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Standing outside of the Ashmore Estate, Tadius shivered in his sopping cloak and clutched his bag closer.

The rain had stopped but as the sun fell steadily to the earth, cold was seeping through the air. Summer had ended and its warmth was fading faster each day. If he could not convince the Lady Ashmore to take him in, even if only for the night, he was in for a miserable time indeed. Though he could not help but wonder if that was what he deserved.

Closing his eyes, Tadius once again cursed his own carelessness. Of course the Lower Garden had not been empty of garden hands. Of course the garden hand who’d overheard Tadius warning the visiting Princess of the Prince’s true nature would go straight to Lord Whitehart. Of course Lord Whitehart, who'd always hated Tadius, would go straight to the king.

Tadius had been given barely enough time to stuff a few items into his bag before being marched out of the castle. He hadn’t seen the Prince in that time; he didn’t know if the man had been told what had happened. Perhaps Tadius had been replaced smoothly enough he’d barely noticed. It had been a long time since Tadius had felt any care or attention from his master. Now he never would again.

A drip of cold water ran from his hair down the back of his neck, making him shiver. Hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder, Tadius stepped through the open gate onto the Ashmore estate and began to squelch down the path.

It had not been his first choice, the Ashmore Estate - of all the noble families in the area they had the worst reputation.

Specifically, Lady Ashmore was rumored to be a silvertongued yet vulgar woman who had not made any allies among the local noblewomen. In fact, many of them hated her for making eyes at their husbands. Given the terrible state of the Ashmore lands, it seemed the lady had as little talent for managing estates as she did fostering relationships. Servants gossiped that years ago all former servants had run screaming from the place and never returned - though no soul who had actually served there could be found. Peasants said the stain of witchcraft lingered, poisoning the women who lived there. The things they said about the only daughter of the original Lady Ashmore were not worth repeating, in Tadius’ view.

He tried to hold onto hope as he approached the house. Having never met either of the women in question, Tadius had no real idea of the gossip’s accuracy. 

Perhaps the bulk had been exaggerated and the Lady was a reasonable, compassionate woman.

Perhaps she would allow him to shelter in the stables for the night. The house had an old farmhorse that pulled their cart - surely he could do some kind of work in the stables. He had not shovelled manure in a few years but he would do it. He would do quite a lot for shelter from the cold.

At the door to the house, Tadius hesitated. The disrepair was obvious, even in the gloom of dusk: peeled paint, cracked window panes and grime on the stone steps. Tadius couldn’t replace window panes but he could clean and apply paint to the door.

Putting the sneers of stewards, guards and the one Lord who’d deigned to speak to Tadius himself out of his mind, Tadius knocked the knocker three times. 

This time.

In the woods, an owl called out. Tadius couldn’t hold back a shiver, numb fingers tightening on the strap of his bag.

The door opened suddenly and a woman with quaffed red and white hair and sharp eyes snapped. “What?” 

By her make-up and dress, he assumed she was Lady Ashmore.

“My lady,” he began with a thankfully steady voice, “I come from the castle to offer my servi-”

Putting up a perfectly-manicured hand the lady interrupted. “We don’t need any help here.”

No, please.

Tadius pressed. “Surely a castle-trained servant would be of-”

Eyes narrowing, she interrupted again. “I have no need for a pageboy or cupbearer.”

“I served the prince, my lady.” Tadius corrected.

Then he bit his tongue. His pride had gotten in the way again! Now she would ask why he no longer served - as the others had - and he would not be able to bend the truth in the same way as he could have if he’d pretended to be someone more inconsequential.

The lady blinked, then smiled in a way that made Tadius’ stomach squirm. “Oh? You did? You were his attendant?”

“Yes. Until fairly recently.” Tadius answered, preparing to explain the dismissal in the best way possible without actually lying.

The lady stepped back from the door. “Well, come in then.”

It was Tadius’ turn to blink, though when the lady’s eyebrow raised he rushed to obey. 

“Thank you, my lady!” He said hurriedly, almost tripping over his words. “I promise I will do what-”

“Yes, yes.” She waved a careless hand. “Come along, I don't have all day.” 

Tadius went to wipe his wet shoes on the mat or rug by the door but looking down saw there was none. Head going up again he noticed the lady walking away swiftly so he stumbled to follow and prayed she would not mind the puddles he’d make. It was hard to see much of the entrance hall without sunlight or indeed, any candles, but dust filled the air.

