She walked with a casual grace that belied her nervousness. Her heavy breathing was the only sound heard in the large hall. The two standing at the altar turned at her quiet footfalls. The man smiled cruelly, a repulsive cast to his handsome face. The cold look in his steely cobalt eyes reminded her of the shackles she had been bound with for most of her life. She flinched slightly remembering and breathed heavily.
She moved between the two and set the clay bowl upon the altar. She dipped one hand into the glistening fluid, trying to ignore the bile rising in her throat. “Keva alolea swaila.” She reached towards the man and traced a brief insignia. As she marked his cheeks, she recited, “Alor swails keeal mora.” She noticed the blood running down his face as she continued, “Elia kordus monan.”
She dipped her hand back into the bowl and turned towards the woman and followed the same movements. “Eshow medo amonela…” she trailed off dipping both hands into the bowl. She grabbed one of the man’s wrists and then one of the woman’s. “you are now joined,” she whispered trying to keep her voice steady. “It is done,” she called out to the crowd. Raucous cheers filled the room as she sank to her knees crying. The man and his bride ignored her heading for the door.
She was still there several hours later when the boy found her. “Why did you cry at the end?” he asked putting his small hands on his hips disapprovingly.
Hearing his voice, she stood up. She looked down at the floor, glancing up at the boy cautiously. He wasn’t very large, and she thought he couldn’t be more than nine. His hair was a dark rusted brown and his eyes were the same cobalt blue that the king’s were.
“My father said everyone was supposed to be happy about his wedding. I had to be. And I was getting a new mother. I don’t want a new mother. You’re not even getting anew mother and you weren’t happy. you were crying. Why weren’t you happy?” he demanded to know.
“I was. I was very happy,” she replied to the young prince. “When I’m very happy, I cry,” she lied hoping the prince would believe her.
“That’s stupid,” he said. “My father’s the king. everyone has to listen to him. I am going to grow up to be just like him,” he said proudly. “But I’m going to do something even greater than him!” he added, stomping his feet for emphasis. “My name is Evan. I’m going to get to be king someday and everyone will listen to me. What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.
“Maertna Di Dwonidai,” she replied softly.
“No, not the name my father gave you,” he replied rolling his eyes at her. “Your real name,” he said with a frown. “I want to know your real name.”
“My real name?” she said startedly. “I’m not allowed -”
“Are you telling me no?” he screamed. “You can’t do that! You stupid slave!” he continued to shriek. He balled his hand into a tight fist and punched her in the stomach.
She bit her lip to keep from gasping. “I’m sorry, your Highness,” she said gently. “I was named Maertna Laola of the Caol clan,” she added, hiding a wince. She rubbed her stomach gently.
“Clan? What clan/” Evan said. His screams had stopped as soon as she did as he wanted and told him her name. “I thought you were Dwonidai.”
“I am. I am,” she said in reply, mentally cursing herself for telling him her clan name.
“What did you mean by Caol clan then?” he asked curiously.
“It was where I was born,” she said, covering up what she had said with another lie. In the distance someone was shouting for Prince Evan. “I need to return to work, Highness,” she replied quietly and dropped to her knees. She began to scrub at the blood that had dripped to the floor during the ceremony.
She glanced up as the boy walked away. She sighed shaking her head. She knew he would grow up to be even more of a tyrant as an adult than he was as a child of nine.
The young man stood in front of the window, staring aimlessly out at the ground surrounding his father’s castle. The scent of yellow roses filled the room and he turned as his guest arrived. “Ah, Zele, you’ve arrived. I trust your journey here was pleasant,” he said. He noticed the outfit his strange servant was wearing and sighed. “Must you always cause a scandal? Zeleana, we are here in the center of the largest market for nearly a thousand leagues. Did my father not tell you the last time you saw him that you could have anything made by his tailors?” he said raising an eyebrow at her choice of clothing.
A long black skirt covered her lower half and her top was clad only by a single piece of black material that wound around her bosom loosely. Her shoulders and arms were bare and a delicate silver chain twisted around her throat ending somewhere in the folds of her risqué shirt.
“Yes, he did, my Lord,” she said rising from her curtsy. “I am afraid I must decline his…generous offer though. I want nothing that will indebt me to your father further. After all I am already a slave. I don’t feel the need to use his money to buy things I don’t want,” she added shaking the wrinkles out of her skirt. “Are you enjoying the storm?” she asked as the sky crackled with electricity.
“Yes, I am. Is this the storm you conjured up for me or is there another coming?” he asked turning his attention back to the view of the tempest.
