A Gilded Cage | Tales From The Court of Ravaeryn #2 (COMPLETED)

02 | bloodline

1711, Aethiel Palace, Kestramore City

        The grand opulence of the royal palace was in plain sight, but not once did Eleanora gape in awe of its magnificence. 

During her juvenile years, she and Christopher Finley often imagined that her aunt would someday come and bestow them with unimaginable riches, and that she would bring them to live with her in that great palace in the heart of Kestramore City.

       This is what she always dreamt of as a child, to be brought here, but instead of being happy and joyful, all she felt was sorrow.

One of the soldiers had dragged her out of the litter, released her hands from the bound and removed the rope that previously kept her gagged and mute.

               "Make yourself presentable for the Queen," he ordered, and defiance swelled in Eleanora's chest.

Not only was she brought here against her will, now she must also submit to this captor of hers. Her hands remained on the side of her thighs, and in her heart she had no intent whatsoever to make herself presentable.

       There were crusts of dough stuck underneath her fingernails, a souvenir after helping Madame Lovett make today's batch of biscuits and scones. Her face had been stained by pastry flour, and the tears she just shed have left two prominent tear tracks running down her cheek.

Her hair was a complete mess after the earlier scuffle, and Eleanora resembled a common kitchen maid rather than the niece of the Queen.

                  "You heard him," Dinah Finley urgently said as she pulled Eleanora closer towards her, and she placed her pudgy hands on top of her daughter's face, attempting to wipe away her tears. "You must look pretty, sweet Nora. The Queen will love you if you look pretty. Everyone likes pretty things."

Eleanora did not respond to her affection, and her gaze was cold when she met her mother's pale blue eyes. Nonetheless, she could only remain silent as Dinah Finley attempted to repair her messy hair.

         As they begun to climb up the steps that led to the main door, her mother suddenly grasped her hand, stopping her in her tracks. "What is that, Nora ?" Dinah Finley exclaimed, gesturing to the lump in Eleanora's pocket.

      The red-haired girl briskly slid her hand into the pocket, and immediately she felt the brittle sugar biscuits against her skin. "They're just biscuits, Mother," she replied. "Leave it be."

Dinah Finley was not satisfied. "Throw it out. What are you, a common peasant ? I can't present you to the Queen like this!" 

             "I am a common peasant," Eleanora sneered back, disgusted by Dinah's sudden pretense of superiority. Her mother was so sure, so certain that they would live in the palace from now on, but Eleanora was skeptical. 

        After all, the Queen had never bothered to look for them, letting the Finleys live in utter destitution. Dinah Finley saw her as a life-saving deity, but Eleanora saw her as a dangerous stranger. 

Her mother's already blotched red face turned a shade brighter, and she roughly smacked Eleanora's hand away, grabbing the sugar biscuits out from her pocket, and into the pond they went.

            "Behave!" she reprimanded, as if she were a strict and honourable governess, not a good-for-nothing who made everybody's lives miserable.

The grand palace doors opened to receive them, and a warm, comforting breeze wafted from inside, subtly perfumed with lavender and freshwater lilies. 

          Eleanora hesitantly lifted up her head, and a small gasp escaped her lips when she saw the great extravagance within the palace walls. Everywhere she looked, she saw statues of gold and silver, paintings of the old gods and goddesses, and a massive, glittering crystal chandelier loomed over her head, glowing as bright as the sun itself.