As they entered a corridor though, the lone candle on the wall revealed a dirty floor and one raggedy tapestry.

“I apologise for the mess.” The lady commented, waving her hand as she strode along. “My stepdaughter is quite mad, you see! We try to stop her but she must cover the place in grime.” She tittered an insincere laugh.

“We?” Tadius asked.

“My real daughters and I. Fear not, we reside in the western wing of the house and let the poor girl do as she please.”

“Right.” Tadius did not mention having never heard of other daughters. 

Was no one else aware of their existence? Or perhaps it was not just Lady Ella who saw things that were not there.

“It is her madness that makes it impossible to keep good servants, you understand.” Lady Ashmore continued.

Tadius wondered why the lady didn’t send her stepdaughter to a sanitorium but did not dare ask. He really wanted a bed of hay that night.

They arrived outside the door of a dark room.

“Ella!” The lady called in a screeching voice.

Through years of practice, Tadius kept a blank mask over his displeasure at the sound.

“There should be a candle and matches inside.” She said to Tadius.

Taking the hint, he ventured inside and as his eyes adjusted he saw a candelabra on a sidetable.

He heard light footsteps and a low murmur from outside. His hand located a matchbox and he carefully opened it as he strained to listen in on the conversation.

“Clean up the dining room and make this man a hot drink.” Lady Ashmore ordered. A short pause, then a low screech. “I don’t know! Tea!”

As Tadius lit the candle, the footsteps retreated again. He looked around and saw he was in a sitting room - two armchairs were placed in front of a large fireplace. The door creaked.

“Do dry off, dear.” The lady instructed with a smile that settled awkwardly over her features. 

Tadius bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”

She swept out of the room, leaving just the slow drip of Tadius’ bag and cloak on the wooden floor. As he loaded logs into the grate, he considered what he’d overheard. Did she have a servant after all? Surely that had not been her step-daughter? Tadius could not imagine a lady speaking so to a member of her own family. 

He lit a piece of kindling and watched as the wood caught fire. On the other hand, considering the lady’s reputation and behavior, perhaps it was not too much of a stretch to believe she would order her mentally unwell stepdaughter around.

Hold, the Lady Ella was going to serve him?

If true, that could not stand.

Going against the lady of the house’s orders was not wise, but to be fair she did not know Tadius’ status. Perhaps she’d mistaken him for a noble’s son or such - it was not unusual for nobles to serve the royal family to further their own family’s standing.

Checking the spare logs were out of the way so as to not catch fire, Tadius hurried out of the room and down the corridor in the opposite direction from which the lady had led him. Luckily there were not too many doors leading off so he found the kitchen within a few minutes.

It was a complete mess. A spacious room, fitting for the kitchen of a noble house, there were workbenches, two huge stoves, a pantry and a trapdoor, no doubt leading to a cellar. The windows were covered in the same grime as elsewhere in the house, the floor dirty with dropped food and covering the workbenches was…well, it could not be described as food, surely.

But worst of all was the smell. Was it…rotting meat?

There was a woman amongst all the mess. She must have been Lady Ella but… Tadius had to fight his exhaustion to keep his mask at the sight. Her clothes were so old and worn they were close to rags; her skin was covered in grime and she was hugging herself as she stood at the stovetop, staring at a kettle.

“My lady…” Tadius’ voice was not as steady as he wished.

“Oh, sir!” Lady Ella startled. She looked about her and then ducked her head, voice meek. “You caught me at a bad time, I’m afraid.”

“Please, worry not.” Tadius rushed to insist. “I am no sir, and I do not blame you for this…” he could not think of a polite way of putting it so settled for waving his hand.

“You should not be here.” Lady Ella said quietly.

“Well, I wanted to insist you not serve me. I can-”

“I mean here, in this house.” Looking up, her eyes were wide and shining. “It is not safe!”

Tadius opened his mouth to ask what she meant but his mind caught up before the words could climb his throat. So, Lady Ashmore was as cruel as she was odd. The reason she forewent servants seemed obvious: to avoid her cruelty from being witnessed apart from her poor stepdaughter.

Tadius’ heart went out to the lady; whether or not she possessed a sound mind was of no consequence, she should never have been allowed to exist in such squalor.

When he did not speak, Lady Ella stepped forward and insisted. “She’s not what she seems! Please, away!”

