HBHM (hiatus)

twenty-seven

| provoke

When Evarose awoke, she was in a room.

The room spun in her vision as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was on a lush bed, the thick dark blankets pulled up to her chest. Above her head, dark fabric hung from the posts of the bed like a canopy shielding her. Beside her there was a basin of liquid, some bloody cloths and colorful potions inside small medicine bottles, and she wore a simple linen nightgown.

The room itself was dark and cold. From where she was, she could make out several lanterns around the room that cast a soft glow. Whenever the flames flickered, hypnotizing shadows danced on the walls. It was too dark to see any other color in the room.

Suspicion grew heavy in her mind. When she’d woken up she’d expected cold stone walls of the dungeon and chains circling her wrists, not one of the imperial chambers and a comfy bed.

Evarose sat, cringing at the searing burn in her chest.

“You shouldn’t start moving,” said a voice. “Not when you’ve just woken up.”                             

She whipped her head to the double doors across the room, where a young girl in a white castle uniform had just entered. Her head was bowed, her brown hair tucked tightly under a white cap. Her white sleeves reached past her fingertips.

Evarose meekly asked, “Where am I?”

“You’re in His Majesty’s guestroom,” she said hesitantly. “Mistress brought you in last night. You’ve been asleep for a day.”

The maid quickly moved forward, taking the cloths and basin aside. She then set the potions on the wooden table beside the bed, her fingers trembling. In curious fascination, Evarose watched the bottles sparkle in the candlelight.

“What are those?”

“It’s . . . well, antidotes. For the poison.”

Poison? Then everything came back to her: Aselia, the tea, Constance—

“But you didn’t need them, anyway,” the maid added. “Your body healed itself.”

“Oh.” Evarose grasped the blanket. She didn’t know if she should feel suspicious or thankful.

The maid quickly arranged the bottles, placing them into a small box of polished wood. Vladimir’s royal crest had been carved onto the lid. Then she used a tiny silver key hanging from her neck to lock the box. After that, she started fussing around the room, fixing things that weren’t crooked, running hands on walls and wood as if just to do something.

Thud, thud, thud.

Evarose tensed.

Thud, thud, thud. Echoing, haunting beats resonated in her head, perfectly in time with the sweet blood flowing underneath the girl’s skin. The monster inside her rioted, and Evarose clenched her hands until they bled and healed and bled again.

“You should rest, milady,” the girl said hurriedly, glancing at the doors. “Mistress will want to see you in the morning.”

“Mistress?”

“Yes. Mistress Constance.”

It felt strange hearing the term ‘mistress’ being used with Constance, like hearing a cat bark. It just didn’t sound right.

After several minutes, the maid bowed her head, her job done, and murmured a quick goodnight as she rushed out of the room with the basin and the box.