Jeremiah stand around my bed, looking worried.

“How are you feeling?” Dad’s voice is shaky. I’ve never heard him sound like this before.

“Tired. Otherwise…okay.” I add the last part for Queen if she’s listening from somewhere in the room.

Dad doesn’t believe me. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Three days? I look around, but don’t see anyone else. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The girl who saved me. She led me to the lake.”

My aunt and grandmother exchange glances. I’m too exhausted to figure it out, but they’re hiding something.

“There wasn’t any girl,” Dad says finally.

“No way. She was there. And she got hurt, trying to save me.”

“It was just you, passed out by the pond.” Grandmother’s voice is firm and assured. “We didn’t see anybody. If we had, we would’ve brought her in to be treated.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” Aunt Jeremiah says. “But once you get better, I’ll personally help you find her. I promise.”

My outrage at their denial dies. She rarely makes a promise, but when she does, she keeps it. There’s no point in insisting on finding Queen right now. “Did you catch Mom?”

“We’ll deal with her.” Grandmother says it calmly, but the sharp glint in her eyes promises retribution. “You just focus on recovering.”

“Where did you find me?” I ask, hoping for some clue as to who Queen is.

“A forest in Oregon. About an hour from the state border.” The vindictive flash in Aunt Jeremiah’s eyes says she’s going to fuck Mom up. Nobody touches one of the family and gets away with it.

But we also don’t ignore it when somebody’s helped one of us. So why are they so reluctant to talk about Queen?

Four days later, I get discharged. I try to look for her, but not even the firefighters who found me know anything about her. Aunt Jeremiah hires a team of private detectives, and they also return with nothing. Queen might as well have been a figment of my imagination. My therapist implies as much. He says it’s a “coping mechanism,” something to keep my sanity intact. “One of the ways our mind protects itself.”

But…

As I stare at the long, ugly scar on my arm, I know I didn’t imagine that night. Or the drugs Mom put into my food and drink to keep me under control. If Queen hadn’t cut me loose, I would’ve died. If she hadn’t pushed me out of the way, the wolf might’ve fallen on my head and killed me on the spot.

I think of her shoulder injury. Wonder if something happened to her while I was out cold—

I hate Mom! I hate her, hate my weakness, hate that I lost Queen and can’t find her again. So much for being her knight. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Her aunt and uncle couldn’t have been treating her well, not with those old clothes and how dirty she was. She really needs more than Wonder Bread and water. And a better dress than the stained white one she was wearing. And shoes. And school. And the pretty things that girls deserve.

No matter where she is, I pray that she’s okay—and that her goodness comes back to her a thousand-fold.