Enchantment of the Bow

Chapter Forty-Nine

Lyra's POV

My heart feels like it is going to explode as it tries uproariously to beat out of the bony cage that God put into place. Since the foot man left, I have gotten off of the floor and begun to pace the carpet, wringing my hands relentlessly as I try in vain to calm the fluttering bird inside of my chest.

Impatience has begun to claw at my insides like a wild animal, and I chew at my lip as I pause for the umpteenth time at the guarded window.

Though two of my Guardsmen stand in front of it, I can still see between their broad shoulders and out into the steadily lowering light of the day. The altering effects of captivity have already already taken effect: I feel as though I've spent a whole day locked up in my own home, but it couldn't have been more than a few hours in reality.

I am surprised that the King hasn't ordered bars to be put up in front of every window of my bed chambers, but then I recall the harsh words that he spoke. He doesn't care what happens to me, just as long as he has some sort of control over his precious little pawn. That is all I've ever been to him, isn't it? I am nothing but a pet to him, one that has too much value to be tossed away because of a bad temperament.

My stomach rolls for the second time tonight at the distraught feeling of being unwanted. I pause in my tracks to close my eyes, fighting the feeling away as it tries to overwhelm me.

Even my own mother hadn't come to my aid. All she has ever done is sit idly by and watch as the scenes play out, just like a shadow. I had even been foolish enough to believe that she had changed. I suppose the saying is true- a Vann-Hest cannot change the color of it's coat. My mother has never been a brave woman, so I do not understand why I imagined she would change that for me. Since I was younger, I had always had to come to my own rescue, and I am finally understanding that I will never be able to rely on others for strength. Lance taught me that, after all, and it is about time that I start listening to him.

I've known all my life that I was just a chess piece, haven't I? That I was just a bartering item for the King to use? I suppose actually hearing that your father does not care for you is different than telling it to yourself every night.

"Lyra, you should really try to calm down. Would you like me to have a servant bring some tea up for you?" Lance asks from behind me somewhere, voice soothing as any salve. He can feel the worry of my previous thoughts, reading further than body language could ever tell.

I can't even stomach the thought of eating or drinking a thing, other than perhaps that spirit that burned my throat with how potent it was. For some insane reason, I feel as though the amber colored liquor would calm my strumming nerves better than any tea ever could.

I push the thought aside and turn on my heel to make another round about the large room, feeling to concerned eyes of my men at my back and the heat of Sage's breath at my heels.

"No, no tea. I will be fine once I see that all of them are unharmed." I say, my voice sounding strange in my own ears. I force breath in and out of my lungs, afraid that I would otherwise forget that oxygen is an essential part of living. My throat is raw from yelling and alcohol. My mouth feels dry as I pause by the open window again.

I can't see anything of the gates from my bed chambers, so I do not understand why I continue to gaze out, as if waiting for Jed to haul himself through my window. Even if he were healthy enough to do so, he would surely be shot before he even got near. I am glad that the Guard is expecting him this time.

It seems to take an eternity before Darion opens the inner doors of my chambers, but I am disappointed to see the face of the same foot man from before.