“I do not appreciate the word conjured. I do not conjure anything, my Lord,” she replied quietly. “But yes, this is the storm I called for you,” she added moving to stand beside him. “Do you really think this will help with our designs?” she asked laying her hands on the rough stone that made up the walls of the castle. She lifted one hand and stuck it out into the storm. She pulled it back in staring at the small glistening drops of rain on her skin.
“Will it do what I asked?” he continued turning to look at her. “How much longer will this storm cause my father to be gone?”
“Another day at least, my Lord Prince,” she replied. “Maybe longer. I cannot guarantee how much longer your father will be unable to return, although I believe it will be some while judging by the strength of this storm.”
“If my father is unable to come home, then yes, this storm will help move our plan along,” he said, answering her earlier question. “I need time to implement the new laws I’ve been drafting. And you know that it has to be done carefully, Zele.”
She was watching him with a curious stare that made him flinch. She moved closer to him, her eyes staring at him questioningly. Her breath was warm against his face. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her hungrily, loving the sweet taste he associated with her. She suffered his impassioned embrace for a moment and then pulled away. “What would your wife think, Henry?” she said and walked away from him.
“Why does she always do that?” he muttered angrily watching her. “I have no wife as she well knows,” he continued before turning to stare out the window. “Besides the only bride I am likely to have is one of her people when I get through with this insane plan.”
Zeleana continued down the stone hallway into her own private quarters. She shut the smooth wooden door securely. She whispered a quiet word causing the door to seal against unwanted visitors which included most everyone at that given moment. Only one person that she knew to be in the castle would be capable of breaking her ward.
She paused for a moment breathing heavily looking around her room. All that was within the chamber was a single bed, a wooden armoire for her nonexistent wardrobe, and a large stone pedestal. Atop this pedestal rested a large clay bowl full of water. Zeleana moved towards the stonework slowly and then dipped her hands into the water. She closed her eyes and changed a soft incantation, calling to the one she served.
A moment later, a woman’s voice filled the chamber. “Ah, my beautiful Zele, what new information do you have for me?” she asked as Zele knelt to her knees, water dripping from her hands. Zeleana faithfully reported all that had happened. “It seems our dear prince Henry needs some inspiration, dearest. It is up to you. See that he remembers that he owes loyalty to the…” The woman’s voice was cut off.
Zeleana screamed in pain. “No!” The cry was unending and a servant heard her from the hallway. He grabbed the door and was sent flying backwards, a large bruise already forming on his hand. He cradled his arm and went to find the prince.
“Prince Henry, there bein’ something wrong wit tat witch girl of yours!” the servant said bursting into the prince’s private study.
“Zachariah! How many times must I tell not to call her a wi…wait! There’s something wrong. Where is she?” he asked with a start.
“In ‘er room. But ya con’t get in, Lor’,” he said in a rough voice and watched as the prince ran from the room. He sighed and followed, racing with the prince to Zeleana’s room.
Henry slammed into the door, and a brief light shone out before it swung open. Zeleana was still on her knees, screaming loudly. As Henry raced over to her, the servant stopped in the doorway. “Zele, it’s okay,” Henry said kneeling down beside her. Her nose was bleeding and her eyes were closed shut in pain. “Go get me some water!” he roared at Zachariah.
“But Lor’, there’s wa…” he replied, stopping at Henry’s rough glare. “’Course, Lor’, as ya wish,” he said turning around. He ran through the open door.
By the time Zachariah had left the room, the prince’s attention was already back on the young woman. “Zele, wake up…wake up, please,” he murmured shaking her gently. He brushed a strand of her ebony hair out of her face and then shook her again. None of his actions affected her except to stop her screaming. She didn’t respond with anything other than the action of snapping her mouth shut. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“My lord, I have your water,” a servant said carrying a tub of water. “Zachariah told me you need water for Mistress Zeleana,” she said quietly. She carried the water over to him. She set the bucket down and watched as Henry watched the blood off her face. “What’s wrong with her, your Highness?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.
‘I don’t know. But I’m going to find out,” Henry said as he picked up the bucket of water. He dumped it on the slave woman in front of him. Zeleana blinked and began to sputter angrily, spitting out water. “Zele, what happened?” he asked setting the bucket back on the ground.
“Something happened to my m…to Maertna. She’s hurt,” Zeleana whispered, her voice cracking with worry and pain.
