Highlander Princess | Otherworld #1

C H A P T E R T W O

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A PRINCESS OR A PAUPER?
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Present Day

I sat up, breathing heavily, drenched with sweat all over my face and body.

I hate having nightmares.

To me nightmares were like an illness I couldn't cure- and that which you cannot cure would eventually kill you. I took them as signs of how weak I was mentally. Some nights it was bearable, like today, when I would just wake up as if I had been fighting in my sleep, with no memory of what I had dreamed of.

Other times...I wasn't so lucky, and woke up screaming in agony at the pain that came with remembering every vidid detail I really wished to forget.

Like that night 11 years ago.

I looked out into the darkness, lightly touching the cold rock that lay around my neck to calm me while waiting for my breathing to go back to normal so I could fully be awake and start my day.

When I felt I was semi coherent I checked the clock by my bed and sighed.

As much as I hated nightmares, I hated early mornings even more. It was 4 am and all I wanted to do was go back to my sorry excuse of a bed and wither away.

Throwing my blanket off in frustration, I moved towards the bathroom to begin my same morning routine; brush my teeth, tie my long locks back in a low bun, put on my maid uniform and stare at the mirror, convincing myself that today would be the last day of being stuck as a pauper.

The last day of pulling this act I wasn't sure I could keep up any longer.

"Just get through today, Aura." I told my daunt reflection, knowing full well I would wake up tomorrow the same way. I tucked the small stone under my clothes before making my way out to start work.

Everyone was sound asleep as I moved past the servant courters and walked further down the hallways of Flynn Manor, my current place of employment.

The kitchen was empty, and eerily quiet as I began my duties assigned by my wretched Matron the night before.

She loved to make everything hard for me, and had ordered me to wake up earlier than everyone else and marinate the meat for dinner- so that's what I was doing when I heard a sound.

A very quiet sound.

Creak.

The tiny hairs on my skin stood up in attention as my senses did when they sensed danger. I picked up a wooden spoon tightly in my right hand as I detected light foot steps advancing slowly towards me.

Someone was trying to catch me by surprise.

I stared humming as I moved towards the sink and rinsed the already clean spoon, as if nothing was wrong- trying to not give away my detection. I heard more light creaks of the floorboards and the quiet, but not so silent, footsteps.

This person was being cautious.

They were avoiding the loudest floorboards in the kitchen, meaning they were deliberately coming for me. I moved back to the chopping board, moving a bowl of flour I had prepared towards me, waiting for the right timing.

My brain was quick, making calculations and counting up ways I could face my advisory. This always happened when I felt threatened, a defence mechanism my body had learned to automatically do.