“Do they have names?”

“Hansel and Gretel.”

“Fine,” I say. “Make dinner for all of us, too, while you’re at it.”

She slams the door in my face.

A Drop of Defiance

Belle

My feet are bleeding.

The tips of my toes are cracked, and my ankles are so worn and torn that they resemble the old pages of a book.

Too stubborn to ask for a reprieve on a horse, I sink my calves into the mud and rip aloe leaves from a floating reed.

Tearing the blades open to expose the cool green gel, I smear the liquid all over my fingertips.

When the mud has somewhat numbed me, I lift my left foot and press a hand against my broken skin.

“Ahhhh…” I bite my lip and hold back tears as the aloe stings the open wounds.

Behind me, I hear Gabriel’s men whispering through the bushes.

“You think Gabriel will let us have the girl when we reach the next full moon?” a deep voice says. “He has to give us something to keep us going.”

“I don’t see why not,” a huskier voice responds. “She’s merely a prisoner to him. She has no true value to us, except in the final exchange.”

“Whenever he gives the go-ahead, I get to have her first. I’m sure she’s tight.”

“If I don’t beat you to it, you mean.”

“Maybe we can have her at the same time. She has more than one hole after all.”

They laugh in unison, and I suck in a slow, unsteady breath.

I have to get away from these people…

Heavy footsteps sound to my left, and Gabriel peers through the thicket. Looking as gorgeous and evil as ever, he seems annoyed at my presence.

“We’re starting again soon,” he says. “You need to—”

“Get up. I know.” I pluck another aloe leaf. “Can you spare me a moment until I finish tending to my wounds, please?”

“What wounds?”

“I can handle them myself.” I try to turn away, but it hurts too badly.

He glances down at my feet, watching the blood spew onto my hand. A wave of guilt washes over his face, and he tears off fresh leaves before moving closer.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says, his voice soft. “Do you know that?”

“I do a lot of things wrong, apparently.”

“Running your mouth is the only thing I’ve noticed so far.” He eyes my feet again. “Let me help you.”

I’m in far too much pain to protest.

He kneels and gently opens the leaves, wrapping their smooth edges around my feet one by one, crafting makeshift shoes.

He stares into my eyes the entire time, looking as if there’s something he wants to say, but only silence stretches between us.

When he finishes, he slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me out of the reed bed.

Amidst a chorus of whispers from his men, he places me on his horse before sitting behind me.