The first thing that returned to me was pain.
Not sharp — but deep, deep enough to break me from within. My eyelids felt glued shut, hips apologized for the killing ache, my hair tangled, felt trapped but not smoothly free. When consciousness finally weaved itself back into my skull, I blinked and sighed out of instinct.
The air felt suffocating, too tasty.
Too odd.
Too royal!
There was no straw bedding beneath me, it was silk, the fabric brushed against my fingers, my head slid down the royal silk pillow and its color contrasted the bronze of my hair. I didn't see green, but lavishness. A dome as I glanced above and not some arrow of rays of the morning light. Perhaps it was not the morning. The worn wool didn't feel this comfortable as back home. My eyes snapped open.
"What? Where am I?" a shiver of conscience ran down my spine. Crystal chandeliers hung above my head like glimmering stars in a lit area. These stars needed no reflection to glim. They could do it independently. The bed beneath me, which was certainly not straw and torn wool, was much more than I realized. It was giant of a bed and layered with cushions, smelled of a faint lavender scent and -----my fear.
My skull pounded with the thought of escape, but before that I needed to know: "How did I come here?"
The room was too still, too quiet, the kind of silence which surveillances you!
I carefully lifted myself off the bed, the silk flowed out of my being and a deep green silk fabric flew. The softness felt surreal but alien. The corset was golden and tightened my breath, stiffening my lungs. Someone had undressed me when I was unconscious.
An icelike blow ran down my spine.
Glare?
Memory slammed, a sharp, merciless pain grasped onto my tongue, it dried up due to dearth. How could I?
She tried to save me.
and
I left her to die!?
What could have happened to her? She, if alive, must be thinking I betrayed her. A poor being.
My glance went towards the soft flooring, the royal red carpets underneath my rough feet felt like a rock. My eyes, they slowly moved towards the door knob. Golden but yet to move!
Cluck----cluck.
The door handle rotated. A man entered. Armed and armored followed by another one of them, my eyeballs rotated, ready to fight back in case of any mishaps. Then, a young man, handsome-looking, almost like my dad, wearing boots and a black robe entered. His eyes softened to my inquiry which was thrown at them through my eyes. Soon his softened eyes turned alert, heavily-lidded, as if they were studying a dangerous animal. He prompted:
"You are awake, here and ready. The queen will be pleased."
True. Good humor. "Why would a queen be pleased!?" I snapped at him and stood defensively.
"You think silk can tame me?
You think perfume can erase the blood?
You think the palace can cage what the forest taught me?"
My fists clenched with rage and furiosity. Let them think! Once I escaped these walls. They will bleed.
In the evening.
The Throne seemed like the belly of a beast, its ribs poked my eyes with an instant of grief and I knew every glittering jewel in that hall was watching. Hundreds of candles flickered their lights upon my face, grey but alert. People stood in rows all like silk, velvet-adorned statues.
They paraded me forward as if I was a trophy. Perhaps thinking that I would tremble, but I have a purpose now, sharper than a sword, stronger than a shield. The same guy, stood on the left of the throne, murmuring with his soldiers over his shoulder. That filthy person! The reason which took away the father's voice. He took my father away all together, he stood in absolute integrity, his hair — moonlit obsidian, his face—reflected sunlight. But all this was given to him for being a murderer.
Fate delivered him too close to miss!
The guard on my right elbow pushed me forward. My steps, desperate to balance, got lost in the polished marble floor, but I got steadied by rage. He turned his back on me — ahh, relief.
So close, one angle across his wrist would be enough to, a small scratch on his neck, to end the curse of my father's blood on my head, then I would be free. Freedom is a heartbeat away and no!
He shifted — His eyes — cold grey — met mine.
Rage ran through my spine all the way up to my skull and I curled my fingers, ready to scratch, to kill, to end! He stepped forward;
"Who brought you here? ", a whim of interrogation protruded from my head, but he had to go!
A sharp sting.
Not from him.
From behind.
A thin, metallic object plunged onto the side of my neck.
My breath hitched.
Some amount of heat ran under my skin starting from my neck, to my shoulder and then to the spine. The place swayed, danced and spun in front of my eyes. Someone yanked the needle out.
Poison.
The word pulsed into my skull.
The prince's eyes widened, slicing realization as if tore his peace. He reached for me.
Huh! I left out a grin of praise towards fate. The games of destiny.
I was close enough.
Close enough to see the silver in his orbs.
Close enough to kill.
Close enough to die!
My vision stumbled. I could have meddled with his pathetic existence but the poetic cruelty of the nature of fate made a joke out of it.
"Who ordered this? She was not meant to be !"
A boot struck my shoulder from behind, the force of which flattened my body to the ground, helpless. The cold floor kissed my cheek, the harsh court surrounded me. Darkness held me like tar around steel. But I heard a silent promise.
"If death didn't take you tonight, the prince will!"