Batting away the more extreme warning, Tadius nodded and tried to placate her. “I see. So when she extracts all my knowledge of the prince, her ladyship will have no qualms with…disposing of me.” An idea popped into his head - risky but then again, what did he have to lose? “Attend! I have it. I will play along for the moment, give her a few morsels tonight and after she retires I’ll come to find you and we can escape."

It was clear Lady Ashmore merely wanted to pump him for salient information, not hire him longterm, so Tadius would have to move on anyway. If he could help the poor Lady Ella in the process, what reason did he have not to? 

“Escape?” Lady Ella parroted. “Where would we go?”

That pulled Tadius up short. “Hm. My last resort I suppose. Before I tried my luck here I heard they were hiring more hands at the port. Doing accounts though! Not sailing, thankfully.”

Lady Ella shook her head. “There is no where we could go she would not find us.”

Gods, the lady had terrorised the girl quite badly. Due to her marriage into the Ashmore line, the Lady Ashmore did not have any political reasons to keep Lady Ella at the house. Surely it was pure malice that motivated her actions and malice alone was not enough to compel her to chase the poor girl through the land.

Well, while Tadius had not had to fend off any attempts on his life, he had stopped the odd plot against the prince. He was not without some wits or contacts.

So he was not lying when he said: “I know a woman in the next town over who makes very convincing disguises.”

Shaking her head, Lady Ella explained. “It’s the scent she’ll follow.”

Tadius opened his mouth without knowing exactly what to say when footsteps sounded from the corridor. In response, Lady Ella jumped and hurried back to the stove. Her nerves were putting Tadius more on edge as well as twisting his heart.

“What are you doing in here, boy?” Lady Ashmore demanded.

Tadius swallowed. It was quite a thing to be exposed to her displeasure.

“I thought to correct a misapprehension, my lady. I am a commonly-born man so I could not allow the lady-”

“We don’t stand on the same ceremony as the castle.” Lady Ashmore cut him off before ordering. “Come on, I want you to tell me about our fine prince.”

Tadius flashed the Lady Ella a reassuring look as he left, but she did not see - eyes still fixed on the ground.

“Since I do not often have civilised company, I’ve brought out something special.” Lady Ashmore said back in the sitting room. “A wine from the Cheesemonger’s Lands.”

Tadius replied with well-worn roads of inane politeness as his mind focused on the puzzle. What was that?

She poured him a glass. “Here. Drink up.”

The liquid was so dark that light did not seem to pass through it. Tadius had no idea what it would do to him but he knew instinctively that he should not like to find out. Perhaps it was the terror of Lady Ella, the unnatural smile of Lady Ashmore or the wrongness Tadius had felt ever since he’d entered the house.

Accepting the glass with a shallow nod, Tadius waited until the lady took up her own glass and pretended to sip it.

He swallowed a ball of saliva and nodded in fake-appreciation. “A very fine vintage.”

The lady’s lips stretched upwards in a facsimile of a smile.

“Sit.” She ordered.

Tadius obeyed, settling into the armchair across from the lady, and answered her questions as vaguely as he could while trying to avoid frustrating her. Placation was a skill he’d honed over the years but one had to be extra cautious around a stranger. Who knew what knowledge or skills of their own they possessed? 

He did not know how much time had passed before the lady’s eyes fixed on his glass and narrowed. Tadius’ heart stuttered.

She knew.

Hairs pricking up on the back of his neck, Tadius put his still-full drink on the side table.

“If you pardon me, my lady, I-”

“No. I think not.”

Freezing where he was half-out of the chair, Tadius didn’t dare meet her gaze. 

She rearranged her skirts a little as she asked casually. “Would you like to meet my daughters?”

“Certainly.” Tadius murmured, rising slowly to standing as he kept his eyes to the side of her ladyship. “Allow me to just-”

The lady’s hands went to the back of her neck as she whispered. “They would love to meet you.”

Against his will, his eyes snapped over to look. He watched numbly as her skin began to sag unnaturally and the air grew colder.

On instinct, Tadius ran. 

Behind him the lady shrieked words he didn’t understand, making him run even faster. The shadows in the corridors were stretched and long and dark, and deep from within the house he imagined he heard rumbling.

Lady Ella was still in the kitchen when Tadius burst in.

“My lady!” He cried as he saw her, not pausing in his run.