Henry listened to her words and his eyes widened. “How do you know, Zeleana? Are you positive about this?” he asked quietly. He glanced at the serving girl, unsure of whom she was. He knew there were Dwonidai slaves on the castle staff but he was never able to pick them out. The girl’s eyes were wide and fear contorted her face. She left the room swiftly, stumbling over the hem to her worn brown dress.
“Yes, Of course, I’m positive! I was speaking with her when the connection was broken,” she said quietly. “And I felt the same things she felt,” she added turning away as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. Already her nose appeared swollen and a large purplish spot was beginning to appear along her cheek and eye.
“I don’t want you talking to them for a few days…” He held up a hand defensively as he continued, “Just give me some time to find out what happened. Zele, I don’t need you hurt as well as Maertna.” He stood up and said,” I need to return to council. I’m sure the recess is long over. And I still have a duty to my father to fulfill,” he said turning to leave the room. He paused in the doorway and commanded, “Do not contact your people until I say so, Zeleana.”
Rage filled her face. “What gives you the right to tell me what to do, Henry? And duty? What do to your father do you have? You, who plot and scheme to keep him away from his home,” she scoffed.
“You swore an oath of loyalty to me, Zeleana Di Dwonidai,” he shouted turning around in a fit of temper. “And I owe one to my father!” he added.
The expression on her face was terrifying to behold as she snarled at him. The next thing he knew, she was standing directly in front of him. “I swore no such oath to you! I swore an oath to do as I was told! Not to serve some petty little princeling such as you! And for you to speak of loyalty! Do you not remember how I came to be here as your slave, my Lord?” she spat in his face.
The whites of her eyes were swallowed by obsidian. “You swore an oath. With your blood! You set a geasa! You are bound to help my people so long as there is a breath left in your body! And if you couldn’t save us, those born of your blood would do so!” Henry turned to look at the furious woman and fled, her angry cries following him down the hall, reminding him of the oath he had sworn.
Henry continued until he could no longer hear her enraged yells. He paused before the doors to the council chamber breathing heavily. He took a moment to clam his breathing and looked up as the great wooden doors in front of him flew open. The young man looked up at him. “Prince Henry! I was just sent to look for you. The council wants to know why you’re not in the council room yet,” he said, his eyes wide. “What should I tell them?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to them myself,” he commented. He moved around the boy and then slipped into the room. He looked at the old men seated around the broad table. He held up a hand trying to silence their outburst. “I had something I had to deal with,” he told them firmly. His tone allowed no questions and the men subsided into an uneasy silence. “Shall we continue our conversation from the morning session?” he continued, moving to sit in his father’s chair.
“You can’t sit there! That’s the king’s chair!” the nearest council member to him said, shocked. ‘Lord Preene,’ Henry reminded himself looking at the man. Lord Preene was the oldest member of the council. His skin was white and leathery, looking as if it were about to fall off his face. His lips were pale and colorless and his tongue flicked over them constantly.
“Oh? And why not?” Henry replied in a cold voice. He winced to himself as he heard the tone he used on the frail older man. “Does it look like my father is here?” he said.
“Well…” Lord Preene said in a quiet voice. He had no response to the prince’s words. He snapped his mouth shut and frowned at the heir to the throne.
“Much better, Lord Preene,” Henry said. “So, now that we have that settled.” He glanced at the group of eleven men that helped to rule the kingdom. “Now, do any of you still have concerns about the laws proposed earlier?” he asked, bringing the men back to their original task.
Several of the men began to speak, although their ideas were quickly shot down. Henry hid a smile as he called for the vote. “All those who say yes, raise your hand. All those who say neigh, do no raise your hand…” He repeated the words several times until proposed law had been voted on. He counted the hands raised and then looked at the four who had not raised their hands. “Okay then…” He sat up straight and formally said,” These motions have been brought before the council and by a majority vote all have been passed. This council’s business is finished.” At these words, the council members stood slowly and tottered out of the room. Henry let the smile he had hid throughout the meeting, grinning at the victory he had achieved. He stood and strode from the room, looking for Zeleana to tell her the news. He froze remembering what had happened before the meeting. He turned and headed in the opposite direction looking for a messenger.
A short while later, he stood outside Zeleana’s door. He raised one hand to knock but changed his mind. He knew Zele would still be angry with him and he had no desire to incur her wrath for a second time. He laughed humorouslessly knowing that most people would laugh at his reluctance to fight with one thought of as a slave. He shook his head thinking he was far more her slave than she could ever be his. He walked away contemplating the anger and pain he had inadvertently caused her.
Zeleana heard the sound of his laugh and looked, awaiting his entrance. She sighed as she sensed him walking away from her door.
