Chapter 2

"What do you mean my granddaughter's missing?" shouted the king, Annabelle's father.

"Oh, daddy." Annabelle collapsed into her father's arms, crying miserably. "She just disappeared, disappeared."

"Shh," her father said, enfolding her into his embrace.

Her mother had taken the news of Harley's absence in surprised silence, and still seemed to not believe it, standing there in shock. Zachary stood next to her, brooding angrily, a permanent scowl on his face since his daughter had gone missing.

"She wouldn't just leave without telling anyone, she wouldn't do that. Something must have happened. Oh father, what if she was kidnapped, what if she's hurt or scared?" Annabelle cried.

"I'll call all the men to go search for her immediately," her father said striding out of the room, perfectly confident that they would find her.

Annabelle stood forlornly minus the absence of her father's strong arms, but soon Zachary wrapped her up in his, holding her tightly.

"Uncle Zachary, Aunt Annabelle," sixteen-year-old Olive strolled into the room cheerfully, but wavered when she saw Annabelle's tear-streaked face, and her mother's stark white one.

"What's going on? Where's Harley?"

Olive and Harley were best friends, not just because they rarely ever met anyone else close to their age, but also because they did genuinely get along.

At the question, Annabelle burst into a whole new set of tears, and Zachary held her tighter stroking her hair.

"Harley's missing right now, sweetheart, but don't worry, we're going to do everything we can to find her."

"What do you mean Harley's missing?" Olive demanded, looking back and forth between their troubled faces.

"Oh, come here Olive," the queen said opening her arms, speaking for the first time since she heard of Harley's absence. Olive walked into her grandmother's arms. "Everything will be all right," the queen muttered, trying to comfort herself more than the stunned girl in her arms.

Harley stirred uncomfortably, her muscles were sore, and she seemed to be just one giant ache. She didn't open her eyes, just wanting to sleep a little longer, and she snuggled her face into her pillow.

But then she heard a distant noise, and she reluctantly opened her eyes. Where was she? Harley could feel the instant panic before she remembered what happened, being kidnapped, her wild escape attempt, that hateful man carrying her home.

She turned over, and found herself looking directly into his face. Harley automatically snapped her eyes shut again.

Cal laughed. "Nice try, but I know you're awake."

Harley opened her eyes to glare at him.

"Okay, sleepyhead, first thing's first, tell me your name."

"I want to get dressed," she said instead of answering his question.

"Tell me your name, and then you can get dressed."

"Harley."

"Harley," he repeated her. "Don't try to escape like that again," the harsh warning tone in his voice made Harley look away.

"You said I could get dressed."

"Here." He handed her a gown, nice, but practical.

"Turn around," she demanded when he just stood there watching her. She could feel that she was naked under the covers, and she would be damned before she would give him the satisfaction of changing in front of him.

"Harley dear, I've already seen all your charms, there's really no point to your modesty now," but despite his words, he turned around, crossing his arms against his chest. Harley got out of bed and quickly donned the dress he had given her, noting how the dirt had been washed from her body, her cuts cleaned.

"Okay," she said when she was dressed, prompting Cal to turn back around.

"You look very beautiful clothed, my sweet, but I think I do prefer you naked and wild, running free like a little rabbit through the forest," he told her, and she blushed bright red.

"Here," he said gesturing to a small table with a plate of food sitting on it, that she hadn't noticed before, "Come eat some breakfast."

Harley glared at him, stubbornly refusing to move. Did he think she would just ignore his rude remarks? Just let him make fun of her and be a docile little captive?

"Harley," he said warningly. Harley didn't like the way he was using her name, it was much too familiar, and she found herself wishing she hadn't told him what it was.