She leapt up from the stool on which she’d been sitting but shied away as he reached out.

“We must away.” Tadius said urgently, heart hammering even as he came to a stop in front of her.

“It’s night.” Lady Ella croaked. “It’s too late!”

Left hand still outstretched, Tadius insisted. “Running through the dark is better than facing a poisoner!”

“You go.” She shook her head. “Try to escape them.”

Something crashed from inside the house. Torn, Tadius implored again. “Please, my lady. Come with me.”

She just stared at him: a silent plea on her face. To leave her or to save her, Tadius wasn’t sure.

Behind them a deep voice called out. A voice that shook the very core of Tadius’ being. Body moving without his mind, he stepped away from the lady and bolted out of the back door into the dark.

Night had truly fallen. The air was still and cold - no crickets, owls nor any creature stirred. Tadius paid no heed to that as he ran down the back path, eyes fixed on the gate on the other side of a barren stretch of land that had probably once been the kitchen garden. He had left his bag but did not break his stride when he realised. It was too late to go back, he just needed to-

“Come here, manflesh!”

Tadius let out a small cry as a shadow blocked his path. It was big and looked heavy and stopped him in his tracks. Panic raced through his limbs. The shadow advanced and Tadius darted to the right, running over loose soil and the dried remains of dead plants. He could not see much ahead of him in the dark but he guessed there would be a way back to the front gate. As he reached the end of the old garden though, another shape formed that he did not recognise, causing him to skid to a stop.

“You shall not pass!” The shape screeched.

Tadius flinched as the shape moved its arms and stepped into moonlight to reveal…

To rev…

He could not believe what he was seeing.

A stone statue that moved? It had a…a huge head with sharp fangs, bright yellow eyes and skin like boulders. The monster moved forward, lifting a massive hand. Tadius stumbled backwards, ears ringing.

He had enough wits left to recognise that something was behind him.

Then darkness.

…

Ella felt the first rays of sun on her face and let out a long breath. 

Curled up on her cot, she stayed under her thin blanket for a minute longer as she considered what to do.

She’d slept poorly, mind down in the cellar where the Troll Mother had dragged that poor man. Ella had endured a lot of things over the years, including being dismissed by people she’d considered allies if not friends, so his obvious disbelief had not been new. The novelty had come from trying to prevent the Troll from harming someone else. And what a horrible novelty it had been.

Had he survived the night?

There was only one way to find out.

After hearing the door to her stepmother’s room slam shut, Ella crept out of the cupboard she slept in and padded down to the kitchen.

The trapdoor to the cellar wasn’t shut all of the way. Swallowing, Ella descended the wooden steps with her candle. She hated going down there, not just because the Troll had sometimes locked her in when she’d ‘misbehaved’, but also due to the cold, unfriendliness of the stone.

Behind a rack of fine wines the Troll sometimes used to bribe the mayor, Ella saw the man.

He was sat against the far wall, hands above his head and secured to the wall by chains, legs splayed out in front of him. At the sound of her approach he stirred, head lifting slowly.

Ella let out a long, relieved breath.

“My lady.” He whispered as he saw her.

There was a dark bruise above his left eye, but other than that he seemed intact. Coming closer, Ella saw his wrists were red, like he’d been straining against the chains. Ella swallowed.

“Can you stand?” She asked, thinking to help him shift to avoid becoming stiff.

He wheezed a sad kind of laugh, head shaking back and forth. 

“Your lovely stepmother saw to that.” He indicated down with his head.

Kneeling down in front of him, she examined his legs and winced at the sight of his ankles. “They’re both…?”

Head falling back to lean against the wall, he sighed. “Broken? Yes.”

Pushing down her dismay, Ella hunted around for something to wrap them in. For all the good it would do. There was a faded tablecloth wedged between two barrels that she managed to extract and shake out. Apart from the dust, it seemed to be clean otherwise. Ella started ripping it into strips.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, guilt weighing down her shoulders.

The man did not reply for a long moment. Then he sighed heavily and looked at her. “No, I’m sorry, my lady. For not believing you.” His voice gentled. “I’m sorry no one does.”

“I would not believe me either.” Ella said as she eased his right shoe off his foot.

“I’m not so sure.” He murmured. Then he sat up, urgency threading through his tone even as he winced. “My lady, you must escape.”