She walked towards her armoire and opened the doors. She frowned as she pulled out a dull brown dress. She swiftly removed her normal outfit and put on the clothing of a traditional Dwonidai slave. Her back was bare, showing a tattoo of interlocking triangles. She picked up a small leather bag whose cord she slipped around her neck.
She slipped from her room quietly and then headed down to the servants’ entrance of the castle. She slipped through the doors, and out into the city. She walked along the way, avoiding the curious stare of the people who recognized her. She walked into the covered bazaar loving the scent of the new goods that were offered there mixing with the fresh clean scent of the rain. She spotted a small open booth and made her way to it slowly. The old woman who was watching the booth spotted her and then stood quickly. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped at the shake of Zeleana’s head. “Would you like to come in to my tent?” she asked quietly brushing up the cloth doorway of the black tent her booth was in front of.
Zele slipped through the slim doorway and then settled down onto one of the pillows scattered around the tent.
The old woman followed her in and then sank down with a pained groan. “So why are you here, Zeleana?” she asked crossing her arms. She watched her guest with a curious stare.
“Where is Joshua?” Zeleana asked, referring to the man who owned the stall keeper.
“Joshua is out visiting several ale houses, I believe. And why are you here?” she replied angrily.
“I…” she started to say. She trailed off as her face flushed with pain. She sighed and took a deep breath. “Something has happened to my mother, Adelaide.”
The old woman’s gruff demeanor broke and she gasped audibly. “What do you mean something has happened to Maertna? How could you possibly know that?”
“I was speaking with her and suddenly the connection was broke by a great jolt of pain. My nose started bleeding. And then this bruise appeared,” she said pointing at the dark purple blemish on her face.
Adelaide sighed. “Well, I agree. It does sound as if she has been hurt. Well, we need to find out what happened,” she said in a brisk tone. Her business like attitude calmed the distraught young slave. “We’ll have to send out a messenger.”
“I believe that does not need to be worried about,” Zeleana replied softly.
“Oh? And why, pray tell, does it not need to be done?” the old slave asked crossing her arms again in disbelief.
“I believe my Lord sent out a messenger,” Zeleana answered. “He said he would anyway,” she said looking down.
“Oh yes. I quite forgot you serve the prince,” Adelaide said. “So tell me. How is the little traitor doing?” she asked grinning broadly at Zeleana.
“Adelaide!” Zeleana whispered in a strangled voice.
“Oh calm down, girly. No one is going to listen in on the conversation of two slaves. And besides, he is a traitor. One I am enormously proud of, but a traitor none-the-less. Unless you have a different name for someone trying to start a rebellion among people his own father enslaved.”
Zeleana shook her head despairingly. “You’re going to get him in trouble. And me by association.” She frowned and then muttered, “He’s fine. Probably smug as hell, but he’s fine.”
“What did you say, Zele? I’m not a young woman anymore. You got to speak up when you talk,” Adelaide complained.
“I said he’s fine, Adelaide,” she replied smiling at her. “Just that he’s fine,” she repeated quietly.
“Uhuh, don’t you be lying to me, Girly,” Adelaide said. She reached over and smacked Zeleana on the side of her head.
“What was that for?” Zeleana protested rubbing her head. She frowned, thinking, ‘I’m a woman of twenty four years but she still makes me feel as if I’m twelve.’
“For lying. Just be glad I don’t have any soap with me right now,” Adelaide said, crabbily.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I said he’s fine but probably smug as hell…” Zeleana said crossing her arms moodily.
“And why would the man be smug?” Adelaide asked raising her eyebrows.
“My Lord got another of the laws passed,” she replied happily. “Even Lord Preene supported him.”
“And how do you know this? I know for a fact they don’t let slaves, especially female ones, into closed council meetings.”
“Well…I watched it,” she admitted. At Adelaide’s puzzled expression, she added, “I scried, Adelaide,” as if that should be obvious.
“Ah, of course you did,” Adelaide said, shaking her head. “Does the prince know you spy on the council?”
Zeleana laughed. “I think he may suspect, but, no, he doesn’t know for certain. He enjoys telling me about the meetings and I have no wish to ruin so simple a joy,” she said softly.
“And why would your owner enjoy telling you about his private business? Usually that sort of information would be saved for a loved one, of some sorts. Unless you are one of his loved ones?” Adelaide said pointedly, causing Zeleana to blush darkly.
A soft rustle alerted the two women to the presence of another. A moment later, a short, heavy-set man poked his head into the tent. The rest of his large body followed him slowly.
