Monotony is safe. Monotony is the basis of my survival.
I live my days repeating what's familiar. It prevents any unnecessary risks to me and my life. Having and maintaining a routine keeps me in control, and anything or anybody that tries to change my routine won't be let in.
I tried that once. I accepted a change in my routine. It proved to be the worst mistake of my life.
So here I sit, humming to my plants as I water them from a jug I filled in the nearby spring. They seem to perk and preen with the attention, stretching their leaves and petals as they begin to feel refreshed. So simple. Reaching for the sky, swaying in the breeze, digging their roots deeper. Protected.
Shaking my head, I sit back on my knees and observe the peaceful scene around me. My cottage is hidden by a grove of trees near the springs and streams that provide water for the village. Like most in this part of the forest, my home is lifted up and balanced on roots and branches that have been persuaded to become the base for the cottage. Long ago, another elf cared for the trees and gently bent the pieces they needed, humming and talking and connecting with them in the way that only elves can. And now, two hundred years later, my home is elevated to protect it from the floods the area is known for.
I walk over and pause, placing my hand on one of the supporting branches and press my forehead to it in thanks. My home is solid because of them. I feel the energy, the life flowing through the sap of the branches, humming and vibrating with contentment. Satisfied, I swing myself up the ladder and walk into my home.
Onto the next part of my routine.
I slip into the bathing chamber attached to my bedroom and pull a series of levers. In a few moments, water rains from the ceiling above and I wash the grime off my dark skin. The water pools around the drain in the floor, swirling down to be collected in a large tub. Some of that water flows into storage to be used in emergencies while the rest is directed back toward the springs.
As I am plying my braids with oils and creams after my cleansing, a firm knock disturbs me. My heart races. Nobody visits at this time of day. Nobody told me they were coming. Nobody asked to come. Elves in the village know they can only visit me unexpectedly after dinner and before the sun sets.
My heart thumps in my chest and I swallow. I smooth my loose dress, cinched by a simple belt, and tug on simple dark leggings underneath before I make my way to the front door. The knocks keep coming, and I flick my eyes to my staff next to the door. It's well within my reach and defending myself will be easy.
With a deep breath, I open the door a crack.
"Johari Adaeh Firyali?" a man's voice asks my name as a question. I scan the tall elf, taking in his lean muscles and serious face. He is accompanied by several others like him, spread across my porch. A smart, simple uniform covers his toned body. A uniform that I recognize all too well. He is a guard. They are guards of the High Court. What are royal warriors doing on my porch?
I tap my fingers on the wood of the door, allowing the soothing energy flowing through the wood to calm my voice before I speak.
"Yes, I am she," I open the door wide to reveal my person, feet planted firmly and shoulders back. The soldier blinks as I come into view, only one or two inches taller than me. His narrow jaw clenches briefly as he swallows and nods. "Why have you come to my home?"
"Mademoiselle," the guard addresses me. "I apologize for any discomfort this visit causes you. Could you turn around and lift your braids for us?"
"Why?" I take a step back and grab the door.
"If you are truly who we were sent to locate, you will bear the Mark on the back of your neck," he explains succinctly.
"I have not been marked," I seethe, anger spiking.
"Forgive me," the guard blanches, embarrassed at how badly this conversation is turning out. "I don't speak of that awful and illegal practice. I mean a simple- well, I suppose it would look like a birthmark." I freeze. A splotch that resembles a brilliant star sits on the back of my neck and has been there my entire life.
"I- I do have one," I answer quietly after a moment.
"May I please see it to confirm?" the guard asks carefully, gently almost. I glance around at the other guards, but at a cough from the leader in front of me they all turn to scan the forest. Finally, I nod, lift my braids, and turn momentarily so he can see. The guard sucks in a breath. "It's her." I drop my braids so they hang down my back and turn to see every single guard bowing deeply to me. I swallow.
"What are you doing?"
"The books and legends are true. You are the rightful reine of the High Court," the guard sounds awed as he slowly straightens and answers my question. My heart stalls at his words.
"I'm the what?"
"Everything will be explained more fully to you once we arrive in Haut City," the guard smiles patiently.