“And go where?” Ella asked, hearing the dullness in her voice. “There is nowhere she could not find me.”

He did not contradict her that time.

“There is a knight who still hunts trolls.” He searched his memory. “I forget the name, hold…”

Ella worked in silence as the man closed his eyes. She had never heard of a troll-hunting knight - the common wisdom was that no troll still lived, after all. She could not blame the man for clutching at straws though.

Turning her mind away from the undeniable, bleak truth of their situation, Ella asked herself who he was. His clothes were simple but of fine material, she noticed. He possessed a polished accent yet spoke with deference, and had insisted he was commonly-born. He had also mentioned the prince and the Troll Mother was clearly interested in him.

He flinched minutely as she wound a strip of tablecloth around his ankle another time and she thought to distract him for a moment. 

She asked. “What’s your name?”

Huffing with a thin kind of humour, he opened his eyes and replied. “Tadius. I was the Prince's attendant until recently.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Tadius.” Ella said awkwardly, tying up the wrapping on his right ankle.

More sincerely, he replied. “And you, my lady.”

Ella moved to his left ankle, repeating the process as delicately as she could.

“Lord Grizzwald’s son.” Tadius said suddenly. “Sir Samuel.”

“Grizzwald?” Ella echoed, breath catching at the familiar name.

Perhaps there was hope.

“He hunts trolls.” Tadius misunderstood her reaction. “Write to them. Ask for their help.”

Ella felt the tips of her fingers tingle. Without emotion she said. “There is no paper or ink in the whole house. Not even a quill.”

“My bag,” Tadius looked over to the corner where it lay, “look.”

Numbly, Ella went over and rooted inside. She found a roll of blank parchment, a quill and a seal. It was royal, she realised.

“The Prince’s.” Tadius explained when she brought everything over. He smirked without mirth. “He never uses it and I thought it might come in useful.”

“There’s no ink.” Ella said softly.

His head fell back against the wall with a thunk, then he blinked and tilted his head to her. “Could you get some?”

“It would be difficult to buy some from the village.” Don’t give up, cinder girl! “Perhaps I could make it?”

Tadius grimaced. “It usually takes a few weeks to make from scratch. Have you any hawthorn trees here?”

Noises came from upstairs.

“Don’t get in trouble on my account.” Tadius whispered urgently.

“I’ll return.” Ella promised, packing everything back into his bag and putting it in the corner.

Though he didn’t reply, Tadius watched as she left: the sound of chains clanking following her out.

…

The next time she saw him, Ella saw that Tadius had been the one in trouble.

It was the following morning and the Troll must have visited in the night. Tadius had been stripped to the waist and his bare chest was torn and bloody: three long scratches ran across his torso, weeping slightly.

“Oh gods, Tadius!” Ella gasped.

“Quick!” He rasped, chains rattling as his hands twitched toward her. “Get the quill!”

“What?” Ella paused in reaching to tear a strip from her tattered petticoat.

He looked down and, confused, Ella merely looked at a drop of blood rolling down from the slash across his left flank.

“No!” She gasped as realisation hit.

“You must hurry, before it all dries.” His smile was pained and ironic and exhausted.

Perhaps she had become hardened from the years of tending to her own wounds, but Ella did not need more convincing. Picking up the quill, she shuffled closer and gently pressed the nib against the scratch across his lower belly. She apologised lowly as he hissed but did not stop.

Nib full, she carefully put it to paper and began to write.

“Is it working?” Tadius rasped.

“Yes, now hush. Save your strength.”

Up close, Ella could see none of the wounds looked in danger of letting out a dangerous amount of blood; the attack clearly intended to pain rather than kill. Still, she hurried to get the words down so she could tend to him however she could.

Keenly aware of the incredulity her words would surely induce in the Grizzwald family, Ella focused on brevity.

My Lord Grizzwald,

A troll in a human disguise resides in my father’s hall. Two daughters has she and the prince’s attendant she has captured and keeps in the cellar. 

I know not her designs but I believe she means the prince and king harm. 

Please send help with all haste!

Lady Ella Ashmore

There was no sand to throw over the blood to keep it from smudging so Ella used two old jars to keep the parchment flat as it dried. Then she fetched water and a strong spirit to clean the scratches; a second old table cloth was sacrificed to make more bandages. For his part, Tadius kept as quiet and still as he could.

“What did she want to know?” Ella asked.