“Hello, Master Joshua,” Adelaide said, rising hurriedly to greet her owner.
Zeleana stood as well. “I should be going. Thank you for your company, Adelaide. Farewell, Master Joshua,” she said. She curtsied to him and then left the tent. She heard the sharp crack of a hand connecting with skin. Adelaide stumbled out of the tent with Joshua’s handprint imprinted in red upon her cheek.
Zeleana studied the old woman with caring eyes. She gave her a week smile of encouragement. She then turned and walked away from the market stall. She walked down the narrow streets of the city’s market, her eyes studying the different goods for sale. She saw a glassblower’s shop and stopped to watch the glassblower and his assistants. A small bin near the ground containing clear roundish globes caught her eye and she watched as one of the assistants dropped a pair of slightly malformed globes into it. Zeleana’s eyes widened. She swiftly moved to the owner of the shop and said, “Sir, I noticed that bin over there full of globes. I was wondering if I could purchase any of those globes from you.”
“Them globes over there? You want to buy ‘em? They’s just going into the rubbish bin. You can just have them.”
“Are you sure?” Zeleana asked trying to hide a broad grin. “I’d be willing to pay whatever you want for them.”
“’Course I’m sure. Why don’t you tell me where ya live and who your owner is and I’ll have one of the ‘prentices run it up when we get done workin’,” the glassblower said.
“I work in the castle…” Zeleana said softly.
“Oh, so you’re a castle girl, huh?” The glassblower interrupted with a laugh. “So, who’s your overseer and what’s your name/” he asked as he scribbled on a piece of paper he had grabbed.
“Well, I don’t really have an overseer,” Zeleana said with a frown. “I serve the royal family. My name is Zeleana,” she added.
“Zeleana? As in the Prince’s Zeleana? The one the Prince is…” he trailed off seeing her nod her head. “So, um, I’ll make sure you get these right away, Zeleana,” he said uneasily, as if he were afraid he had said too much.
“Thank you, Master. I greatly appreciate this,” Zeleana said smiling gently at him. “And also, I would like to purchase one of those glass bowls you have on display there,” she said pointing at a group of green-blue bowls that sat sparkling in the light.
The glassblower sighed with relief that she apparently wasn’t angry at him. He moved to the shelf slowly and pulled one of the bowls down. He began to wrap it gently and set it in a small crate. “I’ll have this delivered for you later, Lady.”
Zeleana smiled at him. “I’d appreciate that greatly,” she commented. She opened the bag around her neck and pulled out several gold coins. “Here,” she said pressing them into his hand. She turned and headed out of the shop ignoring his protests that the coins were too many. She continued down the street past a small tavern.
She sighed as she watched one of the tavern’s patrons get tossed out into the street. The young man was dressed in the apparel of a royal guard and after standing, proceeded to yell, arguing against his unfair ejection, at the man who had thrown him from the establishment. Zeleana moved to go around them, giving the scene no more consideration than the few seconds she had watched.
She continued onward and heard a slight disturbance behind her. She sighed and then gasped as she felt a rough hand grab her arm. She turned slightly wincing from the pain. She glared at the young man from the tavern who was currently latched onto her arm.
“Can I help you?” she asked trying to pull her arm away from him.
He laughed and grabbed her other arm. “You’re kinda pretty,” he said, his words slurred. He pressed her up against the wall. He lowered her mouth to his and kissed her sloppily. His breath tasted like ale.
Zeleana’s hands lit up and a spear of lightening flew from each hand into the man’s sides. The man jumped back. “Damn witch! What the hell did you to me?” he snarled.
He raised one of his meaty hands and slapped her across the face. He grabbed her throat with one hand while the other began to fumble with her dress. The people walking by ignored the struggle. Zeleana tried to call the magic again but couldn't access the power. She raised her arms and began to pound them against him, trying to force the man off her. She pulled her right arm back, her hand clenched into a tight fist. He caught sight of the brand burned into her skin.
With an animalistic growl, he let go of her as if her touch now burned him. He backed away. "You damn witch," he spat at her again before turning and stumbling away from her.
Zeleana watched as he walked away and wondered why he he had left. She absently rubbed her throat and glanced at her still upraised arm. She realized that the insignia of the royal family was plainly visible for all to see.
She sighed and lowered her arm. She held it tightly against her side. She grabbed her wrist with the other hand and absently ran her fingers over the scars.
She tried to keep the memories of recieving it at bay but was overwhelmed as the images flooded through her mind. She sank down agaisnt the wall.
