Inheritance

Part 2. Chapter 17: Like no one Else Could

Pollyanna breathed deeply, and then picked up a fork and picked at her food.

She had no appetite.

She looked up and saw Taylor playing with her food, and Them chuckling heartily at how creative she could be.

The fairy girl pretended that the biscuit on her plate was a dragon, and the noodles were quicksand, and that the dragon was slowly sinking into the quicksand.

Pollyanna frowned deeply and thought of just how creative Eory was, too.

I'm losing him... She thought to herself.

__

Maruka led everyone to their baths and their sleeping quarters which were located on the third floor after that.

Pollyanna's fuse was becoming shorter and shorter, and she was infuriated to see that they were expected to bathe in the same room.

She turned to Maruka and seized his collar. "I want a private bath. Get me a private bath!"

A scream was caught in Maruka's throat, and he squeaked pathetically, "please! It's just the rules—I didn't come up with them! You have to bathe here!"

Pollyanna ruthlessly enclosed a frustrated hand closer about the young man's neck. "You should change the rules, then..."

She felt a sense of power and control return to her life that invigorated her. She was ready to squeeze the life out of the man despite most of the criminals fiercely protesting.

But the only thing that stopped her was looking over at Taylor. The girl was not begging her to stop like Them was, nor was she in the crowd of people who attempted to tear her away from Maruka.

She was merely watching Pollyanna a few paces away with disappointed and unblinking eyes.

Those were not her eyes, however, they were Eory's.

Pollyanna gasped and released Maruka, who was on all-fours and clawing for breath. Maruka climbed to his feet in a moment and sprinted out of the room, weeping.

Pollyanna shoved the crowd aside and marched to the nearest bath.

When everyone had returned to their own business and stopped paying attention to Pollyanna, the old woman did what she did before when they bathed at the stream.

Under her clothes, tucked away in her undergarments, was the picture Eory had drawn of her. She looked both ways before removing her dress and tucking the picture away in a fold of fabric where it wouldn't be seen.

__

She was expected to go to bed after that, and so she did. Her quarters were right across from Taylor's, and Pollyanna begged and pleaded to sleep on the floor in her room to make sure nobody would hurt the fairy, but Taylor, being her usual self, refused.

She giggled and said, because she knew it would hurt the old warrior-maiden, "a predatory monster like you? In my room? I don't think so! Besides, I'm not like that fool, Eory. I can actually defend myself."

And then the young woman shoved her door shut.

Pollyanna stood in front of her own door for a moment, and then went inside.

They were rather bare quarters. Just a bed pushed up against the left side of the wall and a desk pushed up against the upper-right corner.

Pollyanna was happy to have had a proper bath and to have a fresh change of clothes, at least. The servants in the fortress had laid out a clean nightgown for her after she had bathed and took her dress away to be made into a more practical garment.

Her nightgown was soft and white and gentle on her skin.

She sat down, cross-legged on her bed, and looked at the parchment she had taken from Eory's old room.

She thought back to his room with pictures of herself scattered about everywhere, and thought about how most of the pictures he had drawn were of her looking heroic, dynamic, undefeatable, and noble.

It was such an unrealistic, and yet intoxicating portrayal of who Eory wanted her to be.

He was absolutely obsessed, and it made her stomach churn.

But there were other, far less common pictures he had drawn of her, and it was one of these she had taken from his room and kept with her all this time.

It was an incredibly stark drawing of her with a heavy and thoughtful frown settled on her wrinkled face, looking up at a starry night sky with her legs pulled up to her chest.

She looked frightened and lost in the picture; vulnerable, and confused.

Pollyanna didn't know why she decided to pocket this picture over the others. The others had romanticized her so much, and yet, Eory, deep down... Perhaps saw who she really was, when she, herself, could not accept who she was.

She collapsed backward on her bed with her arms outstretched and yelled in frustration.

Yes...

Her nightgown was white, and felt soft and gentle on her skin.

Just like...

Just like...

She could feel herself—the most powerful and feared warrior in all the land—being brought to her knees before Eory's sweet gaze and his velveteen hands on her face.

She could see him so clearly, and she wanted him and missed him in such a way that it hurt.

His soft hands lifted her up as the cold, blue lighting encircling her suddenly became fiery red and the sound of fire was crackling in her ears as she looked into the eyes of the man who had made her a fierce warrior, Fjorn.

"Come with me, and you will burn in the way you've always wanted to. You will burn so brightly that you will set the world aflame!" Fjorn enticed her and he made her feel wanted like no one in the entire world ever could.