Sleeping Beauty (Not Quite the Fairy Tale Book 7)(20)

Miss Stephenson.

Aurora opened her eyes. She’d been trying to sleep, quite unsuccessfully. The foreign and slightly metalic voice calling her name wasn’t waking her up, but she was still startled. She turned left and right. It sounded close, yet no one was around, as far as she could see.

Voice confirmation required.

She frowned. “Where are you?”

Subject confirmed. Aurora Stephenson. All commands transferred to subject.

It was a good thing that she’d been lying down, or she would have fallen on her ass. She blinked and the next instant, someone, something was standing next to her. It had the shape of a man - or a woman, she couldn’t quite tell - but it was entirely made of smooth metallic plates and held together by cords. A machine, the likes of which she’d never seen before.

Its iron face had no expression, no mouth to speak off, but it certainly could speak.

“Commands?” she repeated confused. “I don’t understand, what is this about?”

“I’m afraid there’s no time to explain now. Hostile subjects coming - two minutes away at their current pace. We advise you to hide on the balcony and climb down. And take a coat, as the temperature is quite chilly outside.”

She was dreaming. Wasn’t she? She dismissed that opinion right away because she honestly didn’t have the imagination necessary to come up with a story like this.

A noise outside her room, coming from the corridors, alerted her. She only took a second to realize that it wasn’t Rupert; there were many footsteps, all of them too hurried, heavy.

What the hell. Looked like she was going to have to listen to that weird robotic thing.

Forgoing the coat, as the men sounded too close, she rushed out to the balcony. The machine first stuffed some pillows under the covers, then followed through, floating soundlessly next to her. It didn’t have legs - its body, a simple legless bust, hovered around in mid air.

Aurora saw it close the curtains behind them. Her breathing quickened and she could hear her own heartbeat racing like wild drums.

She peeked, and saw silhouettes advance towards her bed.

“Dammit. Where is she?”

She knew that voice; old Viola Edwards from the Council.

“I’d say let’s go back and check Rupert’s room. The bitch was probably warming his bed.”

Another Councilman - Lork Tadar, this time.

“Careful that her father doesn’t hear you speak of her that way, Lork. He was clear that while she’s the best way to get through to Rupert, unless we find the princess, she isn’t to be harmed or disrespected. He doesn’t have any spare children. Aurora Stephenson will be Heir to the throne once Rupert cracks.”

Her bones froze. So, her father was involved and it was some sort of a coup. She couldn’t really pretend to be that surprised.

Aurora’s attention was called away silently - the machine lit up twice next to her, its eyes flashing dimly.

Catching on, Aurora advanced towards the edge of the balcony and cursed. Oh god, was she really doing this? She was on the second floor - the fall might not kill her but it certainly could make her break a leg. Or two.

She put one leg up and pulled herself on top of the balustrade, her heart in her throat.

She’s the best way to get through to Rupert, they’d said, and they were right. If they threatened her, there was a good chance he’d cave, do whatever they wanted him to do. It was just a matter of time before they’d think to check outside.

She crouched and reached out to attempt to grab the closest pipe.

The robot’s metallic arm met hers, securing it in its grasp. She exhaled in relief. Looked like it didn’t expect her to get herself out of this mess alone. It then held out its second arm and catching its meaning, Aurora grabbed it.

The machine then proceeded to pull her up and float towards the ground. She couldn’t say it had been a comfortable experience at all. Her arms seriously hurt. But it didn’t last long - soon, her feet hit the ground. Plus, she didn’t break her neck. There was that.

“There she is!” someone yelled from upstairs.

Aurora turned to her machine. “What now?”

“Now,” it said, “would be a good time to run.”



She hated jogging. Hated it. Always had, always fucking would. For one, her boobs were too big to attempt that sort of torture without a bra designed like heavy armor. When Aurora felt it necessary to exercise, it was by doing yoga, or Zumba. Jogging was for masochists.

Plus, to make the ordeal complete, she was barefoot, in a miniskirt and a flimsy tank top.

“I can’t keep going for much longer,” she managed to say, her throat burning at each word.

“The likelihood that the rebels might have taken a vehicle is overwhelming,” the machine replied. “They will catch up unless we reach cover.”

Dammit. “How much further?” she asked, her tone almost begging.

“The forest lies a quarter of a mile ahead. At your current pace, we should reach its borders in under ten minutes.”

Aurora stopped, bent in two, and breathed in and out, trying her best to not have a heart attack right now.

“The forest?”

Her voice was weak, her question, rhetoric. She knew where they were now, despite the cover of the night. And she knew where they were headed, too.