The dull glow of the fire flickered against the wooden walls of the slaves' pens. Zeleana clung tightly to her mother's hand. The smell of charred wood and burnt skin permeated the entire area. She hid her face against Maertna's side as brief screams echoed through the air. They moved upward through the line, moving closer to the fire. A rough hand grabbed Zeleana's arm, jerking her away from Maertna. She whimpered softly as he forced her to turn her arm over.
"Who's taking ownership of this slave?" a harsh voice called. Maertna silently handed over a sheaf of papers to him. "the Commission of Slaves...blah blah blah...Zeleana Di Dwonidai hereby to serve the royal family..." The brander looked up. "The royal family?" he said, his eyes appearing to bug out of his face. He set down the pole he held and picked up another. He held it in the flames. "Hold the girl, "he commanded. Two young man grabbed a hold of her and held her arm out in front of her. She struggled some as the big burly man lifted the brander outof the fire. He looked at the girl and then pressed it against her right wrist.
Zeleana screamed in pain as her skin began to smoke. A moment later, the brand was removed. The brander pushed her on out of the way. One of the men who had held her slathered a rich creme on the burn and then wrapped her wrist with a piece of dull brown cloth. Maertna grabbed her hand and led her out of the way. The other slaves were ushered into the pens but Maertna showed her slave brand to the handlers who ushered them past the pens and back into the bright sunlight.
Standing outside the door was a man in full, rich clothing with a golden circlet on his head. Maertna instantly knelt down in a deep curtsey. She tugged at Zeleana's arm until the young girl was curtseying as well. The king studied her and then said, in a deep voice, "Is this the slave you got for my son, Maertna?"
Maertna nodded. "Yes, sir. She is," she replied without looking up at him.
"Sir?" he snapped.He smacked her across the face, causing her lip to split. A thin bead of blood appeared on her lip. She didn't blink or move to wipe the blood away.
"I'm sorry your Majesty," Maertna apologized. "It won't happen again, my lord Evan," she said quietly. The king nodded and then gestured at a young woman standing nearby. She nodded and ushered a young boy forward.
"This is my son, Henry," the king said proudly. "Henry, this is the slave I told you I'd get you," he said. "What is her name, Maertna?" he asked curiously.
"Her name is Zeleana Di Dwonidai," Maertna replied looking at him.
"But my name isn't..." she trailed off as the king smacked her. She gasped and he moved to hit her again.
"Please, Sire, she's just a child," Maertna pleaded with him, moving slightly between her child and the king. He growled and then struck her with his large hand. Maertna was knocked to the ground from the force of his blow. She simply laid there not moving. Zeleana watched, her eyes wide in shock. She opened her mouth to protest to her mother being hit when her mother's hand snaked outzapping her with a small bolt of lightning. She bit her tongue sharply to keep from crying out. She knew that the lightning bolt was her mother's warning to stay quiet.
The king sighed. "Maertna, I don't like to be angry with you. Why must you make me angry?" he said, sounding genuinely regretful that her actions drove him to hitting her.
'I'm sorry, Sire," she replied, moving to rest back on her knees.
"Well, that's good," he said and patted her head. 'She can ride back with the nurse and my son. He should get to know his slave," he said grinning. He turned and strode away, his dark cape flaring out behind him. "My carriage is up ahead."
Maertna climbed to her feet looking at the nurse. The nurse pulled a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Thank you," Maertna said wiping away the blood that was starting to run down her face. "it seems most of my interactions with the king end up with me being bloody," she said laughging, although her laugh held no amusement. It was a dry bitter noise. The nurse laughed dutifully and shepperded the young prince towards their carriage. Maertna followed her, guiding Zeleana towards the carriage. Zeleana gaped seeing it. It was large and ornate with gold handles. She had never seen anything as beautiful as the carriage. She turned to look at her mother. "Mommy..." she trailed off seeing the large bruise forming on Maertna's face. "Mommy, are you okay?" she asked, her lip trembling.
"Of course, Darling. I'm fine," she said giving her daughter a small smile. Maertna picked her daughter up and set her in the carriage. "Now be good, Zeleana. I will see you later," she said kissing the small black haired girl's forehead. She turned and walked dejecetedly up the king's carriage. The closer she got to the even more ornate carriage, the straighter she stood. She walked regally as she approached the door.
Zeleana nodded watching her mother walk away. She sniffled reaching up to wipe the tear trailing down her face.
"Why are you crying?" a quiet voice said, interuppting her observation of her mother's leaving. She turned to look at him. "Because...my face hurts...and my mommy's sad," she replied studying the prince.