"I- I can't leave!" I protest and shove the panic down my throat as I attempt to explain calmly. Be stoic. Even keel. Control. Control. "I have a schedule, I have- I cannot abandon my routine and my home."
"Behati, from the nearby village, assured us that if you are the one we've been seeking, she would take care of your home and garden as if it were her own," the guard explains softly. Of course, she would say that. Behati is an angel in her own right. "But I must insist. You must come with us."
"I can't go back to the High Court," I whisper, mostly to myself. The guard tilts his head, brow furrowed. My moment of weakness continues as flashes of memory plague me. "Please, please don't take me there."
"I'm terribly sorry, mademoiselle," the guard does look appropriately apologetic. "You do know the turmoil our kingdom has been experiencing for over a decade now, yes?" I nod my head slowly. "Then you must return. It is your duty, your fate, to restore balance and order to the Great Forest."
Duty. Fate.
My great-grandmother transferred her duty and fate to another hundreds of years ago so that our family would no longer have the obligation to rule, to manage, a corrupt High Court. So that we could live among any Court we choose and be free from the heavy burden.
It has found me anyway.
"Please," the guard's whispered words bring me back to the present and I blink rapidly as I train my dark eyes back on him. "You must at least try to steer us back toward peace and prosperity. Please."
Wind ruffles through my braids and I can feel the boards of my home humming underneath my bare feet. The earth is confirming this truth to me, the energy practically pushing my feet forward. I have to go. I know it in my bones, in my soul.
"Well, I shall need a few moments to collect some of my things," I agree softly. The whole party of guards releases a collective breath.
"Merci, ma reine," the lead guard smiles broadly at me. I shut the door in his face, muttering that I'll be out in ten minutes, before I flit about my cottage as quickly as possible. I stuff bread, crackers, cheese, berries, and nuts into an elven food bag. It will help preserve the foods for our journey. When that is done, I stumble to my room and grab another elven travel bag. I shove tunics, leggings, breezy sleeping sets of linen, dresses, undergarments, and any other clothing I think I might need. My hair creams and oils are next, along with the jars of potions I use to cleanse my hair and body. I nearly forget the lotion for my skin before shoving it inside. All are tucked in a special side pocket.
A beautiful box on my desk covered with a layer of dust catches my eye. After a brief moment of hesitation, I grab it slowly and lower it into the bag. The jewelry inside clinks quietly as it settles. At the last moment, I tuck in a few extra pairs of slippers. I rarely wear shoes, but they could be needed. I remember the cold marbles and bricks of the buildings in the High Court. I remember the customs. I'll probably need some sort of footwear.
For now, though, for this journey, I will let my feet stay connected to the earth to help ground me.
With a nod, I turn to exit my room. I pause in the doorway and lean my forehead against the frame. I feel the energy flowing through the wood, reassuring me with its strength and endurance. My home will be here when I return. I swallow thickly before uttering the words my mother used to always say.
"Étoiles me guident," I breathe to myself. "Stars guide me. Please." My plea tugs at my heart but I shove the feelings back. I can't think too deeply of the ones who taught the words to me. Its too painful. The stars haven't truly guided me in a long time. The skies have been silent to me for nearly a decade now. I don't know why I thought of calling out to them now. I shake the thoughts plaguing my mind away before striding through my little home to the front of the house. We make our way forward on our own merits, by our own sweat, and with our own tears.
"I am ready," I state as I open the door, keeping my shoulders back and head up just like my grandmother taught me.
"Excellent," the lead guard swallows his snack quickly as he speaks, and the other elves all toss their snacks back into their food bags. "Then let's be off!"
I'm the last to leave my front porch. With one last, longing look at my cottage, I drop over the edge and slide down the ladder swiftly. When my feet are firmly on the ground once more, the group of guards divides in two. Half go in front of me, half behind me.
Then we begin to walk forward.
My routine has been completely obliterated and I'm on high alert. There are so many new components in my life, so many things that could harm me or that could go wrong in general. Perhaps I can develop a new safe routine. To settle my mind as we walk, I imagine what that could look like on our journey.
Something in the back of my mind, though, assures me that no routine can save me now.