Dark Queen

iii.

     They'd placed locks and chains on Estilda's door. Zora knew Marx had warned that her mother was being kept in lockdown. She stood outside the doors, tracing one finger down the smooth, ebony wood. Mixed emotions swirled through her.

     Did she still love her mother? A part of her still longed to be hugged and kissed. But another part -a darker personality that should never be found in little girls- felt twisted anger and hatred.

     Her wounds pounded in response.

     There was a surprised exclamation from behind her. "Oh, Princess Zora, you are awake!"

     Zora turned to see a maidservant with a laundry basket. When the woman saw the left side of the child's face, her face turned alabaster paled, and she dropped the basket, sending linen clothes everywhere.

     "Oh stars," she whispered. Then she realized her mistake, and her cheeks flamed. "My apologies, Princess." She stooped low and stuffed all the clothes back. "You shouldn't be here," she chastised. "The First Queen is...resting." She dipped into a curtsy and scurried off, leaving Zora alone once more.

     Zora felt her face heat up as well, but with fury. Suddenly, the urge to see her mother disappeared. Her jaw tightened, and she stood taller, squaring her thin shoulders.

     She marched away without giving the doors another glance.

     Somehow, Zora wandered into the palace gardens. Everywhere she looked were roses, delphiniums, jasmine, lilies, and much more. The scent was unbearably sweet to the point of sickening. Still, she stayed, shying away from stray bees lazily drifting through the air.

     The garden was one of the only places a young princess could roam without repercussions. Women were forbidden to enter the throne room without permission. The entirety of the east wing was barred from them since it was where the royal males resided.

     Zora bent down to a briar of roses. Their unfurled petals were soft like silk, but their aroma was suffocating. Out of curiosity, she pressed a finger against a thorn. A sharp pain went through her hand, and she flinched, quickly withdrawing her finger.

     Her ears perked up when she caught the snippets of soft conversation. Zora followed the feminine whispers down the stone path until she reached a small gazebo. White roses snaked around the pillars, complimenting the snowy wood.

     The disappointment was immediate when Zora realized that it was only a few of her sisters. There were fifteen of them crammed into the gazebo, cooling themselves with elaborate fans of silk and ivory. Their heavy graceful skirts billowed out as they moved around.

     Zora tugged nervously at the hem of her nightgown. She back away, trying to keep herself hidden, only to trip over her own two feet. A shriek and a fall later, she was lying on her back inside a nest of roses. The thorns dug into her skin, and she felt a bit of blood trickle down her forearms.