The prince nodded. "I'm Henry. I'm sorry my dad hit your mom," he said taking her hand in his. He glanced around as if to see who might be listening. "He hits my mom too," he said in her ear, conspiratorially. "But not as hard as he hit you. What is your name?" he said.
"I am Zeleana. But most people call me Zele," she replied trying to sound brave but failing. She simply sounded miserable. "i'm sorry he hits your mom. Why doesn't anyone stop him? No one else can hit people."
"Because he's the king. Everyone lets him do what he wants," Henry replied and shrugged. "He says someday I'll be king too."
They stopped talking as the carriage began to move, rolling slowly through the city.
Zeleana opened her eyes slowly unaware of how much time had passed while she had been lost in her memories. She stood up slowly shaking her head. She frowned as she realized how dark it had become. She noticed how few people there were on the streets as she scurried back to the castle. She slipped through the servant entrance and glanced around. She realized that the cooks had already begun to prepare the evening meal.
Zele saw the steward of the castle and attempted to slip past him unnoticed. The steward saw her and frowned. He moved in front of the door effectively blocking her exit. “Mistress Zeleana…” he said, a slight sneer appearing on his homely, scarred face. “You know it is the king’s law that all slaves re to be inside the castle walls by the time supper is served, unless they have special permission. You are cutting it awfully close.” The sneer on his face disappeared s he began to glare angrily at her.
“And you created a great deal of extra work for my workers by purchasing those worthless glass baubles. What possible reason could you have for buying them? The only point I could see to them is disrupting the entire castle schedule.” He gasped. “That’s why you bought them, isn’t it?” he demanded. “So my workers would have to move them to your room instead of doing their real work,” he said, hysteria causing his voice to rise to a high squeak before it broke.
Zeleana contemplated telling him that she had not even purchased the glassware but decided not to raise the ire of the man even further. “Of course not. My purchasing of those glass globes was in no way intended to disrupt your schedule,” Zele tried to assure him.
He scoffed and moved away from her, in a similar manner to a snake. His harsh voice rose to scold a young cook’s assistant who had dropped a bowl of soup on the floor.
Zeleana walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, her dark eyes studying the various tapestries, even though she had seen all of them before. She continued to her room. As she opened the door to her quarters, she noticed that inside the door were several large bins, rather than just the one bin, of glass globes. She smiled and made a note to remember where that glassblower’s shop was. She saw a small wrapped item sitting on her bed. She walked over to see if it was the bowl she had bought. Zele noticed a small handwritten note stuck to the side of the item. She picked it up, her eyes flickering back and forth as she read it. “Zele, I hope you have a good reason for buying these. I had to come and unlock your room for the servants. Next time give me some warning, please. Henry.”
She sighed. She had planned on being back before the glassblower’s apprentice arrived with her globes. She unwrapped the item on her bed and smiled seeing the bowl. She wrapped it back up and then walked toward the door of her room. She headed out into the hallway and then towards the prince’s quarters.
She stopped in front of the door and then raised her hand gently to knock on the door. A low rattling inside and a muffled curse brought a small laugh to her mouth. She covered one hand stifling the laugh that threatened to explode out. Henry opened the door. “Zele? Where have you been? I have been looking for you all over! And you're all wet!" he said.
She sighed. “I am sorry, my Lord. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I went to see Adelaide. I needed to inform her of what happened to Maertna,” she replied. She held up the wrapped bowl. “I got sidetracked on my way back by a glassblower. Sorry for not being here to unlock my door, by the way. I planned on being here but... I got this for you. From the glassblower,” she commented.
Henry took the bowl from her and said, “What is it, Zeleana?”
“Open it and find out, my lord Henry,” she replied grinning cheekily at him. He laughed and began to unwrap it. He simply stared at the beautiful bowl for a moment. “Thank you,” he finally said. He turned from the door and headed over to set it on a small table. “Are you wearing that to supper?” he asked turning back to look at her.
She laughed. “Of course not, Henry. I simply haven’t taken the time to change for the evening meal yet,” she replied. “I did not want to attract that much attention by wearing my normal outfit.” She took a deep breath. “Some drunken guard tried…nevermind. It’s not important,” she said, shaking her head.
Henry moved back to her side. He put his arm around her and led her into the room. He had her sit in a chair and then knelt beside her. "Tell me what happened. It's important to me," he said quietly.
She nodded. "He said I was pretty and kissed me," she said her eyes focusing on her hands.
"did he hurt you? Are you okay?" he asked softly his eyes raking over her checking for any injuries. He noticed the red mark on her cheek and frowned, the anger welling up in his eyes. "He hit you?" he said his finger outlining the mark.
