Petra, the Great - (Book One)

"I like not fair terms and a villain's mind".

"Why? Who is he? Do you know him?" But Saboykan does not answer me; instead she stares at her pipe and chews her lip with worry.

No matter. Whoever he is he cannot get me here. Here I am safe. Here I will remain. I continue to study my body, high above from the ceiling. "Whatever happened to me at that dinner...I think I am dead. Why else am I floating around like a ghost?"

"Self preservation." Saboykan sighs and takes a puff of her pipe. "You must return to your body. The longer you remain outside of it, the harder it will be for you to return, until you find that you can't."

I lay on my back and float as if I am swimming, free in the summertime.

"Is that truly a bad thing, Saboykan? This world would be a safer place without me."

The old Zingari puffs a cloud of smoke in my direction. "This life is a balance. Good and evil. You have your part to play and cannot just leave prematurely, Petra of the Shazastar. You will spend eternity in this limbo, not part of the afterlife, not part of life as consequence."

"Still. Anything beats what I have going on down there," I point to the scene playing below me with my big toe.

After some silence, Saboykan whispers, "You are needed. In ways you cannot begin to comprehend Petra, witch of the Shazastar."

I flip over on my stomach and watch Annabella hold my limp hand. The Mad Queen sits on a seat across from my bed, not moving, eyes wide, pale face stricken, curls sad and dull. A medic stands with Giovanni and his guards. Valentina stands close by. Her parents hover by the door, uncomfortable and just as confused as everyone else.

How long have I been out like this?

Days? Months? Hours? Time is meaningless here amongst the stars.

"There isn't much I can do, senor," the medic whispers to Giovanni. "If the fever does not break then I am afraid, senor ... tengo meido ... I am afraid she will die."

Giovanni runs a hand through his unruly hair and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost, tired –

Valentina holds his hand and whispers, "You must rest. We all must rest. Things will be better in the morning."

Slowly, the packed room begins to disassemble: first the Ethbanian royals, then the medic, followed by Giovanni's guards.

"Come, Bella." Stefano pries Annabella's hand from mine. "You must rest."

She turns away and cries into his doublet as he leads her out of the room.

Then there were two:

Meridian does not budge. Giovanni kneels before her and picks her up – like a sickly child, frail and confused.

"She will wake," Meridian mutters as her nephew carries her out the room. "Promise me you will be here, when she wakes?"

"I will."

Soon, only phantoms float in the room.

"Make your choice, Petra, for we will meet again. Hopefully I will meet you as part of the living world." And with that Saboykan too disappears, leaving me floating alone over an almost dead body of a girl too afraid and broken to return.

Multiple times over the night, I try to return to my body, but the closer I float to it – pain and agonizing fire shoot out in defense and I can do nothing but retreat.

Why return to all of that?

I am fine here.

Limbo is not too bad.