Scorched

10

Her flower plant is dead.

Cleo sits cross-legged on her glass balcony floor gazing at her now wilted flower resting on the floor before her. It was peonies. The enticingly pink petals always vivid and luminous in the sparkling bright sun, yet here it was. Dead as herself.

She lifts her gaze up to the sky and sees the sun doing its normal errand, flaring it's fiery streaks. The air was hot, but not as dry. Could it be that the maid forgot to water it? It was impossible to burn in the sun. It never has before. None of her flowers has. So why is it dead?

She directs her gaze to the dead— almost crumpled leaves and frowns after seeing a layer of what looked like ash covering the leaves. She brushes her finger on the leaf and it didn't come back with ash, which means it hadn't burned but; an icy cold texture. Ice? She brushes it between her forefinger and thumb and it melts into tiny droplets of water. It was dew. Like that of the farms that Sir Andrew kept grouching about. Now it has made way into her Court. There was ice forming in her Court. Over her plants. This is not alright.

God's she desires a blunt. Too much shit is happening in her Court, matters she couldn't explain for the life of her.

She limps back into her bedroom, leaving the doors of the balcony open, if dew was to form, she'd be right here to see it.

Her limp has definitely improved. It's been two days since she saw Jezio tending to her wound. After that, she's been stored in her chambers. Never coming out to meals, which Kaleb has brought to her rooms instead everyday; nor to meetings. She didn't speak to Kaleb either when he dropped off her meals although she is dying to know whether it was him at the festival. But she knew she couldn't ask him. But he lied. He did leave the Court.

When Kaleb did ask what the problem was, she lied and blamed it on her monthly cycle.

She didn't speak to Landon about the Demon attack. She hasn't seen to the latest results of Sir Andrew's crops which she would need to see to after seeing her own plants. She would need to probe her gardens below for any dew as well. In conclusion she had done absolute shit.

She looks down and traces her covered wound, it still stung but not to the extreme like it did the night the demon slashed it open. She hopes and prays that an infection doesn't form. What will she tell the healers?

After scratching on the covered wound lightly she traces her finger higher to where the invisible irritation has taken its place. Still nothing was etched onto her skin, no bite, no redness, nothing. But that part of her thigh felt somewhat remotely numb. Not completely dead, but after she grazes it in circles with her finger or when she bathes herself — tiny fingers of needles and pins is felt after she presses on it hard enough.

She didn't know what it is, but she won't spread another word about it to the healers nor Jezio.

She sighs and falls back onto her pillows.

She feels pretty much futile at this point. Not to mention that her crowning ceremony that is supposed to take place in the days to come, has been nothing  but a pain in the ass and is a thought stuck in her head that constantly bothered her; causing her to have sleepless nights and overthinking days. All this overwhelmed her way too much. She couldn't take it and her desires for the blunt turned to a painful craving.

A knock on the door takes her thoughts away, "Mad-Miss?" He says from the other side of the door.

Cleo rolls her eyes. Kaleb is the only person in the Court who still struggles to call her Miss. Was it that difficult?

She sits up, and covers her thigh with all the pillows lounging about her bed before biding him entrance.

Kaleb enters with one hand closing her door and the other holding a silver tray, which she determined from the sun still shining high and bright, was her lunch. It's been her breakfast just a few seconds ago, she could of sworn.