Free A Kiss in Time by Alex Flinn

punishment.
    I plead with Talia, even though I can barely look at her, Im so mad. Can you say something
     to him? Please.
    She shrugs. I do not know what to say.
    How about, he didnt sully me? That would be a good start.
    He will not listen to me. He thinks me a fool. She begins to pout.
    You are a fool! the king roars. To think that we hoped and prayed and protected you, only
     to have you stupidly ruin the kingdom! I wish we had remained childless! To the guards, he
     says, Take him away!
    And the next thing I know, three guys who look like they could work for the WWE are
     dragging me down a very long, dark flight of stairs.
    To the dungeon.

A Kiss in Time

Chapter 3
    M
    
    
     y mom will be happy. Im seeing something not many people get to see in Europe. An actual
     dungeon. Its not like Id have pictured a dungeon. Maybe thats because its so dark I cant
     see my own froufrou tights, much less any beds of nails or cat-o-nine-tails, or that thing
     where they stretch people. It just seems like a cold, damp, dark room, like my
     grandmothers basement in New York.
    And its quiet. I never really thought about quiet before, but at home, theres always the
     stop-start of the air-conditioner, the buzz of the computer fan. But theres nothing except
     silence here, and I have nothing to do but think about it. The walls are thick around me,
     and the ceiling is thick above me, like being dead. There is no one here but me.
    And the rats. The more I get tuned in to the silence, the more I real- ize there are noises after all.
     Little ones. Little ones like feet. Scurrying feet.
    I bet the rats are really hungry after sleeping for three hundred years.
    Dont think about this!
    The guards didnt take away my iPod, so I turn it on. It starts in at the same song the
     king was listening to.
    I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
    Hoo-boy, did I. And I did something wrong. I kissed some stupid, spoiled brat princess who
     couldnt even trouble herself to tell her father I didnt defile her. And now Im stuck here,
     rotting, maybe forever.
    And why did I do it? Because she was hot-looking. Youd think Id have learned from Amber.
    I switch to another song. Rap. Loud. One of those songs about what some guys going to do
     to some other guys girlfriend. Good stuff.
    Maybe theyll let me out tomorrow. Maybe theyll decapitate me. No. There are rules about
     how you have to treat prison-
    ers. I read about that in school. Geneva Convention. Except Im not sure the Geneva
     Conventions been invented yet here. Also, thats just for prisoners of war. I am a prisoner of love. I close
     my eyes and try to sleep. But I cant, so I just close my eyes and try not to hear the rats in the darkness. It sounds like a big ones creeping up. I feel red-hot liquid on my arm. Ouch! Are they
     torturing me? Boiling me in oil? Be quiet! a voice whispers. Its Talia. But that hurt.
    It is but a candle. The wax dripped. Do not be such a baby.
    Im in a dungeon!
    Suddenly, shes all, Oh, you poor, poor dear . . . yes, I do apologize for that. Father is
     in a peevish mood.
    You dont say. Howd you get down here? Everyone is asleep, except the guard. He let me
     pass. But are you allowed down here? I am a princess. I am allowed wherever I wish to go.
     Youd better go, I say. I know how it is. You come in here, and then in a few minutes your lady-in-waiting or whatever notices you missing.
     You lie about what hap- pened . . . and all of a sudden I dont have a head.
    Do you wish to escape? That would be a yes. Then you must speak to me. If not, I shall be
     forced to Dont . . .
    I will. I shall be forced to scream, and everyone will come running. I will tell them this
     knave has abused me grievously. The kiss will be nothing in comparison. I will be pitied,
     and perhaps it may affect my marriage prospects, but they were slight in any case. You, however, shall be stoned at sunrise . . . but only
     if you do not let me stay and talk to you.
    A