Violet Shadows

35

In a world where a princess must fight for the freedom of her kingdom.

Princess Clara Margrita de Dian Ascarot has never wanted to hurt anyone. As the youngest and third in line to the throne, Clara was raised to live a comfortable life, and never bear the burden of the crown. Kindness was nothing new to her, and she spent her days with a duty to love. Even with the war emerging between her home, the Holy Empire of Margrita, and the Kingdom—

The nurse chuckled as Christine continued to pale over what she already knew, rereading the first few pages. The nurse said, "You might've dreamed you were in there, but you were in surgery. I would've known. I was shadowing the process for the whole five hours."

Five hours?  Dazzled, Christine took in the mewing information slowly. Though it had only been seven months—there was no way it was instead five hours. "It couldn't have been a dream." She said, certain. It didn't even feel like a dream. Would she ever see it again, or any of the characters?  But she did, that meant... "I'm starving." She decided instead, shutting the book after reading made her feel ill. "Can we get cheesecake?"

For the first time in seven months, someone knew what she was talking about. But the confirmation she received was only that of a frown from Mom. "The doctor said to follow a strict liquid-only diet." She said, shaking her head. "Maybe a smoothie will be better."

"Then we'll blend it." Christine offered, voice tight. She had no proof if where she had been was real, and even questioning it felt strange. But being here felt... strange. For months she longed to return, but did being here scare her more?

Dad doubled down on the decision. "You should get a couple more hours of sleep. You'll need the energy once we return to the piano for your next recital."

My next recital? How long had she thought about that? There was nothing to deceive her that this wasn't real, and yet it didn't feel real. Every second her perception shifted, and her twisty mind continued to solidify that point. This was not the comfort she wanted, the solution searched for, and yet here it was. But the wretched thing is that she didn't believe any of it. Was she really back? Was it this easy?

The nurse saw her badly hidden anguish, rising to retake her measurement. "She might be in a state of confusion after waking up. The surgery—"

"Why can't you just listen to me?" Christine shouted, eyes scampering to every detail. The fear riled her harder than the comfort of returning, and when someone stared too long she flinched away, but that only made her flinch more.  "I just... I want to go on a walk."

"You just woke up." Mom insisted, her nervousness being contagious. "The doctor advised that sleeping—"

She couldn't imagine returning to that hollow dark. That eerie feeling that engulfed her at the Lower Banks, it very well may be watching her now. "Fine," She said, ripping her covers off. Her legs wouldn't listen, heavy and unable to rise, so she swung them out of their spot. "I'll do it myself."

Nearly all the voices threw in their own form of disagreement when she reached the floor. "Christine!" Mom said, reaching her first with an uneven pant. "I'll get you a wheelchair, okay? We don't want to mess up whatever those compressors are doing to your legs."

"I'll get her a sedative." One nurse said, racing out.

"No!" Christine screamed, even louder than before. It was the only sense that did not betray her. Her throat hardened, and she swallowed the knot lounging like a corpse. The other nurses were glancing between themselves, unsure whether to warrant her reaction as sane or not. "I'm not angry," Christine heaved, "I just want to cool off with a walk. Please." She was begging. Dad frowned.