Chapter 21: Lace

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I woke up feeling refreshed, like this new day was a fresh slate.

I leapt out of bed and jumped in the tub. A crisp white dress was waiting for me. The silk slid over my skin as I pulled it on. The dress was a perfect fit - loose enough to fight in and still pretty. I placed my tiara on and checked that the shell anklet from my mother was there, like I did every morning. I straightened and fingered my neck, slightly confused when I felt nothing.

Why did I do that? I strained my mind to think, to remember, then stared at my reflection. It felt like something was missing... but I just couldn't place it. I shrugged to myself and grabbed my sword, glancing over my room one final time before I left.

I looked at the made bed. I didn't notice the slight lump under the mattress, where the picture of my parents and I remained unnoticed by my father... Or me.

~*~*~*~

I found Connor in the library and threw my arms around him, pecking him on the cheek. "Good morning!" I sang, wanting to share my cheeriness. 

Connor jumped. One hand kept a loose hold on his book, dangling by his side. The other settled awkwardly at my waist. "Hey," he mumbled, looking me up and down. 

I pulled away slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course," he assured me, though he looked me up and down curiously. 

"Um, want to practice?" I gestured to the sword at my waist and he nodded, twining our fingers together as we walked to the arena. The space was almost empty, it must have been very early, since the soldiers had to get up as soon as the first ray of sunlight hit the water.

I unsheathed my sword and Connor followed suit, bending his knees.

I mirrored his starting position and charged, striking with strength I'd forgotten I possessed. Surprise flitted across Connor's face, it seemed he'd forgotten too. He parried each stroke with equal force. I caught sight of a flash of yellow behind him, my focus leaving Connor for a moment.

Something about that shade of yellow... Golden and deep, warm.

Macaroni and cheese. I thought suddenly. Confusion stole the last of my focus and Connor knocked me to the floor as I blurted, "Macaroni and cheese!"

Connor stared at me. "What?" He offered me a hand and helped me to my feet.

I rubbed my head. "I-I don't know... That color remind me of... Macaroni and cheese...?"

"What's 'macaroni and cheese'?" Connor asked. The question was genuine, but something in his eyes... Guilt? Fear? Worry?

I shrugged. "I have no idea." My head ached and my thoughts were strangely fuzzy but I said, "Let's go again."

"Are you sure?" Connor asked, concern etched into his features. He glanced at the abandoned gold tunic behind him, the one that had reminded me of macaroni. 

I nodded, retiring to starting position. Connor reluctantly bent his knees and held his sword out at an angle. He lunged at me first this time and I leapt to the side, knocking his sword out of balance with a flick of my wrist as I passed. His grip faltered at the strike, but he was quick to readjust his hold.

I forced myself to focus on our deadly dance but my questions kept drawing away my attention. What's happening to me?

Connor's sword clattered on the marble and it took me a second to realize I'd knocked it from his grasp. I heard him take in a ragged breath and glanced up. He was clutching his hand to his chest and blood dropped from between his fingers.

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