“More about the prince. His tastes, his vices, his-” Tadius winced as Ella dabbed at the scratch over his heart, “weaknesses.”

Ella apologised lowly but Tadius shook his head. “It’s fine. The most important thing is the letter.”

“Let me wrap these.”

Closing his eyes, Tadius leaned his head against the wall and sighed. “She’ll just make more tonight.”

“Then I’ll wrap those too.” Ella rejoined matter-of-factly.

Tadius had no reply to that but he did open his eyes and look at her. Ella felt his gaze on her face as she worked, but ignored him so she could focus. Or try to. His skin was warm, she noticed as she wound her arm around his back to secure a bandage. In the frigid cold of the cellar, in the barren wasteland of her social interactions, his whole body was warm and clean. He smelled nice. Normal. When had been the last time she’d been so close to another human?

Finally satisfied the scratches were all clean and wrapped she looked up. His eyes flit away from her face and he swallowed.

Sympathetic to his shivering, Ella ran upstairs and took the blanket off her cot, coming back down to tuck it over his shoulders as much as she could.

“Thank you.” He said, eyes back on her face.

Ella nodded and then went over to the letter. The blood had dried to a rusty brown colour. Unpleasant to look at but perfectly legible.

“You had a royal seal?” She asked.

Tadius nodded and watched her fish it out of the bag. Using a candle she melted some of the wax and stamped the seal into it. When the missive was ready, they both stared at it for a moment.

Then Ella asked aloud: “how am I going to send it?”

“Does she let you leave ever?”

“I come to the village with her sometimes to get supplies.” Ella said slowly. “I’m hardly out of her sight but I might be able to slip away.” She bit her lip. “I couldn’t pay the courier though."

“There are some coins in my purse.” Tadius said. Then added darkly. “Or there were.”

Ella found and counted them. There were enough to send a letter.

“Except…” Tadius said, appearing to think out loud. “The courier would take one look at the seal, and you, and ask questions.” He looked down at the coins, brow furrowed. “That’s not enough for a bribe.”

“I could sneak it in the bag?” Ella suggested. “Would he deliver it still? Thinking he’d overlooked it?”

“Perhaps. If he were rushed or distracted enough.” Tilting his head, Tadius continued. “If it’s Gerrard, sometimes he has one drink too many in the inn. He loses time and a little sense. The seal would be prompt enough. So, if you can get it into his bag unnoticed, he would be the slower but safer option.”

“The next time I leave, I will seek him out.” Ella said, even as she questioned how she would do such a thing.

No one liked talking to her even when she was buying things, let alone asking questions about the whereabouts of couriers.

Tadius looked at her, his clever eyes reading her face. She imagined he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Whatever he thought though, he kept it to himself. 

He shifted and winced, gritting out. “You will need to be careful in any case.”

Ella half-paid attention to his words as she adjusted the blanket to cover more of his chest.

“She will expect you to seek help.” His eyes found hers, earnest in their warning.

His gaze fell before she could reply. 

Seeing his expression darken, Ella asked. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, my lady.”

Ella asked herself if she should push for an answer but then noted the exhaustion on his face.

“Ella.” She said instead.

Tadius met her eyes again, this time his were questioning.

“Seeing as we’re in this together. You might as well call me ‘Ella’.”

It was not quite surprise on his features, nor confusion. Something else that made his voice hoarse as he replied. “That is kind of you, my…Ella.”

For the first time in a long time, Ella smiled.

…

Unfortunately for both of the prisoners, it started to look like Ella would not be allowed to leave anytime soon. While ordering Ella around in the house, the Stepmother made no mention of going to the village but she would smile as if daring Ella to try to leave. Her stepsisters stomped around and asked their mother again and again to be allowed down to the cellar, just to ‘see’ the man. They were always denied, to Ella’s relief, yet she knew that was not out of any kindness on the Troll Mother’s part. Nor was it kindness to allow Ella to visit him, as she must have known Ella was doing. She needed Tadius alive and talking, and Ella was helping. 

The dread in Ella’s gut grew as she contemplated what would happen when they reached the end of Tadius’ knowledge of the prince.

On the fifth day of Tadius’ imprisonment, Ella came down in the morning to find him talking to a mouse.

“-if you say so.” He was saying.