She turned away, forcing his hand to drop away. "it's not important. I am more worried I hurt him. I hit him with lightning," she said softly biting her lip.
"Zele, don't feel bad. He shouldn't have hit you. He had no right," he replied rubbing her arm comfortingly.
"I'm just a slave, Henry," she said erking away, standing up abruptly. She laughed bitterly. "i have no rights, remember? Who cares what happens to a Dwonidai girl?" she said moving to stare at the rain falling down. She folded her arms over her chest.
He followed her, shaking his head slowly. He put his arms around her laying his head on his shoulder. he ran his arms up and down her arms, holding her against his chest. "I'm sorry, Zeleana," he replied softly. "And it won't be like that for too much longer,' he said quietly. "And it wasn't always like this," he added softly. "Soon, it will go back to the way it should be. And you will be free," he continued closing his eyes. "And I do," he finished.
She sighed. "Thank you, Henry,' she said softly. She turned to look at him. "You do what?" she asked quietly.
"I care what happens to a Dwonidai girl, although you don't seem to be much of a girl any more," he replied quietly, his eyes traveling over her light build. "I care very much," he said leaning towards him.
She blushed. "Henry..." she said, trying feebly to stop him. He didn't listen and kissed her softly and sweetly. She closed her eyes kissing him back softly. She pulled away turning her head from him. "What would your..." she started to say.
He stopped her by putting his finger over her lips. "Don't say wife," he commanded quietly. "What do you mean by wife?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said and tried to move away.
He grabbed her wrist. "Tell me, Zele," he asked, his words more a command than a request. "Tell me why everytime I touch you, you say, what would your wife say?"
She closed her eyes and pulled out of his grasp. "Henry," she pleaded, begging him not to make her answer him.
"I need to know, Zeleana. Tell me," he said.
"I've seen it," she replied. "A bride for you. A tall, beautiful woman with the darkest blue eyes I have ever seen. They are almost black in color. She smiles at you as if you are the light of her entire world," she whispered. She could feel her heart breaking as she told him of the vision she'd seen. Her tongue flicked out to wet her dry lips. "Her skin is the color of new snow except for two small drops of pink upon her cheeks. Her lips are the color of those lillies you like so much that you pretend you don't. And she knows they are your favorite," she continued.
"How do you know she's not you?" Henry said leaning back from her to study her face. In his eyes, she had never looked more beautiful even with the red mark from the guard. He frowned making a mental note to find out who had dared to lay a hand on his Zeleana. He wrapped his arms around her possesively. A tear coursed down her cheek. He reached up and used his thumb to wipe it away.
Her eyes flittered open, her eyelashes dotted with small drops of moisture. "Her h-hands are small and dainty, fitting in yours perfectly. You whirl her around and she dances gracefully," she said ignoring his question. "She wears a necklace of silver-white gems, that glisten in the light. Her dress is a silver fantasy, the bodice hugging her tightly until her waist where it flows away from her body, falling in waves to the floor," she said
"Zele, how do you know my bride is not you?" he said again, needing an answer.
"Her shoes are silver and decorated with small white stones that look like those that are mined in Eriton," she continued as if she couldn't hear him plead for an answer. "And Then she places her hand in yours and you both turn. You bow and the queen of the kingdom curtsies, your hands held high as is the custom.And there are no scars on her wrists," she said, her voice getting softer and softer until she simply mouthed the word wrist.
"and if she were me, she'd have these," she said lifting her arms to remind him of the scars on her wrists. She held them up, her hands running along with her face. "Wouldn't she, my Lord?" she said softly. Henry stared at the two familiar scars and reached out to touch her right wrist with one hand. She pulled back and moved back from him staring at him. "I don't want you to hate me when you meet her," she whispered and then turned, fleeing from the room.
Henry sighed closing his eyes. He realized that his outfit had become soaked and sighed again. He headed back into his bedroom, changing.
Zeleana ran to her room and sealed the door behind herself. She sank down in the corner. She pulled her knees to her chest and burried her face in her arms. She breathed deeply trying to calm down. She stood up and made her way over to her armoire. She stripped off her dress and picked up the outfit she had worn earlier. She pulled on the outfit and pulled the leather necklace off her neck. She set it back in the armoire and then shut the doors securely. She washed her face using the water on the pedestal.
She wiped her face with a cloth and then heard the bell ringing for supper. She straightened up and then left her room. She walked to thedining hall, avoiding the gaze of the courtiers in the castle.
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