The mouse in his hands looked up at him and squeaked. Pausing on the stairs, Ella watched for a moment. Tadius had been freed from his chains - with his ankles still broken he had no real chance of escaping - and had managed to wrap Ella’s blanket around his bare shoulders. Making a new shirt for him was on her list of things to do, she’d cut the shape out of some old curtains she’d found but needed time to sew it together.

Smelling no fresh blood or burnt flesh in the air, Ella was hopeful he’d mostly been left alone that night.

Tadius tilted his head, lips curving up ever so slightly as the mouse sniffed his fingers.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He murmured.

Warmth diffused around Ella’s heart. She called as she finished descending. “New friend?”

Tadius looked up, smiling tiredly as he saw her. “Yes, at least I hope so.”

Coming closer, Ella caught sight of an empty vial on the ground by Tadius’ feet. She picked it up gingerly and examined it. There wasn’t any residue she could see or smell. While she was standing there, Tadius whispered something to the mouse who then butted its head against Tadius’ hand. Not knowing him very well, Ella couldn’t be sure if it was normal for him to make friends with small animals but the good humour despite his situation did seem unusual.

“Did she hurt you?” Ella asked, carefully putting the vial down on a shelf.

Humming, Tadius shook his head then he gently lowered the little creature down to the ground and stayed quiet as Ella tended to his wounds. Only one scratch had reopened and needed cleaning, the burn on his left arm the Troll had made with a hot poker two nights before showed no signs of infection and the swelling of his broken ankles had gone down somewhat.

Once satisfied, Ella let him eat the mushroom soup she’d made earlier. It was more watery than she would have liked but he thanked her profusely.

“I have never realised how useful it is to have use of both arms.” He said in reference to his freed hands.

Ella had to agree: spoonfeeding a grown man gruel had been an awkward experience. As he ate by himself, Ella greeted the mouse who had come over to sniff her worn shoes. Conscious of the hole at the big left toe, Ella folded her feet beneath her and reached out to gently stroke the mouse’s head.

“Does he have a name?” She asked.

“We haven’t advanced that far in our acquaintance yet.” Tadius replied.

Ella was pleased to see the soup seemed to have invigorated him and in kind she suggested some names. Tadius liked ‘Crumb’ and thusly their new friend was named.

“You need to hide it.” Tadius said once he was done eating, stressing the ‘it’ to indicate the secret thing they both knew.

As one, they looked at his bag where the letter was stashed.

Ella bit her lip then reasoned. “I just need to create an opportunity. Then I can sneak out and-”

Tadius shook his head, unyielding in his tone. “You must hide it. Do you know a safe place? If she finds…” his voice became scratchy, “if she were even just to ask me about any plans we had, I could not…I would not be strong enough to resist.” He ducked his head as if ashamed by his admission.

Ella’s heart clenched. She had only seen the aftermath of the nightly interrogations and had not the heart to ask Tadius much about them but she did not doubt they were the stuff of nightmares. She did not blame him for telling the Troll whatever the beast wanted to know.

Tadius sniffed and hunched down under the blanket. “It’s not safe here. You must bury it somewhere for later.”

“We need help now.” Ella argued, not liking the despondency in his voice.

“I need help now.” Tadius corrected her, looking up. “You will last longer.” His voice softened. “Please, Ella, you cannot waste your one opportunity with haste.” Lip twitching, he finished with a sliver of humour. “I will never forgive you.”

Ella frowned, temper flaring. “And I will never forgive you if you give up now.” Her voice was hard as a rock. “You will last until help arrives. Do you understand?”

Tadius blinked. Ella held his gaze, trying to pour all her fire out to him. 

After a long moment he nodded and said quietly. “Yes, my lady.”

Ella’s hackles lowered and her heartbeat settled a little. Still, she worried about the near future. Without proper medicine, she did not know how well his wounds would heal. Nor did she know how much longer the Troll would… Her mind shied away from that line of thinking.

“Life’s funny, isn’t it?” Tadius said with a lighter tone. “I spent my life serving an idiot, trying to prepare him for rule. Hoping he would grow out of his selfish, lustful ways and become good and just. And now I’m helping monsters ensnare him.” He laughed without mirth. “Undoing all of my useless work.”

“None of this is your fault.” Ella pointed out as she smoothed down the flour sack she’d found for Tadius to sit on. “And your work was valuable.”

“How are you…?” Tadius trailed off with a sigh.

Ella looked up curiously. “How am I what?”

Tadius pulled the blanket tighter around him. “You have suffered more than I, a hundred times more, and yet your heart is still pure.” His gaze was heavy on her face. “I am in awe.”

Ella felt her cheeks warm at the praise and she could not look him in the eye. 

He asked. “How can the gods be good if they do not help you escape?”

Ella threaded her fingers together on her lap. “It is not ours to question why.”

“Ella.” Tadius said as if he knew the doubt that lay in her heart.

She looked up at him and risked it. “Forgive me for saying… I have wondered if they really are good.”

Tadius laid his head back on the stone behind him and drawled. “I’ll forgive you, my lady, as I do not believe they really exist."

Ella blinked. “You do not?”

“Tell me how every race, even every group of humans, have different gods that are all real? They’re not. The Old Gods, the real gods, are gone.” His lip curled. “All that’s left are desperate lies and useless ceremony.”

Thinking about the ravenous mob that had dragged her mother away to be burned, Ella had a slightly different view of the religion of the Nine. Still, she asked. “How are you so sure everyone else is fooled but you see the truth?”

“I’m a pompous bore.” He said with an unconvincing shrug.

Ella frowned, sensing those had originally been someone else’s words.

“I do not agree.” She said.

Pulled out of a thought, Tadius smiled a little. “But you do have a safe hiding place?” He asked again.

“Tadius…”

“Just in case. I’ve found it’s easier to act in an emergency if I thought about it beforehand. Planned.”

“Yes.” Ella answered slowly as she thought. “There is one place they would never look.”

Tadius sighed. “Good. Don’t tell me where. Just keep it in mind.”

They talked some more but seeing Tadius begin to tire, Ella made sure he was comfortable and left him to rest, tucking the letter into her bodice. 

She went to collect dirt from the grounds to scatter inside but could not focus, mind turning. In her heart she knew Tadius was right, her stepmother was expecting her to try to raise the alarm, to try to help him. 

And even if she could get to the village, would she really be able to find any aid? What was the likelihood she could find any courier, let alone Gerrard the drunkard? So many things could go wrong. Knowing her luck, all of them would.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Ella snuck away from the house. She had been patient for years; resisting the urge to give in to despair, keeping her feet, even when shrinking away from violence, and doing it all without a friend in the world. Now she had one, she did not want to lose him.

So she went, as she almost always did, to the Tree. The air was still, no animals stirred nor wind rustled the dry leaves. Even as she walked over them, the crunch was muted.

Breathing evening out, Ella walked over to the base of the Tree and knelt. She took out the sealed missive and dug under a root which had risen from the earth. Lips moving without her really noticing, Ella recited the prayer her mother had taught her and placed the missive in the earth.

Once the missive was covered up, Ella bowed her head.

Please, let this message save me, save Tadius.

Save us both.

She looked up at the oak to which her mother had devoted herself. There were no hidden signs in the branches or trunk, just wood stretching up from the ground into the sky.

Just a sense of familiarity for something she’d never seen.

With one final plea, Ella turned and left.

…

Four hundred leagues away, the Lord Grizzwald woke.

Ella.

His wife stirred beside him in the darkness. Pushing down the horrible images from his dream, the lord shifted to the edge of the bed, reached for the little bell on the bedside table and rang it twice.

“Can’t it wait till morning, darling?” His wife mumbled.

“It’s Ella Ashmore.” Lord Grizzwald replied.

After a beat, his wife rolled over and asked. “Pardon?”

A knock on the door. At the lord’s call his manservant entered holding a candle.

“Yes, sir?”

“Timothy, fetch Samuel.” The Lord ordered shortly. “Wake him right now. He needs to get ready to depart at first light.”

Timothy nodded and left immediately.

“What’s this about, Henry?” Lady Grizzwald asked as she sat up.

Ella Ashmore. On her knees with blood thick on her hands and tears in her eyes. On the ground in front of her lay a man in chains. Behind her three trolls loomed: teeth gleaming. One had the head of a beautiful woman. It was the most terrifying.

“Trolls have infested the house of Ashmore,” Lord Grizzwald said through the fear clenching his heart, “and dear Ella needs our help.”

In the gloom of night he could not see his wife’s face but her voice was strong as she replied.

“And she will have it.”

The Lord found the Lady’s hand and squeezed it. 

He hoped, desperately, that their help would not come too late.